Seasons of Life

Let me start off by saying how amazing life is. Sure it has its ups and downs, but as a whole it is quite remarkable.

I remember being fresh out of high school and going through the motions that were expected of most new graduates; move out, go to college, become an adult. Seemed like so much at the time. Although, many of the friends I knew followed the same path. Looking back now, I know that I was just a pawn in the game called LIFE.

For the first semester of college I attended classes (most days) and went to some of the campus events or parties not feeling like it made sense but in many cases because "that is what college students do". I left after that semester because I wasn't seeing the value in what I was doing there. I was away from the rules of home and loving it but still not really wanting to be out doing what all the other young adults were doing. I spent a lot of time in my room just trying to make it feel like a home but could never get that warm fuzzy feeling I anticipated. Don't get me wrong though, I did enjoy the few months that I was there and the friends that I met, but I always knew something was missing for me.

I moved back home and life just began to happen. I was married with a kid, lived a very brief time as a stay at home mom until I found work - never really seemed like anything "out of the ordinary" but somehow, not how I had envisioned real life to be. Eventually, I had ended up a single mother with a baby on the way, new job, and a lot of things going on around me. Still, I was moving with the flow - not always a smooth journey, but still flowing along.

My mom (Cindy) used to talk about moving to Arizona. I always thought she was crazy when she asked if I would move there too. Why would anyone move away from the beauty of Colorado to the barren wastelands of the desert? Unfortunately, my mom never made that move before she passed away and the years to follow had a definite void but still I went with the flow of what went on around me.

I'll never really be able to pinpoint it exactly but I needed a change - anything. Whether it was a new job, a new place to live, both - something just needed to be different. Just like so many others I told myself there had to be more, wished for more, but it never seemed to "just happen". I had a few job interviews and even put in applications for potential houses. I received one interview ironically in Arizona with the same company I was with. Half chuckling to myself, "like I'd ever really move there", the whole time. Until they offered me the job and 45 days to relocate.

I was in a tizzy about what I had just gotten myself into. People don't just up and move on whim's notice. They don't uproot their kids and life as they know it to move somewhere strange and less exciting for the same pay. At least this is what I kept yelling at myself the whole time I was packing, canceling and creating leases, collecting school information, trying to find a way to even get money to move. However, I had so little backbone (contrary to the popular opinion) that I just couldn't tell the new boss that I was just bored and I was only kidding about taking the new job.

Through every obstacle that kept trying to ground me in my comfort zone of home I had to claw and fight to find a way through it. Somehow, I always managed to find a way. I was used to finding ways around obstacles in life just as debris does in a stream - it flows around things, sometimes getting stuck until it finds its way around on a different route so it keeps flowing along. This was similar but different. It's like I had been misplaced into a sea and I was unfamiliar with the "flow of things". I kept telling myself I could figure it out because that's what my mom would've done. Sounds kind of silly now but that was honestly the only motivation I had at the moment (for those of you wondering WHY I left Colorado - sorry no huge, insightful epiphany). However, for the first time in my life, I felt that I was the one that made it happen. I finally felt like I had control to make life do what I wanted and not just be a pawn.

There was an adjusting period where I had to absorb what I had done and where to go moving forward. I wasn't going to sit around waiting for life to happen to me again - that's way too much waiting and I wasn't always fond of the route it took when it picked up. So I joined a group - improv acting to be specific. It was fun but I wanted more. I began working with a group of wrestlers. I was able to wear so many hats - photographer, marketing, public relations, advising board, etc. It had been enough activity to sustain me for awhile but I still wanted more so I enrolled in college as a full time student just to see how I would fare in it.

After I got comfortable with the flow of college, work, and motherhood I again began to feel too cozy and began working with a charity doing some of the same work I enjoyed with the wrestling group. I took on the honors program at school - again, just to see if I could do it if I put the effort into it. Other charity work and side projects were continuously added to the schedule. Sometimes, it was a little too much but when I cut back, I felt unproductive - even bored. It was as if the challenge that the move had on me opened up a door to some beast who just wanted more challenges to chew up.

That brings us to the present day. I still work regularly with two charities, starting my 3rd year as a full time college student in the honors program, periodically working with the wrestlers and acting scene still all while working and being a full time mom to two high school kids. It really sounds like so little in a list but it usually keeps me busy.

The point is this... don't be just a pawn in life. You have the power to make things happen. Maybe it's not always exactly how you envisioned it and it's rarely easy, but good things will come with hard work - which is not always fun but well worth the results. I don't think that had I stayed in Colorado I would feel as successful in life and maybe that is why I don't have a desire to move back anytime soon (maybe to retire unless I move somewhere more exotic). I still struggle with the daily things in life but rarely let it get in the way because I know that I have the power to find a way to change it.

Find your motivation, step out of your comfort zone sometimes. Get out and DO something. Sitting at home or on the computer wishing things were different is not going to make things change - whether it is your personal life, career, politics, or even spiritual growth. I haven't even decided what exactly it is that I want to accomplish from life yet - OMG I'd be unstoppable!

I still am not ready to plunge into anything and tend to dip my toe in the water before deciding to jump in. But DO test the water, DO something out of your ordinary once in awhile and do LIVE your life instead of just being an extra in the spotlight of the stars. You Can be the STAR of Your Own Life!

Free Spirit

“Free Spirit”

          There are few people I could say have had an impact on my life and affected who I am today but the one that definitely stands out from the maddening crowd is my mother. Just for the record, I love her to bits but the woman was a crazy mess! Hot pink stretch pants were her signature trademark which she paired with old, tattered t-shirts of rock and roll bands like Guns N’ Roses and Metallica. She was thin in her physique, with few feminine curves to show off. Her hair was just as wild and crazy as she was; usually it was brown with coiled ringlets that bounced like little springs from the crown of her head. However, the not so usual times, left her looking like she had her hair colored at the Clown Salon sporting every color of the rainbow in streaks and sometimes polka dots.  The jewelry she wore on her fingers was not too flashy but adorned every digit on both hands and at times drew attention to the fact that she was missing the tip of her ring finger.

          As if it she didn’t create enough drama with her appearance, her boisterous personality added even more flare. She was hyper, usually very lively and keeping everything fun. However, there were times (many that only I was privy to behind closed doors) when she appeared disheartened and lonely. Her mood could switch at the drop of hat. I never knew if the next word I spoke or move I made would change her from happy to lunatic. It was a clever tap dance I had to learn to survive in that environment.

Granted, her bi-polar moods would sometimes engage the best of times we would have together. Because of her extreme highs and lows, there was usually very little she was afraid to do. She’d blast her music and dance anywhere. She had no fear of what whispers or looks she would get by being who she wanted to be. I always admired that carefree side of hers. That is, of course, unless it was causing me embarrassment since I still had a little desire for popular approval. She was simply looked at as a “free spirit” and because of this, many people adored her. Spunky and out of control at times, she still had a very soft heart and was always willing to help others out. On many occasions, I remember that she would even stretch her own means to make sure that someone else had less struggles.

My whole life it was pretty much just me and her, like yin and yang. “We are such opposites”, I would always tell myself. I feared many times growing up that I would be like her. Although she could be fun and spunky, it was the other side of her that I dreaded; the miserable and tortured part that was locked away from the world. I knew her story, from start to finish like a book that I had memorized. She was there as her father took his last breath when he took his own life, she was mentally and physically abused by loved ones on many occasions, and faced many challenging romantic relationships. In a moment she found herself, not alone emotionally, but financially and with a baby girl to nurture. Her story was a gloomy one and I understood all too well why she was the person she was. Both the upsides and downsides; I had spent many times analyzing. One time, she even said to me, “It’s disturbing that you know me better than I know myself”, and I truly did.

All those times I spent scrutinizing, worrying about becoming her led to me to criticize myself and accept room for change in everything I do. I know that no one can ever be perfect but few people are willing to admit flaws. I do this all the time. When I detect a problem, usually after long evaluation and self-deliberation, I make a decision to change. When my mother wanted change, we would move. Her monsters were too much for her to fight and I learned early that I needed to face them head on or they would begin to eat me alive as they had done to her. In a sad twist of irony, all of her struggles and hardships opened my eyes and taught me an infinite amount of lessons that I would not have to experience for myself. There are a few I still had to endure and experience despite her unspoken advice.

Now that I am growing older, I hear more and more “Julie, you’re just like your mother” and for a brief moment I stop breathing, dazed that it could be true. Are they telling me I’m crazy, wild, adventurous, loving? What are they seeing? As the oxygen slowly begins to return to my body, I think, “Is it really all that bad if I am like her?” Honestly, despite her silly antics, odd sense of fashion and the wishy washy mood swings, she really was great. I think very few people would have been able to endure as much as she did in her short lifetime and not lose their sanity a little. Yet she rarely let on that things were too rough to handle. At the end of the day, I had been taught that one cruddy day would end and quite possibly, tomorrow may bring a better one.

It may seem mundane and pessimistic to others, but it was knowing that I could do anything, whether I looked like a fool doing it or wanted to pull my hair out to make it through, and that at the end of the day it would all just simply… end. Any issues that poured into the next day became tasks instead of problems because I already had knowledge of their existence. Having the ammunition to attack the day a little more prepared than the next always made it better. I can have a moody day or goofy day and tomorrow will still be better.

It will be nine years this month since she left this world and I realize more and more, I am a lot like her. However, it doesn’t scare me so much anymore. She unknowingly made sacrifices so that I wouldn’t have to and she was still one of the most sincere, caring people I have ever known. So, if it means that I emit these traits too, then I’m proud to be like her. Tears form when I think about her but they are quickly followed but chuckles and smiles. She gave me so much and even in death, her glorious life still lives in every day I get to live mine. 

The Eleventh Day

The Eleventh Day

            January eleventh used to be a day just like every other. Nothing really ever stood out about it, no special events triggered by those numbers on the calendar, no urgent or important deadlines beckoning to me and still almost two weeks before my birthday. It was simply just another day to tack on to the ones before it and I could anticipate its return without a predetermined agenda every year, just like clockwork. However, nearly a decade ago, tragedy hit home and it was like a tidal wave of devastation to my once complacent world.

            The phone began to ring and I recall the incessant ring tone in the dim light of my bedroom. All I could think was “who had the nerve to call me so early in the morning”. Like a new born baby just opening its eyes, images around me were still fuzzy as I clumsily reached for the night stand ready to tear into the voice on the other end. I was able to make out the name on the caller ID just before answering, “Mom” it read. The tired, bitter voice in my head grumbled as I gave an equally unfriendly “hello” to the unsuspecting soul on the other end. It was a male voice, one I knew, but why was he calling me and so early in the morning? My mom’s new fiancé was not a bad guy but there was something about him I never really liked, as if he had been branded with an invisible message that said “Don’t trust me”.

He was frantic and stumbling over his words and my drowsy mind struggled to make sense of his ramblings. As the gears in my head started to turn, I realized he was telling me that something was wrong with my mother.  Suddenly, more alert and intent on understanding the situation, I sat up and tuned into the words stammering from his mouth. I had already begun shuffling around for clothes to throw on when I heard the shattering news. “Your mom, she’s dead! In her sleep… we don’t know what happened but you need to get here!”

Instantly a deafening silence consumed me. I realize now that was the sound of shock, as if I was in a bustling metropolis with cars and swarms of people frantically buzzing past and God simply pressed the mute button. Everything around me appeared to be happening in a state of slow play and I was the only one moving at a regular pace. In my stupefied state, I managed to wake the kids, tossed on their little shoes, flung their bulky winter coats around their pint-sized shoulders and ran out to the car with a toddler under each arm. I still don’t know how I managed to drive there that morning but this would be the image the eleventh day in January would conjure in my mind.

Gazillions of tribulations sprouted after that incident and caused nothing but headache in the weeks following. Trying to wrap up services and an estate became repetitious as if it were a daily job that I did not want to be at. My birthday rolled in nipping at the heels of the funeral the day before. With no desire to celebrate, I wallowed in self-pity and waited for the day to blow away like debris in the wind. I no longer wanted to have to deal with another January again. The whole month had become jaded for me and would leave a soured taste in my mouth at the thought of another one every eleven months.

For months I stay locked away in my darkened bedroom shut off from the world around me. It had become a twisted security blanket I clung to and I didn’t have to let anyone in. So there I sat, in solitude and desolation, while everyone else continued to move on. I ignored my children unintentionally. It was as if I had been taken over by an invasion of body snatchers. There was no soul, no emotion, no beating heart and I was just an empty vessel sent on a mission to carry out the mundane tasks that I had done for years prior. In my state of depression anger was my ally and would lash out over anything. My children found out quickly that the mother they once knew had left and they could only pray that she would return one day to save them from the monster that they now lived with.

It was my children that became my saving grace, the rock to which I struggled so eagerly to keep a grip on. There was a moment that I saw myself from a distance as I punished my kids for something minor but in anger and frustration was met with spanking. As I watched on from across the room astonished at the suffering this new “mother” brought their budding lives, my heart began to feel again. Even though it was disappointment, it began to beat again instilling in me the will to carry on, to right the wrong that I had done and bring love back into our once happy abode. The dark storm that had surrounded me for six months had finally started to clear and blue skies were in the forecast.

With each day, week, and then month, it got a little easier to feel like myself again. On the outside, I appeared restored with the past neatly tucked away as if it were just a scrapbook to take out and reminisce over on occasion. But inside, still cowering in an obscure forbidden corner, was the monster I sought to dispose of. Every first of January it would return from hibernating and drag me to its cave to gnaw on my soul once more. And again, lacking strength and motivation to fight, I would mark the days until the last one for the month was tallied signaling the end to the thirty-one day siege. For seven years this heathen returned and for seven years I surrendered to the fight.

At the end of 2010 I again mustered up the courage and pulled all the strength I could find because this time, I vowed to vanquish this creature once and for all. January would start my quest to victory and every day would be handled one by one. I chose to focus on pleasant thoughts and wonderful blessings I have in my life. For every sad or upsetting thought, I forced myself to follow up with two happy ones. For twenty-three days I chronicled my journey through blogs and Facebook posts. If I could just make it to my birthday without being captured, the rest of the month would be easy sailing.

The eleventh came and I was surviving; holding my battleground strong. Then I received word that one of my best friends from childhood had given birth to a healthy set of twins. Many times they were close to losing the babies and for the first time in a long time I had prayed for them and now they were here as if it had been a walk in the park. I knew at that moment my mother was somehow involved, like she was God’s letter carrier now. I had no excuse not to celebrate this day. I summoned up the strength and courage of thousand men that day. The twenty-third came and went without a hitch and I kept my word steady. True, there was a twinge of loss still lingering about but it was a speck of dust in all of the glory I felt. I had won!

Here it is again, the eleventh day and there is no darkness about me.  I revel in the glory that my mother once was and all that she still does for me. I think it was her gift to me for my success; and in her true form to outdo even herself, she follows it up by helping out on another prayer I tossed to the Heavens last week. My dearest and best friend received a call for an opportunity to shine in the entertainment world and fulfill a lifelong dream and I know she had a hand at making sure my message was received by The Almighty.

 Now, as the day comes to a close, I am at peace once more. Although there are a few faces my eyes cannot see and a few laughs my ears cannot hear, it’s as if very little has changed. I no longer tread softly as the months pass bringing me face to face with the eleventh day of January. I put on a smile, hold tight to my strength knowing my mother is holding my hand, and I face the day as if it were a day like any other… a beautiful gift!