Goodbye, 2012. Hello, 2013!!!

What a year it has been! As I sit here reflecting on the past 366 days (thanks, leap year for the extra day), I can only smile and feel blessed for each and every person, lesson, trial, and laugh that graced its way into my life. From New Year’s Eve in Denver, CO to my road trip home in May, to the week-long driving vacation with Telisa to Canada, to my moves back and forth from Chattanooga to Nashville, it has been nothing less than an exciting roller coaster of fun, loss, gain, crazy emotions, love, and endless stories that will be told for years to come.

On this day last year I remember how ready I was for 2012 to arrive. Since mid-February of 2011 I had been praying for a new year and a change from everything that I knew.  Anxiously I held my breath and tried my best to get through one of the hardest years I have ever experienced. I eagerly welcomed 2012 with opened arms. Although there have been some obstacles, some sadness, and some loss, these past twelve months have been pretty great to me. I loved; I experienced new people and new places; I found courage within myself that had been pushed to the wayside; and most importantly, I had a blast and laughed a lot.

So, here’s to you 2012. Thank you for everything that you taught and showed me. Thank you for the people that stayed constant in my life and for those who walked out of it. Thank you for new relationships and the strengthening old ones. Thank you for the family time that I was abundantly given. Thank you for the laughter, the tears, and the memories.

And to 2013: I am so excited to see where this year takes me. New cities, new friends, new career opportunities, and possibly new love. I will cherish each and every day and live each one to the fullest. I will embrace challenges and keep an open mind to changes. Here we go… Welcome!

A reflection on the best of 2012:

NYE in Denver, CO with Cameron, Katie, Matt, Shawn, and Joseph

Easter weekend with J.R., Cam, Sheena, Chris, Tara, and Josh

Preds/ Avs Game in Denver with the MJ buddies

Garden of the God hikes

Red Rocks runs and hikes

First NBA game

Climbing Red Rocks with Seve, Drew, Matt, and Aaron

Girls’ Nights with Seve

Lessons from lost love relationships

Girl time in the city parks with Natalie

Spent the night in an airport by myself

Roadtrip home to Tennessee with my mom

Kenny Chesney & Tim McGraw concert in Nashville

First visit to Chicago

Family reunion with the Mitchells in Avon, OH

Five new states: Oklahoma, Indiana, Michigan, Pennsylvania, New York

One new country: Canada

Niagara Falls and couchsurfing in Toronto with Telisa

New friends in Chattanooga & Nashville

Eric Church concert in Chattanooga

Week long fun with Aaron in Chattanooga, Nashville, and Atlanta

SEC Football games & tailgating in Knoxville, TN

Ten-year High School Reunion

Thanksgiving with the neighbors

Christmas with my family

 

 

The Ghosts of Christmases Past

It is easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. Indeed, it is the busiest time of the year. With all of the parties, the shopping, and the traveling, life may be pushed to the way-side and momentarily forgotten about. Some of us do this intentionally because it’s easier and less stressful; others of us may do this unintentionally while every now and again getting a glimpse of the moment in which we are currently living. Whatever path one chooses, it is refreshing to be able to take a few minutes, or hours even, to reflect on life, the course of the past year, the outcomes of certain situations, etc.

For me today, I am choosing to reflect on those past Christmases that will always be so vivid and full of life in my memories. From the one I spent away from everything and everyone who was comfortable for me to the twenty-seven other years full of love, happiness, and joy that have been spent with the four people I love the most while adding several others along the way. Today, I want to cheers the memories, the laughter, the love, and the people that have made each and every holiday season special in its own way.

For the first eighteen Christmases of my young life, each was spent exactly like the previous one. Starting on the day after Thanksgiving and all the way up to the New Year, we embraced and rejoiced the traditions of our Ritter Family and our Christian beliefs. My parents, brother, sister, and I would constantly play Christmas music while spending time together baking Christmas cookies, fudge, and caramel corn, hanging Christmas lights, going to the Christmas Tree Farm to pick out “our tree” while sipping hot apple cider, decorating the tree with homemade ornaments, tinsel, and popcorn garland and the house with garland and an always-growing Christmas village on top of the entertainment center, attend church and watch the nativity candle be lit each Sunday while we prepare for the celebration of the Lord’s birth, and laugh and love each other with every ounce of our hearts in each second that passed. On Christmas Eve we would attend church as a family and then go home and wildly open the one present from my mom’s cousin, Carol, because the three of us pestered mom and dad until they finally gave in. From there, we’d enjoy a glass of eggnog in front of the wood-burning fire in our living room, and then head to bed and wait for Santa to arrive. And like clock-work every morning on December 25th, our little sister would awake earlier than the sun and make sure the rest of us did as well. We would all rush to the living room (some of us quicker than others because, even at a young age, I appreciated the meaning of “beauty rest” and was fully aware that the presents would not disappear if we slept in a little longer), admire the gifts under our beautiful tree, and begin opening our stockings (my favorite part!!). From there, we would take turns opening our gifts, appreciating everything we were blessed with and sharing those happy moments together as a family. After the gifts were opened, we would gather around the table for breakfast (always egg casserole, muffins, juice) while Christmas music serenaded us in the background. The rest of the day would be spent together, playing with our toys, putting together the pieces of whatever gifts needed assembling while enjoying great food and great company. The best day of the year without fail or competition. Always.

Along the way, one of us would welcome another into our family’s traditions, never taking away from the five of us, only adding more laughter and cheer. My sister-in-law was welcomed at Christmas 1996 and has been there every year since. From Christmas 2002 to Christmas 2008, Michael was the part of the family that we never knew was missing but only added that much more to the already perfect celebration that existed in our lives. He and I would celebrate every Christmas Eve by going to church with MeeMa and Pappy and then continue the celebration with our Aunt, Uncle, and cousins in Bellevue. Those Christmases, although long and busy with all of the traveling between Mt. Juliet and Dickson (where we celebrated with my family and with his each and every year without fail) will always hold a special part in my heart. Others came and went throughout the years, including five precious children who will someday look back and appreciate all of these memories with our family as well, and then finally my brother-in-law was introduced to our family in 2007. Since then, if I am not mistaken, he has been able to spend two Christmases with us between his deployments, and we are blessed that he will be with us again this year.

Last year was by far the hardest Christmas for my family (or for me at least). I spent Christmas apart from the four people who have always been a constant on that day. While they were enjoying the day together with the children and in-laws, I was alone in my newly-found Colorado home. On Christmas Eve I worked for the first time ever. After work I went over to a friend’s family Christmas to watch their family traditions unfold. Although it was tough, it was better than being entirely alone. That night she stayed with me at my apartment, and we had a slumber party in the living room. I opened the gifts from my family (who did everything in their power to make sure I felt the love I always had on this day) that had been patiently waiting under my very own tree.  The next morning, I was invited to a friend of a friend’s family Christmas. The friend, Josh, and I had met only once. The night before Christmas, he found out from our friend that I was going to be spending the day alone. He called his mom, and they insisted on inviting me to spend the day with them in their church and their home. Although I had never met these people, spending the day with a family was nice. At moments the tears were uncontrollable, but for the most part I embraced the experience I was given and tried to enjoy the day as much as possible. It was nice to be welcomed into a loving home and experience the love and joy that I had always felt from my family’s traditions.  At his church the congregation welcomed me with open arms and hugged me when they knew I needed it the most. At his house, I was able to Skype with my family as they opened the gifts I had sent to them. Then we spent the day watching football and Christmas movies, playing games, and eating dinner before attending church again that night. It was exactly what I needed if I could not be home with my family, and for that I will forever be grateful to Josh and his family.

Now with Christmas only two weeks away, I am anxiously awaiting the reunion with my family. The only thing I have wanted to happen this year will finally happen on December 25^th. I will awake with a smile on my face for several reasons: the celebration of Jesus’s birth, the laughter from my sweet nephews and nieces as they open their gifts, the gathering of the people I love the most, and the good food and cheer that will be waiting for us. I will hug my family members tighter than ever before. I will cry; I will laugh; I will love. I am sure to appreciate this day more than I have ever before. I will be grateful for each and every second we have together without hesitation.

Here’s to making this the best Christmas EVER.

This Is My Grown-Up Christmas List

Dear Santa,

[Preface: Each and every year as a child I would write a letter, address it to you, and, as eagerly and excitedly as possible, I’d send it off to the North Pole. Since entering adulthood, I have not been as faithful. Last year was the first year I truly spent time thinking about what I really wanted for my life, so I grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper and composed my very first adult Christmas List to you, St. Nick. Of course my list last year was drastically different compared to that written by my five-year old self. Back then I wished for plastic dolls, Easy Bake ovens, dress up clothes and pretend makeup: you know… the silly things that to anyone other than a child seem ridiculous. Last year I remember asking you for a trip home to Tennessee so I wasn’t forced to spend the holidays alone. From there I asked for a handsome, kind man with whom to spend Christmas Day if all the departing flights out of Denver were booked and a trip home was impossible. I may or may not have even squeezed in a request for a tropical vacation, a life-long supply of toothpaste and floss, and possibly a new wardrobe and/or marriage proposal from Mr. Tim Tebow. But understandably, those were just minuscule details that I am sure went accidently overlooked. I’ve have found it in my heart to forgive, forget, and move on from the unanswered Christmas List of 2011. And, that is what brings me to this list: the Christmas List of 2012.]

My Christmas List:

1.        I wish for my entire family to be together on Christmas Day in Tennessee like we always were growing up: laughing till our faces hurt, eating till our bellies are full, and loving each other in the way only a family can.

2.        Again, I wish for a handsome, kind man who will love me and will forever receive all the love I have to give him. Put a big red bow on him, if you insist.

3.        I wish for an Airstream or VW Bus so I can easily take adventures whenever the nerve strikes me.

4.       I wish for two plane tickets to South Africa in June 2014. Along with that, I ask for a two-week all-inclusive resort stay, a paid Safari, all immunizations to get into and out of the continent, and a shield of safety from any and all diseases and wild animals.

5.        I wish that money wasn’t a problem for me, my family, my friends, and this world. So, if you could make it snow Benjamins, that would be spectacular.

6.        I wish for an unlimited shopping spree for eight hours through either Forever 21 or Rue 21. Your pick.

7.        I still wish for a life-long supply of free toothpaste, floss, Crest White Strips, and new toothbrushes (preferably pink in color).

8.        I wish that my face will be on a billboard. It doesn’t matter in what city, state, country, or continent. I just want a billboard. For anything. Anywhere.

9.         I wish that throughout this busy season, everyone chooses to live each day to the fullest and not forget that any day could be his or her last day on this earth. I wish that we don’t overlook what is right in front of us as we are preparing for a huge feast and a day of opening presents that won’t take place till weeks ahead.

10.     I wish for a real home in 2013. A place I don’t ever want to abandon. A place that feels like “home” when I come back to it after a trip or a long day at work. A place that is mine. Not a room that I am renting. Not a couch in a friend’s living room. Not a basement that is underneath three other people. I don’t need a big, fancy mansion. I just need a home. At this point I don’t even have a city preference. All I need is for it to feel like my home.

Thanks, Santa. Be safe out there and enjoy all of the spiked eggnog and cookies this Christmas Eve.

With all my love,

Erin Ritter

There's Always More Behind a Song

Life over the past month with a singer/songwriter/ rock musician has been interesting to say the least. Although I am not getting the doctor’s recommended eight hours of sleep like I should be, I can’t complain at all about my current situation. I get to hear fantastic music all the time; I am able to critique new lines and bridges of songs (in spite of the fact that I have no clue as to what a “bridge of a song” is); I get to attend invite-only car-sessions to hear the latest and greatest album before its release; and, hopefully, one day when Fight the Quiet makes it superstar huge, there will be a red-carpet affair and/or Grammy winner speech shout-out in my future. 
 

The best part about living with such a talented musician is the fact that no matter what mood he is in, he can create something magical through the strings on his guitar, the feelings within his heart, and the words that come out of his mouth.  He could be on Cloud Nine because a cute girl gave her number to him the night before at a bar. From this will come an optimistic song about the incredibly warm feelings on the inside that comes from that moment when one has a connection with someone for the very first time.  Or if it’s a really bad day and the pain from his newly divorced life is too much to handle, the energy that comes from his hands onto his guitar and from his feet as he stomps out a new, full of rage beat is electrifying. Despite the situation, the words are always real. There’s a story behind each and every lyric. The emotions, although they desperately want to stay hidden forever, come flowing out as if they are trying to run away from themselves. And, to watch all of this as it is unfolding is truly a blessing.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all had spectacular moments of extreme happiness without a care in the world. We’ve also all had the lowest of the low moments when for a slight second living seems unbearable and even foolish in a sense. No matter what the situation and/or outcomes are of the two extremes, we each have our own way of dealing with it. For my roommate, it is music. For me, it is writing. For the girl next door, it may be painting. Put all of these things together, and the world is blessed with beautiful art that is full of emotion and rich in life and life's hardest, yet most incredible experiences.  I am glad that I have finally allowed myself to open up my mind and look at things differently: being able to see the underlying meaning behind things that don't seem very deep on the surface is amazing.  Observing a painting, reading a poem, or listening to a song is magical. There's always more behind a work of art than what one merely sees on the surface. We just have to decide to make the concious effort to look deeper and appreciate everything- the good and the bad- that went into creating the masterpiece. Once we do that, the rewards are limitless.

 

 

 

 

Cinderella, I Wasn't.

Growing up, I always imagined the fairy tale, white picket fence, family of five, prince charming, happily-ever-after ending for my life.  Not once did I ever picture it turning out any differently, really. There was never another option or plan B. And, for almost twenty-five years, that happily-ever-after plan was playing out just as I knew it would. But then one day, it all changed. No fairy tale. No white picket fence. No family of five of my own. The man that I thought was my prince charming turned into being the first of several frogs to come. And needless to say, there was no such thing as happily-ever-after for this once optimistic, yet foolish girl.

Could it have been that my expectations were just plain ridiculous? Had I set the bar too high? Too high that no one or nothing could ever live up to anything I had built up in my mind? Who knows? The only thing I know now is that once “attainable,” destined to come true dream of mine died one sad, sad day in Georgia. And then again one cold February day in Portland and once more on a cool, March night in Denver. Needless to say, that dream is not any dream of mine anymore. It’s more like a dream-turned-bad-nightmare that I hope never visits me again. Cinderella, I wasn't, and I will never try to be her again.

You Should've Said "No," But I'm Glad You Didn't

It’s easy now to look back at things and be glad that they played out in the exact ways in which they did. For a long time, though, that was not the case.

I used to get super pissed off when Taylor Swift’s “Should Have Said No” came on the radio. Instead of changing the station or skipping to the next track of the CD, I would stubbornly sing it at the top of my lungs with an in-your-face attitude. It was almost like a healing therapy for me for quite some time. But the second the song ended, I was still angry and would let my mind wonder about those disturbing details that, to this day, are still not completely revealed.

Now, however, when that song comes on, I smile. I laugh. I am relieved. Yeah, there are still times when I think he should have said “no” and will completely never understand the concept of cheating, but then quickly, and I mean quickly, I remind myself that if he had simply said “no,” there’s a good chance that I would still be living a mediocre life of repetition and settling for things that society tricked me into believing “makes us happy:”money, marriage, an underpaid, unappreciative job, a membership at the local country club, etc. For some, that is exactly what makes them happy, but not for me. Those things don’t matter if I don’t have a passionate love for what I am doing, who I am spending my time with, and for myself.

Finally, I have come to a complete acceptance of how everything in my life has played out. At times it was a difficult rollercoaster of emotions, but when I think of all the other times that have resulted from his decision to not say “no”… wow! Wow. Wow. Never again will I wonder if there is more to life than I am currently living. Never again will I settle for mediocrity in a relationship, a career, or myself. So, although he should have said “no,” I am glad he didn’t.

 

Three Years Later

If Only I Knew Then What I Know Now

Oh boy, have I learned a lot about life, love, people, communication, compromise, happiness, and commitment throughout this emotional rollercoaster of "adult" life on which I have been. All of those things were important to me throughout my marriage and the five years of dating before we were married, yet I only knew of those things on the surface. I never looked at them on a deeper, more mature level. I didn’t know any better, really. Geez, I was only seventeen when we met and twenty-three when we married. How was I supposed to know those things on a deeper level when I was so young and naive? I needed those eight years to play out exactly like they did for me to someday have a successful personal and family life.

It’s easy now to look back and see when things started to go wrong. There are specific instances that I know I didn’t handle very maturely and constructively. There were moments when it was easier for me to just not say anything and harvest resentment, disgust, and sadness over things he did and said. I internalized everything that happened, everything that he said, and everything that he didn’t say. I focused too much on not getting divorced than I did on rebuilding a love that we once had. I found trust and communication in everyone but him, partly because he wasn’t willing to listen and partly because I was being selfish. At the time it was the thing that was easiest for me as I was disregarding what the best thing for us was. It was the only thing I knew to do.

Now don’t get me wrong: I know that I needed to spend those eight years of my life with him and say goodbye. He was there for a reason, and I wouldn’t do it any differently if I had it to do all over. Everything happens for a reason. Everyone is in our lives for a reason: some stay a short time; some stay a long time; and others stay forever. With that being said, I WILL do things differently in the future.

I won’t walk away so easily if I know in my heart that it is true love. I will fight, I will communicate, I will be respectful, and I will only focus on the positive outcomes that will come from the struggles and the “worse” that every couple faces. I will open my heart and voice my feelings freely and fearlessly. I will listen to my heart but not mute my head. I know that I am worthy of the greatest love in the world, and once I find it, I won’t give up on it. When the other person needs his space, I will give it to him. I will embrace the lessons that need to be learned, and I will use the tools that I have been given to make this life the best one ever. I will love and let myself be loved.

How Can I Not Care Anymore?

I am pretty certain that I will never understand how
someone can so easily cut someone else out of his or her life with just a blink of an eye.  How in the world can a person go from being an important part of one’s life to nothing more than a distant memory, if anything? Maybe it is that I care too much for the people that come into my life and even those who leave my life with or without notice. Maybe I exert too much of my own energy on others; maybe I let my emotions get too involved when someone crosses my path. Regardless of how protective I am of my heart, it seems like it is never enough. No matter how hard I try, I cannot just forget about someone, especially someone who flooded so many of my thoughts and dreams and so much of my time and energy. I cannot write someone off without a second thought, yet I feel as though it is the norm nowadays. How? How is this so easy for so many others but not for me? Maybe I should try to change because it doesn’t seem like the others are willing to budge on this one. How can I begin to not care so much for others and only focus on my feelings and my well-being? What can I do differently so my heart doesn’t continue to feel like this for the period of the earthly life that God has set aside for me? It seems to work so well for everyone else, so how can I do this? I really need to stop getting hurt and consumed in the heartache that goes along with it. What’s the answer? How do I do this? And more importantly, will it ultimately make me feel better about myself and my life, or will it only bring me shame and more heartache? Help...

I Love Small Town USA, Y'all

If anyone knows what it is like to leave the comfort of one's home, it's this girl. Since the end of 2009 on an almost daily basis, I have explored several new places, tried new things, and exposed myself to things that I wouldn't have necessarily been able to do, see, and experience if I would have chosen to stay in the south. I felt limited by my location and couldn't settle with knowing there were so many opportunities out there that I was missing out on by staying put in a place that didn't "feel quite right" to me at that moment. Each time I go back home to visit, I am quickly reminded of why I always choose to leave. Although I love my family, my friends, and several components of the culture that one will only find south of the Mason-Dixon Line, the prevalence of closed-mindedness, judgment, racism, and ignorance that I consistently find there continues to keep me away.

During the entire month of May as I was packing my bags for Tennessee, I listened to several people ask me the question: "Why in the world would you want to go back to the south especially during the summer?" Their reasons being: 1)The summer is the best season in Colorado; 2)There is no humidity here, and it is so humid in the south!!; and 3)There are so many more opportunities here than there are in Tennessee.
Believe me, I have pondered over all of these numerous times as well, and I cannot find any argument against even one of them.

With that being said, the love of my family and friends, the consistency of support, and the feeling of comfort and security that is always present in Tennessee and Georgia keep calling me back. Don't get me wrong: I know a lot of good people around this country, but only a few of the relationships I have outside of the south are relatively similar to the ones that I have back home. When I go home, the relationships are real. They aren't just the semi-temporary ones that I find myself making to "pass the time" until I move on to the next best thing. [Note: I want to stress that I have made some lifelong, lasting friendships throughout my travels (the Savage family in Portland; the McNamaras in Denver; Seve, Aaron, Natalie, and several others in Colorado; Quinton in Iowa; Cam's buddies in Albuquerque etc.) that I hold near and dear to my heart. I am not discrediting any of those!!!] There is nothing quite like coming back home after some crazy move/adventure and knowing that the hugs, laughs, and quality time that will be spent with my family and friends will be exactly like it was the moment that I packed my bags and left the last time.

I know from time to time I can be rather harsh to the south: its culture, the people, the lifestyle, etc., but when it comes down to it, I wouldn't change a thing about how and where I grew up. It's the small town feeling that keeps bringing me back. It's the feeling of unity when watching an SEC football game no matter which two teams are playing, the respect felt from a gentleman as he opens and holds the door for every lady walking in or out of a building, the smiles and excitement when any Johnny Cash or Hank Williams Jr. song is played at a honky tonk, and the dependability that no matter where you are, there will be plenty of sweet tea and old ladies blessing your heart. The south really is "small town USA," and that is why I keep coming back.

If and when I decide to leave again, which we all know will surely be sooner rather than later, just know that it is nothing against the people or the culture. It is me spreading my wings and experiencing as much as I can out of life while I am able. It is my drifter ways that make me who I am. Although I am curious about other cultures and people who are different than I am, I will always be proud of our "small town USA" ways and the people that I call my family and friends. When I joke about the south, it is only out of love and respect. When I am upset with the closed-mindedness stereotype and need some space to explore on my own, it is for personal growth and the betterment of myself. When I walk away or get on the next flight to who-knows-where-ville, I promise I will always come back home to Tennessee and to the people who love me and those that I love the most.

 

The "Nice Guy" v. The "Bad Boy"

After a failed marriage, one serious relationship that my heart definitely wasn’t ready for, a lost best-friendship resulted from a silly summer romance, a dissolved quick-paced relationship that found me head-over-heels the moment I met him, and one mega crush on someone whom I desperately wanted in my life forever, I have so much to say when it comes to falling for the wrong guy. Sometimes I feel as though my heart could not ever again handle even the smallest break.  Each time I open up, let my walls down, and welcome someone even the slightest bit close to my heart, inevitably something goes terribly wrong. Even the one guy, the “nice, good guy,” who I thought could never do harm to my heart and to my spirit ended up causing me pain and caused me to start all over at square-one, the place I thought I had finally left behind forever.

The situation is almost always the same: One guy. Me. He chases me and presents himself as “the nice guy” who is “different from the other losers” (his words, not mine) that I’ve dated in the past. He always questions the ones who have let me go, calling them “crazy” and “unworthy,” among several other non-lady-like adjectives that I opt to leave up to your imagination. Understandably so, I am somewhat slow to trust and open up completely using every defense mechanism that I have created over the past few years to ensure my heart is protected this time...ha! He continues to pursue me somewhat patiently until I finally let my guard down and begin to trust him (silly, girl!), and almost simultaneously, he deuces. The common reasons for his departure: 1) He cannot trust me (that in essence means that he has trust issues that he has yet to deal with, he doesn’t trust himself, and/or the thought of my long list of guy friends is intimidating to him); 2) He says he is not ready for what he wants to have with me; 3) He really is the a-hole that he proclaimed he was on the first night we met; or 4) I hear the famous last words: “You deserve better.” Oh yeah, I always (insert sarcasm here) love that last one. It’s the nice-guy-way of saying that he is no longer interested. Nice, indeed.

I’ll be the first to admit that girls rarely give the so-called nice guy a second thought. We are, without a doubt, attracted to the bad-boy who is an adventure and an inevitably short-term heck of a good time that will ultimately leave us crying over lost hopes and dreams and with a heart that is broken into a million pieces. Although we know deep down that this will be the outcome, we can’t help but to wonder if this one is different and hope that he will one day see the potential in himself that we have seen in him since the very beginning of the foolish love affair. Silly, silly girls, we are. But what if we are actually smart when it comes to our choices in men? Maybe?!

Here’s my theory: The nice girl gets her heart broken by the nice guy, so she then decides to go after the bad boy because, although he will almost certainly leave her broken-hearted, she is somewhat prepared for what the future holds with him. If, in some miraculous way, he becomes a better man because of her and holds on to her forever, she wins. If he plays out to be the person she knows deep down that he is/could be, then she is left saddened and may even experience a broken heart, but she was somewhat expecting it, so she will use that stumbling block as a lesson learned and she will only be strengthened and more confident in herself and what she wants for her future. However, if she goes after the nice guy and he turns out to be just like the bad boys, then she is disheartened and will surely give up hope in all men. He was the “nice guy,” remember?  If the nice guy is the same as the bad boy, what’s the point? It’s as simple as that. Take it from me; it’s just easier that way. I have had my heart broken by both the nice guy and the bad boy.  At least with the bad boys, I wasn’t totally shocked and the time we spent together was extremely fun and super exciting. Just sayin’.

By the way, I hope I am wrong. Although I have a lot of research and outcomes to support my theory, I truly hope that someday it will be proven wrong. I would still like to hope that there are good, nice guys out there. I know a few (my dad, my brother, a couple of my friends), and hopefully one day I will know another.  Come and prove me wrong, but until then, I will be slow to trust and love.

I Didn't Know My Own Strength: 2011 Firewalk

...I had this unlimited amount of energy. I stayed focused on the positive things that were happening while working through the negative. I started to understand things that I had never given a second thought to. I could recognize strength in myself and in others: strength that I never knew was there because I had never looked for it or called upon it. I was aware of everything I did and stopped (or at least put forth the effort to recognize and stop) internalizing everything that everyone else did. For the first time in a long time, I knew that I would be happy, strong, and as successful as I chose to be. I knew that if I was strong enough to let go, face everything that seemed impossible, and overcome the hard times and learned the lessons that they needed to teach me, I would finally have the life for which I yearned. All of this because on one night I had the courage to do the unthinkable: trust myself and test my strength. Because of this I am forever grateful to myself and to the ones who made this life-changing event possible... 

One year ago on September 16, 2011, I walked across fire! Yep, I walked across 1200-degree hot coals with my bare feet. To many this may seem like a “crazy” idea that could never be possible. I was one of those people two years ago when I first learned about this type of event. I could not imagine that anyone could actually walk across hot coals with no protection on his/her feet and not get burned. I knew it just had to be some type of scam!! Even up until a few days before my fire walk, I was still quite skeptical. Here's how it went:

On the Wednesday before the walk, I started to mentally prepare myself for what would be my first ever fire walk (or at least my first attempt at it). I had to work a double that day, but even at work I stayed focused on me and what I needed to do to “break through” and make the most out of this event (fire or no fire). I decided that, no matter what, I could and would make some HUGE changes in my life even if the 1200-degree coals were non-existent. (Remember, I was still skeptical.) I kept to myself at work (well, the most one can when they are waiting tables) and had many ask me if I was ok because I wasn’t my “talkative, loud, chipper” self. When I got home that night, I spent some time reflecting on who I wanted to be and what I needed to do to be that person.

Thursday was totally different compared to the previous day. I started to get extremely excited and confident that I wouldhave life-changing experiences on the following night. I had super-high energy and was eager to get to that next level. I was ready and willing to walk on fire (or anything for that matter) to prove to myself that I was strong and capable of moving on from the things/people that were holding me back and would conquer all of the fears and obstacles that were still standing in the way of me and the future for which I so desperately longed.

From the moment I woke up on Friday, I had an excitement that I had only felt a handful of times before (usually related to teaching, coaching, or traveling). That excitement continued to grow as the time got closer. Seriously, I am not sure if I have ever sang Taylor Swift's "Love Story" with as much passion (and volume) than I did that day in the car ride up... and unfortunately there were witnesses. (Sorry, y'all! ;)) Anyway, I was so ready and willing to throw my intentions into the fire and get this show started!!!

We left Denver around noon and headed to Fort Collins. We arrived around 2:00 and started preparing for the event which didn’t start until 6:00. As part of the fire crew and a participant, I got to see things from all directions. I witnessed the set-up, the lighting of the fire, the arrival and greeting of the participants, the intentions that were written and thrown into the fire, the seminar, the excitement building during the seminar, the walking of the participants, crew, and friends, the closing statements, the break-down and clean-up, and the after party at the nearby restaurant. Oh, and not to mention I rode to and from the event with the presenter himself.

As the guys were preparing the fire, I wrote down my intentions. I wrote about everything that I needed to focus on, change, and begin to be concious of. I wrote of my weaknesses, the anger and hurt that was so evident in my heart, and of the lack of trust that I had in almost everyone and everything. After writing what could have been considered a novella, I walked up to the fire, and threw the paper into the brillantly orange flames while focusing on the breakthrough that was about to take place.

Around 6:00 PM the seminar started and lasted until about 8:45. It was pretty relaxed and mellow up until about 8:15. Then the fun started! For the next thirty minutes we prepared ourselves to get “in state.” We became instantly energized and excited about what was about to happen in our lives (not just the fire, but the breakthrough itself). After walking out to the fire and witnessing the first two men walk across the flaming hot (uh, I mean “ice cold”) coals, I was ready! I watched a few of my new friends walk right before me. Finally, it was my turn! I was bursting with energy, jumping up and down with the biggest smile on my face. I was focused, energized, and ready. I stepped up to coals, repeated “cool moss” with my eyes on the sky, and walked calmly and directly across several feet of the glowing 1200-DEGREE HOT COALS!!! As a couple of the crew members caught me at the end, hosed off my feet, and told me to “wipe my feet,” I felt this rush that is indescribable. OH MY GOODNESS!!! I JUST WALKED ON FIRE!!! I ran over, hugged several necks, and cheered on the others who were also testing their strength and determination. I felt honored to watch others whom I cared for deeply walk across and face their fears. I met a 17 year-old boy and a 10 year-old little girl after they had the courage to break through and walk across the coals. Even more so, I witnessed one of my best friends walk across, and at the time, it felt just as amazing to see take place as it did to walk myself. Wow. Just wow.

The moral of this story is: Test your stength. You are only as strong as you allow yourself to be. If you think something is too hard, too impossible, and/or too much to handle, then you are absolutely right. It will be impossible, and you won't be able to handle it. Since that cool September night in Colorado, I realize that a person is only as strong as he thinks he is. If you believe you can do the unthinkable, you WILL do it. If you trust yourself, you'll move mountains. If your head tells you something is possible, it IS possible. All of this solely depends on what you desire for yourself and your life. It only takes one minute to decide what you can and will do, and that decision will inevitably impact the rest of your life, your happiness, and whatever successful path you choose or do not choose to take. If you want something to change, you must change it. Just sitting around waiting for change is just that: a constant wait that will forever be idle. You must trust yourself and tell yourself that you ARE strong enough to change whatever it is that is "wrong." It may be a substance dependency; it may be a bitterness towards someone who wronged you; it may be negative self-talk that is constantly holding back your success at work...whatever it is, it is up to you to decide if you will work through it and change it or accept it and settle with the life you are currently living. Only you can decide. Your strength is up to you, and until you accept that to be truth, you won't see the change that you may think you want. I just know that I will never regret that night and the courage and strength I found. Even if I would have been burned, I would have never have known if I didn't take that first step towards the rest of my life. Oh, but I am so glad I did. :)

(The video below is not from the actual firewalk that I did, but it is the best example I can find of the energy, the fire, the intentions, the walking across the coals, etc. Sooo amazing!!! All rights are from igniteurspirit on Youtube.)

 

Hug Them a Little Tighter... Not Just Tonight, But Every Time You Get the Chance.

I am scrubbing the vanity and cleaning the mirror in the bathroom as I hear Taylor Swift’s voice on the radio. As you know I may just be her biggest fan, so I was a little caught off guard when I did not recognize the chords of the song that were streaming from the boom box sitting on the floor at my feet. (Yes, I still have a boom box. And yes, it is awesome.) Anyway, I put down my sponge and sat on the floor to listen to this mysterious melody. Within seconds the tears start rolling down my cheeks as I listen to each word and see images of my little nieces and nephews in my mind.

The song: “Ronan.” Swift wrote the song about a 3-year-old boy who died last year after battling cancer, and she sings it from the perspective of his mother. Swift learned about Ronan’s story from his mother’s blog that is dedicated to raising awareness of children with cancer.

Wow. So emotional. As I listen to the song over and over, the only thing I can think of is that Ronan could have easily been one of my nephews (Brady, Joshua, Jackson, and Lucas) or my nieces (Samantha, Lauren, and the Cantu girls).  I cannot fathom the pain that Ronan’s mother, father, brothers, aunts, grandparents, or anyone else who knew that precious little blue-eyed boy has and will continue to experience since that heartbreaking day in May 2011.

As Swift sings about “plastic dinosaurs,” “a little laugh,” and “dancing before bed time,” I just want to hold on to all the little ones in my life and never let them go. Too often we go through this life taking almost everything for granted. Tomorrow is not promised to us. Children grow up. Children get sick, and sadly sometimes children do not live to see a grown-up life.

 

 

The short amount of time that we do get to spend with the little ones that we love so much is never enough. Hug them more. Kiss their little cheeks. Tell them that you love them…all the time. Please never assume that they just “know” how you feel. Live every day like it is your and even their last day on this earth. Love them and soak up every ounce of love that they give you in return. Listen to their laughs and their bare feet as they thump on the wood floors. Let them dance in their pajamas and sing their favorite songs at the top of their lungs. Sing and dance along with them! Even if you know you have a million things to do and may be “too busy right this second,” take a break: listen to them, play a game with them, read a book with them, sit there and hold them as you watch a movie together. Whatever it is, please never take them or any day you have with them for granted.  

If you had only one day left with your child, niece, nephew, grandchild, friend’s child, etc., how would you spend it?

http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/music-arts/taylorronan-thompson-article-1.1157558#ixzz26MOQlB38

We All Have a Story

Everyone has his or her own story.  It is that story that has made them who they are, has taken them where they are in the present, and will take them where they will go tomorrow. Even the people you know the best have things from their pasts that you may not ever know about. Think about the television show Lost and its first season. Throughout the episodes the audience gets glimpses of major parts of each of the main characters’ pasts. From these scenes we have a better understanding of who the people are as individuals and why/how they become stranded on the island.

One day last week, my mom, sister, and I took my nephews to eat at Chick-fil-A. As we were leaving the parking lot, we noticed what looked like a homeless woman in her early 20s. She was huddled underneath a tree in the parking lot of a large shopping center with only a backpack, her dog, and the dirty clothes on her back. Within seconds my mom, being the angel on earth that she is, suggested we turn around and buy her something to eat. Long story short: we drove back over to Chick-fil-A, bought her a sandwich and bottle of water, and hand-delivered it to her. She humbly accepted it, said “thank you,” and we drove away. As we were driving home, I commended my mom on being such a wonderful person while I joked that “she does things like that because she knows it could be her gypsy daughter one day and she could only hope someone would be so kind to me.” Of course once we arrived home, life went on, and I didn’t give much thought to that girl again until we saw her in the same parking lot yesterday.

Since yesterday I cannot get the girl out of my head. I wonder what her story is. I wonder why she is where she is. Is her being there her choice or is it the result of something that was out of her control? Is she happy? Hungry? Thirsty? Homeless? Doing research for her PSY 101 Class at UTC?  I have played with random scenarios in my head and have prayed to God that one of the more comical ones could the possible truth. But who knows? Does anyone ever stop more than a few seconds to give her a sandwich, some water, or a few bucks? Has anyone ever asked her for her story? Does anyone know her name?

Today I left for work an hour early with two bottles of water, one for me and one for her, hoping to find her and talk with her. I wanted to listen and know her story. I wanted to sit there silently with her if she didn't feel like talking. At the least I wanted her to know that someone does care about her story. I drove to that same parking lot playing out our conversation (if she wanted to have one) in my head. I scanned the shady areas searching for her khaki green cap and her sweet-faced brown dog. For a second I thought I spotted her, but it turned out to be a Target employee enjoying his break time. I drove over to a nearby shopping center thinking maybe she needed a change in scenery, but again I had no luck finding her.

So, here I sit at the local Starbucks thinking about her and about everyone around me. Each of them with a story that is his/her own. Some may be completely absorbed with themselves to have even noticed that I have been examining their body language and smiles or lack thereof; while others may be completely creeped out (and rightfully so) by this strange smiling, brown-headed girl staring at them. Again, who knows? All I know is that I need to take the time to ask and listen. I need to learn about others and understand their stories before I just assume their situations. I need to love others as much as I love myself because I know that the love I have inside of me may make a difference in the life of someone else who doesn’t understand or know love like I do.

Tomorrow is another day. I will continue to search for the girl in the parking lot and hope that she is receptive to me as I am to her story. Until then I will listen to those around me. I will understand and not assume. I will open up my mind and heart to whatever it is the world wants me to know and learn. I will share my story to those who want to know it. I will strive to make a difference in whatever ways I am destined to do so. Above all, I will love, laugh, and continue to live as much as I am humanly able.