Warning – this post will be very raw and may contain items that people find offensive but they will be true from my point of view and memory.

In this series of posts, I will share dominoes that touched me.  I remind you, dear reader, that the items you are about to read are true from my own point of view and may be uncomfortable for some to read. I am writing about my journey not to place blame but to help me heal and maybe help someone else struggling with a similar journey.

DOMINO Track One:

My parent’s divorce changed the layout of the domino pattern of my life.  During this time, the layout consisted of two parallel tracks.  One track was life with my dad while the other was with my mom.  I consider them parallel because I was the one balanced between the tracks.  In reality, the worlds were very different.  Track one will focus on  life with my dad. This time is very precious to me as you, dear reader, will find out in a future domino.

The house my family lived in while my parents were married was sold as part of the divorce.  My parents would move into very different neighborhoods.  As  I mentioned in the last domino, my dad was awarded custody of my siblings and me, initially.  With dad, we stayed in the same area of our city but moved into a welfare apartment community that people to this day still refer to as Roachland Village. No matter how clean we kept our unit, there were always some little roaches to be seen. This was a major adjustment for me.

I remember going on the city bus with dad to the social security, welfare and unemployment offices.  I thought of them as adventures.  I remember being in those offices for what seemed like hours.  It was during one of these adventures that I received my social security card.  I was proud that I could sign my name in cursive.  I still have that card.  When I see it, images of these adventures play in my mind’s eye. I had seen food stamp booklets before since my mom worked in a grocery store.  While dad never complained where I could hear, I could feel his embarrassment when we used them at the store.  At that young age, I thought they were pretty cool looking.  I didn’t understand the stigma.

Since dad was able to stay in the same area of the city, I was able to stay in the same school for the third grade.  I attended a Catholic school at this point and we must have been outside the school bus routes because my parents dropped me off at school every morning after the divorce. I was picked up by my babysitter after school.  These were the beginning months of 1984.  This is important because these were the days of the year when the sun was not up when I was dropped off at school….it was very dark. I do not know the details of the arrangement between my parents but I know the result.  Every school day, I was dropped off, in the parking lot of my school.  Seems ok until I tell you that I was the first person there.  Not just the first student but the first person.  I would sit on the steps until a teacher or the principal or some body came to open the building. My older brother was in high school so we were not at the same school.  I turned 9 years old that February of 1984.  I do know there were no options.  Both of my parents had to be at work early. I don’t think parents could do this in today’s world.

I began to really feel I needed to take care of the people in my life.  I would make meals when I could. We lived fairly close to a store that I could pick up milk.  This was when I found out that milk could be a powder and come in a big white box with the word MILK printed on it. My go to for cooking was hamburgers with macaroni and cheese. I was proud I could do this chore to help lessen dad’s stress.  There did come a day when he had to break the news to me that I made this meal on the wrong day of the week.  How could that be?  As I mentioned, we were Catholic.  It was lent which meant no meat on Fridays.  I didn’t really know or understand that.  All I knew was I was happy to cook dinner.  I began to cry when dad told me.  I thought we were all going to go to hell.  I remember asking dad if God would still let him, my brother and sister into heaven since I made the mistake and not them.  I remember him hugging me and telling me that it would be a bigger sin to waste the food. So, we sat down and ate.

We had many adventures with dad.  The area we lived in had numerous bars.  On Saturday mornings, we would go to these bars, climb in their dumpsters and pull out all the aluminum cans we could.  This was a time when beer and pop were still served in or poured from cans and not bottles.  This adventure was usually very stinky. My little sister and I would pick up a can, hand it to dad and he would use a magnet to confirm if it was aluminum or not.  When I think of these adventures, I don’t recall our brother being there.  He was taller than us so maybe he stayed home because he was too big.  I don’t really know.  After we filled several trash bags with the cans, we would go to the recycling place and get money for the cans.  I thought this was so cool.

The next adventure we would go on regularly was to the library.  I loved the library.  I was amazed at all the books, records and cassette tapes I could take home.  I had some favorites that would come home often.  There were silly song books, and Michael Jackson’s Thriller record which was a big deal.  I loved that I could enjoy these things and not spend any money.  I felt so blessed.  Dad never refused anything I picked out. It was amazing.

The final adventure I will share is we would go to the various parks around us.  One we went to was actually a cemetery but it had this big pond with many ducks and geese.  We would take our stale bread and feed them.  One time my sister was chased by a goose.  She was only 5 years old and it really scared her.  At the parks, dad would push us on the swings, toss the Frisbee and baseballs with us.  We would play tennis and a few times tried to figure out shuffle board.  All these things were free.  Again I felt blessed to be able to enjoy all these things. I loved this time with dad.

Sundays were for church in the morning.  We attended a small church that was in the basement of my school.  I was proud that my dad was a church helper.  There was an older gentleman that had his leg amputated and was wheelchair bound.  These were the days before everything was accessible.  My dad would help this man’s son carry him in the wheelchair down those stairs. I thought dad was so strong and loving.  When mass was over, dad was one of a few people who stayed to receive supplies and blessed Eucharist in his little kit.  We would then go to some of the senior citizens in our parish who were no able to leave their homes.  I was in awe watching dad deliver a shorter version of mass and provide the blessed Eucharist to these people.

I love my dad.  Our lives would follow this pattern for a few years.  I had no idea at the time just how fast the time would go.  The fall of 1988 would end this domino track.  That will be a domino story all of its own.

I believe this time with dad built my capacity for empathy and love.  An unexpected side effect would be that I wanted so much to take care of the people around me that I forgot about taking care of me for a really long time. I learned that no matter how hard I thought things were, there were others who had it worse.  I was determined to work hard enough to stay out of the hands of welfare. I was determined to make my dad proud of me.

Reminder: This is a very raw experience for me but I will continue with the next Domino soon. Again, my hope for sharing this journey is that someone will see they are not alone in their pain. My hope is they will see my healing and learn it is possible to accept yourself and even love yourself. Until the next Domino, treat yourself with kindness….you are worth it.

Warning – this post will be very raw and may contain items that people find offensive but they will be true from my point of view and memory.

In this series of posts, I will share dominoes that touched me.  I remind you, dear reader, that the items you are about to read are true from my own point of view and may be uncomfortable for some to read. I am writing about my journey not to place blame but to help me heal and maybe help someone else struggling with a similar journey.

DOMINO First Split:

The first split in the Domino design of my life, I feel, is my parent’s divorce.  As with so many children who have been through a divorce with their parents, there are so many warring emotions.  I was 8 years old when I found out my parents were getting divorced. I remember thinking that my whole world was being ripped apart. At 8 years old,  I had heard the word before and even knew a few kids whose parents were divorced.  I didn’t really know what it meant except that I knew that everything about my life would change. I was scared.

My nighttime bed wetting began to happen again.  I would also wake up with blood covering my face, pajamas, pillow and blanket from nocturnal nose bleeds. I now know that these things were triggered from the sheer stress I was under.  Like so many children before (and after) me, I felt that somehow I was part of the problem.  I began to obsess that because I had been “bad” by “letting” the sexual abuse happen,  God was punishing my family and me. So, I did the only thing I thought might help… one night while my parents were arguing, I screamed the announcement of my abuse at my parents.  I have thought of that moment many times and I am still not sure what I expected as a response to that. I know my dad was furious at the abuser.

My parents did the best they could to help my siblings and me get through the divorce.  We went to therapy.  I remember the lady who was working with me focusing on my weight and that she felt it was tied to stress. We may have spoken about other things but this is what imprinted on my memory. I remember her telling me to write down foods I ate, when I ate and how I felt about what I ate and how I felt after I ate.  I remember her telling me to avoid starches (aka carbs).  When we would review my journal, she would highlight all the starchy foods.  Important reminder here….I was 8 years old. I didn’t have a say in what my parents provided me for meals.  As a result, I have obsessed about my weight for a very long time.

An interesting fact about my parent’s divorce is that my siblings and I were placed in the full custody of our dad.  This was the early 1980’s and that didn’t happen very often at that time. I do not know the particulars or details of the divorce or even how this decision came to be.  I do remember what it felt like to move out of our family home and begin to have two addresses and phone numbers to remember. I remember worrying about things like: ‘what if I forget my toothbrush?’; ‘will there be enough clothes for both homes?’; ‘I will never again get a hug and kiss before bed from both my parents’; and ‘how will the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy and Santa know where I am?’

Suffice it to say that I acknowledge where my deep seated anxiety about being alone began. This is where my need to control my thoughts and actions began to develop. This is when my attitude around not trusting others to take care of me began.  This section of my Domino picture contains a few off shoots that I will breakdown further in future posts to do each Domino justice.

Reminder: This is a very raw experience for me but I will continue with the next Domino soon. Again, my hope for sharing this journey is that someone will see they are not alone in their pain. My hope is they will see my healing and learn it is possible to accept yourself and even love yourself. Until the next Domino, treat yourself with kindness….you are worth it.

Warning – this post will be very raw and may contain items that people find offensive but they will be true from my point of view and memory.

We have all seen videos of fancy domino set ups and some fantastic images emerging from just 1 domino being pushed.  It touches the next and so on until the final result emerges.

Sometimes our own lives can feel that way when we reflect on the decision points that have brought us to our current position.  There are some decision points that were out of our control such as when we were children or a natural disaster. Some decision points were what we thought were best for survival at a given time. I have been reflecting on my own dominoes for some time now and working to heal the effects.

In this series of posts, I will share dominoes that touched me and set off a chain reaction that ultimately made me who I am today. Some reactions were automatic and beyond my control. Some reactions were my own and in hindsight were maybe not the best. I will reinforce that the items you are about to read are true from my own point of view and may be uncomfortable for some to read. I am writing about them not to place blame but to help me heal and maybe help someone else struggling with a similar journey.

DOMINO Beginning:

Until I was 3 years old, my family were members of Paradise Gardens, a nudist camping resort. I have zero memory of these years. Around age 9, I stumbled upon a wedding photo where I was the flower girl.  Let’s just say it was only a traditional wedding photo because everyone was in it, the bride had flowers and the priest had his collar. I was floored and showed it to my mother who then explained about that lifestyle. I was stunned. Of course, it helped explain why it was never an issue to have my mom, sister and me all in the bathroom at the same time trying to shower and get ready for any given day.  This was my norm.

Years later though, as I reflected on the sexual abuse I experienced for years in my young childhood, I wondered if maybe there wasn’t a dark side to that lifestyle to which my parents were not aware. Could that lifestyle have been a crucial domino? How much influence did that domino have on events that would occur later? Did that domino touch the one that triggered the abuse I experienced? My abuser was not an adult but a older child.

I struggled for many years to reconcile the abuse I received and the impact on my life. How much did it influence my thinking? What action did I have control of that would have change the course of the abuse.  The answer – NONE.  I was a little kid. I cannot conceive how a child under the age of 5 could have “made” someone abuse them. 5 is the youngest age I remember of the abuse that went on until I was nearly 9 years old.  My gut has always told me it began younger than I remember but I have no proof. Hell, I don’t even have tangible proof of the years I remember.  All I have is my memory and the aftermath of that domino being pushed.

As I reflect on my choices and actions in life, I do believe this beginning Domino touched off the part in me that had me hyper-aware of my body and sex at an early age. In addition to the sexual abuse, my abuser would taunt me with things like, ‘you are fat’, ‘no one wants you’, and ‘you are ugly’. I have struggled with my body image, self-esteem and weight ever since. By the third grade, near the end of the years of sexual abuse, I was 100 lbs.  That is nearly 40 pounds overweight. I had a ‘boy’s haircut’ (hey…it was the early 1980’s) and was missing some of my baby teeth waiting patiently for my adult teeth to come in.  This image of me is burned into my memory. This domino was crucial to making me who I am today.

This is the end of the beginning Domino. This is a very raw experience for me but I will continue with the next Domino soon. Again, my hope for sharing this journey is that someone will see they are not alone in their pain. My hope is they will see my healing and learn it is possible to accept yourself and even love yourself. Until the next Domino, treat yourself with kindness….you are worth it.

Warning – this post will be very raw and may contain items that people find offensive but they will be true from my point of view and memory.

Fear.

When I was small, fear helped keep me safe.  I didn’t touch the space heater because I didn’t want to get burned (again). I stayed quiet and played contently because I saw what happened to my older brother when he broke the rules and I did not want to get spanked. Fear stopped climbing trees after falling through a weak bough and landed on my back.  I thought I was going to die.  I hurt everywhere.  I only sprained my elbow….thankfully….but it was my right arm and I am right handed and I was starting Kindergarten the following week.  (yes, the run on sentence is on purpose)

Fear also stopped me in some bad ways.

I didn’t want to get in trouble so I didn’t tell that an older child was touching me and making me touch them in ways that were dirty. I didn’t want to get spanked for doing those dirty things.  This fear allowed it to go on for several years.

Fear of being alone developed early too.  I woke up in the middle of the night and went to get comfort from mom or dad.  Mom and Dad couldn’t be found.  I ran through the house crying , searching.  I went outside…no cars in the driveway.  Turns out Mom was still at work and Dad went to get gas in his car while we were all asleep.  Nothing nefarious but scared me and scarred me for a really long time.

Fear that at the age of 8 I was bad and caused my parents divorce.  I know that sounds cliche but remember I had been doing those dirty things and I just knew this was all my fault.  That older child had warned me.  I didn’t listen.  I tried to tell Mom and Dad about it and then BAM!  they were getting divorced.

Fear had me consumed that my younger sister’s well being was all on me.  She was 4 years younger.  I had to protect her from that older child.  After the divorce I had to make sure we got on the school bus and into our apartment after school. I had to make sure we were out of our uniforms and doing school work. Fear made sure I complied because I did not want to lose my Mom’s love and trust. This consumption of protecting my sister would last well into our 20’s.

Fear of being alone was reinforced when I lost my Dad when I was 13 years old.  It had to be my fault.   I wasn’t good enough.  God took him to show me I was going to be alone and no one would love me like my Dad did. The fear of not being loved led to me make some not so great choices.  A boy I had been crushing on since the school year prior finally noticed me and asked me to “go out” with him. Back then that was what dating was called.  13 years old, super cute guy interested in me, I was looking to fill the void of the loss of Dad.  This guy knew it.  He was also 13.  It started out fine within a few weeks he began to hurt me by holding me down and threatening me.  I didn’t fight back.  Fear kept me paralyzed.  We had sex. This just reinforced that I was bad and no one would love me. I don’t remember how we “broke up” but thankfully we did.

However, this began a trend of what I know call monkey barring through boyfriends.  Between the age of 13 and 15, I had a total of 8 boyfriends. Some only a couple of weeks….some several months.  All but 1 was a bad choice.  Fear kept me with each and to move right onto the next.  Fear also drove the final boyfriend choice of my teen years.  At age 15, I met the guy that I would marry at age 19.

In the four years before we got married, there were plenty of signs that this was going to be a train wreck.  Fear kept me with him.  He always told me he loved me.  He stuck up for me.  He also belittled me.  He was always with me. He monopolized my time. I couldn’t leave….he loved me.  He said he would take care of me. Bam! I was married at age 19.

Fear kept me married from 1994-2003. I knew his drinking was out of control. Fear had me thinking I could help him stop and prove everyone wrong.  I knew his mental health was getting worse.  Fear had me bending over backwards to “fix” him. If I left, where would I go? Who would love me?  In 1999, I became pregnant.  I knew I should leave and raise the baby alone.  Fear played with my head and said, “you will be alone. No one will help you. How can you do this alone?”

Fear helped me leave him though in 2003.  When my daughter was 2 years old, the doctors believed she may be autistic. Fear that something was wrong with my little girl began to fuel me to make some positive changes.  We were in such a quagmire that it took almost two years to untangle it all and get us away from him. Fear for her well being fueled me.

I have worked very hard over the last 15+ years to heal the fear.  I wanted to be in charge of it instead of the other way around. It was hard.  It was scary. It was a very long process.  I still grapple with it.

Fear of living my senior (golden) years as I see my Mom living hers fueled me to start straightening out my financial life.  I am working too hard now to live a life where I have to choose between medicine and food. I am working too hard to not feel secure that I will have a roof over my head that I can feel safe in.

Fear is trying really hard right now to take back over with the uncertainty in the world right now due to COVID-19. Fear of what will come next.  Fear of what will the world look like. Fear has me thinking, “have all my efforts been in vain?”

Fear also has me trying really hard to NOT go into depression.  Fear used to lead me down that path.  Now, I am using Fear as a guide to avoid it.  Fear has me grounding myself in raw data.  Fear has me looking at the big picture of life.

Fear has a new meaning for me: Face Everything And Rise

I will admit it.  I was one of the people in December and January that was saying, “Ugh.  Here we go with another virus.  It is Swine Flu all over.  Making a mountain out of a mole hill.”  I was also comparing things like “when I was little and someone caught chickenpox we had a ‘party’ to get it over with.”

By the way, that was the first time I was quarantined. I was in first grade so that would have been early 1982.  The chickenpox hit our house.  My siblings and I all got it.  My little sister was a toddler.  Mom’s solution: let her run around in only a diaper.   It worked.  Sis had the mildest outbreak.  My brother was a teenager and had a ‘normal’ outbreak.  Me…I never wanted any of my skin to show so I had the worse outbreak.  Two weeks I was kept home from everything: school, church, dance school, etc.

I don’t have a lot of clear memories of those exact two weeks.  I do remember my brother bringing home my school work and completing it all as quickly as I could.  I remember the itching.   I remember being covered in the “pink stuff” that I would later know as Calamine Lotion. I remember those little bumps and sores.  I remember picking at them and being told to stop it.  They really itched though!  I do have a couple scares from those darn things.

Here’s the thing.  I have never really been afraid of being sick.  I have always taken it as part of living on this Earth and actually living a life.  I do believe in some vaccines but not all. Let me clarify before you begin posting hate messages.  I do believe that the biggies need to be done such as measles, mumps, rubella, polio, whopping cough, tuberculosis. Even though I have asthma, I do not get a flu vaccine.  Mainly because through the years it has been created in mediums I am allergic to. However, I have a fairly good immune system and I do think it is better for our bodies to fight it on its own.  I believe the flu vaccine should be for those who truly need help boosting their immune systems.

All this said, it is some of why I was an eye roller when all the media started ‘hounding’ on this new virus.  Another piece is that at 45 years old, I have been through the SARS, MERS, H1N1, and Avian flu outbreaks.  My life experience said, “here we go again.” Something in me has changed my view on this latest virus.  Believe it or not, my recent schooling in statistics and my daily job of viewing performance curves and such has been the biggest influence in my change of heart.

I am still not worried so much about getting the virus.  I feel confident I can fight it off.  I am obeying the guidelines of staying home and away from people as much as possible. I realized that even if I can fight it off, there are plenty of other who will not be able to and that is where my focus shifted.  My recently acquired knowledge of exponential growth helped me see the bigger picture.  This isn’t about me and my body’s ability. This is about those who are vulnerable. This is about not decimating our medical system and completely depleting them of resources ranging from medicines to nurses to doctors and so on.

We are fortunate not to be in the Middle Ages, even if we ourselves are middle-aged. The Plague was real.  It spread fast.  It killed fast.  Humans survived then and I know we will now.  I think about the world even 100 years ago and how they dealt with the 1918 Influenza (Spanish Flu). It spread fast. It killed fast.  Humans survived.

We have so many things that generations before did not.  We have the ability to stay connected to our loved ones virtually.  It is not as great as being able to hug someone but we are able to see them, hear them, talk with them.  We have entertainment options out the wazoo! We have all become so immune to these luxuries.  We can even talk with our doctors virtually!

I know we will survive this.  I am curious to see how we, as a society, change on the other side of this.  Will we be more grateful about our daily lives and conveniences?  Will we embrace kindness for others? I am thinking of these things for myself.  I know this experience is already changing me.  How will it change you?

Today I finished the last midterm for the final semester needed to earn my Associate’s Degree.

Flashback to Fall 1993: A new high school graduate begins what she thinks will be a two year journey at the local community college to earn an Associate’s Degree in Early Childhood Education. Little does she know that life is about to throw her some obstacles she never considered. At the age of 18, she has been living in an apartment with her boyfriend since before high school graduation believing they would marry and live ‘happily ever after’. By spring of 1994, she would be so tired of the arguments about her time being devoted to work and school and not much with her boyfriend. Before her 19th birthday in February, she would drop one class that was just overwhelming her. At 19, she was too scared to speak up for herself or ask questions. She never goes to the financial aid office to understand her options. She believes she has lost her scholarship by dropping the class, even though she has a 4.0 GPA. Oh well, she has a good paying job, works Monday-Friday until 6pm. “Life is good”, she tells herself while the little voice in her head tries to warn her this is a bad idea.

Between 1994 and 1999, our friend has married the boyfriend and has secretly hoped, wished, and dreamed of going back to school to get a degree. Life has put her in a different direction from Early Childhood Education and right into technology. Microsoft has become the norm and PCs are becoming common place in the home. She knows in her heart that being a woman in the IT field will be a bonus for her. The marriage is not smooth or healthy. She has been wondering if she should leave. She becomes pregnant in February 1999 and decides to work through the issues, provided her husband will stay on his medication and attend counseling. Her degree journey will stay on hold but not leave her heart.

Jump forward to 2001: We join our friend who is now a mother to a little girl who completely possesses her heart. Things have been fairly smooth with the marriage except that hubby is not happy with her income…the only income. They frequently fight about money. It is less expensive for him to be a stay-at-home dad than it is to have them both work outside the home and try to pay for daycare. One day hubby suggests our friend go to a local trade school. She jumps at the chance. She has mentioned many times going back to community college but hubby always gets upset by this. She believes he doesn’t understand that trade school is basically college on steroids. She enrolls and picks up her higher education journey by attending classes to earn a degree in the IT field as a tech support person. Our now 26 year old friend is still afraid to ask questions and agrees to the school loans needed to pay for trade school. She is just excited to be able to be in a class again and feels like she is moving forward in her education. The year goes fast! She does well in all her classes with a 4.0 GPA. She has completed three technical certification exams and is accredited as A+ Hardware & Software and Network+ tech person. She is proud of her hard work and achievements.

Summer of 2002 would prove to upset the marriage once more. Hubby begins talking about wanting to buy a house and if she is in school and having the school loan, how can they afford it. She tries to explain if she can finish the degree and get the certification exams completed she will be able to get a better paying job. Hubby will not be reasoned with. He stopped taking meds that summer and began drinking again. Our friend does not go back to the trade school for year 2. She knows that the marriage is at its end. She doesn’t know how but she is going to get her daughter and herself out of this mess. (That is a story for another time).

Fast forward to 2015: Our friend is now 40 years old. Her daughter is in high school. She is remarried to a man who supports and encourages her personal growth. She is also at a different employer who also supports and encourages her personal and technical growth. She has grown a lot since that summer of 2002. No one knows it but that dream of a degree has never left. Through her job, she has found she has a talent for working with data. She begins looking into degrees and career paths that fit her skill set. She has a mentor at work who she shares this dream with and is encouraged to look at the community college to see if there is a program that will work for her.

February 2016: On her 41st birthday, she tells her family that she wants to get her degree, the program she wants to go through and the community college she wants to attend. Hubby #2 and daughter are surprised because they had no idea this was going through her head. They both encourage her and understand that it will take time away from them. Finally, our friend feels good about herself and begins her higher education journey again in Fall 2016.

Fast forward to today: Attending the community college had been a good experience. I learned early on in Fall of 2016 that I could not afford the stress to pressure myself to go after that 4.0 GPA. Between work, school, marriage and raising a teenager and volunteering, there was already too much. A friend told me “C’s get degrees”. That may sound like a quote for underachieving but it has actually kept me focus on my goal…which is the degree. Taking exams during these middle aged years has sometimes been challenging. I get test anxiety and tend to get “brain lock” or “empty brain” while taking a test. Some midterms have been project related and those have been much better for me.

I am in my final semester to earn my degree. My graduation date is set for May 3, 2020. I am now 45 years old. My higher education journey has taken 27 years. There have been so many twists and turns along the way but I am finally approaching the finish line. I can see it right ahead of me. I am going to cross it…oh….and with a 3.0 GPA.

Today is the last day of my time off from work….at least my full time paying job. Tomorrow I go “back to reality”. Why do we say that? Why isn’t our reality the time we spend away from the job that pays us?

This last week has not been a dream. A dream would have been going somewhere warm and relaxing. Monday I had to go to ER with daughter for a burn she sustained on her hand…borderline second degree. That was not part of any dream I have. Tuesday was filled with errands I haven’t completed in many, many weeks. Ok, so that is kind of completing a dream. Wednesday was follow up to ER visit…hand healing as expected no permanent damage. Wednesday also included the yearly trip to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles for car tag renewal with the added bonus of renewing my driver’s license. Thursday was a low key, relaxing day after hearing about major changes happening at job. Friday was spending the afternoon replacing my husband’s hearse…yes it is his daily driver….yes I am sure that seems odd….but that is his dream and reality.

All of these things are part of reality, so why can’t I say when I leave work…”well, back to reality” and mean the life that I am earning money to live? I think I will. What a shift in mindset that would be…”See you tomorrow boss. I am going back to reality and will see you in the morning.” How might this shift in thinking change my behavior? I am not sure but I think I will start saying it.

If I truly want to appreciate and respect my life, I want to acknowledge that everything I am working and earning money to do is my reality. My reality is my family, my home, and being me…and I’m taking it back!

Be yourself; Everyone else is already taken.

— Oscar Wilde.

Who knew I would start a blog? I expect this blog will cover many things as my thoughts wander through so many topics. Subscribe below to get notified when I post new updates. Stay turned and enjoy this Middle Aged Gen X Experience.

Be grateful for at least one thing everyday.

This is my current guiding statement. It hasn’t always been this way. I used to be so full of negative thoughts and energy. I am 45 years old as of this writing. Many of those years had conflict on a daily basis. I know my journey has been far easier than others but at the time, the hurdles felt very heavy.

Why do this blog?

• I have always wanted to write
• I have stories and experiences that helped me grow
• I believe sharing my stories may help others

I do not have a specific plan for this blog. It will meander as my mind does but I hope by sharing a piece of me, others will find they are not alone in this crazy journey we call life.

• Why am I blogging publicly, rather than keeping a personal journal?
  • I believe there are plenty of regular people trying to survive each day who need to know they are not crazy or alone
• What topics do you think you’ll write about?
  • Some topics that will be covered include childhood, marriage, divorce, parenting, taking care of aging parents and just live in general.
• I would love to connect with others who may feel their experience is not ‘normal’. (hint: there is no normal)
• If this blog is successful throughout the next year, I hope that at least one person found that they are not alone.

So, here we go. This is as much an adventure into my mind for me and I hope it will be for you.