Oh, Deer…

LSS: Trauma anxiety spirals are a bitch. But a random deer probably saved my day today. How? Read on

This…was not the blog I was writing earlier. But, mid-walking-blogging…a deer crossed my path. He didn’t see me and run. He didn’t let his flight instincts force him from his chosen path. He looked at me…leaned down…chewed a little grass…wandered slowly across the path…and gracefully continued on his way.

Damn. If a deer can see something that triggers his flight response and not let it take over or change his path…shouldn’t I be able to so the same?

You see…what I was writing was about the spiral I’ve been trying to escape since last night…how every path my brain tried to cross revealed another danger…how the spiral wasn’t ending.

Things have been…rough…for me and my daughter this year. I won’t go into details because she deserves SOME privacy, even if her mom is a blogger who never shuts up. But, suffice it to say that this is not the life I ever pictured for her and I’m scared for her. I’m scared for us. So, yesterday something along that topic happened. I thought I was actually handling it with much more zen than I usually do…but then I tried to sleep…and it all hit.

It started with me thinking about the sweet, loving girl she used to be…in my mind, I saw everything change in slow motion…my brain tried to wrap around it all and pinpoint WHERE things changed. What did I do wrong? What did I miss? How did I fail her? If I can just find it…I can fix it! This went on for awhile, until I was so worked up that I lost all control and…

Went downstairs and got a Xanax and an ice cream bar. Like any woman facing an emotional crisis.

And then I slept.

For many people, that would have been the end of that. Buuuuttt…welcome to trauma. My mom was in my dream. She was laughing at me, “You dumb bitch. You always fear me still taking good things from you. I never needed to. Look at you. You ruin everything you touch. Look at how you’ve broken your daughter. Look at how everyone leaves. Look at everyone else with their families and friends. Look how every person who thinks you’re lovable eventually realizes you aren’t. Just wait…Aaron thinks he’s not leaving…but you’ll make him. You’re broken. Everyone leaves. Because you’re shit.”


Obviously this was a dream. Obviously my mom wasn’t anywhere near me. I haven’t allowed her near enough to me to say that much in many years. That being said, that particular nightmare was probably way closer to what reality would be than my normal nightmares.

I woke up in a panic. I texted my ex sister-in-law (where Bella is right now) and asked her to have Bella call me when she could. She called me sleepy and annoyed (normal teenage response) and I asked her if I had missed something…if I had caused all of this…HOW IS THIS MY FAULT????? Like any teenager would respond to this, “Geez, mom. For real? No. Go away.” “No, I’m scared, Bella.” “Mom, you’re thinking in the wrong colors.” “What? What colors am I thinking in?” “The wrong ones.” “Ok…what colors are the right colors?” “The right ones. Go away. I’ll talk to you later.”

The full conversation was included so you could be as baffled as I am…but…obviously, that didn’t help. Lol

Ok…spiraling…spiraling…I’ll mindlessly scroll social media. Maybe that will derail the spiral. (Pro Tip: THIS NEVER WORKS. DON’T DO IT.) I scroll. I see memes. Yay! I see the Facebook highlight reel of people’s lives. Shit. I see people who used to be big parts of my life. So happy. And I hear my dream mother again…”See? I told you. No one needs you. Look how much better they are without you.”

Nope. Nope. Nope. Not gonna do this. I’ll go walk!!

Turn a corner…Shit! Run! That man looks like your stepfather! Shut up, brain. It’s not him. He’s not here. He can’t hurt you.

Turn another corner…Look at that older, short lady in sunglasses…dark frizzy hair…it could be your mom… NO. IT’S NOT MY MOM. SHUT UP.

Brain repeating. Everyone hates you. You’re shit. Everyone knows it. Panic. Everyone hates you. You’re shit. Everyone knows it. Panic. Everyone hates you. You’re shit. Everyone knows it. Panic. Everyone hates you. You’re shit. Everyone knows it. Panic.




Ok. Time to write. Yes, I’m on a trail. Yes, that’s a weird place to blog. But writing helps. Look for an appropriate blog picture….fall into rabbithole of psychology quotes and memes about CPTSD…Anxiety…Abandonment…Spirals…


And then…

A strange woman came up behind me trying to get my attention…I start to panic more…but she just smiles at me and points ahead. I smiled back (because that’s what we do), but I had no idea what she was pointing at.

And then…there he was.


This beautiful creature…with an evolutionary instinct to see danger and use its grace and legs to bolt. Surrounded by what his brain was taught was danger…people…(Ironically, the same thing I fear)…


His eyes didn’t dart around and size up the danger. He didn’t flee in terror or self-preservation. He looked at these “dangers” on his path…and he knew it wasn’t real danger…no matter what his instincts said…and fake dangers weren’t going to ruin his calm, his snack, or his peaceful wanderings.

It stopped me in my tracks. The panic spiral halted almost instantly.

Damn. That deer is smarter than me. I need to be more like that deer.

I am safe.

I am loved.

I am worthy.

Times are hard, but we can do this. We can face this. I didn’t break anything.

I hope.

So, I’m not panicking now. The spiral was halted. I’m still sad. I still have a bit of a panic hangover. But I’m going to keep reminding myself.

Be like the deer. Use your instict to protect yourself when necessary, but don’t let it make you flee from false dangers. Stand firm…snack…and stay graceful and on your path.

So, in short…

Oh, Deer…thank you.

My New Mantra

Today’s random musings from my run: I’ve always tried to live a life of, “I may be the only…”.

I’m going to smile at strangers, because I may be the only smile they see today.

I’m going to tell someone when I think they look pretty, because I may be the only kind word they hear today. 

I’m going to tell someone how much they mean to me, because I may be the only one who does today.

Notice the end of every sentence there.


Here’s the thing about TODAY.

It ends. And it’s so damn easy to get lost in your own “today”.

It’s a grand thought. But easily derailed and possibly less impactful.

A rough day at work makes it easy to forget to smile at the cleaning lady coming into your office as you work late. It’s ok. Someone else smiled at her today.

A day where we feel low on ourselves makes it easy to not compliment the stranger with great hair. I wish I looked like her. I’m sure everyone tells her she’s beautiful. She doesn’t need me to.

There are so many variables to today. It’s so easy to let yourself believe, “Nah. I’m not the only.”

But what if I change that to…Maybe I’m the last…

We’ve all been there…in one way or another…that moment of, “This is it. The last straw. If this doesn’t work. I give up.”

We’ve all known that person who struggles, or refuses, to trust…because one person too many betrayed their trust.

We’ve all seen that person who can’t open their heart… because one person too many broke it.

The person who won’t let you see the real them…because one person too many shunned their true self.

The person who…will never believe she’s beautiful because one person too many made her feel ugly….will never believe they’re worthy because one person too many made them feel unworthy…

I could go on and on.

So…what if….instead of living like, “Maybe I’m the only….” (which is easily derailed)…I live like, “Maybe I’m the last…”?

Maybe I’m the last person who’s going to make this person feel unseen…Maybe I’m the last person who’s going to make this person feel ugly…Maybe I’m the last person who’s going to make this person feel unlovable…

Maybe I’m the last straw…and if I am not intentional with this encounter…I’ll be the last person who is given the chance….

…the chance to love them…

…the chance to see them…

….the chance to believe in them…

…the chance to save them.

The thing is, it is a well known fact that depression is severely on the rise. Every day. We all shout about it. Mental health awareness!!! Call me if you need me! Get help! Be aware! Be alert!

But…like today…it’s easy to get sucked into our own lives and assume someone else has it covered. But…

“Maybe I’m the last…”

It has a different ring to it, right? It takes away the assumption of “tomorrow”.

So. That’s my new mantra.

I never want to be anyone’s last straw…but if I live believing, “I need to be intentional in every interaction…I need to uplift, show kindness, give grace and make them believe…because if I don’t….maybe I’m the last.”…

Maybe I’m the last person who will have a chance to show this person that they matter…

…if everyone lived believing that…

Then maybe there will never be a last.

Please Speak

The past couple of days we hear ALLLLLLL the opinions. Or do we?

We hear those loudly proclaiming their hurt and anger at decisions made.

We hear those crowing with glee at a war they feel they “won”.

We hear both “sides” loud and clear.

Or do we?

I am here to share the opinion that we do not.

A true fact of the world is this: The loudest voices are rarely the voice of the majority. The loudest voices are merely the voices at the far ends of the spectrums. The loudest voices are..Sadly…the least tolerant.

The majority…are in the middle of the road and they have been silenced.

The majority are:

– The voices of those who choose love and kindness.

– The voices of those who can see both sides with equal compassion.

– The voices of those who hurt for everyone who hurts, no matter what “side” they are on.

The majority are those who have something to say, but know you don’t want to hear it because it is not extreme enough.

The majority are those who have been taught, “Don’t speak. No one cares.”

It’s for those that I speak now.

For the mother who lost her child and can’t imagine making the willing choice to do so, but does not condemn another for the choices they must make, I see you.

For the woman who made a choice that pains her every day and who cries now at the voices of censure all around her. I hear your tears.

For the woman who was raped and could not go through with it, and now feels hated and judged, I stand with you.

For the man who wasn’t given a choice because the body was not his, I can only imagine your pain and am ready to hear you when you speak.

For the Christians who believe in love and kindness over judgment, yet see their every belief maligned before their eyes…I feel your pain.

For those who want to say, “I don’t have the answers, but I have love.” You are my people.

For those who tremulously speak their middle of the road truths, but who are BRUTALLY SILENCED by those on the extreme sides of this…I ask you…

Please speak.

Please, let us show the world that the majority DOES care but that we do it with love.

Let us show the world that it’s ok to say, “I can’t speak for you, but my heart is of the many.”

Let us show the world that we care for the individual, regardless of the beliefs that THEIR lives have given them.

Stand with me to say: I am not the same religion as you. But that doesn’t make mine or yours wrong. My life doesn’t look like yours. But that doesn’t make mine or yours wrong. My choices have not been the same as yours. But that doesn’t make mine or yours wrong.

Please speak YOUR truth and show the world that the majority choose kindness and compassion.

SPEAK YOUR TRUTH that the extreme is not the majority.

Here are my truths:

I am Christian and believe that Christ put me here to love you, no matter what, and leave the judgment to He who is not of this Earth.

I am a mother who can not imagine ever having to make a choice to not be, but who understands the many reasons others might.

I am a friend who will stand by your side as you make decisions that I do not have to face.

I am a heart that breaks for you as you see others make choices that you regret or cannot find moral validity in, even as you love others who do.

I am a fellow traveler of life who has wandered many roads you will never see, but knows that you could say the same.

I am a person who will love and support you whether we agree or not…so long as you share your message with love and without censure of a life you have not lived.

I am very Pro Choice in the fact that I believe that I don’t walk in your shoes…I don’t know everything…I am not the Lord that I follow…and, quite honestly, I feel NO government has the right to choose for you (Federal or State) because the government constantly oversteps.

I am the person who thinks this never should have been political decision BY EITHER SIDE, but a personal one BY EACH INDIVIDUAL.

That is my quiet, middle of the road, truth.

It does not IN ANY WAY mean that I do not care. It does not IN ANY WAY mean that my beliefs are not strong.

It means that, above all, I choose love.

That is my truth.

Please speak yours.

Lessons I Wish I’d Learned In High School

OK, to be fair, they were…I just wasn’t ready to listen.

Hindsight is a 5th of liquor…I mean 20/20. Yeah. Math. 😉 (Kidding. We all know how much I love math.)

But, seriously, we all have these things…lessons we learned through life that would have made life SO. MUCH. LESS. PAINFUL. if we’d just accepted them earlier in life. (The same things we try to force down our kids’ throats…but they won’t learn before they’re ready either).

So. Lessons I’ve finally started to accept…that I wish I’d learned in High School. Tell me yours?

1. The Asshole – Boo, hear me…if you have ever had the urge or cause to say, “Yeah…he’s kind of an asshole sometimes, but never to me…”…GIRL. YOU. ARE. NEXT. RUN. Seriously, NO ONE is something to everyone except you. They might love or like you enough to hold it in for a bit, but when the shine wears off…you’re left with an asshole.

2. Your Gut – Your gut is the best friend you’ll ever have. Sometimes your gut will tell you to run when no one else sees a reason to. Two things could be at play here. First, not everyone has learned to hear their gut. Second, and more importantly, sometimes your gut isn’t telling you that someone is bad, in general, just bad for YOU. It’s still important to listen. Which brings me to…

3. Protect Yourself- If you don’t protect yourself, no one will. It’s not their job. It’s yours. And if anyone gets angry with you for protecting yourself…

4. Those Are Not Your People – Not everyone is meant to be YOUR people. The ones who are will root for you every step of the way, even if they don’t understand…if they can see that it’s good for you…it’s good for them.

5. Look For Your Sideline Squad – Most likely, that’s where your people are. Those who are loudest and most in your face rarely have sticking power. Those who are quietly waiting to see us succeed…Well, to put it in cheer terms…Comp Squads may win gold, but it’s the ones who keep cheering for you when you’re losing that are your lifelong people.

6. What Is Meant For You Can’t Be Stolen – This is the one that was the hardest learn for me. How many times…in high school…in friemdships…in relationships…have we felt like someone stole what was ours? She stole my friends. She got my spot. She took my guy. No. Friends don’t leave. Love doesn’t stray. And anything so easily taken wasn’t supposed to be yours.

7. What IS Meant For You Is Still Waiting – Are you brave enough to let go of the comfortable and go find it?

8. Breathe. It’s all going to be ok in the end. If it isn’t okay, it isn’t the end.

I Have Reached a Point in Life

I have reached a point in life…where I will not be silent to save another from hearing my truth.

I have reached a point in life…where I will not be loud to beg to.be heard.

I have reached a point in life…where I will not beg to be loved.

I have reached a point in life…where I know the ones who will love me would never want me to beg.

I have reached a point in life…where I do not need to be liked to love myself.

I have reached a point in life…where I can allow myself not to like others as I accept them not liking me.

I have reached a point in life…where guilt and manipulation are not as easily able to sway me.

I have reached a point in life…where I recognize those who would use those tactics to gain do not recognize my worth.

I have reached a point in life…where I recognize my own worth.

I have reached a point in life…where I KNOW that loving me does not mean that I love you less…where I KNOW that hurting myself does not help you…where I accept love from others…but demand it from myself.

Uncomfortable Conversations…And Why They’re So Important

Yesterday…during my, admittedly, incessant Facebook scrolling…I came across a checklist of how to know you’re healing from your trauma. This list stopped me right in my tracks.

Why? Because…

I instantly recognized that three years ago…I was almost healed.

(Not to say it wouldn’t be a part of my life anymore, but that I could feel…OKAY…with my past).

I also instantly recognized WHY I had backslid.


One of the main prerequisites for healing from trauma is recognizing that the shame of crimes against you does not belong to you.

How do we battle shame? Vulnerability and openness. 

But people shy away from vulnerable conversations.

Why? Because vulnerable conversations about a less than perfect world make people uncomfortable by threatening their bubble of safety.

Rather than admit that bad things happen that we can not control, it is easier to label someone dramatic or attention seeking…it is easier to assume that they exaggerate or focus too much on the negative.

Uncomfortable conversations are threatening…and should be avoided at all costs.

So, let’s think about this.

You meet someone new…you want to know them…you want them to know you. What makes them tick? What makes you you?

You tell them amusing antectodes about your childhood or early life. You talk about the moments that shaped you. They want to do the same. But…the topic at hand…they have no amusing anecdotes about what shaped them…they have this big THING that they’ve navigated to become who they are…in a way that you will only understand if you understand what led them there.

They have 3 options.

1. They can hide behind their shame and make something up.

2. They can hide behind their shame and say nothing…probably losing the chance at this new friendship because they obviously are hiding something.

3. They can be vulnerable….they can tell their story…with the knowledge that the shame that comes with their story is not theirs to claim.

What should they do?

I had reached a point where I accepted that the shame for the *literal* crimes committed against me was not mine to claim.

I had reached a point where I was able to openly tell my story…without panic…without tears…without fearing judgment.

The thing is…I had reached that point with very supportive people in my life. I felt safe.

But…I ventured out…I met knew people…I took that newfound strength and continued being this vulnerable, open version of me.

Not really their fault…but those people weren’t ready for that vulnerability. They couldn’t understand. They found the topics uncomfortable…scary…and, through their own self defense mechanisms, probably untrue…because it was too uncomfortable to face that it could be true. That this could happen to anyone.

We all recognize judgment when we see it. Those with a particular past recognize it a little more quickly. And…some don’t bother to hide their judgment because they consider that (fairly) being real. (I say fairly because no one should have to hide their feelings…that right doesn’t belong only to the traumatized.)

I recognized the judgment. I handled it in two ways. First…I got LOUDER. I WILL NOT BE SHAMED, DAMN IT!! Then…I reclaimed the shame. OBVIOUSLY THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME.

Annnnndddd…back to square one on healing. Back to feeling like I should apologize for the life I lived. Back to panicking…Back to crying…Back to fear.

You guys…I KNOW that I’m annoyingly vulnerable at times. I do this for my own healing…I do this so I can feel as known as you get to feel…I also do this to show others that it can be safe to be vulnerable.

This is why uncomfortable conversations are so important.

Do you want to know the people in your life as well as you want them to know you? Do you want them to feel safe? Or do you want them to hide behind a harmful, misplaced sense of shame.

But…another made up ratio…let’s say 85% of you are scared of these uncomfortable conversations.

99.99% of the people who read this are NOT actually self absorbed twatopotamuses (twatopotamees? twatopotami?) 99.99% of you don’t want people to feel shame for something done to them.

To you, I ask…are you going to place shame in order to avoid your own discomfort? Are you going to lean away from vulnerability and healing?

Or are you going to lean in?

Please lean in.

Repeat After Me: I Am NOT Government Cheese

Spoiler Alert: This is not a selfie.

Today’s random musing from my solitunes time: I treat myself like government cheese.

Ok, ‘splain, Sheri. Right? Ok. Here goes.

(Almost) Everybody likes cheese. We each have our favorites. Mine are mozzarella (ps it’s moozahrell…not MOTZARELLAH) and Swiss (it’s holy…aka God’s cheese, y’all!). Maybe you love cheddar…gouda…like it melted…like it cold…who knows. It’s cheese!!!

But…unless we’re drunk…we probably don’t choose government cheese. Unless…

We’re in hard times.

That’s what government cheese is really for…

…People going through hard times.

The hard times pass…

…The cheese gets fancier and prettier.

That’s how I treat myself. Like people can only choose me in hard times.

Need a friend because world is collapsing? CHEESE!

Need someone to show you love when you’re low? I AM YOUR CHEESE!!

Need anything…anything at all…when times are tough…I want to make your life a little…well…cheesier… (Come on, you had to know I’d go there… 😆 )

But when times are better…I assume you don’t want me anymore. There’s better cheese out there for the good times.

You may not push away…you may still want the cheese I am…but I think without your welfare ticket…why pick me?

Here’s the thing. Maybe you never saw me as a big block of the best you could get at the time. To YOU I may be the one thing missing from you fondue feast. (Fondue is expensive, y’all! You ever been to Melting Pot?!?! Also…shout out to my nerd brethren…”Do you? Fondue?”)

You still want to dip yo….nope even I can’t go that gigigty in a blog. But you get the point.

YOU never saw me as government cheese, but I can’t imagine anyone wanting me unless I’m the last resort. As a friend…as a lover…as anything. If I don’t feel useful, well….I don’t feel useful.

So today I’m trying to make myself a promise.

Starting today, *I* am deciding. I. Am. Fondue

Do you fondue?

Change, Not Vengeance

“Hate cannot drive out Hate, only Love can do that.” Martin Luther King, Jr. said this. And…as much as people love to quote him in their arguments…I don’t believe I have seen anyone I know share this one.

Why? Because change is often believed to rely on justice. And justice is often believed to be dependent on vengeance.

Instead of fighting for love and understanding and compassion…people fight for vindication.

And, honestly, it’s exhausting to watch.

Here’s the thing. What’s right for you doesn’t mean it has to be right for everyone. And that goes in both directions.

I’ll start with the one that I have a personal ouch with. Lol

I’ve never cared one way or another what religion someone is. I support faith, not religion. The reason I support faith is because faith helps us get through the darkest times. Faith in there being a meaning to the seemingly random hurts we face in life…faith that to something out there…we matter. So, faith is important to me, personally…but I don’t care what you have faith in…and that includes people who have faith in science over a spiritual faith.

I have never, nor will I ever, bashed anyone else’s beliefs. On the contrary, I have fought for everyone to have the right to their own faith.

But…for years…those who choose to not have faith in a higher power have been ridiculed and hated. And I understand the hurt that that caused them. I don’t just understand and sympathize…I empathize.

How, right?! I’m one of the mighty Christians! The ones who supposedly rule this society with an iron fist!

Because…now that a choice to NOT believe has become more commonplace…now that there is a platform with which to fight this injustice…it is not fought with love. It is fought with a thirst for vindication and vengeance. Many who choose not to believe…do not fight for understanding and compassion…they fight to prove those who do believe wrong.

They fight for the other “side”…including those who never hurt them…to bleed as they did.

What was done to them is how they will fight. A post from one person about their belief in God…will be met with mocking comments from those trying to change their mind. A meme shared by a non-believer asks for vengeance or change to their “side”.

Here’s the truth. Change means there should be no more sides. Change means love and compassion for all.

Faith is not wrong.

Lack of faith is not wrong.

Being Black, Latino, Indian, or any other “check this box” label is not wrong.

Being Caucasian is not wrong.

Being homesexual, bisexual, transgender, etc is not wrong.

Being straight is not wrong.

Being married…being divorced…being single…being a parent…being a pet parent…none of these are wrong.

I love people for who they are, not for what label they self identify with.

Do you? Or do you love people hoping to guilt shame them to your side as you believe others did to you?

Vengeance and vindication are not the same as justice.

Justice is not the same as change.

Change is love, compassion, understanding and acceptance.

From everyone.

And …now…I wait for the comments of, “yeah! But not everyone is like you Sheri! Some people still don’t believe my side is right and they need to learn!” You’re right…not everyone believes and acts as I do…but is fighting with hate going to change that? Or will you teach people to be more loving by fighting for change with love?

*fall clumsily off soapbox*


*Jazz hands*

Thank You

Last night an amazing thing happened in my world…at one of my low points…when I was feeling most lost and alone…most confused about whether I am the person I want to be…the person I’ve always been proud to be…my friends rallied.

Let me explain the background on that before I go into detail.

I’m pretty open here…so it’s no secret that for the past little bit I’ve been making a conscious effort to face my own trauma…my own toxicity…my own…well…deepest fears and what they are doing to my life.

Here’s the thing about finally dealing with things. You guys…IT. IS. MESSY.

Some days I’m a ray of sunshine. Other days…I’m a shaker of salt. Just call me the Morton’s Girl, cause I’ve got salt for you! Some days I’m on top of the world. Some days I’m carrying the weight of the same world on my shoulders…and NOT gracefully.

Scabs and scars and layers of bandages…they all have to be ripped up…and you finally have to bleed until the poison exits your bloodstream.

The poison hasn’t left mine yet.

So…I’m still bleeding. Sometimes alone…sometimes *waving vaguely* E’erywhere…

I’ve lost people because of it. That just is what it is. While I don’t like seeing people I ever cared about physically bleed, I’ll be the first to sit there and help them through emotional bleeding. On the flip side of that, some people can staunch the physical wound of anyone, but they can’t handle the emotional flow of blood. And that’s ok.

On the other end of the spectrum…I’ve lost people who were never really there. They could only love me and consider me wise and good if I was of benefit to them. Bleeding and broken…I’m really no good to them. This is also ok…although less likely to be allowed near me when I LEVEL UP! to my healthy happy version of me. 🤷‍♀️

The problem is…because MY particular trauma is very rooted in a history of not being considered worthy or loveable by the important people…I tend to lose myself in the disapproval of others. I start thinking, “Wow…they must be right…I suck…I don’t deserve any better…I should just be grateful for whatever I’m handed…I. Am. Unlovable.” (Honestly…I think we all get drawn to those people who help us recreate our trauma that is still unfaced.)

After kinda making myself bleed with my own blog post yesterday…followed with therapy…and in conjunction with my heart hurting over some of the people I’ve lost…I WAS BLEEDING ALL OVER MYSELF and I couldn’t remember a damn thing that anyone could ever possibly love about me.

So…first I wallowed.  And then…I decided to be vulnerable…and I posted on my Facebook page…

“Full disclosure…I just flat out need a pick-me-up tonight. So…tell me one positive of having me in your world? Even if it’s just comedic relief. Lol

Part of me expected to be ignored altogether. I mean…kind of attention-whoreish, if we’re being honest. 🤷‍♀️😆 But mostly…I already mostly knew who wouldn’t respond…because they’re not social media addicts like some of us, or because they didn’t really have anything nice to say and would choose nothing at all, or because they legit don’t like me and sure as hell aren’t going to help me. So, yeah, I was pretty secure in who wouldn’t answer. For those that I figured WOULD answer, I figured it would be mostly laughs and jokes because that’s often the reaction my posts are going for.

I was caught off guard on both parts.

Some people that I never would have expected a response from came out of the woodwork. And almost everyone took my request quite seriously.

Rather than jokes or backhanded compliments, what I received was heartfelt sincerity. People reminisced about times I had made them feel important at low times in their lives. People said I make them think. People brought back WAAAY BACK examples of ways I showed them kindness. I was told that I make some smile on days when smiling doesn’t come easy. I was told that it’s my mixture of realness and humor that brings something special to their world. I was told that I’m someone who has made them feel like someone relates to who THEY are. Even the ones who commented on how I bring nerdiness and jokes…they meant that as a heartfelt compliment. (Seriously, I am a loud and proud nerd!)

I woke up this morning…I saw the outpouring of love…the sincere desire to show me that I make their world a better place…and I felt…more light…more loved (other than by my boyfriend who always reminds me how much he loves me ❤️)…more seen…more ME…than I have in quite a long time.

The only response I could even come up with was this:

“So, what I’ve gotten from this is that what I bring to people is true friendship, kindness, love, hilarious/snarky humor, nerdiness and math. In short, to the people who matter, I am exactly who I want to be. This makes my heart happy and is honestly exactly what I needed. I’m struggling wayyyyy too much lately with feeling like I’m failing, but I’m not failing the people who love me. Thank you, guys. ❤️

So, yeah…thank you. Thank you for reminding me that I’m still me. Thank you for showing me that the people who love me see ME… not their own version of me…but the ME that I’m proud to be.

Really, I think we all need that sometimes. ❤️

My Reason Why

A very, very…very, very…VERY long time ago (shut up, I’m old!), there was a little 10 year old girl. She hadn’t had a very exceptional life up to that point…positively or negatively. She had a daddy who the world revolved around, so she was mostly able to ignore the fact that her mother didn’t really want her. She had an older brother who picked on her mercilessly…and a younger brother to whom she passed on that favor. She loved to read…she loved music and dreamed of being a concert pianist one day…she had so much love inside of her to give, she would often find herself sitting on her hands at school because she knew she couldn’t just get up and hug people. She had friends…she had bullies…neither left school with her as she wasn’t allowed friends at home…she had no telephone…she had no real life past home, but she didn’t know that was weird. She was…in short…a reasonably happy child so long as she had books and music to hide in when things got bad.

And then…one night…it was all taken away. In the blink of an eye…the police were there…so, so many police. Her daddy tried to run as they drove up to a house covered in flashing blue…but he knew it was done. He pulled over about a mile down that dark Georgia road…turned around….and told the little girl, “I’m not your father”. (Side note: Holy shit, I’m the anti Luke!!) Anyways…) The police caught up. Her daddy and mother were put in cop cars as the police tried to explain that she and her older brother had been kidnapped…all while her mother screamed, “He’s in the mafia! He bought off a judge! He’s going to kill you!!” And then…they were gone. She and her brothers were sent to the police station. And then…her little brother was gone.  They tried to explain to her that her name was not her real name…and her identity was gone. A few days later a strange man came and was introduced as her real father. He took them to their school to get their records…and then her school and friends were gone. He took them to an airport to go “home”…and then the only world she’d ever known was gone. She sat on that plane…her whole life gone in a matter of days…she had already figured out she was supposed to be grateful and happy…so she played her part…but she was gone.

Fast Forward about 17 years…the little girl has grown up….she’s married…she’s moved on…even if she was never really able to move on on the inside…This grown version of the little girl found herself on a plane once more.

As she sits on this plane, with her husband on one side…and an empty seat on the other…a little girl about 10 years old gets on the plane. The little girl is sobbing…she is followed by a man…in handcuffs…restrained by the police…and a flight attendant. The little girl, sobbing all the while, is saying goodbye to the man and begging him not to go…and then he’s gone. Before this little girl took the empty seat next to the now grown woman…the woman asked the flight attendant if the little girl was ok. The flight attendant (more than happily, which the woman contacted the airline about later) didn’t just say yes or no…she went into full detail. “Oh…no…that was her dad…he’s going to jail for a long time…so they let them say goodbye….but she’s flying to Georgia now to be with her mom whom she’s never met.”

You guys…this story probably sounds made up. It should be. This shouldn’t be the world we live in…and yet… 🤷‍♀️

The woman knew that…out of all the seats either of them could have been in… she had been placed next to this little girl because she was needed…she was needed to be the person she’d needed those many, many years before. She knew she couldn’t take away the pain that was coming to this little girl…but she could be her friend for the next few hours. She saw the little had a doll, so she asked her the dolls name. Tearfully, the little girl talked about her doll…she pulled out more dolls at the woman’s request…and, for a few hours (next to a thoroughly ignored husband lol) the woman and the little girl played and laughed and managed to find some joy amidst the pain. By the time the plane landed, the little girl was laughing and happy…even if only for a few blessed moments.

And the woman? She learned a valuable lesson that day.

Everything…ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING…happens for a reason.

She was where she was that day because her past was what was needed. She could wallow in the pain of what had happened to the little girl still crying inside of her…or she could own its purpose…and help others through her own experiences.

This…is my reason.

This is why I STILL believe that everything happens for a reason…no matter how long it takes to find it…no matter how much I wallow before I get there (I AM human, after all lol).

This is why I share.

This is why I write.

At times, I feel like I’m speaking into a vacuum. At times, my openness is seen as “attention seeking and dramatic”. At times I almost quit as I fear being annoying or misunderstood.

And then…someone will tell me that my openness helped them face something they’d been avoiding…someone will tell me that I’ve given them strength…someone will tell me that my words made them realize they’re not alone…someone will tell me that I made a difference for them.

Maybe it’s naive…this belief that everything has a purpose…that God puts us through tribulations for a reason that will not become clear until much later…when you’re sitting on a plane next to your inner child…when your words give someone a reason to keep going.

Yes…maybe it is naive…maybe it can be “annoying”…maybe not forgetting where I’ve come from can make me seem negative.

I don’t care.

This is my reason why.