Day 13: A Band Or Artist That Has Gotten You Through Some Tough Ass Days. (write a letter.)

Dear India.Arie, (Okay, seriously? Not writing a letter. I already sound like I'm writing to a pen pal in the second grade. Nerd alert!)

Scratch that. : )

Christmas 2005 was a rough one. I'm usually a fairly
chipper person; I'm not one to get depressed during the holidays.
I enjoy them. But this Christmas just felt different, in a crappy way.

I was 22. I lived alone, but was staying at my parents house for Christmas.
I was staying in my dad's office, that a little fold out bed in it- now I
cannot remember why, or who was staying in my old bedroom. But it
wasn't me. : )

So. Christmas Eve I was feeling blue, for some reason- or probably a
multitude of reasons. Instead of shopping for others, I ended up
buying myself a CD. That CD was India.Arie's Voyage to India.


I don't think I've ever listened to an album so much, over and over,
obsessing over every cord, every melody, every word like I
did with that album. I'd lay awake in the dark with my headphones
on, listening to songs on repeat as they soothed my soul.
I was going through a lot of weird love things- loving a guy thousands
of miles away (who had no idea), breaking up with a guy who'd
proposed to me only a year before, still flirting and going out
and meeting new guys all the time...it was my young and free
stage, but for some reason it was way too stressful for me to
deal with. This album somehow cleared the murky waters, it
was a balm that could be smoothed over my heart.

I am still to this day, in love with India's music. Anytime I get stressed
at work, or in life in general, I pop her into the CD player. She is my
ultimate chill-out guru. : )

Day 12: Something You Never Get Compliments On

Until recently, I've been slightly terrified of cooking. I had a bad experience when I was about 13, and it'd scarred me mentally. So then when I got married, I slooooowly came out of my cooking shell.

And I'm not bad! I'm still definitely a beginner- and strangely enough, I think I'm better at baking than actually cooking (did NOT see that coming). But I've also made a few better-than-edible things.

Every dinner time, we'll sit down to eat, and the Hubs hardly ever says a word. Nothing. Zip. I have to ask if its good, if he likes it, ANYTHING. I have to literally fish for compliments. I shouldn't, it's shameless, but I so desperately need that verification from him that I'm doing well, that I did something right, that I made him happy. It's so frustrating. And sad, because I feel like when it doesn't come willingly, I failed again.

I know I'm reading too much into it. First off, Hubs is very basic when it comes to food. He's very meat-and-potatoes. He doesn't like anything "different" or "exotic". And by exotic, I mean like goat cheese. He'd rather starve. So it is kind of tricky cooking for both of us when we have such different palettes. We don't even like any of the same veggies (his list is even shorter than mine, which I was unaware that was possible!). Second...the man's eating. That alone should tell me that its at least edible, right?

Still. It'd be nice to hear it, once in awhile. : )

Day 11: Something People Always Seem to Compliment You On

I suppose the easiest answer to this would be my eyes. I have big blue gray eyes that I got from my daddy. I do think they are my most striking feature. And they
are fun to snazz up with makeup. ; )

I can never decide if they are just big, or downright buggy. : P

Day 10: Someone You Need To Let Go

Some people just haunt you. For whatever reason, they stick in your mind like a shoe in bubble gum. They do you no good; they keep you from fully moving on to any potential greatness. They are that piece of plastic that sticks to you due to static, and no matter how you dance and shake, they still stay stuck.

It isn't your fault, right? You've done your part. You've cried, you've yelled, you've lost sleep, you've dreamed of them, you've written letters to vent all your emotions, you've thrown out all your material memories-- cards, letters, pictures-- what more can the universe ask? Even when you're happy, even when you've seemingly moved on, have a family, have a new love, and are now a million miles away from where you once were...they still find you. In the dark of night, in that quiet moment, in that song you used to sing to one another, in that car he used to drive. In reality, the past really is all around us.

This all points back to my earlier theory. Yes, my heart was broken by a man. Yes, it hurt, and you know what- sometimes it still does. You see or feel a scar and it immediately returns you to that moment in which the injury occured. However, I can either mope around about this, feel sorry for myself, torture myself, even perhaps convince myself that someday we will meet again-- and then, BOY, won't he be sorry!-- or...I can just let it be. I can let the pain roll over me like a wave, learn and grow from it, and let it be on its way. I can open my eyes to what lays in front of me. I can see all that I have now.

And GOD, that's a beautiful thing.

Day 9: Someone You Didn't Want to Let Go, But Just Drifted

My best friend in second grade was a little Korean boy named Michael. He was the cutest little thing you can imagine, and so incredibly sweet. No one else would talk to him, something I could never understand or figure out. He wasn't crazy like all the other little boys; he was quiet, gentle, kind. Way beyond his years.

One day, another friend asked me, "When is Michael moving?" I remember looking at her as if she'd grown a horn. I had no idea what she was talking about. I later found Michael on the playground and confronted him. He told me in a small voice that he and his family were moving to California. I began to yell at him-- words I don't remember now, probably nothing too graphic- this was second grade after all. But words that gave him a pained expression- a sad, fallen face that is etched into my visual memory for the rest of time. He said my name, "Savannah" as if to beg me to stop saying mean things, to understand, to calm down, but I wouldn't. I couldn't. This was my first broken heart, and I wasn't old enough to understand it, let alone deal with it.

Only a few days later, Michael was gone. We never officially said goodbye. I never saw or heard from him again. I regret that. I wish I would have calmed down that day. I wish we would have exchanged addresses and remained friends. I wish I could remember his last name so I could find him on Facebook (the best stalker tool around!). I wish a lot of things, but most of all, I wish I hadn't been so mean to him. And I hope that wherever he is, he is well, and has only happy memories of his second grade friend.

Day 08: Someone Who's Made Your Life A Living Hell

Alright...something must be wrong with me. I cannot think of anyone to write about.

Seriously.

Sure, I can think of some men in the past that have hurt me, even a friend or two who's stabbed me in the back or hurt my feelings. Once, when I'd been in a car wreck and my face had been scratched up badly by broken glass, a popular girl at school made a rude comment about it. My heart has been broken. My head has been messed with. I've been driven crazy by people at work.

But all of those things add up as those life experiences that make ME stretch, grow, change, and shape who I am, who I am meant to be. So while I've had my share of crazies, jerks, and losers, they were all actually doing me a big favor- teaching me how to live this life as best as I can. And to be grateful for it. : )

Day 7: Someone Who Has Made Your Life Worth Living

This sounds a little dramatic, doesn't it? Let me just say, life is pretty darn good for me. Not perfect, but there are certainly MANY reasons it is worth living. : )

That said..............................predictably...........Monkey is an excellent reason to live. But there are many reasons.

He makes me laugh.



He can make me crazy.



He can even make me cry (for good and bad reasons-- like by being breathtakingly adorable!).


There's something about being a mom that really gave me purpose. Before Monkey, I kind of just floated around, with no direction, and no real reason- at least I felt that way. When he was born, I felt fulfilled, I felt needed, I felt important. He gave me a sense of success- I had a baby. I made him. I cooked him in my tummy and he came out pretty cute. Lookie!

Okay, I had a little help from Hubs. Still. : ) By having Monkey, I felt meaningful. And for that alone, I am grateful.

Day 6: Something You Hope You Never Have To Do

Is it a bad sign that I can only think of incredibly awful things to write about for this topic? Nothing like, I hope I never have to eat bugs for a million dollars, or I hope I never have to be embarrassed in front of a crowd of people. Although, now that I think of it, I hope I never have to do either of those things, either. But no- my first thought was, I hope I never have to go through losing my baby. As in, I hope he doesn't die before me.

Whoa. I just went there.

It's a terrifying thought though. And definitely something I hope I never have to go through. I'm not even entirely sure I would be able to get through that. I think it would be something that would drive me over the edge of reason.

Once, when I was working at Disney World, and little boy came up to me with his mother. They were renting a stroller for the day- which happened to be Fat Tuesday. As I rolled one to the mother, she said to her little boy, "Give her one of your necklaces" and the little boy took a set of Mardi Gras beads from around his neck and handed it to me. It was then I noticed he wore a purple tee shirt that read, "Make a Wish", and a baseball cap that covered his bald head.

My heart will never forget that moment, or that little boy and his mother. That was quite a few years ago-- I don't know where either of them could be now. I only hope that they had the best of days at Disney World. And I hope they help me remember to cherish every single moment I have with my little Monkey Man.

Day 5: Something You Hope to Do in Life

This may be the broadest question ever. I mean...really? I could go on and on and on...

But I don't think that is the objective of this writing task, to read on while I chatter like a crazy monkey (although...maybe...). : )

I would say, aside from all the usual things that I've actually done-- get married, have a baby, etc-- my other big dream is to travel. Everywhere. Anywhere. Well, anywhere interesting. When I was younger I dreamed of having a passport and filling it up with all the fabulously exotic places I would go.

The sad thing is, I don't even have a passport now. So I suppose this is something that I better get crackin' on, huh? : )

Day 4: Something You Have to Forgive Someone Else For

We were never officially a couple, but in my mind he was always mine. We'd met the first time I was here in Florida, and while he lived in Jersey, and I lived in Montana, we managed to keep in contact for over two years. We'd send each other postcards and cards; we talked on the phone at least once a week (for over two hours at a time); we'd visited one another; we'd met each other's parents.

When I decided to move to Florida, he already had. It seemed as though it was all going to work so smoothly.

And then...it didn't. Then he started dating another girl. At first I was certain that he just needed to get this out of his system, that once I moved there he'd drop her and come back to me. But it wasn't the case.

Then things got messy. Me, in my crazy love sick cloud, wrote him a letter, professing my love--- yes, I realize the lameness. But I did it, and I sent it, and then I immediately texted him and said, "don't read that letter I just mailed you". He said he wouldn't. Well. Not only did he read it, he kept it. In his freakin' underwear drawer. Where his girlfriend found it.

*Insert innocent face here*

Well, she freaked. I blamed her at the time, but now I know I would have freaked too. I mean...can you imagine? Finding a love letter from another woman in your man's undies? Lord. She demanded that he cut off ALL communication with me. After he'd insisted that she and I would be the best of friends. Ha. Men are so dumb.

Of course, I was livid. Again, in the moment, I only felt my side of things. But I would have done the same as she. I would have wanted to kill me, honestly. And what was he to do? He was stuck in the middle--although, he said he was going to throw that letter away without even reading it. What was he doing stashing it? Fool.

I've gone through every emotion-- anger, betrayal, broken heartedness, back to anger, jealousy. All of it was toxic to my system.

After I met Hubby, I realized that I needed to forgive them- both. I still haven't, but I'm working on it. She took something from me- even though I am where I need to be now, she still took something that I will always wonder about. Where would I be now had that path been open? Maybe unhappy, maybe alone, maybe married to someone else...it is strange to think about. But I wouldn't have THIS Hubby, and I wouldn't have Monkey.

So. Forgiveness is needed. Thank you for screwing up, so I could have what I have now.

: )

Day 3: Something You Have to Forgive Yourself For

Boy, this is a doozy of a topic. I've got quite a few little- and not so little- things I need to just let go of, and let myself off the hook for. But it isn't as simple as that, is it?

I had a friend that I had known since kindergarten. Skiler. She was bright and funny and had a big laugh that was incredibly contagious. She had pale skin with freckles and really pretty pale green eyes. We had gone all through school together, and even after school, while we grew a part a bit, we still saw each other occasionally. We didn't stop being friends...but sometimes, when you grow up, you move on from people without even realizing it.

Well. Then I moved to Florida, had Monkey, and got married. Our wedding was in my hometown, at my parents house. Because it was at my parents house, it wasn't huge. 40 or 50 people. Unfortunately, that meant not everyone I knew was invited.
Including Skiler.

I knew that it had upset her. Honestly, I didn't even think to realize how upset she would be. I know that sounds entirely ignorant now-- even typing it, I want to kick myself. I tell myself that if SHE had gotten married and not invited ME, I would understand.

Sure.

So. The wedding was in July. November 19th, Skiler passed away.

The story was, Skiler had been in a car wreck, months before. After surviving that, months later, she had a blood clot, or something ridiculously random that stemmed back to the wreck. And she passed away. She was gone. I still think about it often; how I'd made her feel left out, uninvited. She could have been there. She SHOULD have been there. Regardless of how we'd grown apart, for the first half of my life she was there, and nothing changed that.

So, while I probably should forgive myself for leaving my relationship with her like that, I'm not sure I ever will. I have a feeling that if she could, she'd probably laugh at me and say, "Oh, you dumbass" and we'd be done with it.

But instead I'm left with sadness and guilt. And the reminder to never leave things undone with people. Just in case.

Day 2: Something You Love About Yourself

As opposed to yesterday, I'm writing about what I LOVE about myself. We, as a society, seem to avoid loving our selves. As if saying, "I'm good at this" or "I can do that" it insinuates that we're overly confident, cocky, self absorbed. But then, as I watch Nick Jr. w/ Monkey, they are constantly teaching confidence, individuality, etc. So if we're taught that from birth...where does it go? Because even just me writing this post, I'm hoping no one thinks I'm tooting my own horn too much.

ME: I love my sense of humor. I think it sometimes weirds people out, because I'm very Chandler Bing with it; if I'm uncomfortable, nervous, or the like, I make a joke. It isn't that I cannot take anything seriously. But its something comfortable with; and when I make someone laugh, there's a bit of me that calms down, and thinks, "Okay, I can handle this situation". On the flip side, I love to laugh. If someone can make me laugh, I'm instantly attracted to them. Not in a romantic way-- just in general. I want to be around people that can make me laugh, and people who laugh at me just as much. ; )

Laughter IS the best medicine, you know!