The women I am

Reba McEntire has a new album coming out called, “All the Women I am.” The second I heard this title I started thinking about all the women I am. Although we carry our natural-born temperament and personality traits with us our entire life- the people that come in and out of our life sand down our edges and help the molding process we call growth.

All the women I am?

I am my mother. Oh my word am I my mother. I talk like her. I walk like her. We have the same freckle pattern on our right arms. I have been told my whole life how much I remind people of her. “Mini-Kathleen”. There is no greater compliment. My mother is friendly, kind, and compassionate without being sickingly sweet and naïve to the world around her. She is smart and determined, but she is content and humble. She is a warrior when it comes to my sister and I. There is not one second of the day that I feel alone or un-protected. I have my mother. She is my biggest fan and it is because of her I am not afraid to chase my dreams. My mom loves Jesus. I love Jesus because I grew up watching Him transform my mother. If she was the only woman I mentioned in this list, she would more than enough. If I grow up to be half the woman she is I will have succeeded.

I am my sister. I adore her. It is quite obvious from the amount of blogging/talking/worrying I do about her that she is my baby. She isn’t a baby anymore. She is 23 and beautiful and a talented hair dresser and more sarcastic than I am, but every time I look at her I see the girl who almost bit her lip off she was so determined to beat me in tetherball. It is difficult to explain the correlation, but because of her I know I am capable of unconditional love. Of empathy. Of compassion. There isn’t another human being on this earth I love more than her, and when I get in one of my weird moods where I wonder if I will ever be able to get, and stay, married and have kids, or if I will end up alone because I love my dreams more than I will ever love a person, I think of her, and I know I will. She was my battle buddy in the war of growing up and I know, no matter how much I might think no one understands me, that girl does, and she loves me anyways.

I am Carolyn. Everyone should have a best friend that stands in front of them like a reflection in a mirror. I jokingly tell her all the time, “If I had a friend like you growing up I probably wouldn’t be half as screwed up as I am now.” But I am not kidding. She gets it. We grew up with the same insecurities, fears, and frustrations. When we are on our runs and we're talking about, well, everything, I know there is nothing I can say that she won’t understand. She tells me when I am being a complete idiot, but she stands beside me anyways.She has taught me to be me. That it's okay to wear jeans and tennis shoes and feel like a supermodel. I have been a hot mess since I came into that woman’s life and she has remained in my corner.

I am Shee. Shee sees the world differently. She sees art in everything. She is emotional and raw and okay with that. I start out writing a two sentence text and before I know it I have to write an email because the words come spilling out. She loves poetry, she loves photography, she loves art, she loves fashion, she loves make-up, and she loves hip-hop. She is me and I am her. She says what I am thinking before I do. Not because she read my mind or knows me well enough to know what I am going to say, but because she is thinking the same thing. It is crazy cosmic weird. She is everyone’s friend, but she stands alone. She is inspiration and I am reminded of my eighth grade self sitting on my bed writing poetry about who knows what in a brown journal with animals on the front my Grandfather got me from the zoo. The girl inside me that loves all the things Shee loves, and is honestly quite good at it, died in an eating disorder years ago, but she has been reincarnated in the past few months and Shee has been a large part of that. I would love to spend one day of life looking through her lens.

I am Merit Malloy. When I was in eighth grade my love affair with poetry began. My mother was given Merit Malloy’s poetry collection by a friend of hers when she was around the age I am now and she let me read it. Merritt and her husband took all the photos in her books and I was entranced. This woman that I never met wrote about things I didn’t understand but I just knew I wanted to. This woman was beautiful and mysterious and yet her whole life was poetically displayed in these books. She was a lady and I wanted to be that. I loved her for a different reason. Reading those books and realizing there were problems and issues and heartaches outside of junior high was a monumental moment for me. I realized my mom was actually a woman and not just a mom. Up until that point I thought my mom’s life was on temporary pause while I was at school or busy with my friends and that it reconvened when I was back; but after reading this poetry I realized she was a person. It occurred to me she must have cried when she got divorced, or fallen in love, or been insecure, or had her feelings hurt, or been betrayed, or any of the number of things women feel. That was a turning point for me. My mother has asked for those books back before, but I honestly can’t say I will ever give them back. They are my connection to her in a weird way and I have grown up experiencing a new level of understanding every time I turn those pages.

I am my grandmother. We do not speak anymore. We haven’t since my high school graduation day. I do not miss her, to be completely honest; but I know that’s the hurt talking. I am her because she loved my grandfather, and I adored that man.  I worry the way she does. Always have. We both worry about things that we have nothing do with. We worry for the sake of worrying. I love her, and I worry about her.

I am Ethlyn Gaylord. She is my Dad’s grandmother. She passed last year, and there is a void in me. I looked up to her, and I valued her (sometimes rather rude) opinion. She told it like it was, without hesitation, but being the passive person I can be I admired that so much about her. She built a fortune for herself through pure genius and hard work, and she did it in a time when women didn’t work at all, let alone own businesses. I would sit in her house for hours and listen to her reminisce until she fell asleep. She would tell me about dates she went on to speakeasies during prohibition, her first car, her first business, her trips all over the world, and I hung on to every word. She was artistic, religious, funny, sharp as hell, witty and beautiful. She was the “well rounded” person your mother makes reference too when you complain about having to do the dishes. (“Just do them it will make you a well rounded person one day). People would often tell me in front of her that I was, “so tall, you should model,” and without doubt every single time, I could count on her saying, and “she is too smart to model”. She taught me I can do absolutely anything I want to do, that the only thing standing in between me and my dreams is myself. I adored her, and I miss her.

I am the Golden Girls. This might seem ridiculous to you, however it makes complete sense to me.  I grew up with this show. I can remember watching it my grandfather's house. It makes me smile everytime I remember sitting on his lap, listening to him laugh and smelling his morning coffee. I was safe then. Watching that show connects me to him again. I watched it when I was living with my ex-husband- I would be sad, I would feel alone, but I would put that show on and feel connected to my family, my home, and I would be okay. I still watch that show, almost everyday; but those women feel like family to me. I have so many memories with that show it's more than television. It keeps my grandpa alive, it keeps my childhood close, it is home.

I am you.  I am every woman that is worried about her weight. I am every woman that is torn between career and family. I am every woman that sleeps with the TV on as a way to quiet her brain. I am the woman CEO; I am the woman transient that made a few bad decisions. I am the divorced woman, and I am the woman waiting for love. I am the strong woman who survives anything, and I am the scared woman who needs her mom when she’s sick. I am the woman with the eating disorder, and I am the woman with enough confidence to go days without wearing make-up. I am the woman marathon runner, and I am the woman who would rather shop the work out. I am the woman that avoids her reflection; I am the woman that stares at herself in her rearview mirror. I am the friend, I am the sister, I am the boss, the co-worker, the daughter. I am you. And you are me.

Christmas Carol

Something is missing. I don't know what it is. There is a disconnect that is causing me to look at my life from outside of my own body. I feel like a never-ending version of the Christmas Carol- except Ebenezer likes what he sees in my version, he just doesn't know how to be a part of it. I am standing outside of my own life, desperate to jump in. At what point does everything become so routine that you have become a walking five- year plan? Maybe for you it is different. Maybe you wake up and you love your children more than anything but you find yourself digging deep within yourself for the energy to laugh genuinely anymore. I watched the first three miners get rescued the other night before I fell asleep, and not to demean that experience for the beautiful miracle that it is, but I find it a fitting metaphor. One of the main comments I would hear in reference to the rescue of those men is, "it would take like, forever to get to them, and then in no time they would be brought back up." That's how this, my life, lately, feels. It's like I am digging and digging and digging to find...what? My whole life I thought my degrees would be all I would ever want, my ticket to the world. Don't get me wrong I will bawl like a baby the day I walk on that stage to collect that degree but I am not sure it is enough. I will take accountability that one of the main problems in my failed marriage was that I loved my dreams more then I was able to love him sometimes, and for a long time I justified that they were the only thing I had that was mine, but are they anymore?

I am a dreamer, absolutely. This world is mine for the taking, and I sincerely want to change it. But I look around me every day and I don't see very many people who seem happy. What is missing in our lives??? Is it God? Are there still that many people who don't believe? I know I have a prayer I say every morning that goes a lot like, "thank you for another day" but how many days do I wake up hungry? Not for food, I am never hungry for food, praise Jesus, but how many days do I wake up hungry for Him? I can have twenty degrees, and the way things are looking for me, I probably will, but they will never satisfy my entire soul the way God's word does. Is it God that is missing?

Are we lonely? Has society's "me, me, me" attitude pushed us the point that our independence has transformed into loneliness? I do fifty things a day, most of them alone. I am surrounded by people, co-workers, classmates, fellow gym rats, church brothers and sisters...but I go hours, occasionally days, without having a conversation with someone who knows me, really knows me. We are created to crave companionship, and our Godly purpose on this earth is to love each other as Jesus loved, to put others before ourselves, to give generously.. but we are taught that if we don't love us, no one will; and you have to look out for yourself because no one else will, and a whole bunch of other, crap, quite frankly, that has caused us to be isolated, defensive human beings. I will be the first to admit that I need that human connection. I live by myself and I love it, but I miss the sounds of my parents home. I miss the sounds of the dogs running all over the place, and my Dad yelling on the phone over the television but screaming at me to turn my television, that I have turned up in my room so that I can hear the Golden Girls over his conversation in the living room, down ...I miss noise. The peace I think we all search for comes from an entirely different place then where we are searching. Turning the television off, or telling your kids to quiet down is not going to bring you peace... lack of noise is not the peace you are looking for, it is a contentment and a comfort with yourself, with your life, that can cause you yoga - breathing mantra calm, in the middle of your home's chaos.

Is it material possession we are after? Maybe we are so frustrated because we don't have the new coach purse we want, or the latest jeans, or the newest car, I don't know. What I do know is I  have two closets stuffed full of clothes and I would give anything to have my sister going through them. I miss her.

I don't want to be a kid again. I spent my entire childhood wanting to be an adult. It was brought to my attention today, again, that I never take a break. I am not saying my busy lifestyle is ideal, I realize it isn't for everyone, but I am not sure I know how to stop, or that I would want to. When I was young and my mother would put me down for a nap, it was a constant battle between the two of us. She didn't want a tired, cranky kid, and I didn't want to burn sunlight. The only fear I have is, when I reach this current set of goals, will I slow down long enough to enjoy them, or will I stand on the outside of my life, once again, with a cup of coffee and my blackberry planner telling me I have the next set of deadlines to meet..... and if I did slow down, would I be happy?

I don't know what is missing for you, and I don't even know who you are. I am not sure who is reading this, but something is resonating deep within me that there are a few "yous" reading this who understand. I hope whatever is missing in your life, whatever is severing your connection with your own self, that you find it. I hope it is something more simple then God.... I pray with every fiber of my being that you know Him...I hope it is that you just got a little caught up in wanting nice things, or you are spending just a few too many hours at the office and not getting the sleep, or family time that helps your soul thrive... and I hope, pray, wish, that this world around me slows down a little. That even I, mile a minute over here, can just stop the non-stop, and come in from my view of my own live from the outside.

I wish I could type "me" in the address field on each side of the MapQuest directions... if only finding my way back from this were as easy as everything else....then again, maybe that's the problem. Has it become so easy we're bored?  I don't know. I just know when I wake up tomorrow that I want my prayer to be different...to be more like this:

Lord- thank you for another day, another chance to make a difference,

Please allow me to slow down long enough to enjoy every minute of this day...and to spend

less time worrying about the next. Please guard my heart against the defenses that block me from

loving like you love, and please remind me, when I am incapable of reminding myself

what this thing called life if really about.

...Oh, and P.S. thank you for my morning Starbucks. Amen.

Dolly Do- All

I have a thing with bath tubs. This is my second blog centered on a bath tub revelation. I love taking a bath; I get that from my mom. I grew up knowing ‘mom bath tub time” was “mom get away from the kids and relax time”.  I don’t really understand what I find so relaxing about them. I am too tall to sit comfortably in them, I am hot and sweaty in like, three minutes, and I usually don’t make it one chapter in my book before I’m like, okay, this was cool, I’m over it”. But I relate relaxation to them anyways; probably because it is the only time I slow down for five seconds.

I was in the bath today, after a long, sweaty run, (not sure why I thought the two would go well together), and I attempted to begin relaxing. I cannot relax. I cannot take naps. I am hardly able to sleep past eight o’ clock. I have always been this way. I feel like I am wasting time I could be using to do something, and yet while I am doing those things that are so important I can’t take a nap because I need to get them done, I am thinking about how nice it would be to take a nap. I am pretty sure I am the only kid who woke up feeling guilty for falling asleep in class. But, I digress, (or random-ess, which is a MUCH more applicable term. I don’t digress, I jump, hop, skip, and slide around a conversation so much I forget what I was originally talking about) so, I am in the bathtub and I am trying to relax, and trying to calm myself down. I am stressed, I am overwhelmed, I am disappointed in someone I needed to pull through for me, and I am angry at some changes I don’t want made, that affect some changes I did want made, and a settlement in something that I was relying on to bring some balance to my life.

            I am not complaining. I am a graduate student, I have a job that allows me to pursue my dreams and still provide for myself, I have a loving and supportive family, I have a handful of the greatest friends anyone could ask for, I have a God that meets me where I’m at and wants a relationship with me, I am healthy, and I know this. But, I am overwhelmed, and Dolly Do-All over here is learning she can’t do, well, it all. It is hard for a superhero to acknowledge their kryptonite. I want to be wonder woman, but I am tired. And those shorts would give me an eternal wedgie.

I am also famously cliché. I would love to tell you I am positive during the hard times, but I’d also love to tell you I look as good at five in the morning as I do at five in the evening. Both would be lies. I stay faithful during the difficult times. I pray and remain engaged in my relationship with Christ. I don’t immediately go into the “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!??!” ugly cry out to God, but I don’t remember the things I usually thank God for everyday in prayer.

I am sitting in this bath tub and my brain is still going the way it was on my run. Thought afterthoughtafterthoughtafterthought and it just.wont.stop. I start ticking off the things I have to do tomorrow, the next day, a week from now, a year from now; with each item on my list I get angrier and angrier about the schedule I was depending on that is changing, then I beat myself up because I am lucky to have a schedule in the first place. I start hearing everyone’s helpful sentiments, “it’s all worth it, just hang in there,” “we’ll work it out” blah blah blah. I just want to scream at the top of my lungs, “SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I am stuck in between not being at the finish line yet, but being so close I can’t turn around and run the other way, I am too old to move back into my parent’s house and let them buy my shampoo for me and remind me to take the trash cans out. My grandpa is gone now and he isn’t coming back to pay for my school, or speak in his accent about how wonderful the opportunity to educate myself is and how I must push forward. I am a grown up. I am a single grown up. I am grown.

                        I am grown.

I get overwhelmed all over again. I don’t want to be grown, I don’t want to have a business card, I don’t want to be a grad student, I don’t want to pay taxes. I don’t want to be old enough to lose people, I don’t want to have a day planner, I don’t want to pay the electric bill and have conversations about retirement plans, I DON’T EVEN WANT TO VOTE!

But then I calm down. Dolly Do-All remembers why she wants to do it all in the first place. I take a deep breath and laugh. I am sitting in my parents bath tub visiting them, and I am having my MILLIONTH melt down in this same bathroom…. the same tub I cried in when I was nervous on my first day of work for my first job ever. The same tub I cried in on my high school graduation day, my first day of college, the day I moved out, the day I got fired for the first time ever. And whether my melt down was me freaking out because I needed to ask my parents if I could borrow some money to pay off my Victoria Secret credit card (I had at 18!!!!!!!!!!!!), or how I am going to explain to my parents that I am moving back in because I am getting a divorce…everything always works out okay.

I am okay.

Dolly- do all is okay. I may not be able to do it all. I might not be the next Wonder Woman with cuter hair and tattoos, but I am at least rejuvenated enough to try. I will have other melt downs, but in the meantime I am going to enjoy how fluffy the bath mat between my toes feels, I will praise a God that never lets me down, although people will. I will smell my mom’s candles and coffee that fill this house, and listen to the sounds of all these crazy dogs barking, and smile because I know I always have a home to come home to. I will have a million more melt downs, but as long as there is a bath tub for me to sweat in, I will be all right.

Dear Someone(s)-

When I was young I would often get in trouble for the amount of responsibility I took for others lives. If my sister was upset, I was upset. If my friend was scared, I was scared. If a boy on the bus was getting bullied, I cried the whole way home, praying he wouldn't get in a fight the next day. I had a hard time separating what was appropriate for me to get upset over, from what wasn't. Needless to say, I spent countless hours crying in my room, either for my own pubescent drama, or my friends, and even more time being disciplined for this character trait. I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard, "you are trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders," or, "you worry about things beyond your control..." blah.blah.blah. .... Over time, and life's low blows, I developed a cynicism to replace my empathy. I had crossed over the line of forgiving compassion to hardened distrust, and I stopped feeling sorry for people. At least outwardly. I built walls. I created defenses, and I got really good at being the tough girl that "says exactly what's on her mind". Except I wasn't saying what was on my mind, I was saying what the bitterness told me to say to protect the little girl inside me that wanted to hug every person that was having a bad day.

I don't know when that line got crossed. I have an idea of what the final straw was, the final kick in the stomach that pushed me over the edge; but I am not exactly certain what blow landed just right to cause the disconnect I felt from myself. I was not a mean girl. I was never the girl who hurt people's feelings. I won "Most Likely to Cheer You Up When You're Down" for goodness sake!

The mean girl in me, the defensive, hurt person hurting people that lay within me for a few years is gone now. I don't do the displacement of anger gig anymore, and although I am not one hundred percent in my confronting someone when they've hurt me/let me down/disappointed me skill yet, I am at least capable of separating the perpetrator from the innocent Starbucks barista.

Someone I care about is going through something really hard right now. There are a few "someone(s)" I care about that are going through something difficult right now, and I am reminded of what might have caused the empathy in me to hide in its mouse hole in the first place.  My shoulders feel heavy, my sleep feels unsettled, and although I have nothing to complain about personally, I don't feel as excited about every new day as I usually do. I'm watching someone I care about struggle, and having been through what all my someone(s) have been through in one way or another before, I am having the worst time finding the balance between being supportive, offering advice from my battle with the same demon... with wanting to take this person and build a bubble around them and face the entire army by myself if that's what it takes, because I have been there before and I am capable of surviving it again.

The worst part about it is, I have so much I want to say to my someone(s), but I don't want to risk them thinking I am disconnected or insensitive.... so, in an effort to not have the awkward conversation where I am trying to talk to you about your issues, but, instead, am bawling my eyes out and allowing you to comfort me for being upset during your time of need, I will write you this, and I hope you read every word with the understanding that I mean every word. That every articulated letter formation of words on this page were chosen and felt and expressed with a love and sincerity that is incapable of being expressed any other way....

Dear Someone(s)-

I don't know why you are going through what you are going through right now. I would give anything to take that pain away from you, but it is not my responsibility. God has a plan for us all, and He never promised it would be easy, He just promised it would be worth it. I know it is so hard to sit in your own frustrations, feeling hurt, alone, abandoned even, and still feel faithful and connected to God. Many people pretend to, but I think the best thing we can do for our relationship with Christ is build the intimacy that comes with asking him why. I hate that word sometimes. Why. Why are you hurting, why is this happening, why isn't the outcome different, why are you letting this happen to me....why..why...why.???? In John 13:7 Jesus says, " you do not realize now what I am doing. Later you will understand" (emphasis mine).  We hear over and over again when we are going through life's more difficult moments, that everything has a reason, that nothing happens that isn't supposed too, cliché after cliché..but here's the one thing that always brings me comfort, God isn't a cliché. He has a plan for you, and it is hard to see that when your plan seems to be falling apart, but trust in the one who has brought you this far.

King David wrote Psalm 142 while he was in a cave, as a prayer... the man is in a cave. Let's not forget. In a cave. Writing this prayer. In a cave.

I cry aloud to the Lord;

I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy.

I pour out my complaint before him;

before him I tell my trouble.

When my spirit grows faint within me,

it is you who know my way.

In the path where I walk

men have a hidden a snare for me.

Look to my right and see;

no one is concerned for me,

I have no refuge;

no one cares for my life.

I cry to you, O Lord;

I say, "you are my refuge,

my portion in the land of the living."

Listen to my  cry,

for I am in desperate need;

rescue me from those who pursue me,

for they are too strong for me.

Set me free from my prison,

that I may praise your name.

I know you are not in a cave, and I am certainly not God, but when you cry I will listen. I am not as strong as God, but I have a carried great weight on my shoulders before, and I can do it again. I am not in control of your path, and don't know enough to foresee and remove any obstacles, but I will walk with you, and I will help you fight.

I am not a mean girl anymore. Life made my edges rough for awhile, but that isn't who I am now. And the same God that brought me through my struggles, and delivered me from my own stupid self, will bring you through yours. He never promised He would bring us around struggles, or over them, or under them.... there was no promise of avoiding the hard times, just a promise we would get through them. He meets us where we are at, but I promise to take it from there.

I will help you move from the "why' of it all, to the "what now". I promise to see the best in you, that you aren't so good at recognizing right now. I promise to remind you of all the reasons you're amazing until you're able to remember yourself. I promise to pray for you, and give you every verse or psalm that comes into my mind. I promise not to get upset when you tell me to shut up and quit giving you every verse or psalm that comes into my mind. I promise, even when I am pretending not to be mad you just told me to shut up, to pray for you still. I promise to stand by your side, with a human loyalty nowhere near the loyalty God will show you. I promise to pick the restaurants for awhile. I promise to make you laugh when you need a laugh, and to cry with you when you need a cry, and to know you well enough to know the difference. I promise to tell you when I think you're carrying on a little too long, and kick you in the butt to get you moving again. God has a plan for you someone, and I won't stand back and watch you miss it. I promise I won't give up on you, and I won't let you give up on yourself.

Give it all to God, and trust me with the rest. I can handle it. I am most likely to cheer you up when you're down after all, you can't argue with fact.