There is absolutely nothing wrong with crying over spilled milk.

I’m pissed. I’m more than pissed. I’m disappointed, angry, and most of all have a feeling of betrayal. Who knew the source of this would be myself. Physically myself. My body is absolutely the opposite of what I had in mind.

2 years ago, when my birth Mom died, I began having red blood spots on my legs,  and swelling bad in my ankles. I had so many eye problems, and just couldn’t quite catch up to be energized. No one could figure out what it was. I got married later that year, and it got much worse throughout that process, and the reception was so much fun-but caused HUGE swelling. Finally I went in to the ER, it was so painful and swollen I couldn’t walk well. 3 Dr.’s later the amazing Rheumatologist I have now knew right after she reviewed the tests she ordered. Sjogren’s (Pronounced Showgrins) Syndrome. The severe dryness was causing my eyes so many problems, and doing anything like standing or walking for long periods of time caused my Vasculitis that accompanied it. Finally. A diagnosis. I had a name for what I was feeling.

Medication was attempted. It messed with my liver too much. Onto the next medication. Too expensive. Then the next one- First low dose was fine, but then the increased advised amount made me feel like the world was moving and I was standing still-not in a good way. Nope. Done. I quit taking it last year and began monitoring my symptoms and adjusting my life accordingly.

This year my morning yoga started. 5:30am on week days and 6:30am on weekends. Yoga, tea/coffee, writing. Just taking it in. Music, shower, whatever I am pulled to that morning. It’s my time to do what I want and take in the moments before life gets busy. As a whole family we are eating healthier, and really taking the time with each other-limiting TV other than using it to listen to music. Weekends are different, the kids get the morning with the TV, but then we turn it off and do something together. This has helped. I feel the best I’ve ever felt. Able to clean the house without sitting out in pain for days after. I can enjoy a glass of wine without dreading waking up with swelling. It has been amazing. Aside from my eye trouble, I have really felt amazing inside and out.

Going into my labs and appointment, I was feeling so good. I could tell them I was doing it without medication and rocking it all out! I was so happy to have my husband there to have a good appointment filled with positive things I was able to finally do after almost 3 years. He could meet my Dr. and be involved at a positive point in this mess of a body.

Unfortunately that thought in my head of how it was going to go was quickly washed away. I was quick to show her my legs were great, even after walking for a few hours around the hospital and clinic buildings. She validated that it was really good. She advised to keep doing the yoga if it is working for me. Then the lab results came on the screen. She got in her serious tone, and explained my markers this time around are higher. Instead of testing positive for just one SS marker, I have positive in both now. My organs are still ok-which is a blessing that I haven’t had any trouble with them. In one number the normal higher end of things for women is 21 and I am at a 49. White cell count is low. Everything on the screen is showing things I don’t physically feel. And because of that I am forced to accept medication as an option. Something I have fought and fought and fought. Because I trust my Dr., I am going to take it, and I am going to follow her instructions and see her every 6 months, and do eye exams regularly to make sure that side effect isn’t showing it’s ugly self.

I do it for my kids, my husband, and myself. I don’t want this condition to spread into something as worse as it can be. But I am pissed. This body I have chosen as a soul is failing me. In my mind, it should be doing what I wish-it is mine after all. I should be able to do what I want, and create what I want with it.

Do you hear that? The possession in my thoughts? This body is mine. It should be how I want it to be. It took me writing this to realize this tantrum I’m throwing really isn’t even mine to throw. For some reason I get myself all worked up. I get angry. I react in such a negative way that it helps no one. The day after the appointment, I ate greasy food, junk snacks, and skipped yoga. Take that body. You trickster. You deceiver. Take. That. Did it really do anything? No. Did it feel good? I won’t lie, of course it did. I am angry and feeling deceived and betrayed in the most personal way.

I have always been told “you are so skinny. You’re so lucky.” Am I though? Really? On the outside sure, I look really good. Yep, no rolls, and that “model” appeal. But guess what, I can barely carry my kids, I can’t walk more than 2 flights of stairs-seriously I can’t, I will be breathing as heavy as a smoker running a marathon. On just two flights of stairs. “Your stomach is so flat.” yep. You’re right, and for medication purposes it’s great because my weight holds back all recommended doses. In some cases I have to be treated as a child. That is not what you should strive for. “You must get carded all the time. You’ll love that later in life.” How about those looks I get when I have my 6 year old and 3 year old? The “She must not be older than 16.” and the judgmental stares as I walk by. The anticipation of me living “off the state.” Oh it happens. Every. Fucking. Day. Sure, my body is what most people strive for, I’m not vain in any way, I’m acknowledging the outside looks great.

Now factor in the shit it has put me through. Having to pause to clean the damn house because it hurts too much. Having to sit down at a park with my kids because if I don’t I will walk with so much pain I will hold back tears. Having to tell my kids they can’t be on Mommy’s lap because it hurts too much. Not being able to wear shorts in the summer, because #1 the heat will cause a flare up, or #2 I already have spots and swelling and I look like I have a contagious rash all over my legs the color of blood. The baby I lost because my body betrayed me. The countless phantom spasms of pain in each joint every day. Nothing is ever the same. I feel trapped. I am stuck in this body with everything wrong with it. And a “no returns” policy. Does this body look great to you now?

It’s funny. This is why I started writing. As I write all these words and stare at them, I realize how silly I am. I am validated in how I feel, yes. But alas, I know in my soul that this is the whole point. The complaining. The tantrums. The whining. This is the whole point and I need to accept and release this. I am not “worse off” or “better off” than anyone. I am me. I chose this life long before I was born, and I did it for a reason. I keep “learning” to be ok when things don’t go my way-yet here I am again. Hahaha. Oh life. Once again, you are right. I love it.

This is exactly why I started this blog. It is perfectly normal to sit and be angry about what is happening. There is nothing wrong in that. There is no wrong in taking some time to really listen to your feelings. Don’t you let anyone- including your own damn self- tell you that you don’t have it as bad, so be thankful. That’s only true to a point. It doesn’t matter how worse or better off you are-you are allowed to take some time to be upset about it. Then, write it down as I did, or just simply sit in your own moments and really listen to your thoughts, and it will come to you. Whether it’s a recurring lesson as I just had, or it’s a new one you need to explore-listen to yourself.

That’s the problem today. People don’t allow others to really feel. There is absolutely nothing wrong with crying over spilled milk. As long as you get to a point and truly accept and release those. You don’t need to live in anger and sadness. You just need to feel it, understand it, and let it go. That’s for every emotion-happiness included. You need to live in moments, but not like the cliché, I mean really live in the moments. It’s a freeing experience to have when you can just take a breath in and understand every surrounding you’re in. Just taking it in and seeing all the details without dissecting every reason of why it should/shouldn’t be.

Remember to allow yourself to feel. From rage to bliss you feel it, live it, and accept it. Once you do that the release comes easy, and your moments grow in numbers. It will be an amazing experience I promise. That urge inside of you to feel an emotion whether it’s strong or subtle, listen to it. Lock yourself in a room and just scream and cry. Or burst into laughter and smiles at a random moment. No matter when or where you need to do it-do it. I’m sending so much love and good vibes to you all. Receive them and really feel. Love to all.

This is not for them, it’s for her.

“Here’s to my ex, hey look at me now, well I’m all the up I swear you’ll never bring me down.” ‘Shout Out to My Ex’ by Little Mix.

That song came on my car radio, and I found myself getting chills all over my body. Then I found myself belting it out as loud as I could with every part of me. This song is my jam, but not for why you might think. And this post, is probably my most deepest journey yet. I almost debated not writing it-but this is why I’m here. To inspire anyone I can reach to face and embrace, and most of all- accept and release.

My daughter’s natural dad and I split, mostly because I came home to his girlfriend in the living room of our apartment-playing with my daughter. At the time, of course I was upset. I was also so insecure I was upset for the wrong reasons. Blaming myself for not being good enough. Fast forward 6 years to the present time, and really, I’m so thankful I dodged that unhealthy relationship. Not because I hate him or blame him for all our problems, but because I would not have bloomed into my true self. I would have settled in the background and taught my daughter accidentally that it’s ok to have no self-worth.

Contrary to what you might think this post is not about him. Neither is the way the song hits me. This is about my daughter. I found this week to be one of the most challenging when it comes to intentions and really focusing my energy and time on myself and why I was spiritually at a screeching halt-unable to venture further.

My daughter. She was the light in my life when I needed it most. I’ve always been open about my past-always. I drank too much, smoked illegal grass, and cigarettes like they were nothing. I had no care in the world, and then she came along. I got pregnant and we weren’t even together-for a reason. Yet, there we were, a couple of kids not even old enough to drink yet (I was 20 at least), and we were going to “make it work for the baby”. I don’t regret that decision. Not a day in my life-because my daughter needs him. Whether I want to believe it, embrace it, or not-it’s the damn truth.

She goes every other weekend, and I’m not out here to air his or his gf’s faults, I have my own demons to fight. This post is going even deeper than them, they are just the objects I face within myself. They are the pillars of my darkness, not because of who they are- but because of my own thoughts and actions. Jealousy, anger, hurt-all those things I allow myself to fight, or fear, or react upon. But again, not for them-for her.

This angel I was given in my time of need, her beautiful soul and her amazingly big heart-she hurts, so I hurt, and I blamed them. They have a different lifestyle I do not necessarily agree with-but is that really my business? Yes. Yes it is. But not for me to judge, for me to fight. It is for me to understand all parts of my daughter. She is conflicted. Our households are 100% completely different.

She started calling my husband “Daddy”, when she was just 2 years old. We had been dating just a couple months, and he was changing her diaper. She looked up and said, “Thank you Daddy”. He was in shock. Haha, he is such a kind hearted man, he came downstairs to me and told me what happened, then immediately started apologizing and saying he didn’t make her say it, etc. So we sat her down. We explained she can call him whatever she wants-she is allowed to have two Dads. I remember her shrugging her shoulders and saying, “He’s my Dad….so…” and I knew then that this was the man that I was meant to have in my life. We do our best to keep her comfortable and attempt to balance her out when she comes home every other Sunday. We talk about things and we assure her that we just cannot make people think or act how we believe they should-it’s not our job. The best we can do is express our own thoughts and emotions, and if it is the choice to ignore them, we have no control over that.

We provide her a safe space, and her own journal that I swore to her I would never read. I have kept that promise. It’s important that she have her own space and her own time to gather herself. She has an exceptional gift of love that even I cannot compare to, and she doesn’t even know it yet. Her old soul is so full of knowledge that at 6 years old, many people ask me if she’s really 6 or just small for her age. She understands more than some adults, and she is non judgmental in the most sincerest way. I adore her. That, my friends, is why this hurts.

I could say it’s the way they run their lives and try to hurt me through her. I could say it’s all because of what they do. But that would be a lie. It is not what they do. It is what I do. My deepest, darkest part of me doesn’t have anything to do with my young childhood in foster care, or bouncing around home to home within the family and outside the family. It isn’t about my birth mom who passed away, or the miscarriage I experienced. My darkness, and my deepest scars, deepest thoughts and fears stem from the love I have for one little girl. A love I have to share every other weekend, and switch each year for holidays. A love that I so ever want control over, or at least a part of always; I want to care for this soul at all times and the fact that I do not know a thing about the world she goes to every other weekend-scares me.

That song is not about him. It’s not even about him finding another in his life. I am grateful they have each other, because I think everyone should have the option to go through life with someone. Although things they do/don’t believe in are different from mine and outrage me from time to time-it gives our daughter a different perspective. It gives her a glimpse into something that isn’t within her every day life with us. And for that, I am grateful. Through these experiences good or bad, she is learning tools and lessons that took me until I was a full adult to understand. I may not agree with it all the time, but that’s not for me to control.

I no longer harbor the hatred I once did. The journey this week was a big one. I will not apologize for any actions I may have done or even will do. Because I don’t believe anyone should. No one should look back and think, “I wish I didn’t do that.” instead, you should look back and think, “Why did I do that, what was I supposed to learn?”. I intended to write down everything I thought I had faced, and really dig deep to find what was truly going on within. I didn’t reach it the first day I intended-or really even the second day. It finally hit me when this song came on, and I started paying more attention to that darkness.

The second song that came on that truly made me think, was “Love Triangle” by RaeLynn. Holy. Crap. That song hit me like bricks one by one. Each verse poured through my car and I immediately thought of our daughter. In order for me to do the best I can for her in her split home life, is to accept and release.

I have never spoken ill of her natural father or his girlfriend. Ever. Nor do I ever intend to. She needs to make her own decisions about her life and her beliefs, and her love. That is not for me, or anyone, to make for her. Makes me sick to think of people saying horrible things to a child pertaining to someone/people they choose to love. I no longer harbor hate in that department either. If they would like to express their true thoughts about me to her-that is their choice, and I no longer hate them for it. I no longer harbor such negative energy toward them. I no longer let it burn inside my soul, blocking me from any advancement within my own self. I have allowed so much of what they do to bother me, that I forgot to really and truly: accept and release.

That’s what I did this week. I took the darkest part of my life, my soul, my being and I accept it. I took a step deeper, and I faced it head on. I am thankful for these times of anger and darkness, because it reminds me it is about me, not them. It is about myself, and how I choose to accept and release. But truly accepting and releasing is not just saying it. You have to embrace it. You have to dig into it, answer your “why?” questions, and be ok with your truest answers. You have to forgive yourself for thinking negative, for reacting negative, and get to understanding yourself on ever single level.

What will you discover about yourself when you dig deep? Maybe that situation you thought you “dealt” with, really isn’t resolved within you; at least not on a level you even knew about at the time.

I still have this darkness within me. I choose to embrace it, find what the root is, and accept it. I release any anger, or any “grudging” or harboring of ill will. I have found myself, and discovered things I never even knew. I intended something huge this week, and through little intentions, I did it. Intentions heed no judgement, no timeline, and no expectations. There is no right or wrong way to meet your intention, and no intention to be judged.

What will be your intention? Do you want to be more passionate? Do you want to be more inspirational? Your journey to your own intentions starts when you choose it. What will be your next choice? Dig deep, or meet small, the choice is yours. The beauty? No intention is better than another for they all want the same thing: You to find your true self.

Love to all. Even those I never thought I would say that to.

But that’s not the point now is it?

I remember it like it was yesterday. I brushed her hair back, held her hand, and told her it was ok to let go. Telling her my biological sister wasn’t coming. Then I remember her husband yelling “STOP! JUST STOP! She’s not coming back. Get that shit off my wife.” and then I remember collapsing in a heap of sobs. Much of that night is clear, yet some parts are a blur. I remember the nurses allowing us to sit with her as long as we wanted. I held her hand. I cried. Standing there, seeing her body was absolutely life-changing.

I have seen grandparents pass. That upset me, but not like this. The woman who physically gave me life, and became my best friend after years apart-left me. You read that right. At that time I was angry. Angry at her, angry at life. She left me and that’s it. We had finally reached an amazing level of love and peace from the past, and she left me.

I was raised by my parents whom I love and adore. They gave me a wonderful life, and they are my parents, whether the biological facts say so or not. I was an angry teenager, and how they dealt with it I will never know. When I was 13 I told her not to speak to me again until I was 18. She listened. When I was going to officially be adopted at 16, she asked me one time if I wanted her to fight it, and I told her I hope she died. So she backed out. She faded in the back again, yet I came to find out later she had kept tabs on me. Followed my MySpace, my Facebook. Then, on my 18th birthday she sent me a message and told me her phone number, email, and address, and left it at that-up to me. I took that chance to get to know her, and I’m so glad I did.

At 20 I got pregnant. She was there every step of the way and was so supportive. She was also honest with me. She believed I’d be a great Mom, but feared my relationship with my daughter’s father. I was too clingy, too involved, and quite dramatic at the time; the relationship was really quite unhealthy altogether. When I finally had my daughter she came to visit and since she first set eyes on her, she named her “Livvy Luv” and doted on her every move. She fell in love with her first grand child and it was one of the most beautiful things to watch evolve before my eyes.

She was there during the separation from my daughter’s dad a year later, making sure the child was always the priority, and making sure I knew the pros and cons of each of my choices. Drama occurred and I always grabbed the phone to call her. She would contribute to my pity party and then after I wallowed for a while she’d bring me back to reality and being an adult. She lived in Kentucky, and I in Minnesota, so we Skyped each holiday and I called her every chance I could. Due to lack of money we couldn’t make it to her wedding. The one I was to be the Maid of Honor for. It broke my heart. I cried myself to sleep for a while. She was pretty upset, and yet found the ability to forgive me. Which brings me to my next thought from today’s lesson.

Forgiveness. This woman whom I owe my actual existence to is gone in a physical sense. Forgiveness. This woman had to withstand the nastiest comments from an angry teenager. I said so many horrible things, and it wasn’t until she passed that among her personal things I saw them. I saw each email, each comment, each letter. She had kept all of them. In the 7 years we were reconnected she never even hinted a grudge. Holding any sort of ill-will whatsoever. Forgiveness. As I had forgiven her mistakes, she had forgiven mine. I remember going through her belongings and not wanting to throw or give away anything. Nothing at all. I clung to her clothes, her pictures, her items she had made and bought for our kids (I had a son the year before she passed). I clung to them and returned home with what I could fit on the plane.

She passed in March of 2014, and I got married in July of that same year. I remember wishing she had been there. I remember the feeling of unfairness that pained my heart, and the “she has the best seat in the house” comments. It wasn’t the same. I wouldn’t see her fussing over the kids. I wouldn’t have her insist she take them and love on them. I wouldn’t have her giving my husband-to-be that speech of “If you hurt her so help me-“. I wouldn’t have any of that-and I didn’t.

Now, almost 3 years later, it hits me. My kids knew her when she was alive. They knew Grammy and Poppy lived far away and they knew Grammy loved them so much. She painted Livvy Luv a chest with her name on it, and the Grammy Song they made up together. She painted a little table for both kids, and made blankets and pillows. But that’s just stuff. The kids won’t be kids forever. Eventually the things she created will be given away, stored away, or thrown away. I have clung to all these items-until today.

You see, I set my intention today to find clarity in something. I will be honest-what I wanted clarity for was not anywhere near this subject, I’m very good at locking up emotions when I truly want to. But instead, I found clarify in losing her. Clarity that it isn’t the stuff she made, or the presents for the kids she bought, it was the message her life made clear. There is no expiration date on change. No conditions in which you should or shouldn’t love. Those items I clung to because she made them, I wasn’t clinging to them for the reasons I thought. I was clinging because the truth is the memories are fading. I can’t smell her anymore. I can’t hear her voice. Each time I try to remember it, it’s just not quite her voice. I can’t think of some of our talks, but I remember having so many. I can’t remember every smile, every tear, or every “I love you”.

But that’s not the point now is it? I found clarity. Clinging to things won’t bring her back, or lessen the pain, or even help me remember her. I will always miss her, always; but I will also always be grateful for her. For once again, when I wanted something and didn’t get it-I rejected life and all it had to offer. Clarity. The clearest thing that I learned today is something I cannot believe I didn’t see at first: I am going to be okay. The signs are all around me, always have been. I need to pay attention, and at each level of understanding, reach out, and accept and release it. For I can only control me. Acceptance…….and release. 

Clarity. I intended to reach it, and I did today. It wasn’t what I thought I needed clarity on, but it was a deep sense of calm and understanding when it became clear. Each intention is becoming harder and harder to accept and release-but it is so worth it when you do.

Love to all.

The memory of blood stopped me every time. Until today.

Since I am starting this on a Saturday, I’m going to make up for yesterday’s post that should have occurred (Mom duties may have slightly prevented that-my bad. It will probably happen again.)

The water was running down my face, my neck, my body. As I stand there in the shower a fear comes over me. I look down at the tub. I close my eyes, and I sit down. I take in a deep breath and I relax. As the water pours down I realize nothing is changing. There is no physical response to this fear: I am perfectly fine.

You see this is the first time I have sat in that tub in over a year. September 2015 we were told the baby we were excited to have was not there. The ultra sound was just an empty hole. A place that was ready for a baby-but no baby occupied that empty space. I remember collapsing after they told us. My husband held me and my body gave out. Eventually what was pain and hurt turned into anger. “Just get it out. I just want all this shit out of me.” I remember saying. That’s when I stopped sobbing, got angry, and we went to speak with the Dr. I was given the medication to start the “miscarriage” process. It was on a Friday, and I began the medication that night. The physical pain mixed with the emotional pain was extreme. If you have ever endured this pain in any sense-my heart goes out to you.

I sat in the tub, blood gushing, and I just sobbed. I sat in there for a long time-what felt like hours, but was probably more like one hour at a time. All I could do was cry. I had no control over the blood. No control over the loss I felt-and I was angry. Angry that I couldn’t carry our third child. Angry that I was “ripped off” by life “once again”. From every time on-I could not take a bath. I could not sit in that tub. Each time I tried, I could only sit and sob.

Today, over a year later, I overcame. I made that intention this morning, I was going to conquer my reaction to a deep, wounded, fear. I have many to choose from, and I wasn’t sure which one would come out-until I looked down at that tub. For some reason a sense of calm washed over me, and as I sat there I began to relax more and more. I sat for a while, I’m not sure how long, and then my little 3yo came in. As he was yapping away and brushing his teeth I realized I am still sitting in relaxation. It was a feeling of release. I felt as if I have reached the top of the mountain. It was wonderful.

Intentions-something that doesn’t have an expiration or a consequence. If you do not reach your intention the first time around-try again. Intentions are not without mistakes. Embrace your mistakes, your negativity-then spin it into a positive. Each thought, action, & reaction is a lesson. Good or bad the universe is teaching you something. Take that moment to search within yourself and find out what you needed from that.

I learned from the experience of losing what I thought I was going to have. I learned that I needed to be okay with not having everything I wanted or planned. I was okay when things didn’t go my way on every single level of life. Sitting in that tub this morning, letting the water cascade down was almost a closure of that teaching. I have achieved the level of understanding I needed from this lesson.

What fear will you explore of yours today? Get to know that fear-inside and out. Do not intend to destroy it-intend to explore and conquer your reaction to it.

Love to all.

Shut up. Seriously.

5:30am came too fast. The screeching of my alarm woke me with a start. I hit “dismiss” and just laid there for a minute. Am I really going to do this? Every week day morning I’m going to get up, make a cup of tea, and actually do 15 minutes of yoga to wake up? Why did I think I could do this? I can’t even touch my toes… That’s when my true self chimed in, “You do this because you know it will heed results. You do this because you want to. You have always wanted to be more active. You do this so you can free every part of you and live up to what you want to be: inspiring.”

As always, that inner-self talk is right. I do want to do this. I want to get up, exercise my body and soul, and set the intention to have a good day. Spinning everything to a positive is not easy. It has taken me a few years to even grasp that I have complete control over every thought, every action, and every reaction. It starts with setting your intentions, and then meeting it with no excuses.

“Excuses.” Sounds harmless. Excuses are exactly what keep all of us from being and doing what we truly want. “I don’t have time.”, “I’ll be the only one.”, and the worst of all, “I can’t.” Shut up. Seriously, shut those off. You do the best you can with what you have and strive to do more/better next time. YOU have control over that. As SOON as those thoughts come creeping in, “just this once I won’t.” “next time maybe.” “after a while”, shut them down. I find that if I reach deep inside myself, and counteract the “next time” with a “or now, so later you can do something else.” or “there it is again. just do it.” I tend to be more apt to shape into a positive response.

If that doesn’t work for you, maybe internally list the reasons for you to do it. For you to grab that passion and take charge of your own actions and reactions.

This morning, I had to resort to listing the reasons. That alarm went off at 6:30am, and as I reached to shut it off those thoughts came creeping in. I thought of why I set that alarm in the first place even though it’s a Saturday. 1. I can do my yoga right away and that would take care of myself-body, mind, and soul. 2. I could spend time with the kiddo that is already awake anyway. 3. I can start to write.  As I began listing these reasons in my head I felt myself get excited and more ready to start the day.

Set your intentions and the rest will come. Your life begins when you say it does-it took me 28 years to do that. There is no time limit. There is no expiration to your passions. Take charge, and do something that will take care of that inner-self. Your true-self. I’m only sharing my own experiences, and offering to be here to motivate anyone who needs it. To offer support to anyone seeking it. This is my time to do what I was born to do: Inspire.

Each Friday I’m going to post. Each Friday I will bare my soul of something that I faced, that I experienced, and that I conquered. I may post on different days if I feel I should.

What will be your first intention of the day? Grab it-and meet it.

Love to all.