Bittersweet with a touch of guilt.

I could sit here and stare at this picture all day. All night. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to ask for forgiveness and swoop him up and bring him into my room where I know he feels safe. I want to throw a tantrum and follow it up with a big bowl of mint ice cream with Oreos but I can't. I can't tell this sweet boy all the things that are going through my head. So instead I'll write. Maybe one day he can look back and read this and finally understand the battles of parenting.

I'm so sorry that I couldn't figure out a way for you to feel safe on your own yet.

I'm sorry that your imagination runs wild, so wild that you can't play by yourself. In the middle of the day. With sunlight flooding the house.

I'm sorry that you have a hard time channeling your energy. I bet that feels crazy inside at times.

I'm sorry your dad can't and won't be a part of your life. But I promise you it's for the best. I know this with all my heart and will explain if you need me to when you're ready.

I'm sorry I don't drive the big black truck you always say you wish we had. I want that too bud.

I'm sorry you never feel like you're home in our new house. I really thought I was doing it by getting a home big enough where you could finally have your own room.

I'm sorry that the dryer frightens you.

I'm sorry that the intercom system at school frightened you so badly while going to the bathroom one day, that you can't seem to find the courage to trust going to the bathroom alone.

I'm sorry my body and mind aren't always the strongest and it hinders the activities we're able to do at times.

I'm sorry for getting upset with you yet again today and raising my voice.

There's at least a million more things I could apologize for. But I'm most sorry for having you sleep in your room by yourself tonight. For the first time. As a punishment. You slept in a crib until you were two. But you never slept longer than an hour and a half, two if I was lucky. Until one day your Aunt Michelle suggested I bring you into the bed with me. That you may just need to be close to me. Wouldn't you know you slept through the night for the first time since you were born. And you've slept through the night ever since. Even when you nap, if I leave the room you wake up early. We share a bond sweet boy that no one on this earth can break. Except for me maybe, when I told you that I couldn't handle the way you treated me anymore and that you needed to sleep in your own room for once because well I just couldn't handle it anymore. That was absolutely awful. I know better than to take your behavior personally. I know that you hitting me in the back with a brown paper bag because I wouldn't let you have candy before dinner didn't hurt, or that it was the worse thing in the world. But it was the straw that broke the camel's back. And after fighting me to eat dinner, take a shower, and cleaning up your toys I was at a loss. I reached for the one thing I knew would bother you the most. Sleeping by yourself. Bedtime, sleeping by yourself, and frankly any other milestone should NEVER, I repeat, NEVER, be a form of punishment. What you're doing in there right now so peacefully, is something you should be proud of. Excited about. You are no longer a toddler. You have grown into a strong, intelligent and funny sweet boy. One who should be celebrating this graduation of sorts. But instead I robbed you of that tonight. I laid with you until you drifted off to sleep and then sulked all the way to my room. Feeling so guilty that I turned what should be a joyous occasion into one more thing for you to associate fear, bad behavior, and who knows what else with. But I promise you this son. Regardless of my stupidity and inability to properly discipline you, this one moment will be one you look back on and will be proud of. That even though you were scared and I had you sleep by yourself for the first time because I was mad, you did it. YOU. DID. IT. You were so brave. You laid there with your blanky white and drifted off to sleep knowing I wouldn't be staying in there. You were courageous. And YOU will be stronger for it. I just hope you know that even though I may not do the best job at raising you, that you still rise above and triumph. For I know that this milestone is one of the big ones. And instead of kindly guiding you there, I forced you in a way that I will never forgive myself for. I know I can't take back words. But I also know I have to follow through with what I say. Tomorrow is a new day and we will talk about what happened tonight and how you feel safest moving forward. But I wanted you to know exactly how I feel. That I feel so much guilt and sadness that I want to throw up. But I also feel pride for having a son that is so damn tough. You're going to be a leader Noah. I hope and pray I can raise you to be the right kind.

This night is bittersweet. With more than a touch of guilt. But this maddening mess of emotions I'm feeling is what parenthood is. It's messy. I'm not perfect. And I'm going to mess up over and over and over again. But I want you to remember above all, that I love you more than life itself. And time and time again I have chosen you. To do the best I can at giving you all you want and need. I want you to remember that once again you've shown me what bravery, courage, forgiveness and trust looks like. What peace in the midst of anger, immaturity and selfishness looks like. And I want to cry. But instead I'll wake up tomorrow and try again. I hope that you'll forgive me. Because I truly am sorry.

You're amazing Noah. Freaking amazing.

I'm beyond proud to be your mom.

Remember that night in March...?

After logging in after almost a year later that I never posted this. And I want it in here to remind myself of just how much I can conquer. Just how much I can get through without officially breaking. Coming close? Many times. But still haven't broken yet. You still got this girl. I realized, that I've decided that I'm not going to focus on the end goal. Will I keep it in sight? Yes. But what I want to focus on is the how. How am I going to get to my end goal. And to do that I need to get better at listening. Listening to those soft promptings that guide me in so many different directions that lead to avenues that will route and sometimes reroute me to my end goal.

I've got so much on my plate right now. Noah and I spent all day Sunday at the hospital due to his reactive airway disease and this one was a doozy. Not even sure I spelled that correctly but it's 10:30 at night. Enough said. And between the continuous breathing treatment, finger pokes (they're concerned he's developing diabetes), A1C test that consisted of a blood draw (with what they claimed to be a luxury item that really wasn't at all. It was really just a super loud and scary numbing contraption that pierces the skin after this frightening and startling spaceship noise. Which since I'm on a tangent. I mean if you're going to pierce the skin only once, why not do it via the more quiet and common way. The way that my son has already had experience doing and succeeded at without a peep. I told them he would be fine with just the blood draw, but oh no. I'm the worst mom in the world if I don't opt for the luxury item. I will not be going back to Banner. Ever. That was just a way to make extra money on a procedure or "added extra" that further traumatized my son. Ugh. And people wonder why I avoid doctors as of late. And now the hospital Endocrinologist trying to scare me into thinking my son has diabetes, I've really forced myself to take the time to re evaluate life right now. To rethink how I'm going about all of this craziness. Noah's PCP isn't concerned at all with his 5.7 A1C test, because he's been on Prednisolone a few times, as well as albuterol breathing treatments for the past few months off and on, and then to add the continuous treatment at the hospital which is a high dose of Prednisolone, well all of this alters the A1C results and causes the pancreas to be temporarily insulin resistance. It's called steroid-induced diabetes and mimics the symptoms of it. So I finally felt a moment of relief today. But then when I called to cancel his Endo appointment for Friday, they took 20 minutes trying to sell me the idea of coming to his appointment on Friday just to hear them out. Okay. I took the bait. I'll go. I've got a niece who's Type 1 Diabetic so I'm not so naive that I'll ignore it completely because I know it can go from one to 60 super quick. But you better believe I will not be bullied into doing any testing I don't feel is necessary and that they will know just how unhappy I am with their services at the hospital. But I could go on and on about that. Point is, with all of this going on lately and having to find another nanny (that will be a completely different post) I've been stressed that I won't meet my end goal. But my sister and hubby reminded me that I need to focus on the how. So here I am. Listening. Being still. Allowing myself to feel peace and working on having faith that all WILL be well.

So yeah. I've been focusing on the how. I've been mentally attracting how I want to go about all of this and it's working. The mind is so powerful.

Apprehension and chocolate.

I remember all those years ago, when I would listen intently to a new mother explain her worries and concerns of leaving her child at daycare or with a nanny, while she went back to work. Although I felt compassion towards her, I never quite understood the apprehension of simply going to work. I couldn't understand how or why there was even reason to worry. Until now. Because when it's your own child, no one will ever love your child the way you do, or as much as you do. It's just that simple. And to expect anyone else to parent your child the same way you do, is asking the impossible. Only I, have spent the last 1,096 days with Noah, wearing his snot on my shirt, kissing owies better, playing peekaboo, bathing, feeding, clothing, providing, nurturing and loving him with every ounce of me. I don't even split the time with my ex. It's all me. And I have loved it. Obviously there have been many days that were so hard, it left me feeling more than inadequate and wondering if I was capable of being a good mom. But there were so many more days full of silly giggles, big hugs, scooter rides, and I love you's, that now that I have to go back to work, I wish I could have just a little more time. I wish I could get a do-over for all the hard days and make them perfect. I know. That's impossible. And I'm being overly hard on myself. We all are aren't we?

So here I am now voicing the same concerns as that sweet new mother all those years ago. I feel the heartache that comes with knowing that the transition may be hard on him, and most likely harder on me. The heartache that comes from knowing that I won't always be the one to kiss his owies better or talk him through a hard situation. I won't always be the one that holds him under his arms while he goes to the bathroom because going number two still frightens him or give him high fives when he tackles another milestone. I won't always be the one, but I still sometimes get to be the one. And I'm so grateful for that even if it's not as often as I'm used to. As I've been preparing for tomorrow, the big day, I've been reminding myself that even though I won't get as much time with him as I'm used to, I will be the one that will provide. I will be the one who always puts clothes on his back, food in his belly and a roof over his head. I will always be the one who provides a safe haven away from the chaotic world, shoes on his feet and a warm bed to rest his weary head. I will always be the one that gives him what he needs, even on days that I share the hugs and high fives. And that is far more important than anything else I can think of.

So I'd like to say to all of you moms and dads out there who struggle with this transition of being at home with your little ones, to working outside of the home. Please know that you are doing right by your kids. You are providing. You are doing the great work of the Lord. And yes it's hard. It's probably the hardest job on this earth, but you are doing an AMAZING job. You are pushing forward and doing what needs to be done. You haven't given up and that speaks volume. The next time you hear about a milestone that has been reached that you didn't get the chance to witness, know that someone DID. Know that your child has someone to witness their greatness at ALL times. Know that you have provided a safe and loving alternative to ensure that your child GETS to reach the next milestone. Know that you are ENOUGH. And whatever you can't handle, the Lord will cover the rest. Just keep being the amazing parents you are, and everything will be okay. Our kids will be okay. We've got this.

Also, there's always chocolate. I mean chocolate makes everything better.

Cheers.

Whatever it takes

So for the past three years, I've done whatever it took to be able to stay home with Noah. It hasn't been easy to say the least and I've sacrificed more than I ever thought I would. But that's the beauty of parenthood. It humbles you and turns a selfish me-monster into a selfless mother. I'm so grateful to have had the support and love from family and friends that helped make these past three years possible and most importantly grateful for the time I was able to be home with Noah. 

As a new chapter unfolds, I will once again be doing whatever it takes in order to better our lives, to provide. I'll be working a second job beginning the 20th of this month (and a third shortly thereafter, which I'm super excited about and will post about soon 😉). I've been blessed with the opportunity to work at European Wax Center at San Tan Village and am flooded with mixed emotions. I'm sad to leave my baby for 6.5 hours a day (I honestly have moments where I ball just thinking about leaving him) but grateful and excited to be earning extra money doing what I love, that will result in us getting our own place, a more reliable car, quality vacations and the list goes on. I honestly have to give props to all the mamas who work hard every day both in and out of the home and sacrifice so much every day to make sure their kids have what they need and want. It's hard work. And that's an understatement. But I'm grateful to be surrounded by so many hardworking moms that inspire me to keep going, to do hard things. You're all amazing and doing a wonderful job! 💗

So by March I'll be wearing many hats. I'll still be doing lashes from home, working at EWC, singing when I get the chance (it never feels like work for me) and the third job. And who knows. Maybe I'll end up on The Voice and not need to work the three jobs. 😀 But that's just it. I don't know what the future holds for me and my little angel. But I do know that if I work hard and keep an open mind and heart, that all will be well. Life is about to get real interesting! Thankfully, motherhood has taught me how to multitask and accept chaos in all of its glory. 

So going forward I ask for prayers, positive vibes and any tips/tricks/suggestions as I make the transition from a full-time stay at home mom to a part-time stay at home/out of the home mommy. 

Here's to a better future! 💗🙋🏻

#whateverittakes #motherhood

Faith is not dead.

Recently, I've had many opportunities to exercise my faith. Rather than touch on all of them in one post, I'm going to span these out a bit. So for today I'm going to talk about me and Noah's health. He has struggled with getting croup every two weeks last year during this season, then three or four times over the summer, and then in August he began his every two week cycle. For me, it's been vertigo and panic attacks. Which precedes which, I'm not sure at this point. However, we've both struggled in our own ways. Until I finally said enough is enough. There's something I'm missing here. So I decided to get Noah's issues resolved first. Tackle mine afterwords. I had taken him to the doctor I don't know how many times this year, not to mention the multiple hospital visits. Every time they would say he has asthma. Put him on controller meds and be done with it. But the thing is, is I didn't feel that he had asthma. Something kept gnawing at me that something was being missed. He never got wheezy when he exercised, or played outback in Grandpa's yard with a variety of different plants/pollen. It was only when he ate certain foods he was allergic to, got a stuffy nose or sick. So the last doctor's visit in August at his regular pediatrician's office, I asked the doc if food allergies could be playing a part in all of this. They said no. Has nothing to do with food. But I wasn't satisfied with that answer. Noah breaks out in hives when he has eggs, milk, some soy products and most nuts. He used to react to gluten, but the severity has died down. But I kept thinking well if he's eating these foods (gluten, egg or milk in baked goods, not raw) and not breaking out in hives, I know he's still sensitive so that's got to be creating an inflammatory response right? Even if I can't physically see it? So with the help of my Sissie, I took a trip to the naturopath. I needed answers and not just the kind that puts a band aid on the problem. I wanted to get to the root of the problem and heal his body as a whole. Best decision I've made. During this particular bout of croup that he got November 7th, (third time in 6 weeks) the naturopath checked his lungs and said they sounded beautiful. Which was a relief since he had a bit of wheezing on the exhale. And a productive cough at this point in the day. So after an in-depth examination and actually asking me questions about his behavior, his tantrums, his diet, etc., she told me he most likely has viral-induced asthma. I asked her so he can get a different mutated virus every time? She said yes that there were many out there. However if his body has chronic inflammation, then when he gets a simple cold, it turns into croup. because his airways are already lined with mucous. (This is not quoted, just paraphrasing.) She patiently and calmly talked me through everything. She validated my thoughts about how if I can control his wheezing naturally and at home, then there would be no need for a controller inhaler at this point. She also explained how to alter his diet, what supplements will help strengthen his immune system and most importantly, she gave us a homeopathic remedy of Tuberculinum to help with not only his respiratory issues, but his behavior issues. Which aren't even all that bad. Just the throwing things occasionally when he throws a tantrum or does his bursts of screams. All of these solutions she said will help retrain his body to function properly again. When I left the office I had hope for the first time in a year. I called my Sissie and told her the wonderful news. And how grateful I was that I didn't start him on controller meds. How grateful I was that for once a doctor was invested and cared about Noah's health and him as a whole. Not just the symptoms, but help me get to the root of the problem. I know I'm probably repeating myself but it's important to me to get that point across. I feel like doctors don't HEAL us. It's not HEALTH care. It's sick care. If we were healed as a whole and didn't need to come back, then how would they make a profit/living? They wouldn't. So we need to remain sick. And it's not them that is personally doing this, it's the education they've been given. They hear a symptom and memory comes into play and they know to treat that symptom with x medication. And I'm not saying that antibiotics or any other meds out there aren't needed because they ARE. But not always. The body has an amazing ability to heal itself, if we take the time to understand how the body actually works. So I started Noah on the Tuberculinum when we got home that day and within a couple of hours, the cough was gone. GONE. That has never happened before. I was amazed. And I was beyond grateful.

Fast forward 4 weeks, and Noah has still yet to come down with croup. And it's the flu season. All these viruses going around and he is going strong. We take the natural allergy medicine every day, the omega's, the whole food vitamins and Tuberculinum, and he is getting stronger and healthier every day. Even his tantrums have changed. They're not as extreme and frequent. And I'm less stressed which can only help the situation. I kneel down every morning and night and thank my Heavenly Father that I've finally found a way to heal him AND strengthen him. It also catapulted me into doing my own research on natural ways to heal the lungs, blood, etc. I've learned that 5,000 people die every year from asthma. But that 4,000 of those don't die from asthma itself, but from the asthma medication. And I've since learned that since the lungs are mostly blood, then if you clean the blood, you heal the lungs. Also, when we're dehydrated, our bodies don't produce a surfactant which is crucial to the lungs in keeping the airways free of the mucous that builds up from being dehydrated. And since gluten takes more water to break down, then imagine what eating a lot of gluten would do to the lungs essentially. What's even crazier is whenever Noah would have an "asthma attack" I would always intuitively have him drink water. I've since learned that on the onset of an attack, if the person drinks a glass of water and then puts a pinch of salt on the tongue, it will send a message that relief is coming. It's just interesting that before I learned this, my gut had me doing what he really needed. And whenever I would have him drink a glass of water, his wheezing would die down on its own within a few minutes. But it took faith. It took faith to trust what my gut was telling me. It took faith to go against what close friends and family thought I should be doing. I mean breathing issues aren't something to mess around with. But I had faith that I would be guided to the right people to help me figure it all out. We are now gluten, egg, and dairy free and although I spend a good portion of my day in the kitchen preparing meals from scratch, it is so worth it. Since changing our diet, Noah has been breathing beautifully. We've only had two instances where he got wheezy after being outside in a particular area, but after a dose of his d-Hist Jr, and a glass of water, it has subsided on its own. Again, it took faith to trust that his body would right itself, heal itself. As for me, the dizziness, occasional vertigo, migraines and anxiety have left for me. I actually had a migraine last night coupled with dizziness, but after a little research I found out that the sausage I ate twice in one day (I know, so not healthy) was actually not gluten free. Seriously? Why is wheat even in there? It wasn't even listed on the label. But I guess things are falsely labeled often these days. Grr. Whatever. I'm over it.

Timeless.

I'm so looking forward to the future and can't thank Heavenly Father enough, for guiding me through this lengthy, exhausting and hard trial. I'm grateful Noah's lungs are getting stronger. I'm grateful I've been pushed in a direction that has inspired me to do my own research and educate myself on how to trust our bodies natural healing powers. And above all, I'm grateful I get to be Noah's mom. I can't believe he chose me. What I can do though is make sure I do everything I can to ensure he has a healthy and happy life. So here's to faith.

Cheers.

What You Don't See

I'm about to get real with you. Downright vulnerable and real. This isn't a lift your spirits kind of post. So don't expect rainbows or sunshine or cute little parenthood memes. This is something I've been wanting to share publicly but afraid to. No surprise there as you will soon find out in about three sentences from now. So Friday, September 30th, I had the opportunity to sing Elvis' Can't Help Falling In Love, for a beautiful couple's first dance at their wedding. This was a first for me. I wish I could say that I was super excited to do it. And I don't mean that in the way it sounds. I was absolutely honored she asked me, and even more delighted that she was so happy with the performance, but because of my performance anxiety struggles, I wasn't able to feel excited about it for the three months leading up to it. Only after the performance was I able to step outside of my pounding head and realize holy crap. I did it. I didn't think I could. [And by the way it was a solid and amazing performance. I've included the video at the end of the post]. And even then, it wasn't my usual perky happy self, it was a muted version because I was busy recovering from all the intense anxiety I had dealt with all day. I know how bad that sounds. Trust me. I do. In fact no one knows it better than I. Truth is I should have been on cloud nine. But I wasn't.

I'm not sure when it got this bad for me. I mean I've always been nervous to sing in public, but there's been certain times in my life when it was out-of-control-bad, and other times when I got a few butterflies and that was that. And I can't tell you how many people tell me, "you shouldn't be nervous", or "you're just singing in front of people like you", or "anxiety isn't real". But the problem is that it IS real. I realize that it's a choice, and that fear/anxiety can't coexist with peace. But right now in my life, it's as real as it's ever been and I can't just shake it off. Or simply tell myself, "hey you're okay, just be calm". Maybe the problem or reason that I get more nervous at certain times about performing than others, is because I don't do it enough. And if it is that, well then the brutal reality of that is that I would need to keep performing in order for it to get easier. But that means I have to endure more anxiety. Which I can't fathom doing.

Let me ask you something. What do you see when you look at that picture? I look happy right? I mean I look like I'm at total peace without a care in the world! Wrong. I mean yes. I'm smiling because my sister let me borrow an amazingly gorgeous dress and this was the first time since I gave birth to Noah that I got to put on an amazingly gorgeous dress. So yes. I was pretty psyched about dressing up. Also, my makeup went on perfectly. I was going to have M.A.C. do it, but I decided the wiser decision would be to save the money and do it myself. Not a bad job if I do say so myself. ;] Back to the picture. What you don't see here is that I cried several times earlier in the day. What you don't see is the overwhelming burn that exhausted my body from the moment my eyes jolted open at 4:30 A.M. that morning, from the anxiety that had tormented me for weeks, and even more intensely this day. What you don't see is the depression that had accompanied the anxiety. What you don't see is the many negative things I had told myself about all the ways I could mess up the performance, and how I wasn't that great of a singer. What you don't see is the inner battle I had with myself about whether or not I should take an Ativan before singing (which I decided yes on, but forgot to bring with me, so sang without it). What you don't see is the upset toddler in the background, and when I say background I mean as far back as you can get because when anxiety takes center stage, no one else really exists, you're just on autopilot and everyone else is beyond your mental realm. What you don't see is the guilt that fought the anxiety for first place from snapping at my toddler multiple times throughout the day, for what I imagine was just him needing his mama's attention, but couldn't get it because mama was hurting and scared. What you don't see is the inner battle that took place for hours, weeks and months to fight off these negative thoughts and fears that even caused physical problems. What you don't see is the endless pleading to my Heavenly Father to just take it all away. All you see is a girl smiling in a pretty black dress. And honestly, that's okay. I prefer it that way. But something has to change. 

I mean look at those shoes. How can anyone feel anything but elated about a sexy pair of shoes they found on clearance at Payless, no less, and that are super comfortable to walk in despite the 4" heels?! I say to that, no one! But the truth is I didn't. I may have had a few short-lived moments where I felt normal and happy to be a girl smiling in a pretty black dress, but the rest of that morning I was down-right miserable. But maybe that's not what I should be focusing on. Maybe I should be focusing on the fact that I DID have a few short-lived moments where I felt normal and happy to be a girl smiling in a pretty black dress. The trick I suppose it to figure out how to accept me for me, and love the voice I have and sing for me. Sing for Noah. Sing for those I love and hearts I want to lift with my voice. And here's a kicker. I absolutely LOVE singing, and when I finally get going in a performance and I'm singing into that mic with amazing acoustics and my voice carries throughout the room, I feel like that's where I belong. That there isn't anywhere else I would rather be than right there, in front of that mic, singing my little heart out...except of course with my little angel. So what do I do then? I briefly discussed with the DJ at the venue about possibly being a vocalist that couples could opt for to sing cocktail hour at their weddings at this particular venue. This seems pretty reasonable. A lot of people are usually under the influence so it would take the edge off a bit. Also, people would be coming and going so there wouldn't be any real threat to my psyche. Again, I know this sounds crazy, but anyone who suffers with anxiety, and more specifically performance anxiety, knows the struggle. And knows that no amount of words or positive affirmations or essential oils can reign it in when its got the best of you. But all this said, I don't want to give up. In fact I didn't realize I didn't until I just wrote it and said it in my mind. I don't. I want to sing. It's such a part of my life that I can't imagine ever stopping. And I believe and agree with my friends and family that I have a gift that needs to be shared with the world. And if it can generate some extra income, even better. But right now at this point in my life, anxiety has won. It has taken center stage and honestly I've had enough. 

So I'm writing this to really just hold myself accountable and give myself something to refer to when I'm having doubts, or when I'm frightened of committing to a performance. I DON'T WANT TO GIVE UP. Even though the adversary continuously puts these doubts in my head and this fear in my heart, I DON'T WANT TO GIVE UP. And more importantly I don't want to show my son that it's okay to give up because things get scary. He needs to see my strength and love and passion in what I do. Selfishly, I want to be able to say yes to singing for an event and then be absolutely excited every day until the day of the performance. I want it to feel like Christmas. Because when I'm on stage, it's pretty dang close to that feeling. You know the warmth and joy and excitement that's present during the Christmas season that has you walking a little lighter, giving a little more and smiling from ear to ear? Yeah. I want it to feel like that.

I want to be able to get ready, do my makeup and hair while dancing to my favorite music as I mentally prepare to rock the stage. I want to get in front of that mic with confidence and exude stage presence like it's nobody's business but mine. I want to walk off that stage feeling like a queen, knowing that I gave the best performance I could have given. I want to be free to talk to people before and after a performance because anxiety is no longer keeping me prisoner inside my head and afraid to do so. I want to be able to run home and tell Noah about how amazing it was to sing and how happy it makes me. And most importantly I want to be able to look back at pictures and be proud of what I see. I don't want to see fear. I don't want to see the anxiety, pain and anguish that accompanied that day. I want to look back at pictures of me performing and say, "that was such an amazing day and a kick ace performance" and, "I had so much fun performing" and, "I can't wait to do it again".

So I'm determined to figure this crap out. Through energy work, EMDR, oils and lots of love and support from family and friends, I will figure this crap out. I don't know how long it will take me, and as I've said before, this journey will be long and it will be hard, but I still want to take it. And as I posted on FB months ago, I'm still going to be ready to sing, I Will Always Love You, by the beautiful Whitney Houston and Dolly Parton, May of next year to the guitar that I will have improved on, and nail it. With confidence. Also, I will find a way to get out there and perform. Whether it be karaoke or open mic night or simply on a crowded street, or hey maybe randomly at a Walmart, I will find a way to overcome this dreadful fear that honestly cripples and paralyzes my mind and my soul, and do what I was born to do. Sing my heart out.

Also, I would really love an excuse to buy more cocktail dresses, evening gowns and shoes. :]

Feeling Lost

I don't even know where to begin today. I just feel lost. Do you ever feel that way? Like you've got a million plates you're balancing carefully on this tiny ace stick? And all the plates are spinning? You know what visual I'm talking about right? Yeah that one. That's me today. And for the life of me I can't get any one of these "plates" to generate any revenue, or get me any closer to where I want to be in life. Maybe I need to get rid of some of these plates. Maybe I need to switch to bowls. Maybe I shouldn't be balancing at all. 

I mean do I just stick to one thing? Pick one avenue and risk everything to make that one work? Maybe my time isn't efficiently spent or making any changes because it's split up between so many projects. What project then do I pick? Or do I throw in the towel on everything and just get a 9-5 job that doesn't pay enough and will keep me right where I am for years to come? No progress or growth, just stagnancy. Ugh. Just the sound of that word makes me want to throw up. I'm meant for more. I have to be. Otherwise, this life, well I don't know. But it isn't at all what I thought it would be when I was little. 

Maybe the problem is that I'm just mediocre at everything I do and not amazing at one thing. Maybe I need to perfect one talent or skill and work on becoming the best at that. Problem is when you're struggling to begin with, you aren't left with many options to "start" or get anything "going" because in real life, it takes money to make money. Also, it takes a level of bravery I'm currently lacking. I'm scared of everything right now because I have so little. You'd think I have nothing to lose, but I do. I have my precious son who's counting on me. So I can't fail. I can't. 

Eh. I'm done whining. Won't change anything. 

Gonna go take one of these blasted plates down, put a couple no bake cookies on 'em and stuff my face. That'll fix everything.  

-M