Shrinking Circles

 I celebrated my 44th birthday a few days ago. I remember being really torn up about turning 30, and also having a hard time accepting 40. But now, I am so grateful to be in my mid-forties. I've truly found my rhythm in the past couple of years, and I am now present in my own life, as well as the lives of my kids and my husband and the few people in my shrinking circle. That makes me a little sad to type, but then I remember that the friends and family in my small circle are there because they want to be, and because we both put in an effort to keep them there. And then I am okay with it. Sure, I miss some of the people who used to be daily fixtures in my life. The friends I had in those turbulent years between my divorce from my first husband and my marriage to my forever husband (he's stuck with me, it was written into our vows in very fine print). Even when he drives me crazy, and his tone isn't what I want it to be with me or my kids, I see his heart, and I see him and I love and accept him for who he is at every stage of our marriage (although the really old stage scares me, I hope I have dementia at that point and think I'm Gwen Stefani or Drew Barrymore so I don't remember any of the sad pieces of growing older). But that doesn't mean the holes left behind by dear friends don't hurt sometimes. For some reason, this 44th birthday brought up some of those holes, and I want to acknowledge the impact they had on me and how I miss the friendship we had, even if I now accept we can't have it anymore. 

K&J, I know I did things that were hurtful to you. I know my drinking almost ruined pieces of your wedding day, and I know that my need for attention and affection when we were close was not easy on anyone involved. I accept that my recollection of events that involved the three of us and someone else that you both care a lot about has been hurtful to all three of you. I am sorry for that pain, and I do genuinely miss the good times we shared. I think our friendship, and the four of us spending time together (as toxic as it may have been at times), it all was intended for that time of my life, and I needed to walk through that to get to where I am today. But I am 100% sorry for the way that my journey may have impacted you personally, or someone that you love. I hope you can also look back at our time together and still smile when you think of me, even if those memories are more faded than the hurtful ones. I will always have such a special place in my heart for you both, you meant the world to me in a really difficult time of my life. 

H, I know we have had our ups and downs over the past 20-ish years. You will always mean so much to me, even if our paths are no longer intended to be intertwined. You were someone that I went to with hurts and struggles before I would go to my husband, and that was unfair to you, to me, and to him. I am so sorry if my anxiety and my spirals damaged you in any way (and I'm sure they did). You were exactly the friend I needed at certain points in my life, and also someone that I was unhealthily codependent on when I should have been working through things in my own marriage instead of avoiding the pain of that, and the trauma of my first marriage bleeding into my second. I will always love you, and be cheering you on, even if that's from a distance. I hope and pray that you are well, and more than anything, that you have found happiness within yourself. I know we both struggled to find that on our own, and leaned on one another too much to fill those voids at times. I will hold a special place in my heart, in my memories, and in my soul for you, always. I think we are soul-tied in a lot of ways, and that is something I will always protect regardless of what our friendship looks like in this present moment. 

N, you were exactly the friend I needed exactly when I needed you. Always ready to bring the fun, never wanting to get too deep, until suddenly you experienced the greatest loss of your life while I was trying to embrace the greatest love story of mine. We clashed, we collided, we had fun and we could tear shit up like nobody else. You allowed me to find that crazy, unbridled, unapologetic teenager that I never really got to be since I was married by 19 and trying to be a perfect wife, a perfect daughter, a perfect friend and everything in between. You embraced the crazy in me, and I loved you for that. Although our paths no longer cross, I often think of you with fond memories and a true desire for you to be happy and fulfilled in this lifetime. Being able to stand up at your mom's funeral and speak on your behalf, to share with others how much you are capable of love and devotion, that will forever be one of my cherished memories. Experiencing New York with you, a place I always wanted to be and where you wanted to honor your sweet mama, was one of the most special times in our friendship, and I thank you for always being generous and supportive, even if I wasn't making the best choices. 

And this last one, this one is a little trickier (you will know exactly who you are, and many others will too, but for the sake of privacy, I'll leave out your name). The more I reflect on our friendship, the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the more I see how you always showed up for me, and I tended to fall apart at the worst times - like your wedding day. One of my biggest regrets in this life is not standing by your side on the day you married your forever love. I think some part of me was grieving the loss of what you were to me, because you were EVERYTHING to me. And yes, I was dealing with things as a mom to a baby that had some serious health concerns at that time. But that's no excuse. I could have showed up differently, and I let other things get in the way of me doing that, even though you deserved the world that day and every day I've known you. Through the tumultuous days and nights of our escapades when I suddenly became a single mom of twins at the ripe age of 25, you were my ride or die. I know we will forever be linked, and I want to thank you for showing up for me in every season, in every way. When I look back and consider all the pieces of our 30+ years of friendship, I know at one point that you were someone I would have died for, and that's not always the most healthy of relationships. I think in some ways, I was more deeply in love with you as a person than I was with my first husband. I saw you in ways that made me want to be more like you, and also want to be around you. I don't think it was necessarily a romantic "in love" but I do know that for several years, you were the one adult who mattered to me the most in the whole world. And I am so regretful that I was not there for you on that one day that meant the most to you. I am thankful that we are still friends, but I acknowledge my part in the ways that friendship has changed. And I'm grateful that no matter what has happened between us as adults, you have always shown up for our monster twins. They love you more than you know, and for that, I will always absolutely adore you. 

In revisiting some of my thoughts around these lost or changed friendships, I recognize the importance of my circle. It indeed looks very different than it did 20 years ago, but that's okay. My circle today is strong, even if small. My husband and my two adult kids are my closest friends. My parents and my siblings and my nieces are some of the most important people in my life. I have a network of colleagues, friends from different stages of my life, and people I've met through being a parent in our community that mean a lot to me, even if we don't see or talk to each other often. And I'm okay with being who I am, right now, in this stage of life. I actually like myself a whole lot better than I liked that crazy drunk girl in her late 20s. I respect myself more, I value myself more, and I am grateful for those of you who have been a part of my journey, even if it hasn't always been the easiest road. 

Finding Your Place, Finding Your Peace

Over the last year, my life has changed drastically. My adult children are doing their adult life things - college, EMT programs, working 4+ days a week, managing (some of) their own bills, and generally just making decisions like young adults instead of kids. It's wild.

I also realized a dream that I've had for over 20 years - teaching college courses in American Studies. 

This past semester was another opportunity for me to learn how to improve, and appreciate the ways I've impacted students along the way. It's been a lesson in truly finding my place, and with that, came my peace. 

I'm continually grateful for this experience, and excited about what the future holds for me in this realm. I'm taking every new opportunity to integrate myself into the department and the CSUF campus, so things are looking very bright. Feedback on student evaluations makes me smile, and I am committed to growing and continuing to impact lives. To think, three years ago, last month, I was recovering from a major surgery that would change the trajectory of my life. It'll be three years this September since I chose to remove alcohol from my life. And now, look where we are....#grateful. 

Once a Heart Mom, Always a Heart Mom

 Sometimes I forget that my Rylee girl actually has a heart condition. And then we're making our rotation through the check-ups and echocardiograms and EKGs and I'm immediately brought back to the doctor's appointment when she was 18 months old and a routine check-up led to the discovery that she had an atrial septal defect. At the time, the doctor said we could watch it for six months and then decide what the best next step would be. When she was just a little over 2 years old, we met with a pediatric cardiologist at CHOC (Children's Hospital of Orange County) and determined the best course of action was a relatively new, minimally invasive procedure that would insert a device called Amplatzer Septal Occluder (think of a mesh butterfly clamp of sorts) to close the hole. Screenshots below for any of you interested in the details. 

I've shared before about the trauma of that experience, especially considering her biological dad and I were divorced and I had not yet met Nicholas. I had the support of family and great friends, but it still felt a little like a single mom in her mid-twenties who was navigating this very scary world alone. 

As anyone who knows Rylee would expect, she was up and talking and ordering a buffet of her favorite foods and making phone calls in no time. 

The emotions I felt sitting in the echocardiogram room today were stronger than I thought they would be. The memories of my toddler in a crib hospital bed, the splint holding her leg still since the procedure required a catheter through her groin and needed to be still for 24 hours, plus the splint on her tiny little arm for the IV and other medications, it was all really overwhelming. 

But then I see the beautiful, strong, independent, capable young lady. Still getting her echocardiogram, still making her mom anxious, but also making me so proud. We forget about the challenges that we (or our kids) face, but at the end of the day, those challenges just serve to make us better people. Rylee is a ball of emotions, enthusiasm, loyalty, and love. She's also more capable than she realizes, braver than I ever was, and lights up a room anywhere she goes. 

While being a heart mom is not something that goes away when your kid turns 18, it does look different. But I'm still left with the same feelings as when I took my 2.5 year old girl home from the hospital after her heart procedure. Proud. Amazed. Full of love and admiration for the girl who will always be stronger, braver, and better than me in every single way. She's not a mini version of me - she's the best pieces of me and so much more. 

Motherhood: The Journey & The Destination

 One of the hardest things to read as a mom is the endless advice on social media and parenting articles about the destination being to let your kids go - our purpose is to raise them to not need us anymore. Our calling is to train them up, and send them on their way, and hope they never need to come back because they are too busy living their own lives, and chasing their own dreams. 

As a mom of two "baby" adults, I am forever cheering them on, while still missing the days when they needed me a little more. Maybe not in the "hard" ways - I don't miss breaking up fights, picking them up at midnight from school activities before they could drive themselves, or fighting with them to get up and ready for school in the morning. But I do miss the conversation in our carpool drives, random park adventures and frozen yogurt dates, and hearing about the little things at school that made them feel seen and valued. 

With the weight of expectations that holidays can bring, Mother's Day is always one of those tough ones for me. As a recovering people-pleaser, I find it hard to celebrate a day focused on other people's gratitude for me. It's easier for me to focus on others, and so while I can do that for my mom and other moms in my life, the purpose of Mother's Day for me now that I have these two baby adults and two kiddos who still need me (unless they don't - like to help them brush their hair because I don't do it right) I often feel pulled in two when we aren't all in the same space. But this Mother's Day, I had all four of my kiddos in the same place with minimal fighting for a couple of hours. And that filled up my soul. 

These cards from my favorite people also made me feel valued and seen, and reminded me how much words of affirmation is my love language. Hearing that I impacted my students, that they enjoyed my class this semester, and them asking if I teach any other courses, that fills my cup too. A little recognition for the people who matter to you goes a long way, and I'm thankful that I had time on Sunday to soak in the love and appreciate this journey, and the eventual destination as painful as that sometimes is for us moms. 

Watching them fly is a beautiful thing, but realizing they don't need us quite as much to help them soar is a whole different experience. 

Jaxon's card for me...he's a man of few words, but I hear him loud and clear.

My old soul, Micah. He is a man of many words (we just can't always read them).

A little love from these two beautiful girls I didn't birth, but who are etched on my heart forever.

And my Lucas...probably the most original message I received in a card. Ever.

Being her mom, having this invisible string between us, is one of my greatest joys.

Being appreciated by my favorite baby daddy is one of the best feelings. 

It Feels Like Home

 Home is my favorite place to be. 

Second, this campus. 

It's funny how home changes as we mature - the neighborhoods that always felt like home in Orange County feel less like home than our current neighborhood, even though the time I spent in OC was a bigger chunk of my life. The memories, the people, the life we've lived in this home is more meaningful, because it's been with my kids and Nick. 

But something about the CSUF campus feels like home. When I'm there, I'm right where I am meant to be. Teaching college students has been the joy of my life over this past year, and I am so grateful that I was able to reignite a passion that brings me purpose and hope, and that is (hopefully) influencing others in a positive way. Sometimes, I'm caught up in how right it feels, and so I'll snap a photo to write about it later. Sure, certain parts of the campus look entirely different than when I was there 20+ years ago as a student, but it's home. 

Another thing about home that I learned over the weekend was how fleeting everything is - how we take for granted the people in our lives, our health, our safety and security. 

What taught me this lesson?

Sweet Gunner.

You all know that Nick's favorite child is a furry little guy named Gunner, our almost-five-year-old labradoodle that is equally sweet and goofy, thinks he's a lap dog even though he's 50+ pounds. He's purebred (no hate from the adopt-only crowd, please), and has been healthy since the day we brought him home in August 2021. 

So, when he woke up on Sunday morning and could not move his hind legs AT ALL, and was dragging the back half of his body across the floor to get to Nick, we both knew something was incredibly wrong. Nick and I rushed him to the emergency vet clinic about 30 minutes away, and were told that they couldn't do much for him aside from pain meds and blood work, but that they strongly recommended we go to a neurology specialist vet in San Marcos (about another 45 minutes away) ASAP because they suspected he had a ruptured disc in his back which would require immediate attention if he had a chance at regaining full mobility. 

On our way to the vet hospital on Sunday

So, here we are 2.5 days later and Gunner is at home resting. He does not have any mobility in his hind legs and is essentially paralyzed right now, but because of the surgery, he has a 90% chance of regaining full mobility, it will just take several weeks to get there. 

I know Gunner agrees with me, that even if home is sometimes chaotic and loud, it's still the best place to be. Whether I'm happy or sad or sick or stressed, home is where I want to be. Please send our pup lots of good vibes and prayers for a quick recovery!

  

Letting Go & Purposeful Presence

 Like many of my peers (where are all the female elder millennials at?), I grew up with a self-imposed need to be perfect. I wanted to make the people around me happy, even at the expense of my own happiness. The pursuit of "good girl perfectionism" is utterly exhausting. I still feel the itch to be all the things to everyone sometimes, but over the past couple of years, I've learned to largely ignore that, and do what I can to protect my peace and be present with the people and things that matter most to me. It's amazing how giving up the need to be perfect and make everyone happy around me has led to this amazing sense of serenity in my own body, and a more present, authentic relationship with my husband and my children. The ways that I traumatized my kids could not be counted on two (or even ten hands), especially my older two. But I am part of this new generation of parenting where screwing up is okay, and apologizing for your screw-ups is even better. I think about the time period my parents raised me in, and I think there was a different type of pressure on them to have kids that behaved and showed up with a smile. Now, the pressure is always on top of us, on our phone screens, in our ears on podcasts and reality TV episodes and YouTube shorts for the generations coming up behind us. It's nonstop and it's wired our kids' to be built differently than we were. They are more able to "let go" because their bodies and minds are wired for constant "go, go, go" and "look at this new thing or person or trend". 

As I've started to live out my purpose in new ways, I find myself more open to my surroundings. I notice things more. I appreciate things more. I don't hate driving an hour (or more) each way to teach my college courses twice a week because I love what I do there. What I am doing on campus matters to other people. I have found that my presence in the classroom is purposeful. I see it in the students I run into who smile and acknowledge me. I see it in the recommendation letter requests from former students, and the ones who reach out to tell me that they changed their major because of my class. 

Nothing that I have done professionally has made me feel like I'm actually fulfilling my purpose. I'm impacting young adults (some still teenagers) in one of the most critical times of their lives. I don't know how many of you read my blog regularly, but those old timers will remember that I had the ultimate mental breakdown and anxiety attack my second semester of college because my body knew things were not right in my world. Instead of pushing through and breaking out of certain relationships and situations, I put my head in the sand and dropped out of school for a semester. If I had a professor at that time who noticed me and asked how I was doing, maybe my story would have been different. Fast forward several years and I finished college with a graduate and undergraduate degree with honors, so clearly I was supposed to be there. I just lost my way. 

It's pretty incredible to feel like I am back on the path I was meant to be on. Sure, there are still some logistics that make me stressed at times, there's another job I'm doing while I pick up more courses to teach. But you know what? For once, I'm not in a hurry to get to that destination, because I trust that it will happen if that's what is meant to be. I am enjoying the journey, and letting go of what I cannot control. 

This week on campus, I saw a couple of sticky notes someone had stuck to the bathroom stall. I took a minute to glance up at where I was when I was walking on campus. I was grateful to have moments with my kid who was sick at home, and still feel like I was impacting lives positively (and soaking up every last minute he'll allow me to hold his hand, since I know that is fleeting too for my 12-year-old). And I was reminded that even if something takes two decades to finish, if it's important to your story, do it. Even if no one else reads it or sees it or experiences it, do it for yourself. Live purposefully, and live presently. It's the only way to go. And trust me, I've tried all the ways you can think of, and none have been as sweet as this season of life (except maybe the newborn snuggle days, but who can really enjoy those on two hours of sleep?). 

Keep chasing your purpose, friends. It's so worth it. 

Making an Impact No Matter the Size

 The past month has been one of the more stressful of recent years (do I say that a lot? I really mean it this time). Last year saw all of the senior activities as the twins were getting ready to graduate from high school. Even if I wasn't actually participating, the mama bear in me wanted to make sure they didn't miss out (even though Rylee definitely had a higher participation rate than Lucas by choice). Making the transition to teach at the university this past fall was a huge, but positive, change for me. Although the logistics of it aren't always easy, and I have missed some things I would have liked to not miss for my little guys, I know that overall it is the right decision for me, even if that's for a season and not forever. 

I was talking to my bestie the other day (that's Nicholas, for those of you who haven't caught up here) and I, of course, cried while trying to explain that even though this has been a dream for 20+ years to teach the subject that I was so passionate about in my own college experience, it's not easy. Missing Micah's first middle school honor roll assembly was so hard. I felt guilty (still do) even though I hear in his voice how proud he is of me being a professor and seeing that I'm doing something I really enjoy. I was explaining to Nicholas how hard that part is, but that there are too many signs pointing to the fact that this is what I'm supposed to be doing right now. The path to move over to teaching at the university full-time is very narrow and unlikely. I spoke to another professor who has been there for 20-ish years, and she teaches two classes each semester, by choice. She worked another job for a good chunk of her time as a professor, and said to just stay the course and take on what feels right to me and not rush anything. So that's what I'm going to try to do, as difficult as it is for me to let destiny or fate or God take the reins. I'm a person who likes to know what's coming, I need to be in control of things (everything in my home has a place, and I like to be able to see what's coming down the road with work and life in general). But that's not the answer right now. The answer is to find peace and SERENITY (that word of the year popping back up again) in the now. 

The idea of making an impact has always been important to me. For a long time, I found my impact in parenting my own kids and then in working with Olive Crest as a host family. While I love the mission of Olive Crest and the idea of being a host family, the emotional toll that it started to take on us as a family was too much. So now, I'm thinking about other ways to have purpose and make an impact. My day-to-day HR job does allow me in small ways to impact our employees, but just in one semester of teaching (and about a month into my second semester of teaching), I have seen glaring examples of how I am making an impact, even if I do not see it in the moment. Just yesterday, a student from one of my classes this semester came to see me during my office hours because she had an accident a week or two ago and missed a couple of classes as a result. I talked to her about getting special accommodations if need be, and reassured her that I'll do what I can to help her navigate this situation. Her eyes welled up with tears, and I felt her gratitude and hope that things might work out okay despite this wrench in her plans. That touched me deeply. 

I also have seen four of my students from last semester over the last couple of weeks. And I shared with my other bestie, who I happened to give birth to 19.5 years ago, how it's pretty crazy that on a campus of over 40,000 students I bumped into 4 of my 45 students from last semester. And they all recognized me and said hello and asked how I was before I could say a word. 

I feel like that's impact. That's purpose. That's making a difference.

And although the logistics are a little stressful at times, I'm grateful that I am in this position and I am committed to SERENITY this year and letting things happen how they are meant to - because when I let go of the reins a bit, things seem to work out just as they should.