Prioritizing Peace & Purpose in Every Season

 In a little less than a month, I'll be celebrating three years of sobriety. To be honest, being sober isn't something I actively think about now. It's part of my norm, and I don't listen to sobriety podcasts and read books about sobriety nearly as often as I did in my first year of sobriety. Just like anything, it becomes part of the routine the more you integrate it into your daily life. The woman I am today is so much stronger and capable of setting boundaries, prioritizing my peace and showing up authentically and with purpose - whether that's in a quarterly business review meeting for my 9-5 job in HR, or teaching classrooms full of college students about women's roles in colonial America or talking to my middle schoolers about making good choices. 

That's the plus side of being 44 and caring less about what other people think, and focusing my energy on showing up for myself and the people I love. 

The down side? Perimenopause. My body reminding me I'm 44 not 24 or even 30. Hormonal changes. Iron deficiency due to hormonal changes. Getting iron infusions once a week. Gynecologist visits. Urgent care visits. It's all happening. 

I've listened to podcasts, read a few books, and here's my take - perimenopause has always been a thing, but it wasn't something women were comfortable talking about. In my American Studies 201 class, I talk about "the problem that has no name" which was coined by Betty Friedan in response to the epidemic in the 1950s where American women felt like they were falling apart at the seams. Today, I would suggest that perimenopause is the "problem that has no name" of the 2020s. We can all attest that it exists, but it's difficult to pinpoint because symptoms and experiences look different for each woman.

My experience thus far with perimenopause has been less than enjoyable. But I can tell you that I'm in a much better mental space to handle it today than I was 3 years ago, that's for damn sure. And I'm grateful for that truth. I'm grateful for my dreams coming to life in the past couple of years. I'm grateful for the friendships and relationships I have with the people closest to me. I'm even grateful to see relationships that were never all that positive fall to the wayside, because it allows me to focus on the people and things that truly matter, and that have been there for me through the darkest times. 

If you are struggling with perimenopause or any other physical or mental or emotional struggle, I encourage you to take a minute to breathe and ask yourself if you are showing up authentically for yourself. Are you prioritizing your peace? Are you protecting your time and giving yourself space to grow? If not, there's no time like the present, and I guarantee there will never be an "ideal" time to figure it out; you have to carve out that time and MAKE it happen. 

And I promise you won't regret it. 

Taking these moments stuck to an IV for an iron infusion to breathe and be grateful has been a reminder I need as I step into another busy season of life. The semester starts in one week, and I'm getting this body physically ready to live out my dreams. 

Summertime Lessons

 Summer is wrapping up early next week, and soon we will all be back in the "normal" routine of life. I am looking forward to being back on campus teaching two days a week, and also having my boys in school and doing the things middle schoolers should be doing - socializing, learning, and complaining about how boring or annoying school is. It's part of growing up, right? 

One thing we started a few years back is a "Summer Bucket List". Micah, as with most traditions we've developed over the years, is steering the ship on that, and Jaxon chimes in with a few additions here and there. I know Lucas and Rylee look at these new traditions and are probably wondering why we didn't do some of that when they were little, and my only comeback is that I am more tired now and let Micah steer the ship on a lot more than I ever let Lucas and Rylee do. The twins were also much more social within our neighborhood, so they were busy more often and not as interested in doing things with our whole family. It's just a different time and different kids, and an older mom all combined into the reality of now. Our summer bucket list has all been checked off, and I'm grateful for a few of the things that I participated in - a beach day in San Diego, the dog beach with Gunner, road trip to St. George & Vegas, escape rooms with three of my four, and axe throwing. I'm also incredibly grateful that I have a husband who enjoys checking things off this list without my involvement, and I no longer feel guilty (or as much guilt) as I used to if I opted to sit things out. Sometimes, a quiet afternoon watching back-to-back episodes of Dateline or bad reality TV is just what I need to reset. 

This afternoon, Nick, the boys and I are going to volunteer for Feeding America in San Diego. I think it's important for our kids to appreciate the things we have and are able to do, and recognize that not everyone is in that same position. Our involvement with Safe Families has come to an end (or at least, an end for now) because of a variety of reasons. But this is one way we can still show up for our community and teach our kids about the importance of giving back when you are in a position to do so. 

Another summertime lesson I've learned and tried to incorporate into my day-to-day is perfectly captured in this gift from a dear friend - the "Circle of Control." 

Looking at all of these lessons, I can once again wrap it up in a nice bow when I think about how to prioritize my peace, how to show up for my people, and learning what matters and what doesn't. Summertime used to consist of many mental breakdowns, because I wanted everyone and everything to be perfect and happy. I've learned to let go of that need to control everything, and focus on what I can control in an effort to protect my peace and search for serenity in the everyday. 

Reconciliation & Authenticity

Several months ago, I wrote about a friendship that I had to let go of in order to move forward in my own healing process. I was in a really dark place, and the friendship was becoming more hurtful than helpful, and that goes both ways. Recently, I felt a push to reach out to this friend, and am so glad that I did! When true healing and reconciliation and forgiveness are possible, it takes both parties to own their role in what fell apart, and a commitment to move forward with authenticity and accountability. I'm so grateful for that friendship, because we can jump back in exactly where we left off, and it's like no time has passed at all. 

Unfortunately, not every relationship is built that same way. 

I have known this for some time, but was reminded of it again this weekend. No matter how many times you've learned that lesson, it always cuts a little deep (at least for me) because people that we once loved and trusted will always have a special place in our hearts, no matter how many times they have hurt us or shown us their true colors. 

I have done a lot of work on myself over the past few years to get to the life I am currently living. A career path that I really love, four kids I am extremely proud of, a marriage that I am grateful for everyday, and two published books - one telling my story to get out from under the fog of living for other people and another bringing together a passion project of research that sat dormant for 20 years. 

Choosing peace and authenticity in this fourth decade of life has been the best thing I've ever done for myself. Sure, when someone hurts me, I still cry. I have to process those emotions and get to the other side, but the beautiful thing about that process now is that I know I will not hurt anyone (including myself) in that process. I will get to the other side. 

Reconciliation and authenticity in my relationships today are two things I'm incredibly grateful for. But not every situation, not every person, not every relationship is worthy of those things. 

When they show you who they are, believe them. 

Accept it for what it is, and move on. Don't let them steal your joy or your peace. You've worked too hard to get here. 

Journeys, Destinations & Pain Points

 My husband and I have different views on the pros and cons of being a competitive person. I've always told my kids that they should enjoy playing the sport they choose to play, but it's always more fun to win. My husband is more of an "enjoy the journey, it's not just about the destination" kind of guy. He also likes to remind us that "adversity builds character" and other motivational phrases that we don't always appreciate. I have been thinking about this a lot over the last few weeks, as I found myself in a position on a recent road trip where the anxious thoughts took over five hours into the journey, and literally all I cared about was reaching the destination. It got me thinking about Lucas's journey over the past year as well, and how things have not gone exactly according to his plan as he worked towards obtaining his EMT certification, but he reached that destination and in a few years, the journey or how long it took or what detours came up on the way won't really matter all that much. So in those cases, the destination does matter a lot, but does it matter more than the journey, more than the ups and downs of getting through those obstacles and detours, and the inevitable character-building that happens when we do face a little adversity? 

As some of you know, I started a journey to remove two large tattoos on my chest more than four years ago. I started at LaserAway (highly DO NOT recommend for tattoo removal) and had about 10 sessions there over the course of two years. I took a break, and then found Removery, where I have been going for the past year and have had an additional 6 sessions there, and am seeing real progress. When I look at the tattoos as they are today, I often feel like it's taking forever to get to the destination. The intense pain that I feel for several minutes and then the less-intense pain for the next 24 hours or so is an immediate reminder that our actions have consequences, and in a rush to cover up two very small cherry tattoos on my chest in 2017, I am now left with years of tattoo removal to get to where I want to be. 

This is a lesson I think we can apply to life in general, don't you? 

Sometimes, the decision in the moment to act is not the best choice. There are some choices that we can "fix" quickly. And then there are others that take years of corrective action, and wrestling with our choices and the consequences of those choices, before we come to the intended destination. 

I can't wait until I have a before and after photo that is as picture perfect as the ones we see on Instagram, with the "7 treatments later" and there is no trace of that tattoo decision. But, I also recognize in my 40s that life isn't always about quick fixes and immediate results. Sometimes, we have to put the work in, and it doesn't end up how we hope the first (or first five) times. And that's okay too. As long as we are growing, and moving forward, and have goals and dreams to chase, it's all worth it. The pain points, the journey, the adversity, the lessons along the way. 

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.