Finding Freedom in Surrender

“For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”  Matthew 16:25

I used to read that and think I understood it. I thought it meant something bold and dramatic—like dying for your faith, being a martyr, giving everything in one defining moment. But the truth is, I didn’t understand it at all.

Not until something cracked open in me.

I was watching Like Dandelion Dust, and for whatever reason, that verse didn’t feel distant anymore. It felt personal. It felt like it was reaching right into my life and gently—but firmly—asking:

What are you holding onto that’s costing you everything?  That question undid me.

If I’m being honest, before my walk with the Lord, I wasn’t really living—I was performing. Chasing. Grasping. Constantly trying to prove that I was worthy of being seen, loved, admired.

Most people would have said I was a good person. Maybe by the world’s standards, I checked the boxes. But inside,  I was tangled up in sin that looked a lot like insecurity, pride, and desperation for approval.

I lived for the world.

I found value in the cars, the houses, the people I knew, anything that could reflect back to me that I mattered. My identity was fragile, constantly shifting depending on who affirmed me that day.

One moment I felt untouchable… like I was shining so brightly no one could look away. And the next, I felt so small I didn’t even think I deserved to exist in the same space as others.

It was exhausting.

And it led me down roads I’m not proud of, places where I had no boundaries, where I let people take advantage of my need to be wanted. And when those situations left me feeling empty or ashamed, I didn’t stop. I spiraled.

Because shame doesn’t quiet you, it chases you.

Somehow, even in the middle of all that, I still managed to look like I had it all together on the outside. Strong, confident, the one who didn’t need anyone. But I needed everyone.

I remember someone once told me I was like the sun, that they lived just to bask in my light.  I held onto that like it was truth, like it defined me. I thought, this is it, this is who I am. But that kind of identity is a trap. Because when you believe you need to be someone’s sun, you also believe you’ll disappear when they stop looking for your light. Qhen that happened, I fell hard.

Looking back now, I don’t feel disgust as much as I feel grief. Grief for the version of me who thought she had to be everything to everyone just to feel like she was something. Grief for the girl who kept saying, “I just need to find a soft place to land,” not realizing how heavy that ask really was, because no human being was ever meant to carry that.

And then, slowly, gently, God showed me something different. I don’t need to find a soft place to land. I already have one, in Him, and it changed everything. Not overnight, not perfectly but deeply.

Now, about the dandelions…

Most people see them as weeds, something unwanted, something to pull out and throw away. But they’re resilient. Purposeful, beautiful in a way that’s easy to miss if you’re not really looking, because when a dandelion reaches the end of its life, it doesn’t just disappear.

It releases. It lets go of everything it was holding onto and trusts the wind. In that surrender, it multiplies.

That’s what this verse means.

“Losing your life” isn’t about one big, heroic moment, it’s about a thousand quiet surrenders. It’s about laying down your ego, your pride, your need to control, your craving for approval, over and over again. It’s about dying to the version of yourself that the world built and allowing God to rebuild you into something real. Something rooted, something free.

I won’t pretend it’s easy. Some days it’s a moment-by-moment choice. Some days that old voice is loud. The one that says, you need to be seen, you need to be validated, you need to be more.

But then I remember:

“My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” — Matthew 11:30

 I feel the difference, because the life I was carrying before was crushing me.  This new life is full.  I don’t wake up wondering who will make me feel worthy. I wake up asking how I can love someone well. I don’t search for comfort in people. I rest in the One who never leaves. I don’t need to be the sun, I just need to reflect His light.

And the joy in that… it’s hard to even put into words. It’s steady. It’s deep. It doesn’t disappear the moment someone looks away.

So yes… I finally understand.

To lose your life is to let go of everything that was never truly life to begin with. It’s to trust that in the letting go, God will do something far more beautiful than anything you could have held onto.

I am a dandelion.

Still learning. Still surrendering. Still being carried.

And for the first time in my life…

I’m not afraid of where the wind might take me. 🌼

Hearing Him In the Quiet

During my journey with the Lord, I’ve come to realize something deeply personal—He speaks to each of us differently.

If I’m being honest, there was a time I felt a quiet kind of jealousy watching my husband’s relationship with God. The Lord speaks to him so clearly, so boldly. There’s no question when it happens.

And then there was me… waiting, wondering, straining to hear anything at all.

I started to question myself.
Was I doing something wrong?
Was I not praying enough? Not praying the “right” way?
Why did it feel like everyone else could hear him… but me?

But God, in his gentle and patient way, showed me something I’ll never forget:
Just like any loving Father, he speaks to his children in different ways.

That truth didn’t come to me in a quiet, peaceful moment.
It came in the middle of grief.

In the days following the loss of my friend Beth, I felt like I was unraveling. Her passing shook me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Truthfully, I haven’t experienced much loss in my life, and the previous  times I did, I avoided it completely. I buried it in work, distraction—anything to not feel it.

And I was ready to do that again.

I had volunteered to help set up for a big church event that day. I remember walking in, focused on the task, already trying to outrun what I didn’t want to face. I was looking for one of the women from Bible study, but instead I found Pastor Rick.

He didn’t know how close Beth and I were.
He didn’t know what his words would do.

And just like that… everything stopped.

The news hit me harder than I expected, and I didn’t handle it well. My heart broke right there in that moment, and I remember feeling almost embarrassed by how deeply it affected me. I even felt bad for him—for being the one to say it out loud.

But still, I tried to pull it together. I told myself, just keep moving. Stay busy. Don’t feel it. Not now.

And that’s when God stepped in.

“Not today.”

Instead of continuing on with setup, I found myself walking into the Bible Study. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t think about it. I was just… led there.

And within 30 minutes of hearing the news, I was sitting in a circle of women—crying, remembering, sharing stories about Beth. We spoke about her laughter, her kindness, the light she carried so effortlessly into every room.

There was so much pain in that room… but there was also so much love.

And somehow, in the middle of all that heartbreak, I felt held.

I went home that night still grieving, but no longer running from it. There was a peace I couldn’t explain—a quiet steadiness that told me I wasn’t alone in it.

The next morning, my dad sent me a YouTube song like he always does. Usually it’s something from Joe Bonamassa or Eric Clapton. But this time, it was “All My Tears Be Washed Away.”

What made it even more meaningful… he had no idea Beth had passed.

I just sat there, listening, and felt the weight of it. Not overwhelming—but comforting. Like a hand resting gently on my shoulder.

That was Him.

Not loud.
Not overwhelming.
But unmistakably present.

In the days that followed, the Lord didn’t take the grief away—but he walked me through it. He gave me space to feel it, but also surrounded me with exactly what I needed. He led me to Psalm 77, where sorrow and faith sit side by side—where questioning and remembering God’s goodness somehow coexist.

And little by little, I began to see it…

He had been speaking to me all along.

Through people.
Through timing.
Through songs I didn’t expect.
Through Scripture that met me exactly where I was.

As it says:

“My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” — John 10:27

He is always speaking.

I just wasn’t recognizing his voice because I was expecting it to sound different.

Now I understand—some of his children need the thunder.
Others… need the whisper.

And there is something so tender, so deeply personal, about being spoken to in a whisper.

So if you’re in a season where you feel like you can’t hear him…
maybe he’s not absent.

Maybe he’s just being gentle with you.

Slow down.
Be still.
Let yourself feel, instead of run.

You may find that in the quiet, in the spaces you once tried to avoid…

He’s been there the whole time.

Stepping Into the Sunshine

A couple of weeks ago, we were given a glimpse of something we had almost forgotten.

After a long, cold winter, a few beautiful days arrived like a quiet gift. The kind where you could step outside with just a light jacket—or none at all—and feel completely unencumbered. The air didn’t bite at your skin. The sun didn’t just shine; it warmed you. It felt like it reached all the way through to your bones, waking something up that had been dormant for far too long.

Even the simplest things felt different. Doing chores outside was no longer a battle against the elements. Without bulky coats and stiff gloves, you could move freely. There was ease. There was joy. There was lightness.

And then, just as quickly, the cold came back.

The biting wind returned. The heaviness of layers. The resistance in every movement. Suddenly, everything felt harder again. What had briefly been effortless became a struggle.

And standing there in the cold, I couldn’t help but think—this is exactly what my life used to feel like.

Before I found God, life felt like winter… all the time.

Everything was harder than it needed to be. I felt alone, like I had to fight for every inch of progress. Approval from others became something I chased constantly, hoping it would fill a void I couldn’t quite name. It was exhausting. But at the time, I didn’t know anything different. I thought that was just what life was—heavy, cold, and something to endure rather than enjoy.

Then, everything changed.

Finding Jesus didn’t just shift my perspective—it transformed my entire experience of life. It was like stepping out of that endless winter and into the warmth of the sun for the very first time.

I feel free now in a way I can hardly put into words. The constant striving is gone. The loneliness has been replaced with a deep, steady presence. I no longer look to the world for approval—I look to the Lord, and in Him, I have already found it.

But it didn’t stop there.

Through Him, I came to understand love in a completely new way. Not the conditional, fragile kind I had known before—but a love that is constant, forgiving, and unshakable. A love that doesn’t see me as too broken, too damaged, or too far gone.

For most of my life, I carried the weight of feeling unworthy. Things that had been done to me, and the behaviors that followed, left me believing I had no real value. That I was somehow beyond redemption.

But that is not the truth.

No one is beyond redemption. Not one of us.

God’s love is so immense, so all-encompassing, that He gave His Son so that we could have eternal life. Not because we earned it. Not because we proved ourselves. But simply because we are loved.

There are no impossible barriers. No unreachable standard. We are called to love the Lord and to love each other—and in that, we find everything.

Life without Jesus feels like living in winter without end.

But life with Him?

It’s like stepping into summer.

Warmth replaces cold. Light replaces darkness. Freedom replaces striving. And suddenly, you’re not just surviving—you’re living.

If you’ve been standing in the cold for a long time, believing that’s all there is… I promise you, it’s not.

You don’t have to stay there.

All you have to do is step into the sunshine.

I'm Calling Bullsh*t on Slut Shaming

There has been a bit of a controversy since Kim Kardashian posted yet another nude photo of herself and Pink finally having enough decided to comment.

I have a lot of respect for Pink speaking out and I am thankful that someone is finally calling out these women that are using sex and the "I am proud of my body" bullshit to promote themselves and make money.

Salon.com then responded with a blog critical of Pink calling her out for "slut shaming" and saying that we (women) should allow other women to be themselves and proud of their bodies. Well I am calling BULLSHIT on this "new feminism".

I am going to hold myself, my daughter and other women to a higher level than what the Kardashians, Lena Dunhams and Amy Schumers of the world have brought us down to. I have no problem with women being proud of their bodies no matter the size but have some pride in the fact that you do not need to show EVERY inch of that body to get attention, money or fame.

Use your brain, work hard, show you have talents other than giving blow jobs and showing your boobs. Women like Pink, Malala Yousafza, Sadie Robertson and others all receive fame without getting naked but by using their talents, courage and strength of character.

I think as a society we have become so afraid to offend or "judge" others that all behaviors have now become acceptable and we have demeaned ourselves as women. How we can command respect when we don't even respect ourselves enough to call out others when they have gone to far. These women have ruined "The Brand" so to say. They are not trendsetters, they are not brave, they are cliche's and have resorted the base of humanity.

If you want to impress me and others, keep your clothes on, use your brain, strength and create something, break records or run a company. Until then I guess I will continue to "slut shame".

Bless Your Little Heart... and Other Subversive Women's Code

Inspired by a recent blog by Lisbeth Darsh called It's Not All Kettlebells and Kumbuyas where she discusses how women react to each other regarding competition. Her post hit home for me in many ways and I felt the need to vent the frustration that she unleashed.

These days men have been getting a majority of the blame for "putting women down' and not "treating us equally" and I have to say the issue is not men. Both at the "Box" and at work I am supported by the men, there is no bullshit, no ego. When I do something well they congratulate me and when I fuck up, boy do they let me know, but it is all good. Women on the other hand are the biggest obstacle to my success. Very few women celebrate other women's' successes. They will high five you, congratulate you but there is always an undercurrent of resentment. I find that women that are confident in themselves and where they are in life have no problem with the success of other women and will do anything they can to help them. I seek these women out since I know they will have your back no matter what happens and those are the true bad asses (and I know several and I thank God every day I have them in my life).

Lately I have run into what I call the "subversive" women. They pretend to be happy for you but in a passive/aggressive way they belittle you and put you down the first chance they get. I tried to explain this to my husband one day and he understood but did not "truly" understand how such small, petty stuff could add up and wear down a person. I have even lost several nights sleeps due to this type of behavior.

After reading Lisbeth's blog I realized a couple of things. I'm competitive, I'm loud, I'm opinionated and I am not going to let someone else's insecurity stop me from being proud of my accomplishments. Both inside and outside the "Box". I will sleep well tonight dreaming about my new PR

Ramblings from 2 AM

You know that dream you have where you are running in the dream but you aren't really moving, it's like you are mired in sand and no matter how hard you try you just can't move? Yeah? Well welcome to my "awake" life.

This is how the blog post originally started a few weeks ago and then we had the death of Robin Williams. There was so much back and forth regarding depression, suicide, what can be done?, was he selfish? was he a coward? and so on and so on.

At the time I had too many thoughts swirling around in my head for me to articulate what it is like for a person who suffers from depression and battles on a daily basis with thoughts of suicide.  My first inclination was to defend Mr. Williams and try to explain the depth of hell he must of sunk into, to have committed suicide but then that would have betrayed my own thoughts people would have overreacted and they would never have heard my message.  (let me state right here I am not going to commit suicide but however difficult this is for you to read, you must read it through and LISTEN so you can understand and possibly help someone you love that suffers from depression)

Depression is not something we chose to have, for some it is a chemical imbalance and can sometimes (and I stress sometimes) be helped with medications. For others we have lived through an event or years of events that no one should have to endure and we are broken (and don't let pretty quotes fool you, people can be broken especially when they are children. There are some things that can never be fixed).

Those that suffer from Depression don't ask for it, and we struggle with it the same way others struggle with their diseases. People would never say to a diabetic or cancer patient "just suck it up", but people that have Depression hear this ALL the time. It might not be as blunt as that, but in more subtle discussions that is what we hear. This only isolates us more and makes our struggle that much more difficult.

When someone commits suicide you often hear family and friends say "we never saw it coming, how did we miss this?". I will tell you how. We are the masters at hiding our emotions. I can tell you right now that my friends and family are reading this right now with astonishment. They have no idea that I have struggled for years and that every minute of every day in my head I have to push myself through the day. There are days that just getting out of bed takes extraordinary conversations in my head and great feats courage. People rely on me, my kids, my husband and my clients. All of them will tell you I am the strongest person they know, reliable, loyal, hardworking, blah, blah blah. I will tell you I am a fraud. I put on a different face for each person, whatever it is that they need that is what I will be... just to get through the day. This is how we live.... and it is exhausting. I can only imagine how Robin Williams felt with all those people relying on him and how many masks he had to wear, it gets very, very heavy.

On those days when it gets too heavy and I want to give in I hold on to something, anything. I think about what would happen if I wasn't around. I think about my daughter and how things would be for her and say "ok, today is not the day" (I think sometimes she picks up my vibe and she does these things sometimes, just offhand and she grounds me, like I am a balloon and she grabs my string just in time). Other days it is something as simple as the dry cleaning won't get picked up. It may sound trivial but this is what we do to survive.  We are not selfish or weak for thinking this way we are just tired.

I see others on the street, in the store, at the coffee shop, I can see it in their eyes, I know their struggle. I just want to go and gently grab their shoulder and without a word and nod and let them know I understand because sometimes that is all we need.

Most of us would just like a "soft place to land".  I for one have never had that, most of my life (even as a small child, especially as a child, I was under attack on a daily basis so I always had to ready). I wait for the "other shoe to drop", personal relationships are black and white and loyalty is key. I remember having a conversation once with someone that had never worked with me before, we had been thrown together quickly and despite usually being on opposite sides, I really liked him. Out of the blue he said to me "I have never met anyone quite like you, you are on constant alert, either they are on your side or they are against you, there is no neutral. His words struck me because it sounded harsh but that is how I have survived all these years. A "soft place to land" is not an option for me, I'm afraid if I "landed" I would never be able to get up.

Remember when people suffer from other illnesses their families rally around them, communities set up dinners and prayer chains are spread through social media. They have support systems and people understand that they are ill. Those that suffer from Depression are ill but do not have those same comforts. Don't get me wrong some families are supportive but they don't treat Depression the same way as other illnesses. You would never tell a diabetic they don't need insulin or a cancer patient not to go get chemo but many people with depression are told they just "need to be stronger" "find something to focus on" and it will get better. It doesn't work that way. So we don't discuss how we feel which further isolates us.

In parting I need you all to keep in mind when you start judging, or stating your opinion about Robin Williams' death (or anyone else who commits suicide or even about someone who suffers from Depression). When someone with Cancer, or other fatal illness succumbs to that illness, they are surrounded by friends, family and they are comforted as they depart. Those that finally succumb to Depression live their final moments alone, isolated, swallowed in despair. The way they have lived their life, this time they just had nothing left in them stay. This is not a reflection on their love for their families or their courage, they just gave in to the exhaustion.

PS:
I am fine and I do not need nor want a flood of messages. I just felt the need to get this out there, give a peek into my demented mind. Also to pull the curtain back a little for those who don't understand depression.

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” 
― Laurell K. Hamilton

Why I love my box!!

Yesterday my sister came over and I was a little slow moving and explained to her that our WOD that morning was a doozy and she asked "why do you do that to yourself?" I promptly ripped off my shirt (I had on my sports bra) and said this is why and proudly flexed my muscles. She then fully understood.

But the more I thought about it the more I realized it wasn't just about the weight loss, my abs and my ridiculous biceps. It was about the people at my box (I should say boxes since we have two). Since joining CrossFit I have met some amazing people and seen some unbelievable transformations. We are a hodgepodge group, firefighters, doctors, nurses, business executives, parole officers, engineers, and students. You name it we've got but once you step in the box we are all the same, we are there to better ourselves, cheer each other on and possibly hit a PR.

We all struggle, even the strongest of us (except maybe Colt but he isn't human) through a WOD sometimes and everyone rally's around them to help get them through. During the Open I didn't think I would get through the overhead squats but I did thanks to Hannah and Jenn talking me through and I was able to put up a score for that WOD. When 14.5 came around I was terrified  I was convinced that I was not going to be able to finish. Just minutes into the WOD I wanted to quit but Jenn and Beth wouldn't let me so I kept going, slow but steady. Everyone else had finished and I was only at 9 and still had a lot to go. The whole box rallied around me, buoyed me up and I finished in 31 minutes.

Every day I see small acts of kindness in my box that are just commonplace. We don't think twice about it. No one finishes alone, we don't put away our weights and walk off when we are done. We wait, we cheer then when everyone is done we high five/fist bump then everyone helps put things away.

Another nice aspect is that we have a lot of families. Husbands, wives, brother, sisters, mothers, daughters (me and Emily), sons. Kids CrossFit is so fun to watch and the transformation in my son has been truly amazing.

Yesterday one of members that gave birth about a month ago (and seriously kicks ass), she brings her baby and the baby usually sleeps but this time she woke up. So mom took care of her while we did the WOD and then got her back to sleep. She then went on to do the WOD after class (I told you she was kick ass) and those of us that could stay cheered her on so she didn't have to do it alone. This is how we roll!

I am sure other Boxes are the same but I feel mine is special. You can walk into ours and you will feel immediately welcomed. You can be extremely fit, overweight, young, or old and you will feel like a Superhero when you leave.

I have worked out at gyms before but I have never made progress like this and I have never felt as good about myself. It is due to the support of my trainers and fellow crossfitters.

Darkness Calls

She could feel it settling into her bones
  the cold, the darkness had returned

She could fill her days, her mind
  sweep it away, pack it into boxes
     in tiny corners of her head

But it would always find its way back in
  winding its way, slowly at first
    with a doubt, a waver, a small slight

It doesn't take much
  since he waits patiently to pounce
    he is on the surface of her consciousness
      ever present

His cool hands caress her mind
  he whispers to her
     beckons

  She fights but years of struggle she is left weak
   it is so much easier to just let go
      give in to the cold
        dive in to the darkness

Ultimately I saved myself but my CrossFit Family got me there..... Thank you

I've read so many blog post or articles where people write about how CrossFit saved their lives. Well this is one of those blogs (kind of). When I walked into my my Box back in October I was in a very dark place. I had been slipping for months (to be truthful I had been slipping for a couple of years and spiraling for months). Each day was a struggle and not just to stay above water but to just survive.

I have always been a survivor. My childhood would have crushed most people but I  persevered,   succeeded in life, having a family and a career and for the most part I am a very strong person. I have always been able to overcome any obstacle personal or professional, not only surviving but thriving. Over the past few years through a series of setback I was not able to "reset" and ended up pretty far down in a hole I could not claw my way out of.

I hid this from my family, friends and coworkers, ashamed that I could not just brush it off, pick myself up and move on. Putting on the "mask" of Christie-Lee became second nature but was also an overwhelming burden. I gained weight and that just pushed me further down this hole of despair. By the time last fall rolled around I would have daily conversations with myself  and discuss the reason why my family would be better off without me. The lists were extremely silly but at the time they made complete sense to me. The only reason I did not go down this road is because I was afraid it would be one of the children that would find me.

I tell you this not to feel sorry for me but share my story since I know I am not the only one out there that have these feelings (they are not alone and should not feel ashamed)and even though someone appears to be strong (you have no idea how many times I have heard "you are the strongest person I know" all the while thinking I was a fraud). I tell you this story because if you are in that place you can pull yourself out.

Last October on a whim I walked into my Box. I had briefly been introduce to CrossFit seven months before but other things came up and it didn't work out. There was something different about this Box and the owner of this box was so welcoming and easy to work with after the first two sessions I was hooked.

The transformation was two-fold. The WOD's, the weightlifting the nutrition is one part of it. I love it all. You push yourself and you do things you never thought you would be capable of doing. Mind of matter. There is something so empowering about lifting heavy weights over your head, throwing kettlebells around and pushing prowlers across gravel (which seriously sucks). My body soon became Goddess like (yeah I'm hot I admit it). My mind became strong again and I knew that I was going to be ok.

The second transformation took a bit longer and was more of a learning curve for me. I am not one that gets close to people. I have very few friends and my family does not put the fun in dysfunctional. So close personal relationships are not my thing. This is where CrossFit has really changed my life. I am fortunate enough to have two Boxes so that means double the amount of people. My main Box is smaller and we have a very close knit group of people and every single one of them I am proud to call my friend. We encourage one another, we give a hand up and we cheer SO LOUD for each of us to succeed. The other Box has been around longer and at first I was hesitant to go over because I was the "nube" but one day I sucked it up and showed up for Power Hour and you would have thought I had been going there for years. We are a hodge-podge group of people but we truly care for each others well-being, we are competitive but don't mind losing to each other.

It all came together for me during 14.5. I did not think that I was going to be able to finish but I was going to give it my all. My goal had been to put a score up for all of the Open WOD's and I wasn't going to let Dave Castro beat me!! 14.5 though was going to be tough. I had my judges and I was ready to go. Well after the first 5 thrusters I was ready to quit but Jenn and Beth wouldn't let me so I continued. With their support I continued on and slowly chipped away (wanting to quit every few minutes) The rest of the Box had finished but I was still going feeling like I couldn't do anymore  the Box gave me the support I needed. They surrounded me and cheered me on for the next 10 minutes until FINALLY at 30.03 I finished. I will admit I cried. Not just out of sheer exhaustion but because of the love and support I felt from my fellow CrossFitters.

Ultimately I saved myself but it was my CrossFit family that gave me the strength to pull myself out of the hole I had fallen down. I know if I start slipping again they will be there to help me pull myself back up.

The weaker sex, the war on yoga pants and what it really means.

While waiting for the bus this morning and listening to WGAN I hear Mike Violette discuss the ban on "war on yoga pants" my head was ready to explode. Now you have to understand we have been having this war with the school for a couple of years now but for my daughter is it not just yoga pants it is her whole wardrobe. If you are not familiar with the "war on yoga pants" here is a quick breakdown (my version): apparently boys cannot control themselves when girls wear yoga pants and become extremely distracted and therefore we have to ban yoga pants so that boys will not be distracted.

There are SOOOOOO many problems with this way of thinking. First and foremost you place the blame for the male behavior on the female. I guess boys are so weak that they cannot control themselves and therefore the girl must be punished. This is what leads the "well the girl deserved it" type of thinking when she is a victim of sexual violence. Banning a piece of clothing because it distracts boys only reinforces this paradigm.

The second problem is that you are reinforcing a negative body image to girls. The bans seem to start during the Middle School/High School years. This is the time when girls are starting to be very self conscious and now they have the added pressure of the adults in the community telling them that their changing bodies are a "distraction". My daughter was told by a teacher that she needed to change her whole wardrobe (she was wearing a A&F t-shirt and jeans nothing revealing but she is curvy) because she was "too attractive" and a "distraction".  My daughter does not have body image issues and is strong willed so this only made her angry at the teacher  but if this was a girl already dealing with self-esteem issues this could have been problematic.

Instead of banning yoga pants and punishing the girls we should be teaching boys about learning to control themselves and their urges. I am sick and tired of anyone (male or female) having to change acceptable behavior because of someone else's unacceptable behavior. In our society we always cater to the least common denominator because it is easier. Instead we should be teaching respect and self-control.

Welcome to where?

When Matty was born we were semi-prepared for what we were in for, we knew things were going to be rough those first months (which ended up being years). Those first few months we loaded with doctor's appointments, hospitals stays, no sleep and a lot of questions but at least we had been given notice while he was in the womb so we weren't knocked off guard. After awhile we settled into a routine and the medicines, wires, throwing and tripes to OT, PT and speech became normal. We had books to read to help us through and I never forgot the poem Welcome to Holland that summed up life with a special needs child perfectly.

Fast forward 13 years with your "typically developing child" who has been living in "Italy" (reference to the poem). Excelling at everything she does, sports, school and friends. She is the "easy" kid, you never worry about her and you are pretty much on autopilot. You have a great relationship and for the most part she is a well adjusted 13 year old (as well adjusted a 13 year old girl can be). Then BOOM overnight you are not in Italy, not even in Holland but in Limbo.

In May Emily suffered a severe concussion during a basketball game. At first we were told it would be 3-4 weeks and then she would most likely be fully recovered and all would be good. Not so much. We started noticing memory gaps, she couldn't leave her room for more than an hour at a time without her head exploding and her balance was so off she couldn't go up and down stairs by herself. So here we are after many tests and 5 months later and we are being told that her brain isn't going to repair and that we need to re-wire, which is going to require several different kinds of therapy and will take anywhere from 18-24 months.

There are no books for this, there is no one I can call and ask questions, there are no support groups. We are in a land of our own.

It has been very hard to watch my child, the child that LIVED for basketball not be able play her favorite sport. It is heartbreaking to watch most of her friends fall away and leave her behind. Since she can only go to school for 2 hours at a time and then she comes home to go to rehab it is tough to keep up those friendships at school. Out of sight out of mind.

It is one thing when the child is born in "Holland", Matty never knew any different world so for him everything is normal. Emily on the other hand remembers how things were before her injury. She knows the difference, feels the chill from friends lost, and understands the ramifications of the injury and knows she may never play again.

It really hit me the other night when we had a parent meeting regarding her AAU team and the Coach was talking about the future, a future that 6 months ago was guaranteed for Emily. As I listened I teared up because I knew that this was most likely no longer Emily's future and as I looked over at Emily and her team I was already seeing them separate themselves from her and the look on her face said it all.

So here we are in Limbo working our way back to Italy but I think for us it will be a different Italy once we get back. We now have seen Italy from a different point of view and I think she is a bit jaded. We will get there, she is a strong kid and nothing will stop her intellectually returning to her brilliant self. We just may need to find a new non contact sport (for my sake).


“And human will is the strongest force ever created. There are those born to succeed and those who are determined to succeed. The former fall into it, and the latter pursue it all costs. They won't be denied.Nothing daunts them.” 

Really? How to raise a daughter in the era of the slut?

Yes I know the title is a bit provocative but that is exactly how I feel. After taking my 13 year old school shopping and the MTV Awards I feel we have entered the era of the who can out slut who (see picture below).

What happened to the days when women dressed with class and poise like Sandra Bullock and Charlize Theron. They were covered but still looked gorgeous. The VMA awards was just disgusting and "twerking"? Really? I have seen videos of girls as young as eight shaking their butts and shaking them provocatively while being egged on by others that find this funny.

Shopping for school gets more difficult every year. Finding a shirt that not only covers my 13 years olds belly used to be the issue. Now I finding something that covers the belly and isn't sheer is almost impossible. We finally had to buy tank tops to go under pretty much every shirt that she will wear including t-shirts since those also have been made to be see-thru. Now I am no prude but whoever designs clothes has to keep in mind I would prefer my child doesn't look like a mini prostitute.

Thank God my daughter has a good head on her shoulders and has some modesty and feels the same way as I do. As we were walking through the stores she kept saying how disappointed she was with her choices. Even Newbury comic and Hot Topic (yes she is kind of a geek like me) have let her down. She likes to dress differently than everyone else and not look like she walked off the girl factory floor and this year we had nothing to work with, all the stores were pretty much the same, no originality.

When I look at the magazines and things like the VMA awards I see why. The people that are guiding the fashion and the music, tv show, movies have no originality of their own. Just Pack Mentality and right now for the women of the "Pack" they are trying to see who can out slut who. Unfortunately the ones who suffer are the young girls who look up to these "ladies" (and yes I use this term loosely). Hopefully the stores will suffer for their choices and the clothes will sit on the shelves (we bought very few clothes this year and we are waiting it out) and people will come to their senses and modesty will make a return. Until then we will have to suffer through "twerking" videos, barely there clothing and God help us Miley Cyrus.

Can't sleep tonight

Too many thoughts going through my head. Father's Day is always a tough one from for me. This should be on those days we celebrate how much we love our fathers and honor them for raising us into the people we are today. Well I have two fathers who failed miserably (don't get me wrong they molded me into the person I am just not in a positive way). My biological father abandon me at an early age and handed me over to a monster wether he was pressured or was given an incentive I will never  know and I don't care to know (and please if him or his family members read this don't defend him and don't flame me these are just my musings not accusations).

The other, well he was a monster on many different levels. He was abusive man and took pleasure out of using his power to belittle and berate those around him. Our house was one of fear, paranoia and if you could hide you did. My very first memory is of me in the downstairs bathroom (which would later be pivotal in a court case, not the memory but the bathroom. I was wearing a pretty blue frilly dress and I was  telling my mother how much this new man scared me, I must have been only about 3 years old. Well I was right to be scared and at 40 years old this man still keeps me up at night.

Tomorrow we will be having 3 very good fathers coming to our house for a bbq and for a few short hours I won't think of my own and what I missed out on. I will watch my husband with the two dads that he was blessed with, I know that they weren't always perfect but they loved him and he knew that they were always there for him. I will watch our kids with Matt and know that they have a great dad and that when they wrestle with him or through a water balloon at him all hell won't broke loose. No shoes will drop tomorrow.

Something I wrote awhile back:

She waits....

Little girl all smiles and full of love

a blond little cherub in blue dress

she loved her kitty,  her mom

and her safe little world.

Free of demons and monsters

she slept each night with angels

watching over her,

so full of life, so full of promise.

Where did she go?

When did it all change?

Her world tilted and 

she was no longer safe.

Now she lives among the shadows

demons are her companions

monsters roam in the darkness

the angels have deserted her

   leaving her alone.

She makes her way in the world

waiting for the danger that lurks

building the fortress that will keep her safe

looking for a place to rest.

She waits for the angels to find her again

She waits for love to show her the way 

She waits for the little girl to emerge

from the darkness and into the sunlight.

Don't Judge Me Bro......

The other day we went to my son's school for a project he a presentation that his class was working on. It was a warm summer day so I wore a long flowing skirt and a flowing tank top. Now I have a fairly large piece of artwork on my back (yes most would call it a tattoo) I am proud of this tattoo and I have no qualms displaying this piece.

When we got home my daughter commented to me "Mom did you feel the judgement you got from the other mother's in the class?" I replied "yes honey I did but it doesn't matter they don't know where I have been or what I have been through and they do not know the meaning of the tattoo".

Over the past few months people have made several comments, strangers would come up to me and say "why would such a pretty girl like you do such a horrible thing to your body" and have even had family members tell me how much they hate my tattoo.

Well here is the story people. This tattoo is a collaboration between myself and an artist name Watson Atkinson. It was a two year process of soul searching and planning to tell a story and convey a journey, my journey.

As a lot of you know I have survived a myriad of events in my life that would have crushed most people. Growing up the way I did it is a miracle that I have turned out to be a semi normal functioning adult. I carry scars on the inside that are sometimes so debilitating that most days I am not sure I can take another step, fake another smile or even crawl out of bed.

Most people see a strong, confident woman who has her shit together. Well this couldn't be farther from the truth. I still wake up night in a sweat feeling his breath on my neck, can't sit in the front seat of the car without fear of being smacked in the face and constantly look over my shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop. With a scent, a song or a sharp word I can be reduced to a 12 year old girl cowering inside the body of a 40 year old woman. I needed a way to remind myself that I have survived the worst and I can continue to survive no matter what is thrown my way.

The tattoo that we designed was the perfect way. The Black Fairy surrounded by the wording Un Couer En Hiver is the "Me" inside the true me that holds all my fears and darkness. I watched the movie once (ok maybe several times) and some days I am Camille and some days I am Stephane. (If you haven't watched this film and like movies with subtitles I highly suggest it).  I chose Ravens since they are both known for their wisdom and darkness (plus I am a huge Poe fan). If you notice I have used both black and white Ravens. The Black Ravens represent me and the White Ravens represent my children since hopefully I can protect them from all the darkness that was part of my life.

The saying that I chose was the toughest for me since there were so many things I wanted to say but in the end I chose "There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness". My children are beautiful but would not be here without their wonderfully strange mother.

So the next time you see someone and you would like to comment to them about their hair, tattoo, outfit or such, if it not a positive comment, keep it to yourself. You don't know their motivation and maybe that crazy hat,  the different colored shoes, or tattoo is what helped them get out of bed that morning and even smile.

The Culture of Forgiveness

This morning while at breakfast my husband and I were discussing our daughter and my husband said "she is so much like you" and I replied that sounds like a bad thing. He said "not so much a bad thing but she is so headstrong and unforgiving", again I said "and that is a bad thing how? "

This discussion started a series of different dialogues in my head (yes I can hold several different conversations with myself at the same time), and I came to the conclusion that those who are less forgiving are perceived in a negative way. Well I want to speak out in defense of those who have decided that forgiveness is not for them.

Now I am not talking about never forgiving people or holding grudges for petty stuff but this thought that you have to forgive someone who has wronged you (because it is better for your psyche, yeah that is bullshit) is just plain wrong. I for one am tired of being considered a bitch or less of a person because I chose not to be the "forgiving" type.

I could make the argument that those that decide to forgive other for their behavior are "enablers" and they are only adding to the downfall of the civility of society because they allow others to get away with bad behavior without consequences.

To be honest in my younger days I swallowed a lot of bullshit and "forgave" others just so that harmony in the family could exist. Well I eventually got tired of that and decided no more and voted certain people "off my island". I can tell you it was the best decision I have ever made and I have never questioned it and my life is much easier without those people. If I chosen to forgive them then every holiday, birthday and probably phone call would be fraught with anxiety and anger.

I know, I know, the psychologists and the church all say it is better to forgive "it gives you piece of mind" BULLSHIT. Forgiveness is the easy way out that way you don't have to hold other accountable for their actions and hopefully they won't hold you accountable for yours. Trust me I do not expect someone to forgive me if wrong them, if they chose to great but I am not a hypocrite in that respect. I find that those of us who choose not to forgive take the harder route but in the end it is most likely the best for us since you protect ourselves from further hurt.

Once someone accused (and I use the word accuse because he meant it in a mean and hurtful way)me of being an "oath seeker". What he meant by this is that I expected a certain amount of loyalty from those around me and if I didn't get it I was a bit harsh. This bothered me for days (and maybe it still does still sting a little) but the more I thought about it yes dammit I am an "oath seeker" if you are my friend I am loyal to the death and I defend you no matter what even when you are wrong, and I expect the same in return. If not then yes I will call you on it.

I know there are other people out there like me but are afraid to admit it since society labels us mean or bitchy but I am here to stand up for you!! There is nothing wrong with us we just chose a different path. To those of you that are "forgivers" good for you, but please allow those of us who are different the freedom to be ourselves without judgement. In essence forgive us for not being "forgivers".

Now I am still teaching my daughter that there are times when people just make mistakes and we should give them a pass BUT I am also teaching her that there are times when enough is enough. She's still learning but we will get there and I guarantee no one will ever think she is a pushover and they will think twice before messing with her. I only wish I was as strong as she is at her age.

So this rant is for those that are like me and choose not be "forgivers" and let you know it is ok you are not alone. I proudly announce that I am a "non-forgiver" (and for good measure) and an "oath seeker".

Do you need reminding it is winter?

I am sorry that my first real post is a rant (ok not really since ranting is what I do, just ask my kids) but this has been bugging me for weeks. My kids go to the bus at two different times so I get to see two different sets of kids. My daughter is in Middle School so the kids are roughly 11-13 and my son's age group is 8-10. I will admit we have had a mild winter so far so I will give the parents of the other children a bit of slack but now it has been bitter cold so I can judge.

Let me back up a little and preface this rant. I don't normally judge other parents since on a normal day I would be eligible for the "Bad Mom of the Year" award at least 6 or 7 times, BUT there are times when I have to cross that line.

Dress code (don't let you child freeze, don't let them leave the house dressed like a tramp) is one of those issues. Every morning at both bust stops I have an issue. The first bus stop the kid is still wearing shorts (even on the days it is 12 degrees). Now I understand you want to "pick your battles" but come on and be a parent. If you can't get your kid to dress appropriately for the weather at age 12 I can't imagine how out of control you will be when they are teens (and I am not talking about just dress code then). The second kid is a little more bothersome to me because they do not wear a jacket (just a sweatshirt), hat or mittens. This one bothers me more because these kids have recess which means this child will be outside in the cold for at least 20 minutes freezing their butts off. Now before you say maybe they don't have the money for a jacket, they do, trust me. I want to bring one of my daughter's jacket and tell her to put it on.

I used to be slightly annoyed with the notes we get from the school telling us to make sure our children "dress for the weather" and they list what a child should wear. Now I fully understand why they have to send that letter out.

Moral of the story "DRESS YOUR FREAKIN CHILD FOR THE WEATHER!" or I will judge you and blog about it. Have a nice day ;-0

Now I am off to do Christmas shopping for my husband (depending on how that goes you may get an earful later today)

Introduction

Several months ago a friend of mine suggested I start a blog, he wanted the blog to be political in nature (since that is what I do for a living) and after a little prodding I started writing. The blog was named the Flashing Green Light (referring to the fact that my life revolved around the green light on my Droid flashing). I was the only one that could see the blog (still a bit self-conscious) but I found it cathartic in many ways. The blog writing fell off when the "Flashing Green Light" on my droid became constant and I couldn't keep up.

Now that I have a little time but need some serious de-stressing I thought it would be good to start up again. Only this time I would keep away from the politics and I would let others read the blog. Inspired by Rants From Mommyland and People that I want to Punch in the Throat I decided to start a blog of my rantings, my kids quotes and my pet's antics.

I hope you all enjoy my future postings (depending on the stress level or my kid's craziness you could get a couple a day).