Sunday, June 30, 2013

Simple Things on a Sunday

"Peace is not something you wish for; It's something you make, Something you do, Something you are, And something you give away."

~John Lennon

Image Credit

Friday, June 28, 2013

A Very Special Porch

Under the thundering and rolling clouds, last night was spent with my Poppa under his porch; a porch I hold in a very special place. A porch I have sat beneath hundreds of times in my almost 30 years.

The furniture is the same.

The twinkly lights still glow.

The humming birds still visit.

Everything is the exact same as it's been.

But it's most definitely different now.

Someone is missing.

One chair is empty.

My jovial Grammie isn't there.

I watched my Poppa stare off into the distance, clinging to the memories, longing to have her back.

Tears filled his eyes. A solid man, a man who has never showed much emotion, let the tears fall from his face.

"It's a tough deal."

He said as he wiped his nose.

He ran his fingers through his wispy gray hair.

"We've had so many great memories, Betty and I."

His voice trembled.

"We take so much for granted."

I sat there with a loss for words- something that doesn't happen often.

What on earth could I say that would make him feel any better? He was missing his sweetheart. He was yearning for his life companion. He was lonely. After 60 years of building a life with someone, how could one not be lonely?

He then talked about some of his regrets. About how he should have known when she was getting sick. And how he should have reacted faster when she had the stroke. How he should have been with her more and cared for her more.

He said again,

"It's just a tough, tough deal."

I prayed in that moment that I would know what to say.

"Poppa, you did everything humanly possible. Grandma knew how much you loved and cared for her. She didn't pass on thinking anything otherwise. She was surrounded by love... even in those 3 horrific months when she was unaware and unable to communicate with any of us, she knew. She left this world with so, so, so much love- 80 years to the day of a whole lot of love."

I tried to stay composed. I miss my Grammie so much, but my heart just throbbed to see my Poppa hurting so terribly.

We finished the evening hearing stories about his journey in the Korean War and we talked much of Grammie and all the wonderful trips they'd gone on together.

"Wonderful times" he said.

I watched him walk into his bedroom, the same bedroom they have lived in for the last 58 years and as I laid in bed last night, I wept. How hard it must be. How quiet and still and lonely it must be.

This morning I awoke bright and early.

I walked passed my Poppa's room to see that his bed was already made.

He wasn't in the kitchen.

He wasn't reading the paper.

I walked outside at 7:30 am to get into my car and there he was.

In his cute little bucket hat (the same one he's worn for years), and with his collar popped up, he was out in the backyard, ever so carefully tending his garden.

"Poppa!" I said.

He didn't have his hearing aids in so I yelled again.


He looked up and smiled.

"Well goooood morning Jacy, how are you? You ready to tackle the day today?"

I gave him a big hug.

"Yes, I am. What you doing today?"

"Oh boy!" he said.

"I'll be busy all day today, doing the things Betty loved the very most. I'll get some gourds painted in red, white and blue. She always loved this holiday."

I smiled. He did too.

What a beautiful example of love, life, and the ability we have to move forward. These days aren't easy for my Poppa. I imagine they are hard and endless sometimes. But, of course, he is handling this new phase of his life with so much positivity and grace.

He is finding a new purpose and the thing I love most is that he isn't giving up!

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

All Figured Out

Not too long ago, I was sitting in the park when someone said something like:

"By the time you pass 30 years old, you really should have life all figured out. I'm so glad I do."

I cringed a little bit and thought

Do I have it all figured out?

I'm 29 years old... and I'm not even close to having it all figured out...

I laid in bed that night feeling a little insecure.

Maybe I should be closer to figuring it all out? I mean, so and so say that have it all figured out.... maybe they do?

I tossed some thoughts around, and here's what I came up with:

I honestly cannot think of ONE person who really truly does have it all figured out.

And if someone is telling me that they do, well, quite frankly, I worry for them... because life isn't something that is just "figured out".

Life changes. 

And with every second, minute, hour, day, week, month, or year that passes, there are ALWAYS changes. Changes that cause us to re-figure things out.  New things to discover. New things to handle. New things to overcome. New things to process.

If figuring out life is a marathon, I'd go ahead and say that in my life, right this very minute, I'm just passing the START line.

In my old life, I thought I was so smart. I thought I knew the world and understood exactly how it worked. I thought I knew 'how it was supposed to be'. I'd say that back then I thought I was nearing the finish line. My life was in order, things were good. I knew where I was headed and I had it figured out.

When all of that changed in just one day, I rolled back... and back... and back. Way back passed the starting point, and into the registration and porta-potty area. I was disoriented and confused.

It's been over 3 years, but I have slowly but surely inched my way, minute by minute, day by day, closer and closer to the starting line; the line in which I once crossed with confidence. But now, I feel different. I am back in the run, yes, but I have a whole new outlook.

Figuring out life isn't a race.

It's an evolution.

There is no finish line.

We will be making mistakes and making changes and making new discoveries until our very last breaths.

We will always be in the process. Always.

So, NO, I don't have it all figured out, but you know what? I'm totally okay with it... and I'm actually enjoying the journey of not having it all figured out.

Monday, June 24, 2013


Seth and I are in Salt Lake City.

We decided to be adventurous and book a hotel while we were here.

I called 20 hotels only to find out that they were all either sold out or very, very expensive.

The only place we found to be available (and in our budget) was Days Inn on 3300 S and 300 W. Now, if you're familiar with Salt Lake, you'll think of those coordinates and think "uhhh... why would you stay there?"

But we thought, hey how bad could it be?

So we rolled into Salt Lake City and eagerly checked into our non-smoking room.

Room #130 smelled like old, stagnant smoke. There was only a bed, one nightstand, and t.v. on a little desk. There was no where to sit, or stand for that matter.

Regardless, we settled in. This was supposed to be an adventure, after all!

No more than 45 minutes had passed us by when we had some visitors right outside of our window:

What the? Are you kidding me? Why are there two cop cars outside?

Seth didn't think much of it. He just laughed.

I, on the other hand, felt a little uneasy.

I stood by the window, trying to play detective when Seth said,

"Welp, I'm going to head over to the lobby and get an extra blanket. I'll be right back."

Um, I'm not staying here alone.

I threw on my shoes and as we opened our door, the police were escorting a man, who seemed to be very disoriented, to his room. He tried coming into our room.

"No," the officer said to the man "that's not your room. Keep walking. You're the next room."


We proceeded to walk to the lobby and right when we walked in, a policeman followed us and whispered something to the hotel manager.

On his way out, I couldn't help myself.

"Excuse me, Officer? I'm pretty sure I am right next door to the room you're dealing with. Am I safe there?"

"Well, he is highly intoxicated and he will be passed out very soon. By morning he won't remember a thing. However, he did just approach a woman staying here and assumed she was a prostitute. She's not a prostitute and she was rightly insulted by the things he said."


No way.

I don't feel safe at all.

Another manager walked in from the scene and said,

"I take it you guys want a new room?"

I raised me hand very high "I do! But my husband here just wants an extra blanket."

"I can get you new room and it's right above the lobby. You'll feel safer there.... and you even get a jacuzzi tub!"

So there we were packing up our stuff at 11:00 o' clock at night, making the pilgrimage across the parking lot to our new room. We passed the cops and walked up the dirty stairwell and opened the door.  To our surprise Seth and I gave each other a big ol' high five! Now this is what I'm talking about!

It's a SUITE baby!

The gold and crystal chandelier is a fabulous touch, and so is the gold faux painted crown molding to match it. It has two non matching 1970's couches in it and while I really like the idea of a jetted jacuzzi tub, you couldn't pay me a million dollars to sit in it. I've been standing on a towel in the shower :) It may not be the most clean and ideal hotel we've ever stayed in, but after 5 nights here, the place has actually grown on us and it's not scary at all anymore!

So the next time you're in downtown Salt Lake and you want to experience the pure luxury of a suite (on a $65 per night budget), book the cheapest room possible, and cross your fingers that the cops show up for a public intoxication. If you're lucky and the stars align just right, you may find yourself here at the DAYS INN room #216.

**And with that, what'd you do this weekend? Any fun stories? I do feel horrible for the woman who was insulted. I'd be so freaked out!

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Simple Things on a Sunday

Last night I was able to spend the evening with some of my most cherished and special friends. Friends whose lives have crossed paths because of blogging. Friends that really and truly understand because, in some form or another, they've been there. And no matter our differences, we all have one thing in common: we are all trying to figure out our lives, and how to become better people in the meantime.

Words cannot express how blessed I feel to be able to call these stalwart and brave and compassionate women "my friends".

Thank you for being you and for teaching me all that you do. I was reminded again last night that we really are all in this together. There is such a community here... and there is always a place for me... and there is always a place for you, too.

I love you.

Friday, June 21, 2013

A Helping Hand

Just the other day, Seth and I were out to lunch.

In a restaurant crowded with people enjoying their pizza and bread twists, everyone was involved in their own company. Sounds of mingling and laughter echoed throughout the place.

As we were finishing our food, we noticed a man sitting in a booth kiddie corner to us. I'm not sure what his exact disability was, but he was in a motorized wheelchair and had limited use of his arms and hands (which made it difficult for him to feed himself).

He only had one person for company; a trusty dog who was ever so comfortably resting under the table.

In a split second, the gentleman began to struggle as his lidded drink spilled into his salad and began to roll, causing his cup (and the table) to be drenched in ranch dressing.

He tried to pick it up but couldn't quite get the right grasp to do so.

Without missing a beat, Seth hopped up, ran over and said,

"May I help you?"

The man was unable to communicate very clearly, but he nodded his head up and down.

Seth grabbed the dripping cup and took it up to the counter. He walked back to the table with a new drink and said, 

"Here's a new drink, now let me help you clean this up."

Then he wiped up the smeared ranch from the table.

"There you go." he said.

Seth walked back to our table and sat down, like nothing had happened. He took a swig of his soda and picked back up exactly where we left off.


This is what loving your neighbor is all about. Actually, I think this is what life is all about. Not just serving those closest to us, but serving those who we share this life with.

To me, this is beauty: stepping outside of yourself to love and support someone else- in the obvious, difficult, times and in the times that seem so very simple.

I relish in these moments because

1- the person in need (or the person who receives the thoughtful gesture even if they're not in need per se) benefits from the kindness.

2- the person offering the service grows because, let's be honest, you never feel lousy after serving others.

3- the people watching the act of love benefit because it's pretty much impossible to be uninspired by the gesture and we become more aware of ways we can serve others. It's contagious.

Offering a helping hand is a win-win for everyone because one simple act can touch the lives of so many!

**When was the last time you received a helping hand? Or the last time you gave one? I'd love to hear.

Image Credit

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Down Under

I've been promising a recap of our trip to Australia and I've finally found a minute to sit down and do it.

But before I get into the vibrant photo's, I do have a little story for you :)

So we arrived to the airport in our comfy clothes, ready to board our flights: Phoenix to Los Angeles. Los Angeles to Sydney.

The second leg of the trip was a 15 hour red eye flight, and our seats were supposed to be "Economy Comfort". This means you get a couple of extra inches for your legs, and being that Seth is 6'2", he definitely needed it. And I was just excited for the extra space in general; the luxury of "Economy Comfort" is something I had never experienced :)

As we boarded the humongous plane, with our tickets in hand, my heart sank as we kept walking further and further, back and back and back into the abyss. We passed the chipper looking folk in the Economy Comfort Section and we kept on walking back.

Is there a special comfy place in the back? Maybe it's a new addition to the aircraft?

We finally made it to the seats that matched our tickets perfectly: the very very VERY last row of the airplane.

I knew we were in for it when a jovial attendant walked by and, with a big grin on his face, said:

"Well, well, well.... who's the lucky couple who got these seats? Wow! You must be very special to have lucked out with these. Best seats in the house! Right by the lavatories and the drink station! It's going to be a long, looooooong night ahead."

He chuckled, gave us a friendly, almost sarcastically cruel, wink and then walked off.

I gave him a courtesy laugh but my insides were burning. 

I got really grumpy. 

I knew what was ahead.

I felt slightly sorry for myself.

Seth looked at me.

"Jacy, are you serious? You're really going to be this upset about it? It could be worse!"

I gave him the puppy-dog-pouty-look. My lip quivered.

"How?" I asked.

"Ummmm.... we could not be flying to the other side of the world right now...???"

Good point. And so true.

"Chipper up JJ... it's going to be okay. This is great!" he said.

Right then and there, I changed my attitude, took a sleeping pill to knock me out, and we began our adventure to the land down under.

After too long of a flight, we finally made it! And it was incredible!

This was the view from the place we stayed. How cool is the Opera House?

Me and my family:

Me and the manfriend (I still love to call him that :)

Seth pulled this when I asked him to pose:

Sydney is such a spectacular city!

Did you know that it's the 3rd most expensive city to live in the entire world? As in, the cheapest homes in the harbor start at about $8,000,000 (a little fact from our harbor cruise tour :)

Everything was so pricey there! A tube of mascara was $26. A runny milkshake was $11. A plate of 2 pancakes with some syrup was $17. Yikes! However, the minimum wage is a lot higher! We were told by numerous sources that the minimum wage is right around $19 an hour. That helps to balance it out I suppose but it is still a very very very expensive place.  

But let me tell you something... it is the most beautiful of city's! The harbor is just breathtaking. These pictures don't capture its magnificence. Stunning. It was chilly and overcast somedays, as it's the beginning of winter, but it was still just so picturesque.

(Can you see the Opera House behind us in this picture? Gorgeous!)

We went the the Taronga Zoo and saw a sleepy koala bear:

We saw a kangaroo soaking up the sunlight:

And we saw a fiery tasmanian devil:

We went on some night walks through and around the Botanical Gardens:

All of this was amazing, but one of the best parts of the whole trip was to hop on a ferry and head over to Manly Wharf to have a sleepover with one of my oldest friends, Erica (you might remember seeing her story, here). She lives in Australia with her darling Irish husband, and step daughter, Noa. Being in her house and experiencing her Aussie life was so much FUN! We stayed up way too late and reminisced about the good ol' days, as well as talking about life and all of its many changes for us both. We laughed really hard, and we shed some tears of heartache and happiness, too.

 I love the types of friendships that you can pick back up exactly were you left off- even if it is 6.5 YEARS later!

This was definitely a highlight of the trip!

And lastly, we just so happened to be in Sydney during VIVID: a celebration of lights, music and ideas that surround the harbor. Our good camera was out of battery, and my sister took all the other pictures and she's in Malaysia right now.... so, until she gets back, here's a professional picture I found to give you an idea of what it looked like in person. HOW AMAZING IS THAT? I'm so glad we were there during that time! It was so funky and so unusual and so so so VIVD! :)

We hit up all the museums we possibly could, we met other family friends in Brisbane, and we walked our little booties off everywhere we could. Overall, our trip was an absloute ball and before we knew it, 10 days had passed and it was time to come home.

After a travel time of 30 hours, we finally made it home and found ourselves wishing we could go back!

I love that city! It is truly one of my very favorites!

*What's you favorite city? Do you have one??

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

It's the Little Things

During a recent Skype with Little Dude, I was telling him how much I miss him... and how much I love him... and how I hope he's having a wonderful time...

He looked at me with those brilliant blue eyes and said,

"I know, mom. I love you, too. Sometimes when I want to, I just close my eyes and think of you."

For a moment, I couldn't believe what I was hearing from the mouth of my 5 year old. But he was saying it.... and he kept on going...

"Because, mom, you're always right here." he said as he tapped his palm on his chest.

"You're always with me in my heart, mom."

Wow, just wow. I don't know which Disney film that's from, or if he heard someone saying it after my grammie passed away, but my son taught me so much about love in that moment... and he taught me how to be a little bit braver, too.

During the moments that I miss him while he's away, I just close my eyes and think of him.

He is always with me in my heart.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

I am...

Yesterday morning was my first ever YOGA experience.

Before I get into this post any further, I should disclose that I am quite possibly the least flexible person alive.


Even if you offered me a million dollars for doing so, I couldn't even get close to touching my toes with my legs straight. I'd be lucky if I made it passed my knees on a good day. Because of this and the fear of looking aboslutely ridiculous or tooting during the awkward silence, the thought of yoga has always intimidated me.

However, after a long time desire to try it for both physical and therapeutic reasons, I finally did it.

Sure, I may have been the youngest attendee in a group of mostly 70 year olds (ahem... the class was called "gentle yoga"), but that's what made it so much better! No one cared about how I looked aaaaaannnnd there were plenty of other people in the room who had less control of their bodily functions than I ;)

So the moment I walked in, I felt pretty safe.

Not knowing what to expect, I took off my shoes, unrolled my mat, and mimicked the instructor by crossing my legs. As indie, spa-like music played over the speakers, the class began with a whisper,

"Welcome and good morning everyone."

"Today I want you to think of of two words: "I AM..." and then I want you to finish the sentence with whatever you wish. Go ahead and keep that belief with you throughout our session. Ok?"

My first thought was "I am.... I am.... I am woman hear me roar!"

It didn't take more than a half of a second before I thought to myself okay, that is really cliche. You can do better!

My mind scrambled for words.

What am I?

Then it hit me:

I am...
I am...
I am...
I am moving forward!

That's it! This was my focus for today. This was my goal. Actually, this is my pretty much my goal everyday.

Moving forward.

As my arms reached for the sky and my heart opened to the world for those 55 minutes,  I found myself in deep meditation... focusing on my physical strength.... focusing on my mental strength..... focusing on something new and challenging and totally unlike me.

Focusing on letting go.

Focusing on re-grounding myself.

The class quickly came to an end. Not only did I say "Namaste" for the first time ever, but as I rolled up my mat, I realized that I had just moved forward a little bit. Even with something as seemingly simple as a yoga class with old fogies, I did it. I made that step; an inch or a foot or a few yards further, I took a step... and I can't wait to go back for more!

** Two questions for you today (and I really really REALLY want you to answer these- especially the first one!)

1) Fill in the blank " I AM ____________"

2) Do you yoga? Do share what you like or didn't like ;)

Image Credit

Monday, June 3, 2013

A Story About Shoes and Makeup

This is a story about shoes and makeup but it's really not just about shoes and makeup.

If you're wondering what this has to do with yesterday's post, keep reading.

You'll see.

I have always loved to wear high heels, more dressy and feminine clothes, and more vibrant colors of eye shadows and such. I don't know how good of a fashionista I've actually been in the past, but as far as I can remember, I've enjoyed dressing up and being somewhat stylish.

So when Seth and I first met, what I described above is how I dressed all the time. And when I say all the time, I mean ALL THE TIME. As in, I didn't own one pair of casual tennis shoes- even for working out- and I didn't own any flats (including cute flats). I always had to be in heels and I very very very rarely left the house without being done up. My individuality was a significant part of my life and I felt that fashion was a way that I could express my personality.

So Seth and I started seeing more and more of each other. Obviously he liked what I had going on because his interest never let down.

As it typically goes in any relationship, the more time we spent together, the more we learned about one another.

It didn't take long for me to realize that Seth was more of a jeans, tee shirt, and tennis shoe kind of guy: for himself and the ladies in his life. It's safe to say that he had a preference for the more casual, laid back, and natural looking woman: free of wedge shoes, hairspray and smokey eyeshadow.

Of course he was never rude and of course he never ever told me to change what I was wearing or how much make up I wore, but as time moved on, it was obvious that he thought I'd look cute in a v-neck tee and Chuck Taylor's. On the days I'd wear less make up, I noticed that he'd make genuine comments about how fresh I looked and how I didn't need all that other stuff.

Slowly but surely, as the months began to pass and Seth and I started spending all of our time together, I did what felt natural for the relationship: I began ditching the makeup, the heels, the ruffly clothes, and blingy accessories for a more subtle, natural looking me.

I mean, this is what my man liked, so why would I do anything different? Right?

But one day, not too long ago, I walked into my closet, looked at my shoe and shirt selections and realized something big.

Where are all of my high heel shoes that I love?

Where are all of the shirts that I felt really feminine and sexy and pretty in?

The sad thing is, the didn't just disappear. I knew exactly where they were. They were gone. All at the local donation center.

In the course of two years, I had weeded out everything that I thought Seth wouldn't like and I replaced it all with stuff that I thought he would like better.

My zebra stiletto's had been replaced with keds.

I sat on my closet floor and replayed the last 2 years. As I sifted through it all, I landed on the answer being that for some reason or another, it just felt like it was the right thing to do; morph into a perfect mold for what he liked.

Be the perfect girl for him.

(Now, it's really really really REALLY important to note that Seth had no idea I was doing this. None. He never made me feel like I had to do anything and he was never apart of my closet binges. And he honestly didn't care enough about what I was or wasn't wearing to take notice of what was missing in my closet. He's a normal guy, I'd say ;)

So here goes why it's all relevant.

After many hours of therapy with Maurice the last 3 long years, we finally came to the conclusion that I am a fantastic dance partner. I can go with the flow, move fluidly to another beat, and fit right into another person's choreography. I can follow the lead with ease; a trait that has positive and negative aspects.

I have found myself always trying to "be" what everyone else wants me to "be".

I have had the tendency to go against what I really want in order to please everyone else around me.

A few nights ago, Seth and I started talking about all of this.

About why I do this.

About why I care so much about what everyone else wants me to do or "be".

About why I tend to be such a great dance partner.

About why I've changed my wardrobe and style almost completely, when he's never asked me to, or expected me to.

"I do it for you" I said. "Why would I dress any other way than the way that you prefer? If you tell me you like tenni's, tee shirts, and less makeup, that's what I'm going to do. I do it for you."

He sat there a minute.

"Okay, Jace, I get where you're coming from... sort of.... but how about you dress the way you want to dress because it's what YOU like? What YOU feel comfortable in? What YOU think is cool? Sure I think some things are cuter than others, but that's just normal interaction. It'd be weird if we both liked all the same things- there'd be no room for individualism. It's like we'd be the same person. It's okay if we have differences of opinion, Jacy. That's what makes us unique." he said.

I sat there.

"Well, I do it for you."

Trying to piece it all together Seth questioned,

"Is it really just a selfless motive, Jacy? Are you really doing this ALL for me? Or is there some sense of wanting to be loved and accepted? Like, I won't love and accept you if you wear shimmery eyeshadow and pointy pumps?"

I sat there, my shoulders slumped over.

"No, I do it for you." I sarcastically chuckled, "This has nothing to do with wanting to be accepted or loved. This is because I want to make you happy, because it's what you like."

The conversation slowly fizzled out from there. It was growing late and we were both tired.

That night, however, I laid in bed tossing and turning in our uncomfortably warm room.

I thought about it.

And thought about it.

And thought about it.

Was I subconsciously changing my dress in effort to be loved and accepted?

No way I thought.

No way. That's just down right ridiculous.

I thought about it more.

And more.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

In the quiet still of the night, I had this aha moment.

What if there IS some truth to that?

What if there IS actually an element of wanting to be loved and accepted here?

If I'm not dressing in the form that he prefers, then he won't like me anymore. He won't find me sexy, or attractive, or pretty. Thus, he'll be disappointed in me.

And what happens if he doesn't find me sexy, or attractive, or pretty anymore? What happens if he becomes disappointed in me?

He'll go looking elsewhere.

And no matter who he finds, I'll end up being the person that he didn't want. Because I wasn't good enough. Because I was second fiddle. Because for some reason or another, I could have been different. I could have done things to prevent it.

I laid my head on my memory foam pillow and had a hard time falling asleep that night. Visions from my past danced in my mind. I gently rolled over and saw my sweet Seth sleeping peacefully. I studied his profile in the darkness of the night and then I thought to myself,

This isn't about a style of shoe, or how much foundation I apply, or if my shirt has extra lace on it... and this has absolutely nothing to do with S..... this has everything to do with me.

This is a result of my past experiences.

This is a result of feeling secure and confident and on top of the world in one day, and in the next, everything completely changes and life is so not what you thought it was.

This is a result of being hit by a piano.

The next morning I woke up feeling refreshed, yet a little sad, at my new discovery; the devastating reality that I had allowed my past to change apart of who I was-- out of my own fear. Fear that I wouldn't be deemed as good enough.

That very morning I walked into my closet and decided that I was going to really work on something:

I was going to intensely challenge myself to work on becoming my OWN version of me. I mean, I thought I was already there... but apparently, I am not- far from it actually. I am still kicking off the mud that was splattered on me those years ago. I am still peeling off the sticky residue that comes with being in this club.

I am now realizing that it is possible to be a cooperative dance partner whilst keep my own unique style at the same time. And by style I don't just mean fashion- I mean everything that makes me, me. I need to be able dance with ease, without fearing that, for some reason or another, I won't be good enough. I need dance comfortably in both my stiletto's and New Balances because I like them both. I need to showcase my bright red lips when I'm feeling bold and I also need to be unashamed of my imperfections. I need to dance with pride and confidence because I've worked really hard on this routine. This is my life... I am me... and the most important person for me to be is


**THOUGHTS TODAY?? Please share. I'm so interested to know if you can relate? Or maybe you've never felt this way?

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Simple Things on a Sunday

Hi friends!

We had a marvelous trip down under but boy is it nice to be back home! I'll tell you more about our trip later this week... I'm still getting around to getting unpacked, let alone sifting through all the pictures :)

For today though, I don't know what it is about discovering great quotes, but sometimes the simplest of words can make the MAXIMUM of positive difference in my life.


This is so amazing and so, so, so TRUE!

I am currently sort of struggling with this in my life right now. Alright, let's be totally honest here... I've been struggling with this for a long time. And after experiencing what many of us have, I don't think this is an uncommon predicament to find yourself in.

I have been thinking much about all this lately and as a result, have decided to write it out. When I write it out, I heal... at least I begin to heal more-so than if I don't write it out. And so, I'm working on a more in depth article on the topic, my personal journey and current standstill in rediscovering and actually BEING me.

It will be ready tomorrow. I hope you'll check back!

But before I sign off, I think there is a really great question to pose here:

Are YOU your OWN?? 

I'd love to hear what your initial thoughts are before I post the article ;)

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