Me- In Recarnate: The Journey Continues

I haven't written for a long time. I started this blog to hone my writing skills and to sharpen its dull blade so to speak. It was also a source to be able to look back on later, in all that was going on. But I got side tracked by my own life. Funny how that happens.

It happened because I really didn't know how to write about my own illness. How to explain it in a way that would help others' to understand and comprehend what had happened to me. Not just physically, but consequently; emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I couldn't walk or was limited in my ability to, and had all these things wrong with my body; but there was no car accident. I was losing my hair, dropping my weight, was always sick and nauseous all the time and/or vomiting and was in constant extreme pain, but didn't have cancer or was dealing with chemo therapy. I didn't really have ANY true diagnosis, (that is until I found one- and then it was still a good guess by all accounts). Each day was the same thing as the day before; and I felt like I came across as a downer to others to have to listen to or read, so to spare everyone, I stopped writing about it or tried to discuss it as little as possible. I put on the brave face so others would feel more comfortable to prevent them from screaming, running in the other direction. I already felt too alone to drive anyone else away. But I, on the other hand, had no choice. I didn't have the luxury of escape, nor did those around me living with it, with me.

I felt very alone. I wished I could express it to people to make them understand. I had very few in my life to be there. I had a lot of lip service---- but no actual action. I was stuck, literally, in four walls. My world, which had been so full of activity and people, had become so very tiny. I was helpless and dependent. The pain I felt was agony, both physically and emotionally. Day in and day out, it was more of the same thing. Fractures started to happen in my life. You could hear the ice cracking below my feet. I was about to fall in and I didn't have anything to grab onto- and then it happened.

Without warning- the ice gave out beneath me and I sank deep into the icy cold water. I did exactly what you're not supposed to do in that kind of situation. I panicked. I splashed around. I expended energy and I cried for help. I had suffered one loss after another and all of them quite suddenly and without warning or time to prepare. And here I was suffering yet another one. I didn't know what to do and I was so tired. So worn out already...

But I dug in deep. Very deep- and discovered I had more. I discovered even more about myself then I thought I knew. I asked for help and I got it. I asked for prayers and got those. I felt each and every one of those prayers in this most desperate time. I wasn't emotionally strong enough to handle any more loss. I was buoyed up, while I found my strength, by those prayers and positive energy all of a sudden and collectively being sent my way like a huge energy wave! I had a true friend and sister who behaved as a true friend and sister aught to (but that I had never had until her). I wouldn't have made it without her. And beside her was another friend- her mate and my best male friend. He was a rock and listened and was there. My father was the hand and branch to pull me out of the water to safety. He always is. The number of times this man has saved me in my life is beyond what I can express. I would have drowned many times if it weren't for him. I kept things private and entrusted just a few and those few, knowing how private I am, unless I choose to share, protected that privacy and confidence. I learned to trust again.

And through it all I rediscovered me. I am tempted to say I found myself again. But it's not true. I became introduced to a whole new person. And this new person is quite incredible and amazing. I am so excited about her-- and the new life and path that lies ahead. And I can't wait to introduce you to her as well. I wrote in my blog's descript that this my life's journey and that you'll know when I do. I smile now at that and how true it is. Here's hoping that you continue to share the ride with me.

I'm including my link (me in the hospital)  that is the culmination of my health and illness coming to a head. For me at the time it really was the beginning of the end, or at least felt that way. With no diagnosis, no hope, no treatment and no answers-- there really was no reason not to think that way.  Before this point in the hospital, I had already been battling my health issues and problems for 3 1/2 years with me trying to figure out what was wrong but not being able to get anyone to listen to me or understand really what I felt or tried to explain both in my personal life (at how serious it was, that I was expressing these issues) and the medical community (basically the same thing)- all of which led to a major imploding of my health. This is a visual for anyone reading this post to understand just a miniscule part of what I was dealing with and what my life was like for me for the next year and a half. It doesn't nearly start to touch however, the domino effect that it had on everything else or all that I lost as a result, and in ways that I couldn't even begin to fathom.

At this point- 4 months post surgery (out of a 12 month recovery and healing time), I am continuing to make progress but I am always just a snap of a finger away from ending up back in bed and having trouble walking and in pain- and therefore back to where I was--whenever I over do it. At this point, I can make small ventures out. My day consist of me spending 3/4 of it still in bed. I start to feel well enough and have rested enough to get up around 2 or 3pm. That is, if I've been a good girl and not have over done it, or am just plain having a 'bad day'- health wise. Then it's much later or not at all thing. But if all is well and I'm feeling well enough- I get dressed and do my hair and make up to feel and look as good as possible. If I've got something that I would like to do in the evening, then I will make myself rest all day, just to make sure I'm alright to do so. I have basically a 2 - 3 hour limitation. But I take that time and grab it for all its worth!! :)Whenever I try to push past that, (and trust me I do... way too often)- I always- without fail- pay for it.

My need/desire, to get my life back, is extremely overwhelming--- and thus pushes me.  Once you've gone through something like I have, and have watched life go by day in and day out, minute by minute and literally not be able to do anything, once you get a taste of having some of your life back, all you want to do is live it as fully and completely as possible! So I sometimes push. The aforementioned and the fact that I don't know I've over done it until it's too late doesn't help. My body doesn't tell me while it's happening- only after it's too late and then it happens very quickly. I have a huge, lonnnnng list of things I want to do. But I can only do so much- and whatever I select on the list I can only do small amounts at a time. It takes a long time to cross things off the list. The truth of the matter is that I need to listen to my body more closely - Because I think that it actually might indeed be telling me things, but the voice yelling YES! LIFE! drowns out the whispers that say... this is too much- as I push forward to reclaim my life. It's all a lesson and I am learning to listen to the Universe and all the wisdom that it has to offer. I just can't describe how glorious it is to be so grateful for the most simple of tasks and to be able to do them---even if they take me 10 times longer to accomplish! It's truly a beautiful thing. My heart over flows with gratitude that I get the chance.

if it were a lotto I would be RICH! and other lessons.

I have incredible luck... in all the wrong ways I think. I am absolutely amazed by it, dumbfounded, and if I let it, dispirited by it. A little background, that over time I will most likely expand upon here and there when it is called for or appropriate. The long and short of it is this. I have no mother. Well, I've actually had many mothers. It's quite the oxymoron really. My biological mother, the one that gave birth to myself and two brothers, was unfit and neglectful and hence we all ended up in foster care to which she gave up her parental rights to us in less than a year. No real effort to keep us was ever made by her nor her very large family. My birth father, to his credit, by all accounts told, did make an effort but didn't have the means and couldn't get them, and didn't have the family support which was very small, and so he too gave up his parental rights by the end of that first year.

Because there was contact that first year with our biological father (our mother never even visited) we were uprooted once again and sent off to another foster family in which my birth father was not allowed to know where. We were there for about another year, and then once again uprooted as we were all adopted into a family that already had 6 kids who lived on a very large farm. Most of the older kids were already out of the house and the youngest of 2 biological sons of my adopted family, was frequently sick as a child. Not really farming material. We essentially were adopted to work the farm. Two boys for the outdoor work and me for all the chores indoor as well as outdoor. The home was abusive. Nearly all of the children left as soon as they were legally able to at 17. I was no exception and left at 17, with nothing but the clothes on my back. When I did, my adopted mother burned everything I owned. My brothers tried to sneak things out for me but were checked constantly. They were forbidden to contact me.

I moved in with my best friend, whose mother was aware of my situation and for a short time was my fill in mother. This would make mother number 5. I lived with my friend for 6 months, but her mother was a single one and it became very difficult and thus asked me to leave. Eventually for the sake of length, I ended up living with a family whose mother (number 6) I knew from church and had offered to take me in. They became my newest family. By this time I was now a senior and hadn't known any real stability (stability can come in many forms, including emotional) during my whole life. I became such a member of their family they wanted to adopt me. Another adoption. I was nearly an adult and the mother wanted me to change my name. The only link I had to my brothers was my name and I was unwilling to give it up. Because I wouldn't change it, on that account alone, she chose not to adopt me. The problems with the mother continued to increase and eventually she kicked me out altogether. Eventually all of her own children also had issues with her and the marriage ended in divorce.  I remained very close to the father who I eventually learned to trust and for the first time in my life treated me the closest to what a parent child relationship should feel like. Loved, trusted, dependable, safe. He is whom I call my dad still today. He is my father in every way that matters.

But I had the rejection of yet another mother or mother figure. I always felt that somehow it would be ok however, as I figured someday, I would get married and I would have his family to be close to and would love his mother. It didn't happen. I met my ex-husband in college in Idaho. His family lived in Arizona. When it came time to let them know we had decided to marry his mother, who had never met me or even knew what I looked like (but we had spoken on the phone) broke down crying. I felt that once she had met me however, we would be fine. I was wrong. She had made up her mind, something that never changed and her youngest son (of two) was very attached to his mother. To put it another way, many, many years later our marriage counselor told him "he needed to cut the umbilical cord" which reached across many states. He never did, and it was a major contributing factor as to the demise of our marriage. It was also very lonely and disheartening for me. I had no family support on either side, but he did.

The next relationship I got into immediately after the end of my marriage was pretty much the same thing and yet worse in the sense that both sons still live at their parents home and brought the definition of mama's boy to a whole new level. (A side note- he too was the youngest of those two sons).  I should have seen the writing on the wall, but I  ignored it. I was vulnerable from the end of a marriage of 14 years and my life was upside down and for a while in ruins. I was alone with no family and friends in a different state. I was neither emotionally strong nor thinking straight. It was a painful time.

After I finally found the strength to end that relationship I decided to concentrate on me finally. I had accomplished my goal to finish college and got my degree and started to work on my career. I had two of my daughters with me, (the oldest one had decided to stay with her father in another state) and I felt good with where I was at. I started to work out, started to lose some of the weight I had put on and felt positive and strong. I was determined to show myself that I could make it on my own and support myself and my children. When I decided to start dating, that's exactly what I decided to do, just date. Something I had never really done. Every guy I went out with fell for me and I ended up in relationships with them. I was determined to just have a good time and not be in anything serious. And I especially didn't want to find myself in a situation where I was involved with another mother who just couldn't seem to let her son go and saw me as a threat and the enemy. I had given up on ever having any kind of mother figure in my life. It seemed that I was meant to figure out my way in my life with OUT having a mother to turn to or be there for all those things a daughter needs a mother for. It was a lonely and painful existence and it has had the effect throughout of my life of feeling unworthy and unlovable, especially by women.

While dating, I, of course, met my guy. For all kinds of reasons, I took it slow and was determined to just date the guy. Our age difference being one of those. But he was well received by everyone in my life both family and friends and they became cheerleaders for him when I was in doubt or thought of breaking things off. I had my trepidations about meeting his family, especially his mother and I made it clear that this was one of my huge deal breakers. I would NOT put myself through yet another son obsessed, clingy, threatened by another woman type of mother.

A short back story about my guy. He had determined after his last breakup for which he was considering marrying her, to A) take some time off from dating (which he did) and B) wanted to date someone older because he didn't feel the ladies he was dating were mature enough for him. He let his family, especially his mother, of this. And so he went out to dinner with his mother and let her know he had met someone that he was crazy about and also let her know that I was older. This pretty much did it, and once again before she even met me had made up her mind. Ironic as hell, but my guy is also the youngest (or the 'baby') of two sons.

I worried about the age difference and what she would think. My dad reassured me that she probably had a certain image in her mind of what someone of my age looked and acted like but that once she met me she would get to know me and realize I didn't match that image at all. I had hope.

 It was false hope.

From day one she pretty much wanted nothing to do with me. She pretty much refused to even come into the living area the first time we went over there to meet his mother and step-father, for 20 minutes- and hid in the kitchen while his step-father played host and spoke to us alone.

My guy was shocked by her behaviour. Everything he had promised me that wouldn't happen because his "mother wasn't like that and he knew his mother"-- eventually did. She eventually came right out (6 months into our dating) and told my guy that she "would NEVER accept our age difference".

The long and short of it (as there is a lot I of course am leaving out and this is nearly 5 years later) is that my guy did something the other two guys didn't do. He stood by me. His mother continued to act badly about me and he let his mother know that if she continued to do so that would be the end of his relationship with her. For him it was simple. If her claims of  "I just want you to be happy" were true (which by the way, EACH of the mothers of the sons I have mentioned have said the exact same thing verbatim) then she would be fine and she would be thrilled because he WAS happy and in fact if she were to try and open her eyes she would see that I was very good for him. Because of me he had quit smoking, stopped many of the unhealthy things he had been doing and stopped making choices that only led to his unhappiness. Her rejection of me, to him, was a personal rejection of himself and her claim of wanting his happiness felt like a lie. She only wanted what she wanted for him. So- he cut off his ties to her. That however hasn't stopped her from trying to contact him. She continues to claim she has done nothing wrong all the while trying to undermine our relationship. I haven't spoken to her or had any contact with her at all, but she has still (along with his sister) tried in their attempts. Something I won't go into here. I have stayed out of it and let my guy handle it all.

And I have been fine with that....., and even in the first two years encouraged him to try to work things out with her. I finally realized how futile that was however, with some of the things she did to end our relationship. I stopped encouraging him and she lost an ally. All while I puzzled over it. My guy has said the same thing that was told to me by my previous two relationships. "It wouldn't matter WHO I was with, she would still act the same. This has nothing to do with you." Somehow this doesn't help- because it IS me and it has now happened over and over. So it feels very personal to me! I wonder how often a person can be rejected. And by the same kind of situation? When is a lesson that is put into ones life, learned and not be dropped into their lap anymore? When is enough, enough? I am amazed by own bad luck. If this were a lottery ticket situation, I would have hit it 3 times with the mother son deal. What are the odds? Hitting the lotto 3 times in a row??  And with my own mother/mother figure incidents, it's only salt in the wound that makes me feel that I am impossible to be loved as a daughter or in the daughter role. There is a certain kind of pain when others talk about their mothers, especially for the big stuff, like graduations, weddings, and babies; and the small stuff too. I am keenly aware of how much my own daughters rely on me for even the smallest things. All of which I had to teach myself and learn on my own.

With this wedding my guy's father has been pressuring my guy to talk to his mother (his fathers' ex-wife) and allow by-gones to be by-gones. No accountability, no acknowledgment, no anything. We both don't understand. She hasn't changed her mind about anything. Nothing has changed. As with his mother, I have let my guy deal with his family himself. I have remained quiet. Most of that was because for much of our relationship my guy spoke to no one in his family due to the mother issue . When he slowly began to speak to his father and grandmother again, and then his brother, I stayed out of it to allow them to work things out first and not interfere. My guy says they have no problems with me. Now however I am biting at the bit wanting to confront the situation on all sides. My guy has been telling me that it "won't do me any good". Through all of this I have come to realize he is right. I have never met people who are so slow to learn and get it. Still I fantasize about finally having a say and try to get through their heads.

I don't worry about my guy or that I will find myself alone in my relationship or marriage against a family that hates me. He has shown me where I stand in his life. It doesn't mean however, that it makes it any less difficult. I have thought deep and hard of what this means for me in my life..... again.

My youngest has come to me and admitted that she doesn't know how I've gone my whole life without a mother to turn to, she says she could never do it. When I see those facebook status' that talk about "post this if you have a mother that....." or people who talk about how wonderful their mother-in-law is.... it hurts. I am completely dumbfounded and ask myself why? Why in my life I didn't deserve such a basic thing? That when I have had the opportunity due to circumstances, to have a new chance at it. That in the end, it's all the same result.

I know it's a question that will never get answered and I try to love myself the way I wish that a mother would love me, and be the mother to my own children I never had... within the circumstances that is called Life.

My Evolution of Valentines Day

Valentine's Day is coming. That is clear by all of the many, many commercials, (one of which just came on as I started typing this), of flowers, cards, jewelry, dinner specials, and a myriad of other ads that businesses have incorporated all things Valentines. The pressure is on! The ads seem to imply that if you don't do what they are selling for the one you love, then you're going to let your Valentine down. For men, it can be daunting. My guy recently grunted about the upcoming holiday. Something he has never done. It's just not him. He's always made the day special and has always had a great attitude about it compared to most men. I've always found myself lucky in that regard. But this year, due to circumstances he's says he's struggling. I reminded him it's not always about the big things or things that cost money. But with all the ads of what it should be, the pressure is on. For many women it can build expectations and for those that are still single, it can be just down right depressing... even if the person that's single doesn't want to admit it. But let's be honest, most people want to be the person that is someone else's Valentine.

I dare say that men, whether they admit it or not, enjoy being on the receiving end of a Valentine just as much as women do. It's human nature to want and feel.... loved. It's a horrible feeling to not have that special someone or feel loved especially on a day that emphasizes coupledom.  Since I currently have a special someone I enjoy that fact. There's even a commercial I like that's out right now that I actually like. It says "Valentines is not about you but about 'us' as a couple. How we've grown together etc, etc." It's a different approach then what most other ads are about and I like it.

How far I've come....

My Valentine journey started out like most everyone else's journey does. In elementary school. When we got to spend time during art each day creating Valentine holders which ranged from actual boxes to huge Valentine Heart mail holders. All to receive the many Valentines that each of us would receive depending on class size. We went with our parents to select which kind we liked from the selection which ranged from Winnie the Pooh, Scooby Doo, Cinderella to Power Rangers.We'd tear out the Valentines and then carefully choose who would get what, picking out the really special one for the person in the class we had a crush on and hoped they'd notice our special effort and write our name just right on the back. Everyone got one though. It was an equal opportunity holiday. Of course the one for the teacher was usually a little larger and thus more special. Then on Valentine's Day, studies were over early and we had a party with lots of sugary goodies. Who didn't and couldn't love that?

But then we moved up to upper level grades of middle school/Jr. High and High School. Equal opportunity was over and in a big way. Schools quite often in some form or another have dances and/or flowers that they do or sell during Valentine's Day. My romance with Valentine's Day came to a sreeching halt!! It became very clear who the "who were" and the "who were nots" of the Valentine World. Guess which side I was on??  I would see the girls who would get things delivered to them during class or receiving things in the halls or things hung on their lockers, with balloons and flowers galore! These were the same girls that were carrying all their overflowing goods to each class so that us have nots could wallow in our envy and down right near black depression. My first lessons of how some people in the world can be overly blessed  and didn't even appreciate or deserve all the attention or what they got, while others who would be grateful for even just ONE thing had begun. I created my own day. It became Black Hearts Day! I drew little black heart balloons on my notes to my friends where I signed my name wishing my friends Happy Black Hearts Day; and spewed my hatred for the holiday to anyone who would listen. I was the girl that was told I was so cute or this and that, and yet never had dates or was asked out and NEVER had a single Valentine's of any sort! (We won't go down the road of the never got asked to homecoming or prom thing for now... maybe another blog).

To me those years were all about if you had someone or not, were you important to someone or not and there was nothing worse than feeling like you didn't and to have a national holiday to help point it out to you!

Unfortunately it didn't get much better when I did finally have someone because my then husband wasn't the kind of guy that got what Valentine's was all about. He got better with time and I got better about not caring. I also started to have kids that were in elementary school and I got to live through them vicariously, and therefore reminded of, the innocence of Valentines through their eyes. I would get my own little Valentine's Card from them, and would hang up all of their Valentines that they had gotten up on the door. I enjoyed making the cupcakes and sucking on the heart shaped suckers. I laughed at the saying on the little hearts again and picking them out to give to them or vise versa. The pain was healing over. It remained ok too even after I found myself once again single. It was ok. I no longer took it as a personal assault or a secret emotional abusive plan by the government to cause me pain. And as difficult as it was I also got to relive the pain of how it feels as a teenage girl to not be part of a couple or get something special or be someone special on Valentine's Day with my teenage girls. I tried to help them through it knowing how it felt the best I could, but it's just not easy no matter what generation you are.

Now I am full circle. I do have a Valentine and he is the most incredible Valentine there is. He was so worth the wait. But more importantly before him I was ok and had learned to be my best own Valentine. Everyone reaches these stages at different times and some never quite get over the painful or envious stage. And I admit, it can be rough. But what I've learned is that all of the people that I love and care about are my Valentines. Why shouldn't I celebrate all of them? Why make it about me? This year in fact, I think I might go out and buy one of those Valentine card box kits from the stores, spread them all out on my bed..... poke them out from their perforated edges and select which one I'm going to send to who. Everyone enjoys a Valentines and every one deserves one---and some may even need to get one...  So let's see.... will it be Scooby Doo or Sleeping Beauty? I don't know but I do know I'll have fun deciding and picking one out.

Happy Valentines

Pain In The Arse and other such things

I am fascinated by phrases and their meanings and origins. For instance did you know that using the expression "kick the bucket" as a way to let someone know that someone has died comes from when people were hanged? A person stood on a bucket under a tree limb to be hung and when it was time, the bucket beneath them was kicked out of the way for that person to be hung. Hence the phrase they "kicked the bucket". It makes sense and I get that. But as I lay here after surgery, not being able to lay in a comfortable position and at this very moment have construed my body to be twisted like a contortionist just so I can somehow type on my lap top on my bed (this is so that my belly is mainly lying down so that my rump is mainly up with no pressure on it) and typing this in sections when I can; I am very well aware of, and have become much more intimate with the phrase "pain in the ass".

So it's got me thinking-- what could the origin possibly be for that phrase? I mean really, you hear it all the time. "these new programs are a pain in the butt", or "your beginning to be a real pain in the rear". It's almost comical. Almost.  Did people used to walk around with pain in their kiester all the time? Maybe way back then, coccyx problems ran rampant! And if it did, well why in the heck doesn't anyone seem to be aware of the problem now? I mean people were coming from all over the country just to go to the surgeon that I went to for the exact same issue and he does about 2-3 surgeries a week for the same problem. Yet supposedly it's so rare! It's not rare. Why isn't the medical community schooled on this? The medical community is so uniformed that my surgeon is doing a study. He's already been doing it for a year or two and I am now part of that study. For the next two years I will be recontacted as to my progress post surgery of removing my coccyx. It could very well be possible that people had this condition way back when and were faced with absolutely the same problem as those that have it today, facing no alternatives because it went undiagnosed and unfixed.

I've had a pain in my ass for nearly 2 years now and I'm hoping once the surgery pain is gone, that I will once and for all only have to deal with it figuratively. But rest assured, if you are ever to hear me say, "you've really become a pain in my ass"- I mean some serious business, because after everything I've gone through, trust me, it will not be meant nicely.  Either way, no matter the origin or how you choose to say it, whether it be pain in the arse, rear, butt, can, rear end, sitter, bahakas, ass, bum, kiester, buttocks, bottom, derriere, colito, or gluteus maximus- in this area, I am now an expert.

Self-Discovery

Trials and tribulations have been the name of the game for about 10 years now in one way or another. It started with my divorce in 2000 and ended my decade with some major health crises arising in my life. Do I dare hope that a new decade may mean things might settle down and give me a little rest? Give me the break I feel I so very much deserve? To let things just be? To allow me to enjoy the good things that are there without them being complete consumed with the difficulties that surround it?

But as I wonder that I look back and contemplate. Boy did I find out about myself through that divorce, that toxic relationship that followed, through being a single mother, broke, losing everything, going back and putting myself through college to be the first to graduate from college in my family. To finally getting enough resolve to leave that toxic relationship; to starting my career and dealing with all the very difficult and stressful things that, that entailed for a while.To meeting someone that is considerably younger than myself and having the courage to stay with him because of who he is and not the number of years he's been on the planet. To the results of an ex, that is beyond bitter, on my daughters, and our relationships. To becoming ill and losing the career that I was just getting going, and losing being self-sufficient.

I've always been told, through my whole life, how strong I am. I already know that about myself. There would be no way to have gone through some of the things I've gone through my whole life without it. But it's the other things that I've discovered that has surprised me.

For instance, once upon a time while watching a couple of kids in Utah swing back and forth on a line in the sky, I commented aloud about how incredibly crazy they were and that "I would never do that". Well I did do that, twice! And not only did I do that, but it then segwayed into me deciding I wanted to skydive as well!! Which I did! I have a lot of adventure in me I discovered. I discovered through schooling how to overcome the negative voices in my head and do something anyway that I thought I couldn't do or wasn't smart enough to do. It also taught me how to accomplish a very long goal. I learned how to overcome some very tough obstacles in a work environment and show them what I am made of, and become an invaluable part of the team. A lot of people wouldn't have bothered and would have walked out the door. Through my poor health I've had to learn how to depend on others and accept help and shed the skins of what I thought I was or who I thought I was.

And now I'm planning a wedding for myself that I never in a million years thought I would be planning. Planning the one I've always wanted but thought I would never have or that I felt the Universe didn't feel I was worthy of having. First of all I never thought or most importantly wanted to get married again and then..... after 10 years, I did. But having the wedding I wanted, with all that was going on with my health, losing my job, going through my savings, even walking? But it is happening and with this upcoming surgery I'm focusing on the positive and believing it will be alright and I will be fine. So I plan the wedding of my dreams in that frame of mind. Even with planning the wedding of my dreams, I found out what that was. That too has been a self-discovery along the way. Because before now, I never thought about it.

So far it's been one hell of a trip and I'm not done yet. It's very cliche thing to write but doesn't make it less true. As with many things, self-discovery isn't a destination we take it's what we find out about ourselves on the ride along the way. It's just that for some of us, the trip is filled with more pit-stops, inclines and break downs along the way. But then it's in those moments we really find out who we are.

Day one of the beginning- What's in a word....

I can't say exactly what is making me take this step to start to write a blog right now and the truth is I'm not sure how much I'm going to really utilize it. But it's day 1 of Jan 2011 and it just feels right to start something new. So today I've set up a blog. We'll see how far this goes, if it goes at all and what I might discover. If nothing else it will help me continue to write and keep my mind sharp since writing is a major part of my 2011 determinations.

Determinations. That's what I've decided to call them this year. At one time I called them resolutions just like everyone else. Resolutions however is so commonly used and nearly completely associated with or equated to another word in my opionion. Failure. So I changed it to goals. But like resolutions, Goal too has a negative connotation to it. It's one of those things that as a motivational speaker I discovered it was one of those topics that quickly drew glazed looks as it went in one ear and out the other from its over use. It's a topic people hear about and read about endlessly. People tuned out.

I decided to practice what I preached and changed the word choice. This little trick I use and have taught to others that makes the same thing seem like something new and in this case achievable. So goal became plan. As in 'plan for the new year'. It worked on a couple of levels. As the word states, you have a plan. A plan seems easier to accomplish because it already has a plan to it. It also felt like it gave you time to accomplish it. New Years Eve Resolutions implies past. My belief is that, that is in part why people fail and fall into the 2 weeks into Jan. failure. The resolution is now done and gone and given up on. "I made that resolution on New Years EVE, that was 2 WEEKS ago. I've moved on to my winter blahs now." We are a people that look forward. No one wants to work on something that resides in the past. So... 'plan for the new YEAR' means future. Also including the word new, helps imply fresh start, clean slate, new beginnings.

Now I've moved onto "determinations". This new word for me describes itself perfectly once again. This is not just a blase thing I want to do. This is not something I have casually thought about or have repeated talked about. This is something I am DETERMINED to accomplish and do. This means I mean business now. This means, this time is different.

So what's in a word? I guess I'll see but I'm determined to find out.