Tag Archives: memories

A Simple & Good Man: 5th Would-Be Wedding Anniversary

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“A widow doesn’t move on; she moves forward”. I read that on a blog that I follow. I can’t agree with it more.

My brother and I had a long conversation on Monday. He talked about 2010 when he lived with me. It was a tough time in his life as he was having some mental health issues. This happened at the same time that Paul and I’s relationship began. He told me about a couple talks that Paul and him had had together. He told me of a conversation from 2014…the last year Paul was alive and the year that my brother began to finally be on the mend. Paul had told him that he has finally gotten to “know the brother that Jessica told me about” because all those years ago, I told Paul over and over “this isn’t my brother. This is an impostor” when my brother was going through the most challenging times of his life. He told me that Paul told him that he was his brother. Jon told me about how much Paul’s words meant to him because to him he was like our Papa (who passed in 2009)–“he was a simple and good man. A man a few words”. Our Papa was my brother’s role model and he loved him dearly as did I so this was a great compliment and it made me weep.

My brother went on to ask me if I had any animosity towards him for the terrible things that he had done in the past. I quickly replied ‘no’ and he insisted that I be honest. I went on to elaborate on how I feel about the whole situation. I love my brother. We have a very special relationship. And I hold nothing against him for what he did when he wasn’t in his right mind. And how Paul reacted to the situation with my brother made me fall even more in love with him. He was the calm and the rock in my life. Even though he didn’t understand, he was tolerant and didn’t judge. So I don’t feel that my brother took anything away from our relationship–on the contrary, what was going on at the time acted as a catalyst in our relationship. It sped it along even more so–in hindsight, this was a good thing given that we would only have a handful of years together.

A co-worker of mine that has become a friend over the last year or so had tears in her eyes when I told her about what my brother had said about Paul. She went on to tell me how incredibly strong I am; that I’ve been through so much and yet I’m an accomplished and a sweet person.

I’ve thought on this. In the moment, I was taken aback. I’ve heard these words before from various people; especially since Paul has passed. I never know what to say or how to feel. I don’t really think of myself as any sort of extraordinary or a particularly strong person. I don’t think of myself as courageous. What I do think of myself is that I’m a person of perseverance. I’d like to say (and probably have said) that I take my life a day at a time but anyone who knows me knows that that isn’t exactly true. I don’t really like to leave things to chance and spontaneity gives me anxiety. I’m very much a planner. I like to, or rather have a habit of, obsessing about what I want to do, what I need to do and how I will accomplish that goal to my most perfect outcome. Although over the years, I’ve definitely learned that life isn’t quite that simple. Since Paul has passed, I’ve tried my best to incorporate a part of his soul into myself and into my every day life. I jump hurdles as they come and I try to enjoy my life each day.

It doesn’t do much good to be defeated. Actually it does you no good at all to be a defeatist. I have met these types and I’m related to these types. And I refuse to be a victim. Even in the face of tragedy, I refuse to be defeated. There’s something that you can take away from each and every situation that you come into contact with–I truly believe that. A few examples:

My dad disowned me several times: You have to accept people for who and what they are. You can’t hang your hopes on what you think a person should or could be. You should always ‘consider the source’ when you are met with statements that are crushing.

I was sexually abused: I have been able to achieve forgiveness and to let bitterness go.

My high school bf broke my heart: The value of family was reinforced when my brother drove to see me every day after work for a long while. I learned that heated words and passion do not equate love like it does in the movies.

My relationship after that: It is sometimes better to be alone. In fact, it’s absolutely necessary to have solitude; to discover who you are separate from another human being. You should always follow your instincts. And if your family does not like your partner, you should heed that as a huge warning.

My brother had a emotional breakdown in my home; We almost lost him: Each person is definitely fighting a battle that you have no clue about. What it looks like to you and what it truly is are two very different things. Sometimes it takes a lot of time, patience, therapy and relapses before you can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I love my brother more than words could ever express and hold no ill feeling towards him.

I was paralyzed by this obscene amount of weight that I’d accumulated over a lifetime: The lessons learned here are never ending. You are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. It isn’t selfish to put your needs before the needs/wants of others. You deserve to be healthy. Being fat is hard. I deserve to live a life that I’m proud of. Fucking dance even though you look ridiculous.

The man that changed it all for me died on the night of my gastric bypass surgery: Again, so many things. To experience true love, no matter the length of time, is priceless. Terrible things happen for absolutely no reason. You are capable of anything. The bitter makes the sweet sweeter. Love as though you’ve never experienced pain. Say what you mean; mean what you say. True colors are shown amidst the times of tragedy.

My BFF of over 20 years quit me: The loss of a true friendship is just as painful as the death of your husband. People experience grief in their own manner. You can’t make someone love you. I deserve to have a friendship that does not make me question my worth. Just because a friendship ends doesn’t mean that the friendship didn’t happen; it had a purpose.

Skin removal surgery: They say your body is your temple; well you feel free to jazz that temple up. I’ve worked very hard to lose over 180 lbs and I have no guilt over the vanity that is perceived in me having my skin taken off. I fucking love not feeling the need to HAVE TO HAVE a bra on at all times. Working towards having an equilibrium between the inside and outside.

Well I surely went off on a tangent there…ultimately to come to this: Life is what you make it. I’m always working towards making mine great.


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Today was our Would-Be 5th anniversary. This one was a hard one; what the hell am I saying? They all are hard ones. Paul and I dreamed together out loud. It is something that I loved about our relationship. And our 5th wedding anniversary was going to be epic. We were going to go to Ireland–after all, we were married on St. Patrick’s Day.

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Last night I couldn’t sleep. I was too much in my own mind. I ended up dragging my wedding gown out. At first I just opened the bag and looked upon it but then I wanted to wear it. I decided I was going to take a picture with Paul. I put the dress on…I didn’t even have to unzip what used to be a fitted bodice. Even though I had to hold it up, I still felt like a beautiful cake topper. I thought about how I happened upon my  $1800 valued ‘Craigslist Killer Dress” that I paid $300 for (including the can-can, a bustier and a black dress).

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We made a Wedding Ceremony Wine Box. Inside this box was our favorite bottle of wine (Tres Suenos Anniversary Red), 2 wine glasses and letters to one another. My sister decorated the inside of the box with childhood pictures of us, our Save-the Date card and a picture of my grandparents on their wedding day. My friend and our Officiant said beautiful words about the box on our wedding day. In the letters, we told one another why we were marrying them.  If ever there came a time that it all became too much and we thought we may separate, we would open the box, drink the wine and read the letters. If that time didn’t come then on our 5th wedding anniversary, we would open the box and enjoy the wine and letters together. {We wrote letters to one another on our first anniversary and I wrote one on our second. But he never did.}

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Today I went to the lake where we were married. I opened the box in the very spot where we closed it together 5 years before. The wind was blowing intensely just as it had on our wedding day. The water wasn’t as high as it was 5 years ago but I could still hear the sounds of the lake as I sat reading the letters and sipping the red wine. My letters were all several pages; his several sentences. I cried as I read the line “I love you more than you will ever know!!!!” and “I’ll continue to give you all that I have”. I held the letter to my chest, took a deep breath and felt the tears land on my fingers. In my letter, I talked about all the things that I adored about him and the things that were going on in our lives and about the things I was most proud of at the time. I stood in the same spot that I stood 5 years ago and I listened to Train’s “Marry Me” which was the song that I was supposed to walk down the aisle to but Paul forgot the stereo. Then I closed my eyes as I listened to Blake Shelton’s “God Gave Me You” which was the song that played during our first dance.

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After that, I packed it all up and met up with one of my girlfriends for pedis and lunch. She was frustrated as she told me that her husband and her had just gotten into a full on argument. I thought to myself “I wish I could fight with Paul about money”. I listened to her intently as she told me about their spat. Paul and I had had these types of quarrels as well. And I acted much as she did in this situation so I absolutely knew where she was coming from. My unsolicited advice that I gave to her was that there was a compromise in there. There isn’t sense in being so strict with finances that it makes you unhappy even if the end result of financial independence is within arm’s reach because…tomorrow is not promised.

I’ve said many times that I don’t have too many regrets about my life with Paul but the one that I do have is in regards to my rigidness. I wish I had been softer with our finances and allowed for more spontaneity in our everyday lives. I do that now as a result. Life is meant to be lived. Everything in life is about balance. When you find that balance you find harmony and with harmony, you find happiness. That’s what it is all about.

Tonight I had planned to have pizza and drinks with Lisa and our friends but I cancelled. As much as I wanted to be this rock of stability…the poster child of triumph over grief…I wasn’t. What have I done? I’ve put on Paul’s shirt, the necklace that has the 2 pendants that he gave me over the years and his wedding band, my wedding set and bands. I’ve sat on the couch and wandered in and out of thought. I’ve cried a lot. I’ve used my yoga breathing to try to find my center. But mostly, I’ve just thought on how much I miss that goofy guy. I thought about how much I wish he was here. I’ve thought about how much it hurts and how the pain has not seemed to change in these types of moments.

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Please hug your loved ones extra tight tonight. Tell them you love them and mean it. Think beyond your own selfish wants and needs. Think more on the needs of your partner. Find balance in meeting their needs and satisfying your own. But, above all, make this day count.

Love,

Jess

Post-Op Day 6: It’s All So Tight!!

Surgery day has come and gone. My mom, Lisa and one of my bestest gal pals were all there to send me to surgery. I didn’t sleep much the night before but I was still bright eyed and ready to go!

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The pre-op nurse stuck me twice before a second nurse got me on her first try. My vital signs were withing normal limits but I was sweaty as the nerves took over–especially under my belly and I thought about how this will no longer be an issue. The nurse read a clause of my living will and complemented me on it. My doctor came in and we discussed additional questions the he marked my body.

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Pre Op Lower Body Lift 11/10/16: surgeons marks. On my LLQ he wrote “BYE”

Hugs and kisses right before they took me back and 8 hours later, I woke up in my hospital room with my mom and Lisa by side. The evening went well with moderate pain. They discontinued my foley quickly and getting up the first time was a struggle but I did it with minimal assistance. I was able to walk around the floor. I wasn’t too hungry but did eat a smidgen before bedtime.

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Successfully got myself back into bed!

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The most difficult part came when Lisa had to go. I was so emotional. I just had this rush of feelings that came over me and I couldn’t control them.  I cried and I cried hard. It’s fuzzy but I just kept telling her that I don’t want her to go as Lisa and mom tried to comfort me.  And I ‘knew’ that everything was okay but I just had this collision of feelings processing the surgery day and the surgery day that happened 2 years prior…when I never saw Paul again. I was so afraid that I wouldn’t see Lisa again. Mom eventually just had to tell Lisa to go. And shortly after she left, I was able to calm down and Mom and I chatted all night long.

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First look at my incision

The next morning my surgeon was prompt to come by to check on me. He took down all of my dressings and told me how great everything looked. I looked down and was like “holy hell! I can see my vagina!” The oncoming nurse was there and congratulated me and was excited with me. It was such an emotional moment!

Over the weekend, Lisa took AMAZING care of me. She kept up with all of my meds, emptied my drains, moved the couch so she could sleep next to me, etc. I can’t say enough good things about her.

Everything is soooooo tight! The drains are uncomfortable. I am wearing an abdominal binder and everything itches! My surgeon forewarned me that I wouldn’t be able to walk completely upright for awhile and boy was he right!! I’m really glad that I rented a recliner and that I have lots of pillows because positioning is key!

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I’m lucky to have had my two nurse buddies come by to help Lisa and I with showers. Showering is quite the work out, even with two people helping you. Seeing myself in the mirror this time was not as traumatic as my previous surgery. I had definitely prepared myself for it. It was really odd seeing myself in the mirror. There I stood…no udder. Ive never been able to see my belly button and now…I have a belly button!! Overall, it was exciting and I didn’t cry.

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Sleeping is an issue right now and it isn’t just one thing. It is a combination: I’m in pain, uncomfortable and emotional. At this point, I’m able to do almost everything for myself except for showering and picking stuff up. So I’m hoping to not HAVE to have a overnight sitter by the end of the week. I’m working on building up my endurance, standing more upright and pain management.

Tomorrow is my 1 week post op appointment and I am really hoping to get at least one of my JP drains out.

Give Up Perfection: Some Tips for Success

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I was cleaning out for a garage sale and came across my ‘fat pants’. I can literally fit in one leg of these pants!!! Size 26/28 vs size 8

Perfection. Is there such a thing? Can a person be perfect? The answer is no. So why do we constantly set goals for perfection? As women in American culture, this is ingrained from an early age. We tend to think in absolutes. Being good; being bad. On the wagon; off the wagon. Success; failure. I’m on my own journey to try to reprogram myself and I hope to inspire others to reprogram as well.

I’ve had a few very frank conversations with women who are struggling with their weight, body image issues and/or have had weight loss surgery. I’m always delighted when someone seeks me for advice and inspiration. It’s humbling and fulfilling. The thought process that is echoed in every conversation is perfection. “I was bad” “I need to get it together” “I’ll be happier if I could just get to such&such weight”. But ladies, this is what we have to work towards changing.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am 100% guilty of all of the above. I have made all of these statements. I can’t recall if I’ve shared this with y’all before but one of the most eye opening conversations that I had was recently with a friend. We were talking about weight loss goals. I had mentioned that a co-worker had an ‘ideal figure’ and eluded that I’d be ‘happy’ if I could look that way. We called her over and asked her to share her height and weight. I am literally the SAME height. I weigh within 2 lbs of her and I wear the same size jeans. What the hell? So I had created this image of what I was trying to attain and I couldn’t even really see my own success. That was an eye opener for me.

The above interaction made me really think. I’ve always joked that I’m a perfectionist. I am in some sorts and it fares me well in my work and such things. But it doesn’t fare me well for my health, body image and overall happiness.

A friend recently was venting to me about her dissatisfaction with her weight loss. She had told me her weight loss and it was truly amazing and something to be proud of in my eyes. I inquired as to why she was dissatisfied. Her response was that ‘others were losing more than her’ and that she ‘hadn’t been as good as she could be’. And here lies the pitfall.

I’ve been here; I’m still here as a working progress. We should not compare our success to others. There will always be someone who surpasses you; there will always be someone who trails you. You have to place SUCCESS where it needs to be. You have to define it by your own standards; not by the success/failure of others. If we constantly are reaching for perfection as we see it on someone else or a perfection/success we have created, we will ALWAYS fall short. Every. Time.

How many times have you ‘fallen off the wagon’? I know I have probably a thousand times. This wagon puts us in this constant cycle–up down up down. Yo-Yo. And each time you have a down, you beat yourself up. We all do this in different ways but I guarantee that if you struggle with your weight like I have that you are NOT kind to yourself. You tell yourself all kinds of negative things and this just adds to the cycle.

I can remember so many diets. It seems I’ve been on a diet for forever. My weight has literally been on my mind from wake to sleep since I was probably about 12 years old. I’d get these plans in my mind about how I was going to get back on track TOMORROW. I was going to eat right, exercise hard core, no junk food. Tomorrow would come, maybe I’d eat really good all day and then night fall would come and I would binge. Then I’d feel awful. I’d beat myself up and label myself as a failure. THEN I’d eat even worse because now I was off my diet. And so the crazy cycle continued. Continued right on up to 341 lbs.

How do we fix this? How do we fix ourselves? I say–be kind. Be kind to yourself. Ditch the diet. Forgive yourself. Find happiness outside of food. These are my tips for success.

Be Kind. Only say things to yourself that you would say to others. So many times I have looked at myself with disgust and mentally bashed myself. But I wouldn’t DARE say these things to another person. What I practice now is some self love. Even when I feel fat or bloated, I find something positive. That’s the day I’ll put a lil extra make up on. Something to help me feel ‘prettier’.

Ditch the diet.  Do I mean pig out? Heck no. It’s all about balance. How did you get those extra pounds? You were out of balance. You have heard this time and time again: moderation is the key–you must make a lifestyle change. And it is 100% true. We all want a magic pill that allows us to get the model figure over night and allows us to eat whatever the fuck we want. But that’s not reality. Whatever you decide to do to get healthy or lose weight has to be something that you can do forever. Think of it this way, if you starve yourself for the next couple weeks and drop a few pounds…the weeks following you’re going to eat and gain it back. It’s just the way it works. Calories in/calories out. I could write a whole blog over nutrition but how boring is that? My best advice for nutrition–keep it simple. Eat whole foods. Eat less junk. And if you have the junk, make it small and make it infrequent.

Forgive Yourself. You better believe this is important. Don’t beat yourself up. What good will that do? Not a damn bit. Okay…so you ate a whole box of cookies. It happens. Let it go. If you can, think on why you did it. What were you feeling? But more importantly, think about how eating that box of cookies made you feel and commit that to memory then move on. That next meal, you own it. Don’t harp on the ‘I was so bad’ thing. That isn’t going to get you anywhere. I love my sweets and if/when I overindulge I think about it afterwards now. Like ‘damn. I just ate that whole bag of Milanos over the course of one day. Now my belly hurts. Why did I do that? I was bored. Dang I really don’t like how my body feels right now and those cookies aren’t helping me reach my goals.’ Then you know what I do? I move on. If there are cookies left, I pitch them. Yep. Throw it out. That’s what I do. The next meal/snack I try to eat towards my goal (or rather towards my why).

Find Happiness Outside of Food. This is the big one. Live your life. Find what really gives you joy and do it. Don’t wait until you’re the perfect size. The perfect weight. That day won’t ever come. We are imperfect people and we are constantly changing. Shit happens. Don’t wait to live you life based on what you think the future you should look like or weigh. Most of us women eat emotionally, bored-happy-sad-lonely-mad-etc. We have to find things/activities to fill these voids. Find your void filler. Also, find and surround yourself with people that bring the best of you out. The people that don’t make you question yourself. The people who inspire you. Those people are a crucial key to lasting success. You are who you surround yourself with. I truly believe that.

Yes, I had bariatric surgery to get my excess weight off but I did the work. I’ve changed my life but more importantly, I’ve changed my outlook on life. I don’t wait for later. I try to live in the now. I want to be the best me possible but I accept that the best me will not be perfect. I’m currently still working on all of these things. It’s a daily practice. It doesn’t come naturally. It’s something I have to work at. But I can tell you this…this me is the most fulfilled I’ve ever been and it feels amazing!

Go do something outside your comfort zone today. Get active. Live your life! Love you all,

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Lisa makes me happy. She lifts me up. She helps inspire me to stay healthy.
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Vodka Trot 2016. Big first for me. I’ve never worn short shorts like this out in public because my legs are not ‘perfection’ but I did. And I had a blast and I wasn’t worried about what others thought of me!
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Lisa and her sister, Tasha, encouraged me to get up and dance with this small group of women at this big event. The old me would not have done this. It was so fun and freeing!
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Don’t be afraid to be silly. :)

 

How I Cope with Being Dumped

Betrayal. Hurt. Loss. Relationships. Sisters. These are all terms that come to mind when I think of two significant people in my life. I’ve been silent about it thinking that I didn’t want to put into forever ink what I couldn’t take back and what might hurt the possible future I might have with these two wonderful women. Although, now I think that this is a blog I need to write as it weighs heavily on my mind and my heart. I am certain that there are other widows out there who have experienced these same things, unfortunately.

I wrote recently about a renewed hope that I had in a lost friendship. I was vague about the details as I don’t know who, if anyone, in her circle reads my blogs. I didn’t want to add pressure to a very new beginning and weak foundation. I feel now though that I want to disclose what has transpired, how I’ve been impacted and how I’m coping. I think the loss of a friendship of our calibur is significant. I have had to grieve a long side grieving for my husband. It has been unimaginably difficult and there is not a clear cut way of how to handle it.

Those who are closest to me know that my best friend of more than 20 years broke up with me less than 2 months after my Paul took his last breath. To add insult to injury, she did not give me any reason other than she didn’t want to speak to me. To say I was devastated is a gross understatement. I do not have the vocabulary to accurately describe the amount of pain this brought me. I can not begin to tell you what it does to a person to lose two of the most solid pillars of their life in the matter of 2 months. The only way I can begin to explain is to first tell you how important she was to me and how close she was to my husband. Paullium is what she called him; Ab-zilla is what he called her. He considered her his sister and his mother was thankful that her only child got to experience the love of a sibling as he had found it in her. When her parents turned their back on her and she was leaving her toxic marriage, Paul did not question me for a second when I asked if she could move in with us. Her and her two young girls lived with us for months in our mediocre 1100 square foot home. There were many evenings that we shared as a ‘family’. Those girls were like our children. They loved their Paulie. And when they got their own apartment, we enjoyed times together there as well. We liked to Jingle Jammie shop at Old Navy and have pj evenings. The girls loved to have ice cream just like Paulie. The marshmallow gun fight we had just that one evening is a memory I won’t ever forget. That last year Paul was here, we had a lot going on in our lives as did she. She wasn’t around as much. She worked a lot. Paul constantly invited her over and asked me if I thought he did anything wrong. He missed our times together. So did I. He still loved her dearly.

The night he died. She was my first call. The night was a blur but I remember her arriving promptly at our newly built home (we’d only owned it for 4 months). I remember her face as she looked at me, as  she stayed strong for me and she comforted me. And when the funeral home people arrived, she took me in her car and drove around while they took his lifeless body. She slept with me that night and for I don’t know how many nights after that. She went to the funeral home the next day to make arrangements and sat in that room with me with my mom, his mom and his grandmother as we made arrangements that I wasn’t prepared to make. She was there as I made the decision to cremate him against his family’s wishes. And as I cried copious amounts of tears that night, she stroked my hair. She wrote his obituary. She stood by my side. She was everything I didn’t even know that I needed. Paul and I were supposed to go on this family trip around New Year’s that year. The tickets were already bought. And she took his place and we went to Florida to meet up with his family. I’ll never forget that trip. She was deathly afraid of rollercoasters but she got on them with me. We met up with a friend at Cocoa Beach, we all drank wine and spread some of his ashes. We were planning to get tattoos in his honor on her birthday (NYE) but in a terrible turn of events I wasn’t able to go–my car blew up, Mollie ate a bag of Dove chocolate which landed her in the puppy ICU. I spent that first NYE without my Paul, by myself, in our house and I cried all night. She got that tattoo. I was so upset with her. But I had already started to develop this new life’s motto to live as if it’s your last…and I texted her the next day to tell her I was upset about that night but I wanted to let it go.

My life, again, was never the same. I’ll never forget being at I-240 & S Sante Fe at a red stop light. It was January 3, 2015. I had called her twice. She never answered. I told her I wanted to see her, to bring the girls their Christmas gifts, to bring her birthday gifts and to show her my brand new car. She told me she was busy. I told her I’d come to wherever she was. She told me that she didn’t want to talk to me. I asked her for how long. She told me that she didn’t know. In true dramatic girl fashion, I asked ‘ever?’ and she responded ‘maybe’. That was the longest red light ever. And I could have sworn I felt my heart literally break all over again. I would go months before she gave me any inkling as to why she never spoke to me again.

After 20 years of friendship, we have seen our fair share of fights, ups/downs, good times, better times and everything that lies between so I just KNEW that this would blow over. No way my best friend was no longer my bff. I can’t even tell you how many hours I spent analyzing what went wrong, what I did and trying to figure how to fix it. I was going to counseling twice a week at this time and I’m thankful for that. Had I not already been in grief counseling, I swear that my mom would have had to commit me. My therapist assured me that it would pass and to focus on what I could control–and those were my actions and reactions. I tried really hard not to hound her. I tried not to be my typical self. I’m the person who will work at something, rearrange it over and over until it’s unrecognizable. You know the type. So I just sent her periodic messages. Funny memes. Sweet texts. No response.

It wasn’t until months later when she would text me to ask about a blow up mattress that I would get a response as to what happened. In short, she didn’t feel that she could be the friend I needed, that she couldn’t be a friend to me. She told me that she would never be able to talk about a break up with a boyfriend or such…because any ‘bad’ thing that would happen to her would never compare to my loss. She told me that she was resentful of me…that she thought I lied about my dog being in the hospital and that something I said upset her. I said something to the extent of ‘this is the worst day ever’ and that that wasn’t true because Paul died. I tried to reason with her. To tell her that I loved her. To tell her that I would never compare losses. That I don’t think that way. That I was better now and that she didn’t have to hold me up like she did within that first month that he died. That I was in therapy and I was doing better. She ultimately told me that we grieve in different ways…that basically I bathe in his memory and she wants to push it out and forget it.

I have reached out to her since periodically. I’ve tried many different ways of ‘getting over’ this. I’ve tried letting her go, cold turkey. Tried to just not think of her. That just didn’t work for me. I tried to ‘get it right’ in my mind. To try to accept ‘it is what it is’. I tried to be calm and let it just be. Never to text her. Okay…maybe just a couple texts. Share just a picture.Nothing has really ‘worked’ for me. Well intentioned friends and family have given me their wisdom “you’re better off without her” “just focus on your positive relationships” “she’ll come around” “it’ll blow over”. I try to put her out of my mind but I just feel like there’s this missing piece. Like it’s incomplete. I’ve gotten better though. I’d say for about the first 9+ months, I literally had to tell myself ‘no, Jessica. She doesn’t care’ every time something happened that I wanted to tell her. It was like unlearning a habit. It’s gotten better. I still feel compelled to reach out to her but most often stop myself. Such wasn’t the case of the 4th of July this year when I reached out to her with a memory. That day was amazing. I had hope for the first time within a year and a half. And she told me she wanted to talk. And we did, text, for the next few days and it was so great. We planned to meet but that day came and she cancelled at the last minute. The messages stopped. I felt like a girl that belonged in that movie ‘He’s Just Not that in to You”. I tried to resist but after several days, I texted her. She just told me that she hadn’t intended to ignore me and life was busy.

I was crushed. Again. Lisa and I had a long talk that evening. She told me I had to stop. I had to stop reaching out to her. That I needed to see what she was saying…and all her actions are saying that she just doesn’t care..at least not right now. And she said those words “she just doesn’t want or can’t be your friend”. And I was overwhelmed with emotion…I was heart-broken. I was embarrassed. I was sad. And the next day I downloaded self-help books trying to reach at something to help me find myself some peace.

That was almost 3 weeks ago. And still, I didn’t get it. Not until last week. When I had a terrible accident. I don’t even know why I did it; maybe I was trying to tug at some type of heart string…look for some glimmer of love…but I texted her a photo of my wreck. She texted back and did ask if I was okay. And the next day, I got it. Exactly what Lisa said “she just doesn’t want to be your friend”. She isn’t a bad person. I hope I haven’t painted her in a negative light. She’s just a person. And I can only speculate as to what exactly happened. I don’t know. I probably never will and I’m learning to be okay with that. My dearest friend Kati, my calm sense of reason, gave me the best analogy about wounds and experiences. I wouldn’t do it justice by trying to reiterate her words but the jist of it is that she was a huge part of my life and who I am. We had some AMAZING memories and times together that have forever changed my life. And I’m going to get to that point when I think of her or of a memory and I feel that pull at my heart that I will think ‘yep, it hurts because it was that good’. I’m trying to think of her kinda like when I think of Paul…like when I cry and my heart quite literally aches; I KNOW that it is because our love was something special, something truly great and that it made my heart bigger. It’s amazing to me but I am not bitter. Not even a little bit. My therapist asked me earlier last year to think about how I would feel if she came back a year later and if I’d be bitter. And I’m not. I’m happy I experienced a love like ours; a friendship like ours. I’m a better person for having had her in my life. And I think to myself, I’ll always keep my same cell number. Ya know, just in case she ever wants to reach out to me. I’ll still be here. And I want to get to that point. Like those friends you don’t see or talk to ever but then you do and you catch up a little and it makes you smile. That’s what I’d love to have one day.

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I had a rear tire blow out on the highway going 78mph. I lost complete control and crash HEAD ON into the center cement barrier. Luckily, I was okay and no one else was involved.

Just recently I experienced another unexpected blow. My baby sister unfriended me on Facebook. No blow up; no reasoning. She merely responded to my voicemail “I do not wish to speak to you. I need space from this family.” Enraged. Crushed. Perplexed. All of the above. I still am pretty clueless as to what is and has happened. She has been one of those that haven’t had the best outcome from Paul’s death. Not that there’s a great one but I’d say she hasn’t probably coped in the most healthy and effective manners. She, too, was by my side when Paul passed. She was stern and tight lipped. I knew what he meant to her. Our Papa was her everything. He was her idol and her beacon as to what a good man is. We lost him in 2009 and Jamie was understandably crushed. When Paul entered our lives in 2010, they were instant buddies. Paul had that way about him and he accepted her completely. She was his family. She looked up to him and they had a wonderful, quirky banter between them. It delighted my soul to see my sister happy and to love this man that I loved so dearly. I’d say my sister comes by many of her mannerisms quite honestly from our grandmother. She keeps it in and holds her head tall. She is unbelievably stubborn but has a heart of gold. I didn’t see her shed many tears for Paul; although, I knew that on the inside that she was shattered. In the midst of my grief, I was not able to be a big sister to her and to try to console her and encourage her to seek help and that the stuff you build inside eats at you until it finds its way out. She has said a couple times over the last year or so that I didn’t understand what she lost and while I did offer my ear to her, she never took me up on that. I have felt her pull away and I have given her her space thinking that she would find her way in time. And I was crushed on a recent sister date that I thought was going swimmingly, when she told me I was a shitty sister. Basically that I wasn’t there. I tried to explain to her that I was always there even if I wasn’t up her butt. My words didn’t hold much meaning with her and I sat there and listened as she expressed her discontent with our family. I tried to tell her what family meant to me and that her family loved her dearly but it fell on deaf ears. After I received the response from her that she didn’t want to speak to me, I reached out to her fiance. I pleaded with him to help my sister…to guide her…to help her find happiness. I was not accusatory. I felt like I was really at his mercy but I was not greeted with kindness in return as his reply was as follows:

 

You still don't get it after all this time. When Paul died he left very big shoes to be filled in everyone's lives. He didn't text once a week asking how are you, he texted saying come over or im coming to get you twice a week at least. When he said im here for you, he listened, he didn't put in his opinion or judge or say how it should have been done. When he said his door was open he made sure it was physically open when we got there. He never said maybe we should see a therapist. he never said she's not the same girl, he just learned how to love the new one. He never said she wasnt ok, he just showed up to lend a ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on. And he DEFINITELY never said this is not my sister. Im not saying your a terrible sister, but you have not even come close to what she lost when she lost Paul.Sorry to be so blunt but if you deny any of this just know, that's why you two aren't close anymore

I didn’t say anything; although, my first reaction was ‘SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH’. I held my tongue. I love her. I want the best for her. Even if it’s sitting on the sidelines until she tags me in. Saving my patience for when she comes back. I hope she comes back. I’ll still be here. And when that time comes, we will sit down and have a conversation about Paul. About what he meant to both of us. That his death is not some type of competition. His death is a reason to pull closer and not a reason to cause any type of rift between anyone; especially, not between us. It is never acceptable to use Paul’s death as a reason to shun me. His life is not one to put against mine. His integrity, actions, heart are not ones to place head to head and toe to toe next to my own. He was my partner. He was my husband. He was her brother. He was her friend. They are not to be compared. I have not made that abundantly clear to her in past times because I’ve walked on eggshells trying not to upset her. I have done her a disservice by allowing these actions/thoughts/behaviors to continue. This is a situation where I should have stood strong and voiced my thoughts even if it meant she got angry with me and cut me out of her life. Because now I see that she has done that regardless. Nevertheless, family is family. Our family is amazing. I have seen them pull through some difficult times together. I’ve seen us support each other. Cry with one another. Laugh with one another. I have faith in my family. I’m proud of my family. I’m confident that she will pull through whatever it is that she is going through and find her way back. We will be here when she does because THAT is the kind of family that we are.

What has been amazing to me since the loss of Paul is the reaction of others. You never really realize the impact that one life has on so very many until you lose them. I knew the very night that I lost him that many would be saddened by this, devastated even. What I didn’t realize was that history would be rewritten in the minds of some loved ones left behind, relationships would be destroyed and lives would be changed for the seemingly worse. It was naive of me to think that everyone would walk away with this realization that life is fucking short–that you should seize this day–that you should never let a loved one know anything contrary to how you  truly feel about them–to love more and hate less. Sure I know about grief–as a nurse, as a grandparent-less grandchild, as a widow–that it is personal and that it is different for each of us. I know that rationally. And this is the main reason that I have given slack and understanding to those who have given me less than love and empathy throughout my loss–when others looking in have said “what the fuck is wrong with them? How can they treat you this way?” I’ve tried my best to respond with kindness and understanding. I’ve tried to remain peaceful and of the right mind. To hope that they will move past this and find peace of their own. I have kept hope that time heals all wounds and surely when that occurs they will come back to me, we will embrace and all will be forgiven. That is what has been transpiring in my mind, the rational side. In my heart though, on the inside where all is raw–I’m a bundle of nerves. Constantly on high alert.  I constantly think 3-5 steps ahead. I’m conscientious of what I may say and how that may impact others. Just as with this blog. I started it on the premise that I would be honest and truthful. And I have been. But I’ve also filtered. Not because what I think and feel is wrong but because of how others might feel. Because of how it may impact them. Because maybe 5 years from now my former bff will change her mind and decide she loves me and wants to be in my life so I must guard what I say as to not hurt the chance of the slim possibility. I was describing how it feels to be on guard of a ‘what could be’ relationship to Lisa’s 16 year old. And as the words just fumbled out of my mouth, I realized how ridiculous it sounded. She was not confused by what I was trying to say though. She got it because she, too, unfortunately, battles with extreme anxiety. She very calmly and plainly said ‘that is hard. But sometimes, even though it’s hard, you have to just put yourself first. To do what’s best for you. And you know what? We will be there for you. Because we love you”. Wow, right? Wow. I love that kid. She is 100% right. And that is exactly what I am working on doing. Practicing what I preach

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On the left: my FIRST day as an RN 2013 On the right: 2016

 

As always, guys: live for today. Love everyday. Hug those you love. And be sure to tell them exactly what they mean to you.

 

The First ‘I love you’. The Fourth. Rekindling an Old Friendship.

Six years ago, Paul told me that he loved me. It was after dating just a few weeks. It was the sweetest moment I had ever experienced in my life. It happened while lying in his bed. He was so nervous. And he told me in the form of a question “What if I told you that I loved you?”He had stolen my heart many times and long before this moment.

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This has been an amazing weekend. I got my guest bedroom put together. I had started this in preparation of my sister and niece coming down but they weren’t able to make it. It was a trying experience as I had never installed a ceiling fan nor put together large furniture before. I had a moment of a pity party as I wanted to get my ceiling fan installed but was having a trying time getting someone/anyone to help me. My thoughts…”Paul should be here to do this” “My girlfriend’s back is out” “My husband is dead and I have no one to help”. But then…in the moment that these thoughts flooded my mind, I paused Netflix and retrieved the ceiling fan box. I told myself…”You can do this” and about an hour and a half later I had installed it. I felt so accomplished in so many ways. I finished the room the next day and my brother told me he was coming into town! I was elated! So this fourth of July weekend has been amazing. Filled with family and good times.

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Put together this room myself. Working on my independence!

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Family Time. Group Picture: Fourth of July breakfast Mom and I for her birthday celebration at a comedy club
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Lisa and I on the 4th: 2015 vs 2016

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This morning, I was checking my memories as I do each morning and there was a post from my long time former friend and, suddenly, I missed her terribly. I’ve written very briefly about her. I don’t feel the need to go into detail about what has transpired but I will say after a 20+ year friendship, the death of Paul and an accumulation of events, she decided she couldn’t be my friend any longer in January 2015. To say I was heart broken would be a grave understatement. My world was shattered and then shattered again. I had no idea how to cope. I’ve truly struggled with the loss of my friend for the last 18 months. I have messaged her periodically to let her know that I still think of her and love her. Although, I had resolved over the last few months to let her be; to let it rest. But the memory popped up and the emotions that I had were over powering. I just had to say something. So I did. I let screen-shotted the memory and sent it to her. I let her know that I wished her well and missed and loved her. To my pleasant surprise, she responded. I won’t go in detail regarding the correspondence but I will just say that I was thankful for the correspondence nonetheless. After 18 months, she told me that she would like to continue to talk. Omg. I had to reread that line about 5 times because I truly never thought I’d see that response. I can’t even describe to you what kind of emotion and joy this brought to me. I read these words while surrounded by my brother, Lauren, their dear friend and Lisa. And I couldn’t be any happier than I was in this very moment.

Last year, I talked about this moment several times with my therapist. About if there would be bitterness or resentment if there ever came a time when she would reenter my world. Although, I was convinced the time would never come, my therapist made me talk about it. I’m thankful to her right now. As I was able to speak about this months and months ago. So, I suppose somewhere in my mind it had laid dormant. I’m not bitter. I’m a little sad that so much time has passed; that I’ve missed her moments; that I’ve missed watching her girls grow over this time; and that she’s missed some pivotal moments in my life. But above all, I’m thankful.

I reflected aloud to my brother and family today…that although I would never have made the choice to not have her in my life, I recognize that in her absence I’ve also grown and probably in ways that I would not have had she been a constant in my world. My mom told me this week “Jessica, you have changed. You are not the same person you were.” And although it was not in the context of my relationship with friend, it still applies. I am different. I recognize this about myself and my life. I have grown in ways that are inconceivable. In ways that I never would have dreamed possible. In ways I never would have thought to desire. All this aside, I’m thankful for the growth. And much like with all the wonderful, unexpected surprises of my life, I welcome it.

When I speak to others about my weight loss journey, it is often that I’m asked if I was unhappy. My response is that I wasn’t aware that I was unhappy. I wasn’t aware that I was controlled so vastly by my obesity. Much like that, I wasn’t aware that there were aspects of my personality that had such a substantial impact upon my relationships, friendships and own self worth until they changed. The old me could very well have held resentment in my heart but this new me knows that there is no need. The old me would have felt the need to prove my point but the new me recognizes that it isn’t necessary. The old me would have been angry that so much time was wasted but the new me is excited and hopeful to cherish the time regained in our future…the what-could-have-been is now the what-will-be.

I’ll say it until my last days, this life is precious and it is incredibly short. I don’t want to get too excited about what could be but I’m surely joyful at the possibility that was once impossible.

Happy 4th, y’all!! Home of the free, because of the brave! Thank you to all the brave soldiers, past and present!

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Mollie says “Happy 4th! Stay safe! Oh and rub my belly!”

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Goal Pants: Size 6

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Bought new bras finally. Size 34 C. My aunt said…”looks like a training bra”. haha

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Working on flaunting my legs. Bought new shorts. Junior size 11. Very loose but comfy.

 

Could have been a mom; 8 weeks post op; To bikini or to not? **Graphic Images**

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First time to wear a bikini (as an adult) P.S. These bottoms…$2.52!!!

**insert something profound**

***loading….

I’ve got nothing. Zelch. I don’t even know if that’s how you spell that word but you get what I’m saying. These past couple nights have been really rough. With our upcoming wedding anniversary and my 30th birthday just shortly after, it has just left me feeling…a little empty. Four years we would have been married. This will be my second to “celebrate” without him. So officially I will have “celebrated” as many with him as without him. How sad. Four years of marriage. I think about what we would have done. We never really said. I think we would have gone somewhere tropical. He loved the water. He loved to frolick. I haven’t decided how to spend that day. It’s St Patty’s Day so there’s never a shortage of things to do. I’ve toyed around with the idea of a spa day. I’ll probably have green beer. And I hope my brother sends me the most recent cut of our wedding video but, even if he doesn’t, I’ll watch the one I have. I was going to open our wine box but I’ve decided to stick to the plan of opening it on our 5th anniversary.

I think about what this year once held. This would have been the year that we tried to start a family. Well..to expand our family. I never wanted children. Ever. In fact, if you’re close to me you’ve probably heard the story about our first conversation about children. It was the week of 4th of July in 2010. He took me to meet his mom for the first time. She was so nice and we instantly hit it off. One of the very first conversations that we ever had was her telling me how she couldn’t wait to be a grandma and what a wonderful dad Paul would be. Inside, I was gasping for air–while outside I awkwardly smiled and nodded my head at her. After the visit ended, we climbed into his blue trail blazer and started the drive back to my house and my heart was pounding. It was pounding because I knew I had to say it. I told him that he might should find another girl if he wanted children because I didn’t want to have any. I remember exactly where we were…driving down hefner, making the curve around where the fish ponds are and the hill begins towards Hefner lake right before the stop light…and he turned to me and he said that he guessed he wasn’t having kids because it was too late…he’d rather have me with no children than the alternative. He wasn’t joking. He was matter of the fact. Which if you knew Paul, that was rare and I knew that he was 100% serious. But somewhere along our relationship I began to see him in a different light. Like this was a man that would make a great dad. And I didn’t want to deny him that. And even though I never wanted children, I wouldn’t mind having a child with him. At some point, I envisioned us old; living in a house in the country with a wrap around porch; and grandchildren that always wanted to visit their grandpa. And we talked and we decided that we would have one child; just the one; when I turned 30. And now…I’m turning 30. And Paul…he never got to be a father. And we won’t be old together. And sometimes I close my eyes and I see that country house. And it just lives in my mind now with no chance of ever becoming a reality.

People, jokingly, ask ‘how’s it feel to be turning 30’ or ‘are you feeling old’? And I always chuckled back but in the back of my mind, the number means nothing to me because this birthday isn’t what it was supposed to be. And in a couple months, I will have officially lived longer than Paul got to be on this earth. And that sucks. So I’m not so excited about this birthday. I don’t feel old really. Contrary, I feel like I have so much left to do in my life and my whole life to get it done.

On a happier note, Lisa and I are going to the Bahamas for my 30th birthday! I’m gonna kiss a dolphin on my birthday and I’m pretty wickedly excited about that. After much debating, I bought a bathing suit; actually, two. And they are bikinis. This is a first for me. I am not saying that bigger girls shouldn’t wear bikinis. Girl, if you feel good in it–do it, rock it out. I admire those girls. I, on the other hand, am not one of those girls. I see every imperfection. And where I had these mounds of fat now is lots of jiggly skin and you can’t even see my belly button. I definitely don’t have a bikini body but I am very proud of how far I’ve come. And I do believe in self love. I think of it this way…sometimes you gotta fake it til you make it. I feel this way about the bikini. I’ll probably never have a perfect body. I’ll always be imperfect. I’ll always have jiggly parts and stretch marks. But I’ve done an amazing thing. I’ve lost over 180 lbs and if it were anyone else, I’d tell em to rock it out. So I’m taking my own advice.

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Bikini Confidence! You can ALMOST see my belly button. lol. Siiiiike!

On the weight loss front, I received an email from Dietbet.com congratulating me on my weightloss and wanting to feature me and my story on their website. I thought about it and almost didn’t respond because I’m not sure about their position on bariatric surgery but I decided to respond. And, hey, either way…it’s still pretty awesome to get a personal email congratulating me from the Head Referee Manager of Dietbet and asked to be part of the Hall of Fame.

Surgery wise: I’m about 8 weeks post op. I’m officially off weight restrictions and tomorrow will be my first day back at work without restriction. My surgeon has just told me to listen to my body as I continue to heal and if it hurts, don’t do it. I’m physically feeling stronger every day. I’ve stayed consistent in my weight training and continued to do a minimum of 200 crunches daily and each day alternating arm training and squats. I’ve started to form a bicep. Don’t laugh at me. Okay…yes it sounds funny BUT I’ve literally NEVER seen any muscle definition on any part of my body ever. It’s pretty exciting and it’s encouraging me to keep going.

Until next time, stay well ya’ll

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I can now fully extend both arms. The bruising is completely resolved on my right boob. Check out that upper right pic…yep, muscles! Eek!!! Feeling good. Feeling stronger.

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The Best Moments of YOUR Life

Close your eyes. Imagine all of the best moments of your life. Name the best two. Now, if you had 30 seconds to live or relive what would they look like?

This was the exercise my amazing charge nurse did with the four of us nurses in my department about a week ago. Answers varied from triumph over traumatic violation to children to marriage to the feeling of God. All heart warming. All brought tears to my eyes. Thirty seconds to relish in the hug of a child; 30 seconds to thank a stranger; 30 seconds to sit with your dad.

I sat there with my eyes closed. Floods of images came to mind. At the forefront: my grandparents, Paul, our wedding day, our first date, conversations with my brother, closing on our home, sky diving, day drinking in Austin, the day my brother asked me to be his best man, drinking and dancing with Lisa in my kitchen, graduating nursing school, my mom’s tumor is found to be benign, cards with my family, Tennessee, Vegas with my mom, making out in the McDonald’s freezer, skipping school to hang with my bff, my Papa teaching me to drive in his 89 Chevy, Cruise to Mexico. So many.

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The Christmas we spent at the hospital after my brother had grand mal seizures. It was stressful and scary but we were all together. This was the day my brother gave me the sweetest card and asked me to be his best man.

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When my turn came to share my 2 best moments, I was so choked up I could barely get the words out of my mouth.  The first I picked wasn’t my wedding day; although it was a great moment and truly one of the best. The very best day of my life was a series of moments really…the ones within the two weeks of first meeting Paul. On June 12, 2010, I started talking to this wonderful man that kept me chatting then on the phone until like 3am. We had our first date on the 13th. I remember the butterflies in my stomach as I walked out of Bank of America in my bright pink sun dress. It was a windy day. I walked towards the blue Trail blazer and climbed in. He was buckled in his seat belt. Blue stripped shirt. Goatee. A smile that beamed from ear to ear. “What’s up”. And my world was forever changed.  Within two weeks, this girl that was ‘never getting married’ talked to her brother on the phone and told him how she was going to marry him. What a wonderful time.

The next best day of my life came just a couple weeks ago. I’ve told you of the unforeseen panic attack of my first shower post op. I’ve never felt such panic but in those moments came the best moment. Lisa. It’s a blur getting from the shower to the bed, those probably 10 steps. But me lying on the bed. Naked. Panicked. The world spinning. Eyes closed. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re not alone.” And then I was calm. Eyes still closed, I thought about the last time she said that to me “you’re not alone”. Those are powerful words to me. They evoke this emotion in me. And stir me up. And make me cry but not in a bad way. Although, I have loads of people that love and support me, I feel alone. And the next best moment of my life is her. My next chapter of happiness. The fact that I’m not going to live out my life alone. Sure I cherish my memories and I always will, but I don’t have to live out my life with just those memories. And, that, that is wonderful.

And the 30 seconds I’d live over? The last moment I saw Paul. In that hospital room. Our last hug. Our last I love you. I’d hold him tight and I’d tell him that he was my world, that I loved him more than imaginable and I’d thank him. I’d not take those 30 seconds for granted. I didn’t know I was at the time but I guess I did because when I look back on that moment, that hug, that I love you–it was an every day I love you. Ya know what I mean?

I loved this exercise even though it made me cry. And lying here, typing this, I’m crying. I think back on the Jillian Michael’s event that I went to recently when she quotes Thoreau’s: The Mass of Men. We lead these lives that we really don’t want. I love my job but not one of my memories is the best day of my life a work day. It’s always an experience, a loved one, a feeling. So I want more of that. More love and laughter; less worry and waste. I hope you work towards that as well.

Early in our relationship. First trip to TN
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Drinking and dancing in my kitchen