Why Is It So Impossible To Find Well-written Smut?

Why can I not find a decent smut novel? I read a few chapters in and all the potential the story may hold is thwarted by the pathetically lame character development. It's difficult to believe the smut when the characters are completely unbelievable and unrelatable. I'd like to just once read a book cover to cover without rolling my eyes in contempt for the characters the author has served up.

Is it impossible to give character's depth and believability, while also having them engage in tawdy naughtiness? Clearly not. At least not that I've found. J.A. Huss' work is the closest I've come to decent smut reading. Despite the settings not being relatable, the character deveopment and steamy sex were believable as a unit. I wish there were more like it.

Maybe it's just me, but if I'm going to indulge in mindless reading of the smut kind, I want to at least be entertained without irritating inconsistencies. Not all of us who read this genre want the lead to be some virginal, inexperienced dipshit. I mean, aren't there strong, intelligent women being written about? Damn it, I want to feel represented in the erotic novel genre. If I can't relate to the character at all, I can't finish the book.

I don't think that it's too much to ask. Smart, independent women have great sex, and they also don't mind reading racy fiction, so long as there is some shred of interest in the characters. It is possible I haven't looked hard enough for an author that delivers this, but since I don't read this type of book all that often it's no surprise I haven't scoured the ebook selections a bit more thoroughly. I hold out hope that I will stumble across a decently written story one day. Until then, I'm open to suggestions!

Comfort Zones Are Overrated

Expanding your view of the world, particularly the one that immediately surrounds you, is essential to a full life. Narrow views lead to fewer experiences and that drastically reduces options for finding activities and people that bring happiness. There is a trade-off in many cases — you have to be willing to risk failing or getting hurt. More often than not, the outcome is worth stepping out of your comfort zone.

It isn't often I look back on something and wish I hadn't risked failing, even when I did fail, which I've done a lot. Some of the best lessons and experiences I've had came as a result of failing. Every time I've stumbled I find my balance again, the more I keep trying the quicker I right myself and the better I get at whatever it is I'm attempting.

I use to approach new things with the mindset 'the worst thing that could happen is I fail', but I've come to realize that the worst thing would be never having tried. Failure isn't always a negative thing. It can be the foundation, the building block of something amazing. I cannot imagine all the memories I wouldn't have, the changes in the person I am that would not have happened the way they have, or what my view of life would be had I not chosen to take chances when they presented themselves.

The drive to be a more positive person required me to leave my comfort zone of a lackluster existence. Those days when I feel the familiar drag of negativity, I am thankful I took the Universe up on its challenge and risked maintaining my status quo. Particularly because I now enjoy my own company, which is a nice change from feeling ill-placed in my own skin.

The best part of this more open approach to living is that I see possibilities where I once saw only the fear of failure. I don't worry as much about the 'end' result and can enjoy the journey. Whether it is trying something I haven't done before or getting to know someone new, just getting over the initial 'what ifs' and nervousness or fear will open the world you exist in immensely. Those feelings and thoughts are a speed bump and not a barrier you shouldn't cross. Risk something that you will gain more from by failing than by never trying at all.

I Often Wonder

I love the moments that let me know I've done something right raising my kids. Moments when people remark on how respectful and put together each of these boys are, watching them make decisions that will pave the way to better things in their lives, and having them not only recognize a classic song on the radio, but know the lyrics. That shit is the best.

Riding home from dinner tonight, KISS came on and he instantly started singing along. I was briefly caught off guard, not realizing he knew the words as well as he did. Even though I know video games have a lot to do with his exposure to classic rock, I'm totally going to take credit for it, because I can ;) When he started in with the old school head banging, it was tough to drive I was laughing so hard.

I hope that when each of the boys look back on their years growing up, they remember how often we had fun. There's been a fair amount of laughter smattered in between the lessons, the redirecting, the discipline and the arguing. I've tried to make sure I've stayed involved enough to irritate them, because I know that means they will remember I was there. Sure, it might be revisited years from now as I was lame or embarrassing, but they won't have forgotten any of it.

Sometimes it's a little disconcerting to think about the changes our parent-child relationship will go through once they are on their own. Aside from the obvious not seeing them often, I wonder whether they will stay in touch regularly. I talk to my mom frequently througout most weeks, but I have a different relationship with her then my boys do with me. Not to toss out the gender card, but I'm not so sure that as grown men with busy lives checking in with mom will be a priority. Then again, I could be completely wrong, and they may call me or stop in to visit often.

It's tough to know how things will go and while I like to believe that our close relationship will continue to be just that, I won't know until they venture out into the world. I'm not worried because I know that they love me and we have a solid family unit, I do recognize however, that the future, as it is with everything remains uncharted. There's no sneaking a peak at how things will be twenty years from now, though I sometimes think I'd be too tempted to stop myself from taking advantage of that spoiler if it were possible.

Easy as it would be to drive myself crazy contemplating the possibilities of life after the boys move out, I think I'll just continue to go about this time with them as I always have and take it as it comes. I'm fairly certain there are a few good laughs to have and a memory or two still to make.

Like Lady Macbeth, No Matter How Hard I Try This Spot Won't Ever Wash Away

I wouldn't describe today as good or bad. It was, at times, difficult. Working toward a goal is rarely smooth sailing, easy-going or effortless unless you're someone who leads a charmed life. While my life has been amazing as of late, I am far from charmed.

A light day at work meant time for writing. I certainly welcome the opportunity to make progress on a book that I've spent the past ten years trying to write. As I attempted to acclimate to the section I wanted to work on, I realized that I not only need information from court transcripts to move forward with this book but that I also want them for my own peace of mind. I began attempting to track down the information I needed to order copies. I've attempted this several times over the years since the trials but never completed the process. Transcripts are costly and I could never justify the expense when I was working three jobs to support my sons. Thankfully, I'm in a different place at the moment, and I really don't care how much it costs — I will have copies of those three transcripts.

Believe it or not, I couldn't recall the actual dates of the trials. I know the first was in May of 2006, the second was in December of the same year, and the third was in June of 2008. It's taken a couple of hours, and several phone calls to track down the information, and relay it to the transcription firm. Now I wait for the estimate. Thankfully, these were not lengthy trials, but I know the transcripts are going to be thick as fuck, particularly the first one.

The worst part about this is realizing that the first asshole who won an appeal, which led to a second trial, can and has filed appeals since. The likelihood is he won't get it, but that doesn't really set my mind at ease. There are 23 years remaining on his 35-year sentence and I'd just prefer he served them uninterrupted.

I don't know that I could adequately convey what it is to spend the day with my rapists. Not physically, of course, but allowing them to be my focus — willingly letting them take up more of my life than they already have — well, you know there has to be a good reason. I'd love to say that I hadn't lost more time to these evil bastards than the years they've already taken, but in trying to write this book, I've had to surrender hours at a time going back to the hell they put me through that night and the many days in court. The only consolation is that it's my choice and it is on my terms.

Earlier, I came across a number of articles here in Cyberland, most of which I've read a dozen times, that detailed my case and subsequent trials.  There was one I don't remember having seen before today and the words brought with them fresh stinging I hadn't anticipated. Given the amount of research I've done both on the subject of rape, as well as my own case, I guess I was just surprised I'd missed that piece.

Since the news that my case was solved arrived, I have slowly shared what happened with my sons. The biggest step, the most I had ever shared with them came when I drove them to see where I had lived, where I'd been abducted and then where I had been left this past summer. We don't talk about it much. I cannot begin to imagine what it is like for them to have a clear idea of what happened. My sons often tell me I don't tell them much about my life before them, I hadn't realized how little they've heard about the years I was growing up. Today, I let my youngest son read the article I'd found. I'm not sure if I was just hypersensitive to the situation or if he took as long to read it as it seemed. We haven't discussed it, with the exception of him saying "that's really messed up" before he retreated to his room. As unappealing as it is to me, they need to know the truth before I finish the book.

At the end of the day, I know this much: The emotional rollercoaster that I have spent the past 25+ years on won't ever end. I can and have built a happy life, but I know that no matter how many years separate my present from that night I will always suffer the same pain and more tears when the memories resurface. Why do I put myself through it then? There are so many reasons, but the most important right now is that rape culture has to end. In order for that to happen, survivors need to be understood, rape needs to be redefined and society-at-large needs to be educated — yes, even more than they have been up to this point.

Reading the articles on my story will likely always be a surreal experience. They don't tell the whole story, but they reveal enough details that it's automatic for me to fill in the gaps without even trying. While I want for people to understand that survivors, like myself, are capable of healing and living happy lives, I also find it necessary to emphasize that they are living a life sentence there is no parole or pardon from. It never goes away and there is no 100% healing. Rape leaves a permanent impression.

Circles, We All Exist Within Them

If today was evidence of anything, it's that life changes.

We can't slow it down or reverse it, and time has its way with us at one time or another. What we can do is remember and find ways to be as present as possible in whatever moments we find ourselves in. As tempting as it might be to turn away from uncomfortable times, the lessons and depth of meaning they will provide are too valuable in the whole of your life to cast aside.

I may wish that family gatherings like today were similar to that of a few years ago, but when we are forced to be without some of the people in our lives for whatever the reasons are, we appreciate their presence in our lives on a completely different level. Not to mention that we are more apt to connect with those who are still present in a way we may otherwise have overlooked. Missing people has a way of bringing out long forgotten moments and the willingness to celebrate even the simplest of get-togethers when you find yourself all in the same place.

Children grown up, grandparents age and those of us in the middle find we are both remembering the past and anticipating the future simultaneously. My mother and stepfather see their grandchildren growing up and getting close to claiming their own lives, and it's easy to recall that it wasn't long ago they were in my siblings and my shoes. We see them going through some challenging moments with their parents that we hope won't visit us in years to come. The kids and the grandparents are all at once immersed in themselves and aren't always in a place where they remember it wasn't always this way and it won't always be as it is now. Such is the cycle of life.

Try not to miss things because you're too focused on wishing for something that's passed or dreading something that is to come. Live in the now, embrace it and continuing moving foward. Everything has it's time and purpose; don't stand in the way of life unfolding.

What If

When life presents you with unexpected situations, how do you respond? I'm prone to analyzing the shit out of whatever details there are, often either talking myself out of something or unnecessarily stressing about all the 'what ifs'. This is par for the course, even when the universe puts something with the potential to be a good thing in my path. I stop short of calling myself cynical, but I don't exactly approach the unknowns with the kind of positive mindset I've been working to adopt.

No matter how much I grow and improve as a person, there will always be something else I should work on doing better. Maybe this should discourage me, but I actually welcome the challenges that await me. Every time I have the opportunity to work on myself, I try to welcome it.

The same goes for risks. I've always been cautious and with good reason. Raising two boys alone doesn't allow for much in the way of taking chances. Over time, as they have grown up, I recognize that some risks are worth the change that can come as a result of being willing to take them. Now, the risks I consider are related to a life after full-time/active parenting changes pace. My future happiness and success really are being plotted with decisions I make today and avoiding them because of 'what ifs' just doesn't make sense. Not unless I have no desire to enjoy life after kids.

I'm committed to practicing a positive outlook and focusing on the possibilities those unexpected happenings contain. This resolve pricks my curiosity as to what is to come. I'm up for whatever challenge is waiting.

Thanks, Joss

I just watched this video again. Okay, I watched it MORE than once and I'm not even a little sorry about it. I wish it were longer...I wish Firefly were still on, and I wish this was the actual theme song.

It's been said before and those who know me are well aware of this fact: I am a sci-fi junkie. Firefly is one of my all time favorite series, though sadly it is the shortest lived. The following that it garnered makes me wonder how on earth it ever got canceled. Clearly, the show and its story still hold meaning for many, as its popularity has done the opposite of wane.

When you find a storyline that you connect with —regardless of whether it is out of the realm of reality, it's a magical thing. I have at least a dozen series that I have loved, all for varying reasons. Firefly is one that had me so engrossed, I wasn't just watching from my living room. Similar to when I'm enthralled in a book, this show sucked me in to the point that I forgot I was home and not actually on Serenity. So sad that there are no new adventures to lose myself in.

Joss Whedon is one of my idols. Angel, Buffy, Toy Story, Firefly (of course) and The Avengers...I mean, hello?!? What's not to love? Why I haven't watched Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. yet is beyond me. Well, really I'm sort of saving it. I want something to look forward to, after all.

As much as I love Firefly, it is painfully easy to find myself episodes deep before realizing I really ought to be doing something else. Four to five hours of sitting on my ass is fine when I'm not feeling up to par, but dinner doesn't cook itself and books need focus to write. Such a quandary to find myself in.

I think I'll go listen to this one more time, then get back to writing for the night.

And So It Is

In the past two weeks there has been a whole lot more discussion about college. It occurs to me that I really am nearing the end of this stage of parenting. Without a doubt there will be many other stages througout my sons' lives, but the level of activity and degree of focus that will be required of me is soon to lessen greatly. By all accounts, I expected to be feeling far differently about it than I do. While I know it will be tough when the time finally arrives, I'm currently enjoying the prospect of more time on my hands to do whatever I want to do — even if that is just lounging about by myself. It's been a long 20 years thus far, and I wouldn't change a thing. I guess I feel like this was always the goal — to send them out in the world more or less ready to live their own lives, and therefore I feel like it's a sort of pay day.

Knowing that the day I can make big changes, like moving south, is getting closer certainly doesn't hurt my enthusiasm when I think about the kids moving out. It will be a few years yet before the youngest is truly out on his own, but his spending a majority of the year away at school is a great way for me to break my new found freedoms in.

There will always be moments when I miss them being around, needing me, causing a ruckus, but I have those times now. I doubt, even after they've established themselves as grown men, I will be spared that pang of nostalgia I sometimes get when a memory of them as little boys takes over my mind. If they ever have children of their own, I'm sure it will only amplify those snippets of life lost to time. As long as I have my memories, I will always want to hug and squeeze them, scooping them up into my lap to shower them in a million kisses once more.

None of that means I have to dread the coming years. Who knows what will come tomorrow? Ten years from now? Twenty...there are certain to be many more memories and times to treasure. There will be things I want to forget and things I'll carry in my heart. I have no doubts that no matter what happens, they will always be my first and longest loves. They are my world now, just as they were the moment they breathed in those first gulps of air, just as they will continue to be when the time we spend together is infrequent and short.

I'm not rushing this whole college tour process, I'm going to take it in. The next year and a half is going to be exhausting, but in the very best of ways. I can't wait to kick of the official beginning of this final leg of of my childrearing journey. I expect it will be over in what feels like the wink of an eye. Better make sure to have my camera and phone at the ready.

Sometimes I Get Stuck In My Ways

As outgoing as I appear to be most of the time, I still get anxious putting myself in social situations where I don't know people. It isn't that I'm bad at socializing, it just takes me a bit to warm up to it. For certain I am predominantly an extrovert, but I have times when I prefer to keep to myself.

I work from home and the social opportunities aren't numerous. From time to time I schlep into the office and do the whole chatty butterfly act, flitting from one cubicle to the next, catching up with the people from work that I do know. I like this, though, it is one of the reasons I don't choose to work in the office more often. I get more work done away from the temptation to socialize.

Occasionally, there are benefits to making an appearance at the office; like tonight. I got the chance to put several faces to names and voices I have interacted with over the past year-and-a-half. When you have a picture of the person on the other end of the phone or email, somehow it makes it easier to to interact. It certainly makes it easier to remember who is on what project, since meeting someone creates a kind of quasi-investment on your part. It isn't as though you know the other person, but having met them and had an in-person conversation makes it less awkward or confusing when it comes to work like projects and meetings.

The commonality of working for the same company creates a community feeling. You don't necessarily have to like the people you work with, but somehow the whole 'we're in this together' atmosphere lends itself to a better work environment. At least from where I sit.

I got to have conversations with people I might not otherwise have come into contact with in this lifetime. My afternoon was a palette of color so varied and one I rarely get to see. An eclectic group of individuals with a common thread between them, it was a surprisingly good time. When you think of work — or at least, when I do, I don't usually associate it with fun. Sure, I enjoy what I do most of the time, and I've learned an incredible amount about websites from working on several, but when the workday is over I don't want to stick around. I actually wished I could have stayed and hung out longer tonight, there was far more conversation to be had.

I'm grateful that I had the chance to go and thankful for the conversations I did have. I believe that I will make a more concerted effort to show up and work in the office, at least, a few times a month. Who knows what benefits there might be from mixing in a little socialization from time to time.

Nothing Little About Big Happiness

The way the sun shines on the trees out back some days is absolutely stunning. The color reflecting on the bark is that fiery orange that fills the sky as the big star sets on another day. The soft glow never sticks around long, but that just means I can justify spending a few minutes appreciating it. I miss out on a number of things around me because I'm so focused on whatever chaos my life has me moving through most days. I'm glad that once in awhile I notice the little things that are quite spectacular.

Being oblivious to the small moments that can unlock big doses of happiness is unfortunate. Those times when we can't get out of our own way might just not be half as bad if we had just embraced the seemingly unimportant snippets that we walked by time and again. When nature gifts you with a beautiful moment, it doesn't matter what else is happening, take a minute or two and see it. We are all part of this world and just like each of us is different and brings something unique to this life, everything — plant, animal, body of water, even the sun's light and warmth that touch this tiny planet hold meaning and experiences, if we just stop and recognize them.

Each and every day that I wake up and choose to take life on is incredible. There is no guarantee I'll get another sunset, it would be a shame to miss out on more than I already have. I may not remember to pause for all the things that would have an impact on my day, but I can make the effort to catch at least one of life's little wonders. That much is doable. That's something I can commit to do.

What have you stopped to take in lately? Don't you owe it to yourself to accept the peace and happiness the world-at-large may just be trying to offer you each and every day? I know I do.

Let's Just Stop With The Reality/Not-Reality Shows

I don't understand shows like Teen Mom (Teen Mom 2). I don't get 'reality-based' shows in general, really. I just have no interest in them, and they seem like exploitation of people's hardships and crappy choices. Why is any of that entertaining?

I have a theory about this. It's easier to watch someone else's life and cast judgment from our armchairs to feel better about ourselves than actually put the work in to fix the things we don't like. If taking joy in other's failures is what it takes to feel secure in myself, I'll take insecurity any day. Fortunately, that isn't the case. As a matter of fact it is so unbelievably the opposite.

I go about my days churning out as many positive thoughts as I can, because this is my path to happy. When I feel good about the way I see the world around me it's easy to be content. What's even better however, is the ability to celebrate — genuinely feel great about someone else's high points. When you build those around you up, embracing their joy and happiness, it's really impossible to let the negative bullshit work its way in.

We don't need to revel in someone else's misfortunes to recognize our worth in the world. There needs to be more compassion and appreciation, and we need to look to how we live, as well as how we conduct ourselves. If joy is derived from the things that pain other people, it really isn't worth seeking at all. I just hope that more of us realize that there really is something to the 'get more bees with honey' philosophy — really. When you celebrate the good, you benefit from more good.

Other People's Shoes

One of the best things about reaching near total exhaustion is that you can look back at just how much you are capable of doing before your body and mind refuse to let you continue. I never fail to be surprised at how little sleep I can function on, and for how long. Slowly, I'm even learning there is always a point when I can let off the gas and coast for awhile.

After a long and tiring weekend away from home with my son and his school's drama team, we are finally home. As overtired as I am, I'm currently too restless to sleep. My brain has been processing an unusual number of tasks during the past four days, and disengaging from it all is proving to be a challenge. If only it were as easy as closing tabs on a browser window and clearing the history.

The kids didn't win the competition, but they walked away with multiple recognitions and a host of things they can incorporate into next year's production. I walked away amazed by how these young, aspiring actors interact and communicate despite the fact that they are competing against each other. It's impressive to see the respect and showmanship — the genuine well-wishing and congratulations extended to those who advanced from those who will try again when festival rolls around in 2017.

I admire the appreciation most of these students are able to show the skills and talents of their peers, and that they seem to grasp that building each other up is far more beneficial than allowing envy to fill the room. I am hopeful they will be steps ahead of where they might otherwise be when entering adulthood and not get hung up on negative behaviors that life's competitions are often wrought with.

As I think back over this experience, I hope that each of these kids holds on to the camaraderie and positive outlooks and shares it with those in their daily life. High schools are in desperate need of this kind of contagion as it is one infection that can incite the best kinds of changes.

Hurrah for those who can imagine themselves in the shoes of another person! These are the people who understand that there is often more to someone than what you see. These are the souls that teach the rest of us to show compassion and how to glimpse more than our own point-of-view.

Proud Mom

As much as I might have groaned and griped about having to endure being in small town Maine all weekend, I wouldn't have traded being here for the world. The only reason I would ever tolerate the boonies for days and sleep less than five hours a night while remaining in a good mood would be for either of my children. This weekend was unexpected, enlightening and memorable.

Cheering my son on — being there to support him has always been important to me. The opportunity to do the same for my oldest was brief, as he chose a different path from sports or other school related activities. My youngest has been active in drama since the seventh grade, though, his entire life has been a series of  regular performances with little need for a stage. This is something I love about him. He makes me laugh, often to the point of crying. I'm in awe of his willingness to put himself out there in front of an audience no matter how nervous he may be. The idea of standing on a stage, the focal point of so many onlookers, sends me into a rocking boat of nausea and panic. Anyone who can overcome their nerves, remember their lines and perform without revealing their nerves is talented indeed.

I got to spend time with the other thespians in the group, as well as my son's girlfriend and her mother. It's refreshing to meet parents with similar approaches to child rearing and have no trouble maintaining conversations. It isn't easy, nor is it overly common to connect with another parent simply because your children go to school together — or in this case, are dating.

A good part of the day was spent mulling over our own desire to be more involved in the growth of this program as parents and volunteers. So much about our children's high school experience has been paving new paths and taking a chance on a new style of education, extracurricular included. While they both have experience with drama, they've never been part of a troop that was just getting its start. There is much to be appreciated in a seasoned program that has years of presence within the arts culture. Established reputations to build on, existing and healthy activity budgets and a solid network of people to make it all work well are important things that new schools and new programs have to make due without.

I am so proud of our kids for letting their passion for something drive and motivate them to put their best selves forward. They made it to the state competition level despite being part of a young, inexperienced and completely unfunded program. Their sets aren't lavish, their costumes are often their own clothes, yet somehow they managed to impress their talents and won out over several schools that had longevity and funding on their side. Without a doubt, this is a combination underdog situation and a fairy tale, and the reality is infectious because just making it this far gives us all the confidence to keep laying the foundation of what could one day be a flourishing drama program for students to come.

No matter what the outcome of tonight's competition may be, I am happy to have been here to witness and take part in this important milestone both in the school's story and in my son's life. These are the memories that never fail to create future smiles.

A Thought Or Two

The days have a way of fluctuating in how fast or slow they pass. It is near impossible to know whether you will look back and see only a blur, or be able to recall intricate details. This is what makes life choices a gamble, and what can act as a well of anticipation for what tomorrow may bring.

Spending too much time dwelling on those things that don't work out the way we hope, or fretting about how quickly the years have accumulated behind us is a sure way to miss even more precious time that can never be gained back. Lamenting over what has passed just fosters a cycle that will leave a person with more regrets than triumphs in the end.

Stress, short-comings, or things I discover about myself that I wish were different don't need to take up space in my life. I have the choice to do something about all of them that will either hinder or free my progress. I rather enjoy the forward momentum, so anything that slows that down really isn't much of an option at the end of the day. I'm all about the happy and I'm good with doing what it takes to achieve it.

Time will pass and it will always seem to speed up as the days fade into the day before. I won't let myself get lost in the tempting colors of longing and regret, not when better things may await my attention. Making the most of the opportunities that come my way, even if that just means catching up on blog posts. I'm doing and not lamenting...now that's the best possible use of this time that I can think of.

Shaking My Head

Outwardly, I appear to be relaxing on my couch at the moment. Internally, it's a very different story. I typically handle stress fairly well, I've been balancing multiple jobs and raising two kids by myself for years, so it takes more than some might expect to frazzle me.

Sure, I might react quick and hot to something, but within minutes I've got it under control and it's business as usual. On rare occasions, however, it feels as though I'm underwater and frighteningly close to gasping in water for air. The worst part about it is it is almost always due to my own choices.

I'm a doer. By every sense of the word, I seem to have this unstoppable urge to commit to far more than anyone should within a given time frame. I wouldn't say over-achiever describes me so much as just not able to say 'no'. I was going to put this blog post off for the night, due to other pressing obligations, but I can't even say no to myself. This is a problem.

There are some forms of stress that I almost thrive on, but right now I'm not experiencing a period of growth from pushing myself — I'm enduring the preliminary stages of anxiety brought on by having an impossible list of to-dos this weekend. I have made a career out of running myself ragged, but every so often I manage to up the ante without even realizing I had already wagered more than I could deliver.

In the end, I know that I will get everything done, but this time round that knowledge has done little to quell the urge to run away and not adult again until I'm good and ready. For now, it seems I'll be coaxing myself along in half-hour increments, hoping that will bring me to the finish line with some of my hair still intact.

Unexpected Sentiment

I'm pretty fortunate. I got a peek at something most parents wait at least another 10 years to see. And it was tough to not gush and make a big deal of it. So tough.

At 20, my oldest son is struggling with figuring out who he is though he's not taking nearly as long as I did at his age. His long-time friends are scattered at their school of choice, and the few that are still close enough to visit, he doesn't see as often as he'd like. His relationship with his brother is good, especially considering that they share a room and can get on each other's nerves. Between work and school, we don't see a lot of one another, but our conversations are usually enough to stay connected.

This child of mine, he's quiet until he's moved to speak. While he may seem to be immersed in himself most of the time, he is observant, compassionate and respectful of those around him. He swears like his mother and is as opinionated as most of my family. He knows responsibility and won't be anyone's fool.

I know these things because I watch him. I take in all the examples he's demonstrated without him ever being aware that I'm paying such close attention. The way he interacts with our older family members, the way he entertains the youngest — no matter what his aspirations in life, he is deeply rooted in family.

When I say "I love you" he will respond with the same, but it is rare that he will ever elaborate or share his feelings freely. I know this, just as I know how much he dislikes my instance in hugging him or giving him a kiss on the cheek. He doesn't say it and he doesn't beg me to stop, he tolerates it because he knows it makes me happy. Though he wouldn't admit that, if you asked.

For all that I have witnessed him do and say, for each time I have seen him swallow his own wants and do what someone else wanted to do, and for the times I've heard the compassion and understanding in his voice as he's talked about what others are going through, I know that he is capable of the emotion he doesn't often show.

I just didn't expect to have him subtly proclaim how much his brother and I mean in his life. Sure, we're his closest family, and we know he loves us, but he doesn't wear it on his sleeve. He got his first tattoo today, and though he'd mentioned incorporating both his brother's and my birthdates in it, I hadn't expected him to follow through, but he did. He may never make it a habit of voicing what we mean to him aloud, but he will forever wear the evidence of our importance in his life on his skin for everyone to see.

We are all different and how we show our love and appreciation are no exceptions. I may occasionally wish that my sons would voluntarily tell me they love me first or be more open about what I mean to them and what they mean to one another, but I have come to respect that they are each their own person. As such, they will never express their love the same ways that I do, and they don't ever need to feel as though they should. Unconditionally loving my children has taught me that someone else's expression of their emotions for me doesn't need to be in the same way I choose to express mine. What is most important is my ability to recognize each person's unique way and accept it without expectation of something that doesn't reflect their true nature.

No matter how small this gesture might seem, the depth of its meaning is undeniable. My youngest son and I, without a doubt, hold pretty special places in my oldest son's heart. All the eye-rolling in the world won't convince me otherwise now.

There's Always Tomorrow

Despite the fact that I could totally benefit from a huge dose of caffeine, I've managed to get more done today than I thought I would when I first began to tackle the day. Just that alone is an accomplishment — seeing the bigger picture and being impressed with my efforts so far. Yeah, today wasn't perfect and it could have frustrated me several times, but the fact that I didn't let all that could go wrong get to me, I am going to unabashedly pat myself on the back.

You know what? I think it's time I did more of that. This whole 'pat myself on the back' thing. Why shouldn't I be proud of myself and show it? It seems rather silly now to think of all the years I thought I had nothing to celebrate just because nothing big had taken place.

Could I have done more today? Maybe, but I think I could say that more often than not after the fact. While the day is unfolding and things crop up, we don't have the luxury of hindsight, nor can we always make adjustments to time management, because hey, shit happens. I am by far the least forgiving of myself than I could ever be of someone else, so being able to resist the urge to play down my happiness at what I managed to do during any given day is a huge step forward.

The things that we place so much importance on are quite often things that, if we just step away for long enough, aren't even remotely deserving of the copious amounts of energy we seem to pour into them. I understand more and more every day why so much  creedence has been given to mantras like 'don't sweat the small stuff' and 'will this matter a year from now'. It often doesn't matter what is left to do, because it rarely has a huge impact on the weeks ahead. Get the importanct stuff done and whatever is left, tackle it tomorrow.

No Grass Growing Under Me

After a long-ass day, I wasn't going to write a post tonight. Of course, I can't give into being lazy, so here I sit. I'm not a fan of daylight savings, but this year it hasn't been as bad as I remember past years. Besides, the fatigue I'm feeling is most likely a result of the non-stop day rather than losing an hour yesterday.

The good thing about today being nearly over is that tomorrow is looking like it will be far more evenly paced in terms of what I need to get done. Were it not for those times when I'm so busy I can hardly focus I wouldn't appreciate the days I can get lost in one thing for hours half as much. Balance doesn't always mean the even distribution of effort and tasks every day, it just means that for all the boring there's too much excitement, and occasionally, there are times that are just right thrown in for good measure. When I say my life is balanced, I mean that it's nearly equally parts  shitshow and cakewalk.

 Come to think of it, it isn't as though I don't have more than I'd like to do lined up the rest of the week, it's more that my time will consist of less frequently broken focus because I will be taking it all on from one location — my couch! I may even have to set reminders to get up and move about, as there appears to be a lot of writing on the agenda. Not exactly the writing I'd prefer to be doing, but writing nonetheless.

I had no idea how busy life could get as a single parent, and though I don't for a minute wish that it were any other way, I do wonder what it takes to remove one's self from their children's lives and lay the entire burden of responsibility on the other parent. I have no regrets being as involved as I am, no matter how exhausted some days leave me, and the reasons are numerous. I may have all the weight of appointments, meal planning, guidance and parenting in general on my shoulders, but I also get an exclusive, front-row seat to all the wonderful things that my children have done, will do and the happiness life presents them with. By doing all the things other parents shirk away from, I've earned the priceless moments I will forever remember.

There may be fleeting seconds where I wish my boys had another parent to balance out their upbringing, but in the end, I know that their willing inclusion of me is evidence they don't feel their life is lacking in any noticeable ways. I'll keep racing all over creation whenever they need me to, because it's such a small price to pay for all the exceptional moments I'd hate to ever chance missing out on. Tonight, like most nights, I will fall asleep peaceful because I didn't leave the important things undone, I didn't take the lazy way out, and because I know that being there is more important than griping about being tired. Sleep will always be there, these moments will fade away and disappear, and I want to remember being part of them.

Find Your Happy Again

I think I've always been self-aware. Not always in the ways that were most beneficial of course, but as far back as I can remember I understood I had an effect on the world around me. Stretching back, the first memories I can recall, though just snippets of my three-year-old self, have strong emotions tied to them. I remember feeling both excited and disappointed when my parents brought home my new sister. I was excited because I was now a big sister and babies, even to a three-year-old were incredible. The disappointment came when I realized this was not the brother I was expecting. When you are three, these kinds of emotions fill you from head to toe, because you have such limited experience with them.

Over time, life tends to desensitize us. The highs are never the same twice. The lows always suck worse than the last. It's tough to keep your attitude right when the balance of things is so skewed toward shit. When what used to make us elated only gets us to crack a smile, it's time to figure out exactly what is going on. It could be a simple as just changing how you view things that set that experience on fire again, or it could mean you've moved beyond a certain level of appreciation for something and it's time to just let go. No one wants a fun or enriching time to go the way of the aging rock star; we all want to preserve the best possible version of whatever made us happy in that moment.

Riley and I walked by a couple with a little boy who was roughly one-and-a-half or two-years-old earlier today. He was carrying a package of sheets (at least, I think) and mom asked him if he was all set — like if he had gotten everything he needed and he proudly stated it back in the affirmative. In an instant, I remembered each of my own sons doing the same thing. It isn't as though I don't derive happiness from my sons now, it's just far different from the firsts of their lives that made everything so much more amplified. When they were the same age as this boy, I didn't often let them walk around the stores, but on the few occasions I did, they absolutely had to carry something without help. The pride they had at doing something by themselves — something big people do, is infectious. Those emotions radiated from them and made me beam with smiles and excitement as I watched them grow, change and develop. Once they reached the teen years, the firsts, as well as their overjoyed expression were far and few between. It isn't as though I love them any less, but I just don't get the same jolt of happy that I used to when they did something new or got excited about learning like when they were younger.

Sometimes we need to get a boost of enthusiasm from someone else in order to reconnect with the parts of us that always responded to certain stimuli. I believe it is totally possible to re-sensitize ourselves to some of the things we were able to feel at some point in our lives. The trick is finding that experience, that thing that triggers those long truncated emotions and fills us with some of that old amazement again. It's out there, you just have to be open to recognizing it when it comes your way.

From Your First Breath, You Have Been My Primary Focus

In the years since becoming a parent, there are a few things that still baffle me. One thing in particular, no matter how old my sons get. The seeming disinterest some parents have in their children's lives. Particularly when their child is spending the night at another person's house. I cannot imagine, even at Riley's almost 17 years of age, letting him go somewhere and having no interaction with the parent(s) first. 

I'm not overbearing and I don't think I'm unusual, at the very least I shouldn't be considered either by people. Becoming a parent means focusing on your child —their well-being, their happiness, their needs (and some of their wants), and making sure they are safe. Granted, once they are out in the world without you, that last bit is a tough one to carry out, but at the very least a parent does their due diligence to inform themselves about the people who come into contact with their children. 

When my boys go to someone's home, like a new friend, I always want to talk to the parent(s), even if it is just on the phone. I am floored by how many kids I've had at my home whose parents never attempted to find out anything about me. Thankfully, I'm an involved parent, and their children (whether they are interested or not) are safe when they are in my home. 

It saddens me to know that the kids who have witnessed the relationship my kids have with me are aware they do not have something similar with their own folks. The older they get, the more they understand what is missing from their life — I knew kids like this when I was a teenager, and a couple of them told me to appreciate that my parents cared enough to know everything they could about my life outside of the home. I didn't know then just how important it was to have involved parents, but since becoming one, I can't imagine ever creating a life that my children didn't feel smothered by my love, under my watchful eye, embarrassed by my protectiveness and know that I would do anything to keep them safe and happy even if they roll their eyes in protest. 

My sons will never know what it is to grow up with a mother who let them do whatever they wanted because I didn't care enough to ask questions first. They never had to feel as though I didn't care about their wellbeing or their lives. They won't ever look back at their years growing up and wonder what it would have been like to come from a home where there was never a question they were loved. Here's to all the other dedicated, loving parents who are fighting against the growing wave of indifferent childrearing and staying involved in their children's lives. Children who don't doubt the love of their parent(s) grow into much more secure and responsible adults. Being involved is the best tool in a parent's arsenal of raising a family that's centered in love. 

What A Week

I had a bit of negative magnetism going on today. Off and on all this week to be honest. I was starting to let it get the better of me, but like I do most of the time these days, I pushed myself to shrug it off. Just choosing to let whatever comes my way happen without trying to control it is huge for a control freak like me. It also paid off when I drove into the Trader Joe's parking lot and found a spot close to the store without circling around endlessly waiting for people to leave.

No one stopped short in front of me or blocked the aisle with their cart while I was meandering about the store shopping for this week's groceries. I found everything I was looking for without effort and didn't have to wait in line. My cartful didn't break the bank, and I was able to leave the parking lot without having to fight an endless stream of traffic. All at 5:15 on a Friday night. Yeah, positive choices and positive thinking really do pay off.

My mood has been measurably better in the past two hours, so much so that I'm not grumbling about having no social life or having to venture out to get my son from work later on. Of course, the warmer weather has a definite impact on my willingness to leave the house at all these days. Though even my detestment of the frigid weather is no match for the good vibrational energy just appreciating being alive creates. Bad day? No big deal, so long as the shit doesn't take everything. Unless, farming/gardening skills are your thing and you can put the shit to good work.

I'd rather just avoid the shit to begin with. Making better choices takes practice, and the more I opt for positive, the better I am at consciously avoiding thoughts and feelings that would drag me and my life down an ugly, unhappy road. Yeah, life is better without the complication of chaos and other people's crappy auras mucking up the fun. I'll keep filtering my attitude to keep me in the space I like the best. The space of happy.

Somedays I Wonder How I Haven't Pulled Out All My Hair

I might have had a clue that parenting was a thankless job or even that it was tough more often than not, remembering my own upbringing and how often my mother either lost her shit on us or went and cried in another room. Girls were I'm sure more emotionally taxing than boys  — and I mean that in a completely un-sexist way. I mean as un-sexist as that could possibly be stated. Why is then, that I'm surprised each time one of my sons ups the ante, challenging my tolerance as a parent?

Given that I have little to nothing to complain about with either of my boys, I'm amazed I wind up so exasperated after an argument with one of them. I'm not even sure the whole 'single mom' aspect of it factors in all that much. I suppose I just expect them to acknowledge what I'm saying, respect that I've said it and not fight back on every possible point after I've given my answer or input. When your kids think and act like you, it makes parenting an annoying task. I'm arguing with my younger self, or at least, that's the way it seems.

I do know that despite the difficulties these discussions may bring with them, they are also pivotal moments in both my sons' lives and in mine. We are hopefully figuring more out about each other and how to communicate, and maybe even seeing things from a point of view other than our own. I also hold out faith that each of my sons gains the right elements needed for becoming mature and productive adults.

The appreciation I have for my parents and all they endured during my childhood and teenage years has morphed into adoration and awe. That my mother managed to leave the child-rearing years with her sanity is nothing short of a miracle. Her incredible patience with her grandchildren surely came from years of practice raising my sisters and me. Clearly then, there is hope that this role won't forever remained thankless, as I believe one day my sons may well say something similar to me.

Unexpected Confidence Bumps - You Know I Like That

When I picked my son up from school this afternoon, he made my day. Earlier he had been going through old photos on his facebook with a couple of friends, a number of which I happened to be in. These photos spanned the past six years. His friends commented that I looked younger and healthier now than I did in the earlier photos. Yay me!

When teenagers notice something about an adult and voice it, I tend to listen. Good and bad. They are often lacking in verbal filters, so it's a relative assumption they mean whatever words have escaped their mouths. At least, in my experience, this is the case.

After months of trying to catch up to my previous strength level, I sometimes wonder if I'm making any progress at all. Even if I can see changes in before and after photos, sometimes I wonder if I really look any different. Hearing that I not only look different but better is all the confirmation I could have needed. The whole younger and healthier thing definitely is icing on the cake. This type of affirmation helps keep me on track and stay motivated. 

I don't often look back at my photos, but this conversation had me curious. I wonder if I might have picked up on what my son's friends did, had I not known what I'd be looking for ahead of time. Not that it matters, as I can see myself from a totally different point of view now, and that is a valuable asset when trying to assess progress.

Even though I work out for myself, it is pretty nice to have other people notice. For me, it is about health and wellness first, but the physical benefits don't hurt. I may not be able to stave off age, but by building a stronger, healthier me, the effects of time aren't so quick to show their wear. I'm good with that.

A Cover Does Not Define The Contents

I always thought I was progressive and accepting — even understanding. Until my son began going to a high school that truly exemplifies open-mindedness and acceptance. This isn't to say that I don't think I'm an accepting person, just that I was not aware there were so many aspects to life and identity that I wasn't aware of.

Today I experienced a conversation that started with relaying an interaction I had earlier in the day, and sort of gave the whole full-circle element to a lesson learned. I sometimes envy my youngest son and his counterparts. They have the advantage of not having preconceived notions thrust upon them regarding gender and identity. In most cases, those views are not strong enough to affect the formation of their own opinions anyway.

I paused for a moment when emailing a parent of another student. I knew that my son had told me that several of the kids he goes to school with are either gender-queer or gender neutral. My writing skills were a blessing, as I reworded my praise and acknowledgement of another parent's child without using the wrong pronouns to refer to them. Two years ago I wouldn't have understood the importance of choosing my words in this kind of scenario. It's isn't so much about being p.c. as it is about being compassionate and accepting.

While I have no idea what it is like to not identify as female, I believe it is not only possible but incredibly common for people to have not idea what gender they identify with, if they do at all. I'm so ingrained with using 'she', 'he', 'her' and 'him' that it takes real effort to stop and consider the people I am interacting with or addressing before I let those pronouns slip.

I might have wanted to baulk about the change at first, but after a quick breath, I realized that these things have nothing whatsoever to do with me and I ought not act as though they do. I love that my sons can teach me lessons that drastically change my view on life for the better and make me an overall better person. What you believe to be true isn't nearly as important as how you conduct yourself when it becomes clear there is a much different truth that makes more sense.

Excuses Just Make More Work

There's an unwritten rule in my home: If either of my sons gripes about a) what's for dinner, or b) there being nothing to eat (aka I don't want to put effort into feeding myself) they are on their own to feed themselves. My youngest son is the biggest offender of this, and honestly, it's partially my fault. I've done everything food related for him for far too long. For the past six months, that has not been the case.

As I write this, this wonderfully talented and loving young man is brooding in the kitchen attempting to cook his own dinner. Earlier, he texted me to find out what was for dinner and when I suggested he make something he began the long back and forth of rejecting every idea I tried to give him. Excuses galore — he's well practiced at producing these without missing a beat. I might have cooked dinner when I got home just 15 minutes later, but the extent to which he whined about it solidified my decision to let him fend for himself.

Whether he likes it or not he's going to be subjected to teachable moments whenever I see an opportunity. Especially when it will also get him more involved in a dietary plan HE chose. If this is the meanest thing I ever subject him to, I probably have to amp it up in the drive my son to embarrassment and frustration department. Besides, I'm fairly certain that (at least initially) he's going to appreciate when I do cook for him and likely won't complain.

Ooo, he likes what he cooked. Well, this is good news, really. Maybe he'll cook more of his own free will. Of course, I told him (not showed) how to make a cheese sauce tonight so it's understandable that he's thrilled with his culinary skills. This could eventually work to my advantage...hehehehe

Yeah, this 'tough love' parenting thing may have some benefits besides producing responsible, self-reliant adults.

No Greater Love

I love seeing my sons doing what they are good at. The way the immerse themselves in whatever makes them happy...it's exciting to watch. To think, here are these two men that I raised and they've found things to challenge themselves with and ways to express their talents — it's more than I ever imagined I'd experience when I first became their mother.

There is a comfort in knowing they have interests they are willing to expend energy for. They stay out of trouble, generally, and seem to be grasping the understanding that it takes work to develop skills. It is apparent they have focus and they gain joy from doing things they like. I feel reassured they will find direction in their lives as time passes, and that they won't shy away from challenges that life is sure to present.

It is amazing to me that they are so completely different, yet so much the same. We truly are a family of dedicated and driven individuals who are capable of navigating through the obstacles we encounter along the way. One of the most important things I could possibly need as a parent is to know that each of my children have the know-how and life tools to tackle things, expected and complete surprise. They will stumble and fail, but having experienced belief in themselves because they practiced and learned how to excel at something is invaluable.

I'm a proud momma and I love my sons all the more because they love themselves enough to brave it and try.

Coffee, Girl Time, Dead Pool, One-Acts and Harry Potter

A conversation today with my friend Katie set the tone for a fantastic afternoon. We talked over coffee, went for a glass of prosecco and finally saw Dead Pool. Hysterically funny movie, in my opinion, and the perfect end to girl time.

During the course of our chat over coffee, we touched on the subject of creative souls. I always look forward to my time with Katie. She has an effect on the way I express my thoughts that few people have. I rarely search for the right words to explain my views or hypotheses, and I have little doubt that this can be attributed to our shared gift of writing.

My youngest son has told me, in no uncertain terms that he thinks I'm crazy. Not like batshit, but unconventional in my approach to most things in life. I expressed to Katie that I believe all true artists — creative souls can be defined as somewhat crazy. It is my belief that my unwillingness to let go of my sanity because I am still actively parenting a teenager is part of the reason I cannot fully immerse myself in writing. In order to produce compelling, or at the very least interesting work, the grip on reality and all social aspects have to be released completely. This is just not something I am able to do right now, so I write when I can and hope that someday I will be able to lose my fucking mind like every good writer should.

Funny as that may sound, I'm not even remotely kidding. It isn't as though the creative crazy is like crackpot nuts. There is a huge difference; I know because I have a fair bit of experience with both types. Crackpots aren't people I can tolerate for long. They are on a plain of existence I neither recognize nor wish to inhabit.

Creative people's madness is like a magnet to me. I've always found I surround myself with artists of all forms, and with good reason. I understand their language, their oddities and what it means to see things before they are ever physically manifested. We are on the same vibrational plain. We aren't unreasonable and difficult, ranting and raving lunatics who are all over the map. Well, most of us aren't, we just see different colors and approach life in ways many people wouldn't think to. Other people find us flighty or off-putting because they don't understand the way an idea blossoms and then takes over us until it is fully recognized and exorcized.

The beautiful thing about creative crazies is that no matter what their appearance may say to the non-creative world, they shine like diamonds in a sea of pebbles to their own kind. It's like the energy we emit acts as a homing beacon that only other creative people can hear. Certainly when there is a demonstration of talent and skill, non-creatives are privy to the sparkle an artist gives off, but only an artist can pick another artist out of a throng of people. Crazy knows crazy.

My own sons can see that I'm unlike most people they know, and regardless of what they might say to get a rise out of me, I believe they respect that I'm not altogether sane. After all, they have benefitted from an unconventional parent-child relationship, and each of them identifies and understands me because they are each creative — and therefore, crazy. I like that they are in the same world of questionable sanity and that we have that unspoken understanding that wouldn't be possible without creative genes. And I know that once my relationship morphs into less responsible caretaker and more into guiding parental figure, they will tolerate the full presence of my eccentricities.

Fading And All But Forgotten

Occasionally I am my own worst enemy. Probably more often than I'd like to admit. Definitely, more than someone of my self-assuredness ought to be on any given day.

There is a rhythm to life that is easy to take for granted when it carries on for a good, long while. We get used to the seamless way in which things occur, so it comes as a shock or surprise when suddenly they seem to be vastly different. When you're expecting it, change is par for the course, but when it sneaks up and bites you in the ass...well, it outright sucks.

I will never be perfect, nor do I ever want to be. I'm generally okay with the fact that I make mistakes from time to time though I am far more likely to give others more understanding than I extend to myself. Which is why it is so difficult to reconcile when I'm being overly sensitive and when I'm being keenly perceptive.

Relationships ride a wave that ebbs and flows. Sometimes the change in current is hardly noticeable while other times it's tough to stay above the surface. I hate when it's rough waters. Certainly growth between people comes from a little adversity, but every once in awhile there's also fear that the disconcerting feelings of doom are justified and inevitable. I never want this to be the case.

I like to believe that everyone has some redeeming quality; that every relationship has a safety net. Though it is true that trying times bring people closer, they also drive a wedge between what was and what could have been so that you find yourself in what will never be. What do you do when you are facing an impasse and have no idea how you arrived at this no-win moment? Maybe there were signs, but they never seemed to be worrisome enough to heed. If there was no warning at all, how on earth do you digest and deal with the relative surprise and painful realization that something is broken?

I've grown less prone to dramatics as I've aged, and I can say for certain that I have no love for drawn out dilemmas. It isn't as though I'm without feeling, I just don't see the point in lingering over things that are clearly cut and dry. Maybe I'm apathetic, but I think maybe I'm just a realist when it comes to human interaction. We grow together and fade apart, and only the strongest of us make our way back toward one another.

I might never stop being surprised by the sudden and intense changes my relationships take, but they are a part of this life and no amount of denial or protest will change their path. Like it or not, some people are in your life for brief moments, never to be a part of the big picture in the end. I still reel for awhile when someone fades from my day to day, all too soon a fading memory that every so often might be recalled.

So much more difficult when you realize you're the one fading from someone else's world.

Even a Little Difference is a Difference After All

On occasion, I fail to be the ray of positivity that I strive to be, but sometimes it's needed to make sure I stay headed in the right direction. There's usually a lesson in patience involved, and even though it's taken me years to get this far, I'm happy there's room for improvement. No matter how long it takes me to take a moment and breathe before allowing things to frustrate me, at least I know I'm still capable of growth.

It is a comfort of sorts to know that a year from now, while I'll still be me, I will likely have grown in ways that help me be a better all-around version of who I want to be. The prospects of what life will be like are so varied. It may not be as obvious to others, but I know when I sit back and reflect on the previous 12 months, I will be impressed by how much has changed. This time last year much of my life routine was similar to today, but the goals that I have, the energy that working toward them has given me, and the expectation of taking on new challenges is so completely different from 365 days ago.

I was still getting use to not going to a salon to work, missing my clients and adapting to no longer having wads of one dollar bills on hand all the time. I still put effort into what I wore and how my hair looked, despite not having to leave the house for days other than to transport my son to and from school. A year ago I was facing two more full winters, now I'm only facing one :) My middle sister still lived in the state and I was just about to complete P90.

The picture is a bit different for sure; I no longer feel the need to wear makeup or do much beyond let my hair go curly — unless I've got somewhere to be. I don't miss the interactions I had at the salon as much as I first did, and I've grown comfortable working from home. My sister and I have found ways to keep in touch, and my son can now drive himself to school on the days I don't feel being a taxi. I've just completed the fourth program I got through Beachbody (after P90 I did two full rounds of Body Beast and ended the year, post surgery with 21 Day Fix), and I'm about to start the fifth. My body has changed for the better, I feel stronger in every way imaginable.

A lot can happen over the course of twelve months, and though my life is not vastly different, the changes are worth celebrating to me. I love my life more today than I did yesterday, and it is freaking awesome knowing that will just continue to grow as the years go by. Here's to the next 301 days, I'm excited to see what they bring.

I'm Hooked

Another amazing day in the books. I know it won't always be this way, but when I am blessed with great days, I revel in them! There was a moment or two when things weren't going the way I had hoped, but because I didn't dwell on any of it, the brightness continued to shine on through.

When you are excited about something, it is impossible to contain yourself and oh so easy to share your enthusiasm. I love the world of fitness. For years I dabbled in a number of different activities, half-heartedly trying to get in shape. I had to give up running because of a back issue, but surprisingly found weight lifting to be something that didn't aggravate it. Even after I spent a year recovering from the disc herniations caused by a fall, I was leary about getting back into working out at all. Then I decided to give Beachbody a try.

I had done P90X years before the back injury, but didn't think I was ready to jump in quite that aggressively, so I opted for P90. I felt great, was able to modify until I could do the program straight through at 100% form and effort. I moved on to Body Beast and the rest is sort of 'recent' history. This company has made it possible for nearly anyone to realize their fitness goals. Their programs cover a wide variety of exercise options, all with the ability to modify the moves within a person's fitness level. More than that though, the people who are involved with the company are inspiring, encouraging and knowledgable.

The positive energy I choose to generate and the empowering feeling I have building a stronger, healthier version of myself makes me want everyone to experience these things. I can't help it. I'd never assume that someone would be able to achieve their goals exactly the way I am. Everyone is different, but nearly all of us want to feel good in our own skin and recognize our potential. Knowing the value of support, peer interaction and being able to do things at my own pace and not feel judge is incredible. I had no idea a year ago that I would get so much from celebrating other people's milestones and helping build those around me up. Being able to cheer someone on, show them the gains they may be overlooking and be part of a community dedicated to something so vital as health and fitness is intoxicating.

This is why I have amazing day after amazing day. I interact with people who are stepping out of their comfort zones and not afraid to let others know when they stumble. Like-minded souls who get that when people work together to help another person reach their goal everyone wins. Women praising and coaching each other on sticking to their paths and loving themselves even on their worst days. Why on earth wouldn't anyone want to be part of something this inspiring?

New People, Exciting Times

What a day! Every part of it was amazing. I feel accomplished and charged up with serious positive energy.

It's tough to contain your enthusiasm when you have a Felix Felicis kind of day. The fact that I have this kind of day on a somewhat regular basis is in no small part thanks to adopting a positive attitude. It's almost like wearing rose-colored glasses, but without being oblivious to actual life. Look for the good around you, and eventually, it radiates from you.

I met a great woman today after having been introduced by a mutual friend. She's new to the area and we have similar interests. I might just finally have a single friend my age to hang out with!! Seriously, at my age, that is something to be happy about.

Surrounding myself with other positive people is by far the best conscious decision I have made in recent years. The fact that most of these people are women is even better. When women choose to support and lift each other up with encouragement and praise, the results are astonishingly awesome. For far too long I had witnessed women being catty and competitive, tearing each other down like it was an art form. Being part of something where that trend is being shredded is empowering and inspiring. Yeah, we are far stronger when we work together.

Dinner and chill time with the youngest was good, too. It goes without saying that I love my sons, but there are moments that are better than others. It might be small, but when he brought the trash out just now, he yelled for me to come outside to see the cool clouds against the night sky. Knowing he appreciates the smallest things around him definitely reassures me that I've done my job as a mother fairly well.

I love that I end the day feeling inspired and energized, but that I know I had a hand in creating my happiness is even better. I'm riding this wave for all it's worth!