Once upon a time, I almost died, but then I didn’t.
It was a dark and stormy….several years? And then there was light.
Fun fact: I suck at beginnings.
(at least that’s my voice)
I suck at beginnings. And this is too important for me to spin on finding the perfect introduction so long I stall out. So I’m pushing through.
I’d like you to read about my recent struggles managing my mental health if you have the time. This may seem strange if you know me, or presumptuous if you don’t, so let’s start with a few reasons why I’m putting something this personal online and exposing the chewiest of my chewy center for all to see. Continue reading Sharing is Caring: A story about my mental health
So Charlotte and I have this “game” we play, courtesy of Dr. Seuss. Basically every time I answer a question with “I do not know,” we have a race to see whether I can say “go ask your dad!” before she says “don’t say it!”
Today, we were in the car and something she asked triggered the game. then, of course, she wanted to see if she could get me to say it again.
“You have to say ‘I don’t know'” again.
“You have to stump me, first”
(brief discussion on what “stump” means)
“What’s 300 minus 75?”
“Ugh! Why do you know every thing?”
“You need to ask me questions that don’t have answers.”
“Are there any math questions without answers?”
“Um…. sort of, but you probably won’t learn them until much later.”
then a few moments passed and she lobbed this one at me:
“Where is God?”
How does a 6 year old brain make leaps like that?
My tumblr feed is full of fans with enough free time to create/curate all sorts of eyecandy related to my favorite tv shows, movies, books, etc. It’s awesome. …except when I get behind because I don’t have the capacity to watch most shows live. What do you do when you want to spend some time on tumblr, but you want to avoid spoilers? Continue reading How to Handle Spoilers on Tumblr
At the start of 2011 I made myself a promise. I promised I was going to stop defining myself by who I thought I was when I was 15. that person was largely defined by who people (well meaning in many cases but often malicious) told me I could and could not be. I learned from them. I internalized and exaggerated their ideas. I was “defined” at 15 and never looked back.
One of the major things I “knew” was that I wasn’t the sort of girl who sang solos in choir. No matter how brave I was in the group, how boldly I sang when nobody could hear. I was the girl who choked at auditions and never got the part. And if some kind director wanted to reward my earnestness, I was guaranteed to fail in performance.
I’ve done my best to defeat that definition. I started auditioning, and choking. Soon, however, I found a niche. I could belt out a line from the safety of the chorus that was over before it began. I could force out my gutsy “chest voice” through my fears.
I started tearing away at that definition, but that wasn’t enough. The “pretty” solo still alluded me. I still choked when it came time for Latin or anything else I knew would result in standing alone at the front of the chorus with an untested mic and a voice that warbled when it was nervous.
Tonight, I’m no longer that girl, either. In about an hour I’m going to stand in front of my chorus and kick off our summer concert with a “pretty” solo. If I ever suspected I would have been quality enough at the audition to get it, I never would have dared. I was still working on not botching the audition a few weeks ago.
But that was then.