Journal Day! V.4

There's been so many moments in life, both good and bad, that have a hand at shaping us into the person we are today.  When looking back at our lives as a whole, it can be hard to pinpoint exact instances where we've changed immensely or grown as people- often these are gradual changes that sneak up on us over time. It's only when we take a huge step back and really think about it, are we able to see all these sequences of events as separate pieces.  And sure, hundreds of different events play a part in bringing us into the present, but when you really break it down, there are definitely moments that stand out more than others.

So with that said -


Looking at all of the life you've lived so far, can you pinpoint one time frame or instance that you feel truly contributed to your growth as a person?  This may be a turning point, a positive or negative experience, a moment or collection of moments that stand out in your mind...something that changed you as a whole.

I'd always been someone who dated a lot, and throughout high school and college I had my fair share of boyfriends, although nothing terribly serious...until I met this one particular guy my sophomore year of college.  I met him at the shop I worked at and I felt an immediate attraction- I thought he was so handsome, funny, and unlike most guys I had been interested in before.  Up until that point you could say that I always dated "my type" - starting way back in junior high I usually found myself hanging out and dating boys who skateboarded, played music, and if they were into sports they weren't what my friends and I un-apologetically labeled as "meatheads."  This guy though was a far-cry from any of the skater boys I grew up with, the opposite of my friends in bands, and so incredibly different from most of the guys I spent my time with. I wasn't even sure why I liked him. But I did.

As time went on we started to hang out more; we'd joke around throughout our shifts at work, stay a little bit later helping each other straighten up the shelves, talk about our separate plans for the weekend.  Then one day he asked me out on a date.  I of course said yes, and the next couple of days went by in a blur as I found myself being swept away in excitement.

He picked me up on a Thursday night and I was greeted with a rose on the passenger seat when I got in the car. Back then I was blown away- none of my previous dates had shown this level of chivalry outside of the corsages at school dances their mothers had thoughtfully ordered. We headed out to eat Indian food, which I'd never had before. Conversation was light, easy. Afterward we went to get frozen yogurt (my favorite), and I'll never forget him watching me finish my cup of yogurt (my very small cup, mind you), and saying to me, "my god, you don't have to scrape out every last bit!" as I scooped up the last couple of vanilla flavored spoonfuls. And he wasn't joking. In my happiness with the evening I let this strange comment kind of drift away with a smile, and as he dropped me off at my house I floated inside, eager to share the details of the night with my girlfriends.

So yeah, it was a great night, minus the weird comment. And as time went on, we became a couple. And the rose on the front seat? That was only the start. This guy pulled out all the stops. Fancy dinners, weekends away, little gifts. I'd never, ever dated anyone who treated me this way...and I liked it. But soon comments like the one that night at the frozen yogurt shop started happening more regularly. Just little things, here and there, but they added up. We were so different, so I always made excuses for his odd remarks and sometimes unpredictable behavior.

As time went on we began to argue, he would yell, get very angry, and eventually we totally stopped getting along. In retrospect I can see parts of myself slowly start to change to suit him. I see myself backing down from arguing with him, starting to lose interest in the things I used to love. I don't really know how it happened- it's part embarrassing, part weird, part really surprising...but I let myself change because that's what I thought my boyfriend wanted.  I'd never done that before; in the past I'd always been a super-independent girl. I knew what I wanted and knew who I was. But somehow I'd let this guy into my head in the most negative way, and when we broke up a few months later for good, I didn't feel sad- I felt surprisingly free.

It's still a mystery to me how I let that happen. Luckily I only spent a few months with that jerk, and I suppose it was a blessing in disguise, because that winter taught me exactly what I shouldn't be doing.  And then of course exactly what I should be doing, too.

For those months spent with someone I allowed myself to change for- for that time I gave up as I pretty much morphed into some weakened version of myself, I'm grateful. I truly look at that relationship as a turning point in my life. It really showed me who I was, and I think I had to lose myself somewhere along the way to really find myself. Sure, certain things will always remind me of this bizarre time in my life- there are particular country songs that still give me the creeps, and every so often Autumn, Shirley and I will get a laugh quoting whats-his-name while eating frozen yogurt- but the best lingering memories from all of it are the life lessons I learned.

For a long time I felt foolish about letting that happen. I was perplexed at how me, Ms. Outgoing-Life-of-the-Party could ever allow some guy to change who I was. But now I just chalk it up to another one of those "growing up" experiences, and certainly an experience who shaped me into the girl I am today.  And later on, this newly re-self-assured girl would date a whole bunch of great guys who treated me just how I deserved to be treated...and then one special guy in particular who would eventually become my husband. I loved myself, and allowed myself to be loved. A pretty awesome ending if I do say so myself.

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I'm moving back to having you guys link up in the comments - I did love using inlinkz, but realized that if I was to re-format my blog I'd lose all of your links! So instead, just go ahead and post your link in the comments, along with a little excerpt from your journaling! Can't wait  to read them. :)

Journal Day! V.3

As much as I say I don't have regrets, that everything has gotten me to this point in my life, etc...there are still things in my past that I look back on and sometimes wish I could change or redo. Thinking like this really does me no good though, because let's be real- we can't change the past, we can't go back- all we can do is move forward. With that said though, at times I do find myself taking a trip down memory lane and thinking about a few different instances years ago that I would definitely go back and change if I had the opportunity AND if it wouldn't affect my present and future in a negative way, Back to the Future style.

*what I'm about to share is really hard to type out, and I found myself in tears multiple times while writing it. I've spoken about it a few times on this blog, but this time it was very hard to find the words to describe this time in my life. But as much as it hurts to write, it also is incredibly cathartic and I'm so thankful to be able to express my emotions about it here. I hesitated to share it, but for the sake of journaling and being honest, here you go.

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If you had a free pass to go back and change anything in your past, with the promise that it would only affect you positively, would you do it? And if so, what would you change?

I'll never forget that fall. It seemed to be colder than usual, the autumn chill in the air lingering later into the day and coming earlier in the evening. The leaves were bronze and rust, and orange and gold. We were making plans for Fall Break, deciding where to go and who to see, and most of my memories involve sitting on the white railing of our front porch, talking with friends and watching the cars go by. That was the Fall we lost you. That summer, seeing you every night had become commonplace. We'd spend weekends at shows together, eating vegan food, road trips to Phoenix and Tucson listening to Stay Gold and Shakira, midnight trips to Dennys where we'd eat too much pie and you guys would drink too much coffee. You were our little brother, and our nightly runs around the track, the long conversations about your girlfriends and crushes are still fresh in my mind.

When that fall arrived, you began to drift. The new school year for you brought new friends. Less hardcore shows, less band practice, more spending time with the party kids, and subsequently, more time spent around drugs and alcohol.  I should have seen it coming. I should have noticed the slow and eventual shift in personality, the shy, quiet, often awkward boy acting just a little different, a little off. Dinners and hangouts slowed down, you stopped joining us on the weekends. You'd pop by here and there, but it wasn't the same. Myspace messages unanswered, unreturned phone calls. More than once I tried to reach out and find out what was wrong, why you seemed so different. Unanswered, unreturned. And then October came. You passed through the library one day while I was in the non-fiction section. We had plans that night, for you to come over and hang out with Hank and me, to cook dinner, to catch up, to spend time together with one of our best friends, however far removed you were at the time. In that passing we confirmed our plans. You said I love you, I said the same, we hugged, and you walked away. In that moment something in my gut told me not to let you go, to call you back. To please, please, please stop him and say more, ask him, tell him, make him. Something way down deep inside knew something was not alright. But I let you go.

You never showed up that night. I called twice and got no answer. I didn't call again, but the next morning the phone did ring. It was Hank's Dad, calling to let us know that they had found you, not breathing. You had died early that morning.

I can never ever go back to that day, that month, that Autumn. But if I could change one thing in my past, this would be it. For a long time I blamed myself, I felt like I should have done something more, I should have found out what was going on. It hurts to know that you are gone and it hurts that Henry won't ever know his Uncle. But yet there are so many days I think of you and smile to myself- Hank and I find ourselves talking about you often, and sometimes when I walk around town with Adie we'll remember funny stories and reminisce about your blue eyes and shy smile. New Year's Eve will always remind me of you, not-so-vegan lasagna, Shakira, bandannas, In My Eyes, fancy olives.  All you. And whenever I think about something I would change if I could, you will always, always be the first thing that comes to mind.

Journal Day! V.2

Okay, first of all, I absolutely loved reading all of your journals from the other week. Really, really loved. Thank you all for being so receptive to this idea, and taking part so enthusiastically.  Today is Journal Day #2, so at the suggestion of my pal Liz, I decided to use a link-up feature here like I did with my 8 Weeks project. This time though, it will allow you to share your profile picture and the link to your post, so be sure to link up below so we can all visit each other's space and read, read, read!

Here's this week's prompt (all prompts come from me unless otherwise sourced/stated):

The older we get, the more certain we get about who we are and what our purpose is.  For me, a lot of it is still unknown, but as I make my way down my own path, I have begun to realize that there are indeed some inevitable truths that I know for sure. On your own blog, write a post that talks about "the one thing you know for sure."

When I think back through the life I've lived these past 29 years, there is a common theme: positivity.  Some of the time I've had it, some of the time I haven't, but as most people could guess, the times when I've been in a positive frame of mind I've managed to be the happiest, most productive, and surrounded myself with other like-minded people.  For me, the thing I know for sure is that we make our own reality.  We choose to be either a positive or negative energy in not only our own lives, but in the roles we play in other peoples' too.  Growing up I had some tumultuous times of my own doing. Looking back at these moments, these months, even years of my life, I can see that I wasn't making the right choices at a very basic level. And those choices permeated every other aspect of my life.  I was surrounding myself with negative people, because really, that's what I was. Like absolutely attracts like. I was putting a certain kind of energy out there, and in return I was attracting others, just like me.  As time went by though, I realized that it was me who could make the conscious effort to be positive, and in turn, make my world positive. It's so easy to give into the negativity. I actually think it's easier to have a bad day than it is to have a good day.  So many things can go wrong, and reacting in a negative way, giving into the "oh well" mentality is so much easier than deciding that you won't let it get you down, and rising above.

For me, the one thing I know to be 100% certain is that to be happy, I have to choose happy. Now sure, some people do not have this option- there's clinical depression, mental illness, many things that make it much harder to make this choice, but in my world, I do have that choice to make. And so I make it. And as the years have gone by I've had ups and downs, as I've gone through heart ache and heart break, loss and the occasional bouts of feeling lost, I've always come back to a place of positivity. I hold onto the fact that yes, it will get better. Yes, this is hard, but things will turn around. The sun will shine. I will find happiness again.

And now when I wake up I know I need to tell myself that it's going to be a good day. I know that some days I need to give myself a pep talk, and other days I'll hop right out of bed with a smile on my face. Everyday is a choice. And when I do make that choice, I influence all of the people in my immediate circle. My unspoken positivity has the power to seep into Hank's mood, into Henry's, into every single person I meet. It's energy. And when you think about it, negativity does the same thing. And when I finally realized that, I knew that I had discovered my one truth - the one thing that I absolutely know for sure- that I make my own reality, and that I need to choose to make it a positive place.

Journal Day!

{unknown photo credit- please let me know if you know!}

I love being a stay-at-home Mom, but there are some days when I really miss being a high school English teacher, too!  Most of all I miss the creative writing. For six years of my life, every Tuesday and Thursday, we had Journal Day. At the start of the year, each child would get a journal of their choice (typically a black composition notebook), and we'd add at least two pages per week. Upon the students' arrival in class on they would see a prompt on the board. They could always choose to free-write, but typically the kids would choose to at least start with the prompt and then let their writing go wherever they wished.  I had no rules for their journals- they could write about whatever they wanted, and although they did get a grade for completing each day's writing, I never gave them a grade on content. At the end of each journaling session, we'd go around the room and everyone could share anything they wanted- at the least just one word, and at the most, their entire entry. Some kids started by just offering up a word or a phrase- "good day" "sad" "really weird mood" - but as the year went on everyone got more and more comfortable. There were so many days I heard something that then prompted me to talk a child after class. Perhaps the one word they shared sounded a bit off, or maybe they shared a lot, and I knew they needed to talk to someone. I found that it was pretty therapeutic for a lot of the kids. I mean, I know some couldn't care less, but I do know there were more than a few that loved it. And I miss those days, I miss the writing, and the mix CDs the kids would bring it to play during those ten or fifteen minutes. The sound of the pencils on paper, the look of concentration. The feeling when one of my "non-writers" would say, "this isn't so hard after all."

So I got to thinking. And I decided that I'm going to bring back those journal days right here.

And if you'd like to join in, I'd absolutely love it.

Here's how it will work- I'll post a prompt, and then write about it below. You can write on the prompt in your blog (feel free to grab the image up top), then come back here and leave a comment with a sentence or two from your entry, and the link.  I know I'd be so honored to be able to read what you write, and I know a lot of others would love to, too. I think this will be a fun way to get a writing community going, and I'm so looking forward to getting to know more of you through your words. All of these prompts come from the notebook I kept in my desk in my English classroom and they come from various places; college writing courses, my own mind, websites, friends and colleagues. I'm so excited to share them here, and bring back the most important aspect of blogging to my blog- writing.  I think this will be a neat way to infuse some creativity into our daily lives too, and inspire each other to write a lot more! So, here we go.

Describe a "first" (first date, first lie, the first time you experienced something, first time in a particular setting, etc). Include as many details as possible to paint a picture.

When I think back to my first kiss, it's strange because in my mind a lot of that night is so vivid, but at the same time so much of it has faded with time. What I do remember, though, is in the small, small details. I was in 7th grade, the age when you think you know so much, but in reality much of what you know is clouded by a veil of naivety.  I grew up in a town with one middle school, so going to a party where there would be guests (boys!) from another town over was as exciting as exciting got in our small New Jersey town. Like most cliched "first kiss" memories, mine did indeed happen in a basement, and did indeed happen during a game of Spin the Bottle. I can remember the couch (brown, tweed-like), the carpet (green, shag) and the lights (dim, so low). I think back and I recall my friend Caitlyn sitting next to me, my friend Melissa across from me, the circle mixed with boys we had grown up with. And in between them, one or two boys we didn't know. We sat there, and although I honestly have no idea whose house it was, whose party, whose negligent parents...I remember my clammy hands, the smell of the Sunflowers perfume I had hastily applied as a last second decision, and the feeling that maybe-possibly this would be it, this would be my first kiss. A girl whose name I can't quite remember brought out a bottle. It was a large soda bottle. Maybe green. Maybe orange. We all sat there, awkward in our early-nineties preteen-ness. Some with braces. Training bras. Chapstick. The aforementioned perfume bought with allowance money from a drugstore. A classmate named Maria spun the bottle first. I don't remember what happened, but I remember that I was beside her, and I kept thinking, I'm next, I'm next, I'm next. In moments like these, it's almost unreal how you can think back and remember the lump in your throat, damp palms, the unsure feeling in the pit of your stomach. Then, oh! My turn. I spun the bottle, and it spun and spun. The maybe-green, maybe-orange vessel turned and turned, and landed on one of the boys from the town over. Eddie. In that moment my pre-adolescent heart was so vulnerable. Thump, thump, thump. The what ifs ran through my head I'm sure; what if he refuses, what if he doesn't. All of those thoughts in a quick second or two. And then. He leaned over. I leaned over. We met in the middle. So awkward, so clumsy. I remember the kiss being soft. And gentle. And tasting like Trident. And feeling like it lasted for minutes when in reality it was a moment. We both sat back on our sides of the circle with small smiles, although inside I was beaming, my heart doing a victory lap in my chest, feeling like I had won the sweepstakes. I would finally be able to say "yes! I have! I've kissed someone!" when Lori and Amy and Elizabeth inevitably got to talking at lunch. It was one of those memories that almost seems to come straight out of The Wonder Years in how it happened, and it's still funny to me that I can remember it with such detail. Eddie. Trident. That basement. My first kiss.