I'm not afraid of you, just so you know

Today's topic: What is your biggest fear as a single person?

My biggest fear as a single person? I'm confused. My biggest fear has always been the same thing, whether I've been single or in a relationship. I am scared of monkeys. You all already know that...

Ok fine. Something more real than monkeys. Even though they are technically what I am most afraid of. Just to make that crystal clear. Monkeys. are. my. biggest. fear.

As a single woman, my biggest fear is the feeling of not being enough for someone. I know where this comes from and I work on it contantly, both internally and externally. I vocalize this fear to the people who need to know of its presence, and I take responsibility for any insecurities left in its wake.

But regardless of knowing the root of this evil and having the skills required to keep it in check, it is a present fear and does occassional rear its head, leaving me an insecure mess in a puddle on the floor.

Does my logical brain know that this fear is ridiculous? Yes, of course. I know that I am exactly perfect for the right person. I know that at some point, some poor sap is going to meet me, fall head over heels for my big bright eyes, my crazy curls, my dynamic personality, and my  infectious smile. I know that this guy is going to be met head on with a smart, strong, independant woman who will not take the back seat, who rarely backs down from a fight, who is headstrong and hard-assed. The poor guy won't even see it coming til it is too late. He'll already be too gushy over me to run. I know that I am good enough, I know that I am the strongest, healthiest version of myself than I have been in a long time, and I know that there is a boy out there who will appreciate and love that.

Does any of that stop the insecurities that occassionally pop up to burst my confidence bubble? No, not at all. Because for 3 years, I had it beat into my head that I was not pretty, that I was not smart, that I was not important, and that I was not worthy of anyone's time, energy, or heart. I was bullied and bulldozed into forgetting who I was and forgetting to care about myself. And those things don't go away overnight. They don't disappear in 10 hours of therapy. They don't vanish when you date someone else; they are still there, and maybe they always will be.

The important thing is, I am no longer afraid of my insecurities, nor do I let my fears get in the way of what I want to do. I speak more openly of my feelings than I ever have, and so far, it has only given me more strength, power, and confidence.

Being vulnerable is hard. It challenges me. It scares me. I am afraid of rejection, afraid of someone else bullying the emotion right out of me. But I have embraced that fear is just part of the journey, and that without it, life would be too easy and I'd take it for granted. Am I afraid of being in love with someone? Hell yes. But I won't let that stop me. I will continue to be the boy-crazy, optimistic, passionate girl I always have been. I will face disappointments and heartache, but in the end I will be happy, and I will have found the person worth all the rest of it. And most important, I'll be healthy, happy, and ready for it.

 

And by the way, I am still far more afraid of monkeys than any of this.

Sometimes the wrong things are the right things for a little while

Today's topic: Describe your most difficult break up and what you learned from it.

 

Most people would probably expect me to say that my most difficult break up was with Kalib, but it wasn't. With Kalib, by the time it got to the break up, I was done and had already checked out, so it was just a matter of moving my stuff out of the house. And yes, the process was hard, losing Rylie was hard, leaving the house I helped purchase was hard. But the breaking up part in itself, was not hard for me. Because I was ready.

Rewind to the relationship I was in prior to meeting Kalib, and that was the most difficult break up I have been through. Not because the relationship was extremely long-lasting or deep, but simply because my heart was still in it when it ended. I didn't want to break up with Zach. I liked him. He was fun and always made me laugh. We had fun together, had great chemistry. But I knew I had to break up with him. He was an alcoholic and he wasn't working, and it wasn't good for either one of us to be in that relationship at that time. My relationship with Zach is a perfect example of how sometimes, you can have the chemistry, but that without the timing, you will fail. It was an example of a time where I rushed into something, where I pushed past my doubts and went for it anyway. And as they tend to do when they're not the right thing, it failed.

It is hard for me now to look back on my relationship with Zach and be critical, because a year ago he was killed in a car accident in northern California. Ironically on his way home to check into an in-patient rehab center to combat his alcoholism. I know that our relationship was not healthy for either of us. I know that it was not perfect, and I don't look back on it with dreamy eyes; I know that while we were having a great time, we were not being responsible about it. Zach was a good person and I will never forget the fun year I spent being a part of his life. I think of him often, and I message his Facebook page when I am feeling particularly blue. We may not have been the right thing for each other, but he was still something right in my life.

It isn't always in the Grand Gesture

Today's Topic: What fictional character do you identify with and why?

In my recent homelessness, I watched a lot of TV streamed from Netflix on my laptop. A lot. I have watched just shy of the entire series of How I Met Your Mother in the last 30 days (don't give me any secrets, I still have seasons 8 and 9 to finish). And for a great deal of the show, I felt a connection to Ted Mosby.

Ted is a hopeless romantic, and all he wants is for some grand gesture to bring him to the love of his life. He looks at the world through the eyes of someone who wants to be in love and wants to share it with the perfect person, but who is growing more cynical that this person is not out there for him. Ted believes in destiny and in fate, and he wears his heart on his sleeve.

It is true. I am Ted Mosby.

At least Ted Mosby is sexy. If I'm him, at least I can move forward knowing how sexy I am.

Despite my best efforts to hide it under sarcasm and independance, I am a complete and total sap. I believe in the same things Ted Mosby does (with the exception of destiny, I don't buy into that) and I want what he wants. There are days where I wake up and hope for a romantic, knock me on my ass, sweep me off my feet gesture from the man of my dreams. There are days where I feel like everyone around me is happy and in love, and that I am destined to be by myself because only ass hats are attracted to me. There are days where I feel like I give and give and give, where I am completely emotionally open and honest, where I am vulnerable and totally ready...and that no one notices it.

And then reality smacks me in the face, and I remember that love is not about grand gestures. Love is not going to appear out of nowhere and brainwash me. Love is something that takes time. The best relationships grow from friendships. I remember that I don't want a knock me on my ass moment to blind me from reality; I want the person who makes my reality better without blinding me. And I am not in a hurry. In fact, I am not really 100% ready, and until I am, I need to focus on myself, not on someone else. I know that my success in a relationship will come from taking the time to be ready, not from rushing through the important parts.

Ted Mosby is an awesome character. He has heart. He is vulnerable. He is open to love. He believes in it. He takes his past experiences and past heartaches and learns from them, usually. Ted Mosby is open and honest and true to his own heart. He goes after what he wants. He expresses his feelings.

And sometimes, even though he loves the Grand Gesture, he remembers that love is not one grand gesture, but rather a compilation of all the small, sweet, moments. And that's when Ted finds what he spent 9 seasons looking for: the mother of his children, the love of his life.

I am Ted Mosby. I am the hopeless romantic who has fallen in love with all the wrong people so far and still somehow believes in a deep, true, passionate love. I am Ted Mosby. And I am ok with that.

There are a lot of benefits to being my friend

Today's Topic: Describe how you met the last person you texted and talk about your friendship/relationship.

The last person I texted is someone I text fairly often. And by fairly often, I mean if we went a day without at least a text or two, I'd probably think he was dead. This person is a good friend of mine and has been for, what, 9 years now. The only catch is, when I have a boyfriend or he has a girlfriend, we don't really talk. And we definitely don't hang out. And if we happen to run into each other, we certainly do not drink together alone. And, I'm sure you can guess why that is.

Yes, that is because we are friends who happen to enjoy having sex with each other.

And from what I can tell, that's not a nice thing to do with your friend when you have a boyfriend or girlfriend. And in the last 9 years, I have learned that I am too physically attracted to this person, and the chemistry is just too present, to maintain a friendship when other people's feelings, hearts, or relationship statuses are involved.

We met 9 years ago, at work. He was charming and irresistable, and of course at 22, I was...well, I was drunk mostly. But I also had a nice ass, and I loved to drink cheap beer and play Big Buck Hunter, so obviously I was a total prize. We were friends, and we occassionally hooked up, usually at 3:00 in the morning after a night closing down the Brew or the Harmony. Goodness, I was so classy in my early twenties.

In any case, the friendship we had 9 years ago was very shallow; it involved a lot of drinking, a lot of jealousy, some tears, some anger, and honestly, a lot of fun as well. But thankfully, we've both outgrown the way we treated each other in the past and actually do have a good friendship, even outside of the physical.

This person is someone I know I can count on to tell me the truth, to offer me sound advice when I ask for it, to tell me when I am acting crazy, and to listen to me when I'm venting. And more than anything, he makes me laugh. Whether we are at his place or mine, seeing a movie, having dinner or a drink, or watching a football game, rest assured I will be entertained. There is a healthy dose of give and take in my friendship with him; while he is able to give me advice as I need it, he is also one to approach me for the same. I no longer feel what I felt 9 years ago - that I was the one giving and he was the one taking, our friendship has surpassed that and is much more balanced than it used to be. I contribute that to the time I spent in therapy, because I often just quote my therapist to him when he needs to figure some shit out.

One thing I have learned, not necessarily from this relationship, but from relationships in general - and life experience in general really, is that chemistry is vital, but so is the timing. When you push for something that you are not ready for, it will inevitably fail. When you force something instead of waiting for it to progress naturally, you ruin it. I have rushed things in the past, pushed them when instinctivly I was not ready, and look where that has gotten me. I'm not in high school anymore, I don't need to label every relationship I have right away, nor do I need to make everything into a big deal or to push when I am not ready. As I have taught my dear friend Rachel, most of the time, people really just need to CTFD (calm the fuck down) and let things come at them. As long as there continues to be a presence of honesty and communication, I will continue to be satisfied.

Pun. Intended.

Someone (not this same person) just told me that I should proceed with this blog post, despite the fact that sometimes - especially as a woman - it is hard to admit publicly that you're having sex with someone on a casual basis, someone who is not your boyfriend. People get all judgey about it and want to start in with their "you're gonna get hurt" speeches. And while I respect the opinions of my friends, some of whom disagree with most of the life decisions I make, I am who I am and I may as well be open about it. Afterall, this is my blog, and isn't that the point?

Go ahead, let your guard down...I dare you

Today's topic: Five things that are most important to you in a future partner.

 

I don't feel like I have a long list of demands from a guy that has contributed to the constant disappointment I find in men, but there are several things that I do believe are essential characteristics for someone to keep my attention and make me happy for a long time. Something that a lot of people don't realize about me is, I really am a hopeless romantic. Jaded to some degree, perhaps, but still really just looking for a lifetime of happiness with someone who loves me.

 

When someone asks me, what are you looking for in a guy, I always just stare at them blankly, as if I have no idea what qualities are important. But what matters to me are the same things that should be important to any woman - I want a man who is respectful, kind, appreciative, attentive, and honest. I don't really think any of these things are so outlandish that they warrant their own blog post, but they are apparently also harder to come by than you might thing, since I've never dated anyone who was able to deliver on the whole package.

More than any of the qualities I can count on my fingers though, I think what truly is the most important thing that I need from a partner is the feeling that nothing I do is stupid. I need to be with someone who validates the way that I feel, whether it makes sense or not, and whether it is logical or not. I don't always make sense, and I don't expect anyone - friends or boyfriends - to always follow my line of thought. But I won't tolerate someone calling my thoughts, stupid. I am not stupid, and what I think is never stupid. I do need to have that feeling of support and validation, so that I am able to continue being open and honest.

Being safe in my vulnerability is so vital, and something that seems to come along far too rarely. People become far too defensive and build far too many walls around their hearts as they endure breakups, failed relationships, or disappointments. This is something we are all guilty of, not just me. The easy thing to do when someone hurts you is arm yourself with an emotional shield, to barricade yourself from ever feeling that pain again. But when someone comes along and shows you respect, compassion, and support; when someone listens to you, validates your emotions, and continues to want to be around you, it is your responsibility to start letting go of those brick walls. The person on the other side deserves for you to let them in, and more importantly, you deserve to have someone who wants to be there.

Relationships are no easy feat, but I do hold out hope that at some point, I will find someone worth all the effort. And of course, if I can't have any of that, there's always the sex appeal of George Clooney to satisfy me...

I just try to live like Barbie Doll

Today's topic: Where are you in your life vs where you thought you'd be at this point?

When I was a kid, 30 was old. Like, reeeeeeally old. My mom was 30. And that was old. If you had asked me at 5 years old, where I would be when I was 30, I would have said several things:

1. Married.
2. A teacher.
3. An NBA player like my idol, Clyde the Glide Drexler.
4. Having babies.
5. Having cats and dogs. Like, ten of them.

As a little girl, I played a lot of Barbie (who, by the way, spent a lot of time naked with Ken), and a lot of baby dolls with Stace, Kitty, DeLaina, LaDonna, and Carolyn. And when we were playing baby dolls, we always had a lot of kids and a lot of pets, and of course, a husband...and were *gasp* 25 years old!!

25 was "the age to be" when we were playing. Barbie was always 25, we were always 25 in our mock households with all of our baby dolls. 25 had a nice ring to it for what defined a grown up.

The only thing that 25 year old Barbie and 25 year old fake housewife and 25 year old real life me had in common was that the amount of sex I had at 25 rivaled Barbie and Ken's. I wasn't married or popping out babies, I didn't have ten pets or a house of my own. I was in college, living with my parents, working at Old Chicago, and probably wishing I was still 5 years old.

The same is true for 30 year old me. I am single, living in an apartment (two days from now), just me and my one cat - not ten cats and ten dogs - without a house of my own with my hsuband. I don't wear high heels and dresses every day, but I have learned how to more adequately do my makeup. I still maintain a decent Barbie-and-Ken type sex life, but I have learned a thing or two about the ways they did it wrong way back in 1988 when I was 5 years old...I mean, come on, he just laid on top of her like a dead fish, and she just laid under him like another dead fish. Get it together, Barbie, you deserve better than that!

I have also somehow managed to overcome my dreams of playing in the NBA, after my mom explained to me why little girls at 4 feet tall don't generally get to grow up into 7 foot tall black men, and I realized at some point that I had no desire to be a teacher, what with all the hatred I have towards other people's kids. So you could say my career aspirations have changed since I was little. I have a career I am proud of, where I make decent money, or at least enough to support myself - for the most part. I still think I would have done Clyde the Glide proud, but I suppose life goes on.

The way I viewed adulthood as a child has clearly changed. I am proud of my single, stable, grownup Barbie life. And for the record, Barbie wasn't even as commited to Ken as I liked to think. I caught her in bed with a GI Joe once, and she definitely spent some time in my brother's room with a Power Ranger. So there's that...

Wanna come to a no-pants party?

Today's Topic: Your favorite "weird/funny single behavior." Anything that is uniquely you and that living alone allows you to do.

I don't wear pants. No, for real, I don't wear pants. Ever. I really think the most difficult part about the last 3 months of not having my own place has been that when I get home from work, I have had to put on sweat pants.

I come home from work and tend to shed clothing in a trail from the front door all the way to my bedroom. I leave my purse and keys at the front door, kick my shoes off in the entryway, have usually taken my top off in or around the living room, always leave my bra in the hallway, and shed my pants in my room, practically tripping out of them as I walk to the closet. I pull on a tee shirt or a hoodie (depending on the weather), put on a pair of clean socks, and head back out to the living room to feed Juno, make dinner, and turn the TV on. In a hoodie. And socks. And panties. But never in pants.

On a side note, when I'm drunk, this "making a trail" of clothes extends much further...on a recent birthday, I found my earrings in the freezer several days later, and my necklace in the window sill. It's like I wander around aimlessly shedding everything I'm wearing.

Anyway, back to the story...

My electric bill takes the brunt of this strange behavior, as I am almost always freezing cold. I turn the heat up instead of putting pants on, because that's how much I hate wearing pants. I snuggle up under a big blanket on the couch with Juno, because that's how much I hate wearing pants.

I don't know where or when this started happening. I have never been a big fan of jeans; in high school, I rocked dance pants to school almost daily, and getting me to put on a nice pair of jeans was like a huge triumph. I never put jeans on at home. And I mean, never. I obviously wear jeans out, and wear dress slacks to work, but on the evenings that I have friends over or a family dinner, I always shed them and pull on my comfies. I guess maybe I just like to be cozy. And the most cozy I can be is, in my panties and a shirt, with no pants on.

I suppose that when I do finally meet someone who wants to live with me, the no pants thing could do one of two things. Either my guy will take it as a nightly invitation for after-work-but-before-dinner sex, or he'll think I'm a nut and will just laugh at me. Either way, I will have turned the heat up high enough that he'll get hot and have to take his pants off too.

So look at that...no pants. I win.

Being single is awesome, except for when it isn't awesome.

Day 2: Describe a moment or a day when being single really sucked.
Day 3: Describe a moment or a day when being single was really awesome.

I realize that I only need to write on one of these today and the other is supposed to wait until tomorrow, but they just kinda seem to go hand-in-hand...being single can both be super lonely, or incredibly fun, depending on the day. Overall, as I pointed out yesterday, I am single because I haven't met someone worth not being single for, so in general, I don't get too bent out of shape about it. But then again, everybody needs somebody, sometimes.

I have had my fair share of days where I have wished I was part of a couple...specifically when I am out somewhere with all of my couple friends. I am a social butterfly and I love to go out, and when I am in a group of my friends who all have dates to something, I do occassionally think I would prefer to be with someone...especially on couple-y holidays, like New Year's Eve. I am not one to get all hyped about Valentine's Day, so that has never really bothered me, but something about the start of a new year, being dressed up, and maybe something to do with all that champagne...makes kissing someone at midnight a little better if it is not a stranger in a bar. A kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve should mean something, or I guess I think it should.

On the other hand, there are those events where you initially think you wish you had a date, that end up being the most fun because you came solo. A wedding, for example. When I am getting ready to leave the house for a wedding, and I have gone all out to look fab, and I have worked out like a maniac to fit in a specific dress, I usually think, dammit I should have found a date for this thing! But then you get to the wedding, sit through the vows (where I always cry) and get to the reception to find a plethora of single men, single ladies, and even little kids to spend all night dancing with. I have never left a wedding wishing I'd taken a date. Never. Whether I have had a boyfriend or have been single, I have never actually taken a date to a wedding, and I have never regretted it. Being a single lady at a wedding, does not suck. Having groomsmen know you're the single bridesmaid, does not suck. Dancing with the flower girl, does not suck. Drinking with the bride and groom and not having someone to tail around, does not suck. One of the best times to be single, is at a wedding.

The most important thing to take from my post today is that, there will always be days where I wake up in bed and wish someone was next to me. But those days do not run my life, nor do they give me any desire to settle for the next guy to come around. I was chatting with a new friend last night about how it is much easier for women to have her, uh, needs met while single than it is for guys...and I think the may be true, but that's just one benefit of being a woman I guess: access to booty whenever you want it.

Can I add that to my moments when being single is totally awesome?

"A lady does not place her weapon on the table"

I've decided to tackle a new 30 day blog challenge. This one is, "The Single Woman's 30 Day Blog Challege." Let's see what you can all learn about the inner workings of this very awesome, very fun, very single lady...

Day one: Your Response to Everyone's Favorite Question...Why Are You Still Single?!?

My initial reaction is, well, mind your own fucking business. Ass. But then I remember that I decided on this blog, no one asked me to...so then I should probably calm the fuck down about it.

I am single for several reasons. I am single because I am not chasing down my version of Prince Charming, nor am I waiting for a rescue. I am single because I am picky. I am single because until about 6 months ago, I was very emotionally damaged after dating a guy who pushed me around and was mean to me. I am single because I am only 30, and unlike so many women in the world, I don't believe that makes me old, and I don't think we should be getting hitched at 22 (no offense to those of you who got hitched at 22). I am single because I am content in my own skin and don't need to be validated by a relationship. I am single because I like dating and don't need to jump head first into a serious commitment. I am single because I would rather wait for a great guy than waste time on a bad one. And on top of all of those things, I am happy with my life right now, and it happens to be that I am currently single. 

According to some people in my life, who shall remain nameless, I am single because my life has no meaning and because my ovaries are drying up...oh and also because I am a snarky bitch (but that part is possibly a little bit right). According to these same people, I am single because I am too independant, I work too hard at my career, and I don't want kids. I am single because I have a job and want to keep it after I get married. I am single because I don't cook and because I pay a house cleaner to do women's work.

Well guess what, people who shall remain nameless, the man for me doesn't want me to quit my job or to stay home popping babies out of my lady biz, because he likes my money and let's be honest, he likes my lady biz the way it is...baby-free. I know what happens to a woman's body during and after pregnancy and childbirth, and I'd say a man should be pretty pleased to know that none of those things have taken place here! The man for me understands that I am independant and is not threatened by that, but rather finds it sexy that I go to work and pay my own bills and take myself on vacations. He appreciates that I would rather spend time with him than clean the house, and respects that I can pay someone to clean for us. And most importantly, he respects who I am as a person and as a woman, and understands that I don't play into the traditional gender roles that require me to stay home and make him babies and dinner while I rub his feet and only have sex when he feels like it. We're gonna have sex when I feel like it too, dammit!

In all seriousness, I never know exactly how to answer the why am I still single question. I just am. I haven't met the right person, and I don't want to be unavailable to him when he does come around. And I don't want to settle for someone who is here and now just because they are here and now. I do find it incredibly offensive when people assume I am a man-hating feminazi when I say I am 30 and single and that I don't wish to have babies of my own. The truth is actually as far from that as it gets. I love men, and I do believe that I will find a good one when the time is right and I am ready. And yes, I am kinda a feminist in that I want to work and be treated equal and wear shoes and have opnions and be allowed to vote and drive and go out after dark. I don't think that makes me a mant-hater, I think that makes me a respectable woman. And my decision to not make babies of my own is my own choice based on the way I wish to live my life. Should I change my mind someday, great, but in the meantime, I am super annoyed by the women who tell me I will regret not reproducing. No, I don't think I will. I read a great quote last night that said, "Will I regret not having kids of my own? Maybe. But I would rather regret not having a child, than have a child I regret." So well-written and so validating - I love children, I really do. I am not even opposed to marrying a man who has a child of his own. But I do not wish to start from scratch, at say, 34 years old (gotta give myself a minute to meet a guy, date him, marry him, and be whisked away on a fabulous honeymoon) with something that is my financial responsibility for the next 20-25 years...that is money and time I could be spending on travel with this sweet, successful, compassionate, intelligent, George Clooney of a man I plan to stumble across one day.

I suppose what it boils down to is, I am single because I am single. There is no rhyme or reason to why I am 30 years old and not married. But the important thing, at least in my opinion, is that I am happy. In my 15 years of dating, since my very first boyfriend in 8th grade, I have learned how to take care of myself, how to ask for what I need, how to demand respect, and how to pick up the pieces and move on when I get my heart broken. I have learned that a good man will validate my feelings, embrace who I am, and never try to change me. Through dating a man guy toddler ass hole who isolated me from my family, controlled my every move, and occassionally threw me around (or threw things at me), I have learned that respect is something I will never sacrifice again, as well as how to walk away from the wrong thing no matter how hard it is. So in the time that I have been single, I have learned a ton of things about dating, and life, and myself, that will someday make me a better wife and partner to someone who will be a wonderful husband and partner to me. Whether that person has a kid, wants a kid, or simply wants to act like a kid, will all work itself out when it needs to. And until then, I will continue to be comfortably single and happy. And I may sleep around from time to time...a single lady's got needs, afterall.

Dear Santa...I Tried!

You know how sometimes you write something on a bad day, and then something can turn it all around and remind you that you're being Scroogy for no reason? Yes, that happened. After my anti-Holiday post yesterday, I got to participate in the magic of a little one's first time Trick-or-Treating, and I think I can safely say, I am now in Holiday Go Mode.

Last night after work I met up with Tyler, Stacey, and Blake to go trick-or-treating. Last year was technically Blake's first time, but I think he only went to Grandma's house and was way too tiny to know what was happening. This year, though, he was READY. And boy did he make us all laugh.

Things Blake said on Halloween:
- "Come on daddy, I am ready to go!!" (said while in full costume, holding candy bucket, waiting impatiently for Tyler to change out of his work clothes)
- "Oh thank you!!" (to every person he saw with candy)
- "Trick or Treat!!" (to people behind even closed doors)
- "Look daddy, look at my big candy! A biiiiig one!!" (about the full size candy bar at one house)
- "I love you" (to a random woman...apparently she was worthy of more than a thank you)
- "Let's get out of here, this one is scary!" (about a house with creepy decorations)
- "Be brave, mom" (while walking to a porch with scary decor)
- "Neeeeeext house." (coming down every driveway)
- "This too heavy, I dump it" (as he dumped his bucket into the wagon when candy started weighing him down)

It didn't take him long at all to realize that all he had to do was knock...smile...say trick or treat, and he'd get candy in his pumpkin bucket. But he never forgot his manners either and charmed everyone we saw with his big muscles and bigger smile. We came home, had pizza and a piece of candy, and I headed home about bed time.

I guess maybe all I needed to get out of my funk was a little holiday magic. The truth of the matter is, I do love the holiday season, and even though my family has dwindled, the family that I do still see and love, is fun to see and I am happy to celebrate the season with them. I need to remember to focus on the loving family that is still in my life instead of on the unloving part that has given up on us.

Thank you, Blake, for reminding Auntie that holidays are great and that there is always tons of fun to be had.