Unsung Heroes
COVID-19 sucks. Period. There are more elegant ways I could say such, but I’m going for brevity and clarity. Discussing it more than I already have over the past year would be like beating a dead horse, except this damn horse never dies. People are tired. I am tired. But this needs to be said.
I have the utmost respect for medical professionals. I appreciate their dedication, commitment, compassion, and tireless efforts. I don’t wish to diminish the critical role they’ve played, and continue to play, day in and day out. Sure, it’s their job– but this has to feel like an endless series of bad days. Thank you. I see you and appreciate you.
I want to give a shout out to the parents too. For those trying to do their job, keep up their home (laundry, cooking, dishes, lawn care, etc.), raise their kids, care for their aging parents, feed the pets, and/or any variety of other things, here is a high five and “you got this.” Show yourself some grace. Cut yourself some slack. Take a nap. I see you. I feel you. I am you.
I’ll also go ahead and add that I am annoyed by individuals who think this global pandemic is “just the flu,” who can’t be bothered to wear a mask, or refuse to wear one properly (cover your mouth AND your nose). Seriously, it’s not that hard. Take one for the team. I see you. You frustrate me.
THIS blog, however, is about the unsung heroes of this unprecedented, relentless, never-seeming-to-end merry-go-round of a shit show. The unsung heroes to me are those who are bystanders to all that is happening TO AND AROUND them, who’ve been dealt blow after blow and (even if they wallow for a few hours or a few days in the understandable stress and anxiety) still get back up with a smile and GET IT DONE.
The unsung heroes, at least in my world, are the K-12 teachers and our children.
For nearly a year now, our teachers and our children, their students, have been asked to “make it work,” “stay positive,” “roll with the punches,” and “know it won’t be this way forever.”
For the teachers, it’s meant more work and more expectations. More hats to wear. More roles to fill. Teach remotely. Adjust that… teach remote students AND in-person students, simultaneously. Back to fully remote. And, back again, to hybrid. Between classes, wipe down desks and sanitize everything. Do this. Adapt to that schedule. Wear a cloth mask and a face shield. Make sure kids keep their masks on, at all times. Orchestrate meals. Be flexible. Adjust everything. Yes, by next week. You can do it. You’ve got this, even with little to no notice. Oh, and yes, we’ll be assessing you all the while.
TEACHERS: Underpaid. Under-appreciated. Under-resourced. Under-supported. AND… Brilliant. Patient. Creative. Loving. Encouraging. Inspiring. Effective. I see you. I feel for you. I want to validate you and your experiences. This sucks. I don’t envy you. You are truly AMAZING human beings. It isn’t enough, it will never be enough, but from the bottom of my heart I want to say…
CHILDREN: Tired. Trying. Afraid. Anxious. Withdrawn. Affected. All in the same boat. AND… Innocent. Hopeful. Willing. Resilient. Optimistic. Promising. Our future.
I hate to think about kindergarten students who, to date, don’t know what “real school” is or looks like… they think “this” is it. They haven’t experienced the school cafeteria or recess. What is right now is all they know.
I admire the juniors and seniors who envisioned Friday night football games, Homecoming, Prom, and Graduation. I ache for the athletes who won’t compete, won’t get to enjoy Parent’s Night, won’t experience the camaraderie amongst the team, and won’t have memories to share of “that time they” did whatever at their future reunions. These students hopes have been turned upside down. I’m disappointed for them. I imagine they’re devastated. And yet, they do what they can to make the most of it. They adjust their dreams and aspirations determined to make the most of what is. They’ve no other choice.
I’ve had 43 years on this Earth. A small fraction, 1/43rd of my life, has been spent living during COVID-19. I remember the before. I have enough experience and wisdom to know there will be an after. It’s hard to think about my daughters perspectives… having 1/8… 1/11… or 1/14 of their life like THIS. Ouch.
COVID-19 is our children’s JFK Shooting, Challenger Explosion, Columbine, and 9/11… but it didn’t come and go. It’s still here. It will define an entire generation, worldwide. The true impact won’t be known for years. I am impressed, humbled really, with the tenacity, strength, and resilience of our children.
To that, I say…
Talk may be cheap, but words are powerful. When I feel helpless, I write. This blog won’t change or solve a damn thing, but it does allow me to embrace gratitude… to share my appreciation and respect… to type a HUG and send it out to the world, earmarked for those who just keep going… and, especially, to recognize and acknowledge the unsung heroes.
This is dedicated to K-12 teachers and our children, their students.
A Day In The Life
As we approach the one-year mark for this “wear a mask, wash your hands, and watch your distance” COVID-19 global pandemic, every day is starting to feel like groundhog’s day. Wash, rinse, repeat… except even bathing seems like yeoman’s work some days. What was once “unprecedented” is now slowly becoming the “new normal” and it is taking its toll… especially on our mental health.
The optimism we held in the spring (and confidence in my own abilities regarding homeschooling) faded before Memorial Day. Community pools closed, summer camps were cancelled, and vacations were put on hold. Fall semester schedules were adjusted, then a delayed start, and as soon as they attended part-time in person, the kids were sent back home to be fully remote yet again. College football was “as seen on TV” only and Fall school sports were pushed to spring. Trick-or-Treating was scrubbed. Thanksgiving was like any other dinner in the eight months prior… at home with our nuclear family only. Christmas started early with decorations going up and more frequent Amazon Prime deliveries… but without holiday parties, parades, progressive dinners, or neighborhood caroling. It was a hard candy Christmas on the daily…
I’m barely getting through tomorrow
Lyrics from “Hard Candy Christmas,” a song by Dolly Parton
But still I won’t let
Sorrow bring me way down
We’re now in February of 2021 and it feels… familiar. Everything, it seems, remains uncertain, worrisome, tense. In short, it’s exhausting. Bon Jovi got it right when he sang, “The more things change the more they stay the same.”
One of my tasks for the new year was to catch up on my family photo albums. I know… You’re thinking, “No one makes photo albums anymore.” But I do, or want to, for my girls. I was successful at creating albums from my first daughter’s birth in 2006 through 2012, the year of my third daughter’s (and final child’s) birth. And then, they stopped. In reality, I was raising three girls younger than six years old while working full-time. Excess time wasn’t exactly in ample supply for me. I would catch up, eventually. But then, I didn’t make one in 2014 when I separated from their Dad. I didn’t make one in 2015 as we were going through the divorce. And, somehow, it was 2020 and I was seriously behind. Eight years behind! The idea of trying to catch up was daunting, but goals aren’t accomplished with fear.
New year. New goals. Right? So, I hunkered down and got it done! The final hardcopy of the 8th “missing year” album arrived last week. I was ecstatic… and then suddenly incredibly emotional. Those eight years went by so damn fast.
My Papaw Jack always said to me, “The older you get, the faster it goes,” but I was wrecked. Eight years from now, I’ll have a 22-year old, a 19-year old, and a 16-year old.
Between COVID-amped emotions, a healthy dose of nostalgia, and a sincere appreciation for the day-to-day beauty of my life, I decided I needed to grab my camera and, sans people, document the simple pleasures, random patterns, and plethora of prized possessions throughout our home… at that very moment in time. I always try to capture my girls’ big moments. I sneak snapshots of quiet significance. I force selfies with them so I’m IN some of the photos. But this, this was different. This endeavor was about photographing that which I would never normally think to document. So I did. And I’m sharing it here.
As I look at these, I’m humbled, gratified, and amused. I’m reminded, reflective, and appreciative. These photos tell the stories, public and private, of this life I live… and of this life I share and have shared… with my daughters, my family, friends (still present and long lost), co-workers, significant others, and YOU!
The Power of Women
I simply cannot let the historic magnitude of this day pass by without acknowledging it. Kamala Harris was sworn in today as United States’ first female vice president, the highest-ranking female elected official in U.S. history, as the first Black/African American vice president, and the first Asian American vice president.
I’ll just pause here for applause and mad respect!
In my blog, Onward and Forward, I wrote the below following the conclusion of the 2016 election:
“I had a vision of celebrating the first woman president with my three young daughters this morning. To say to them, “You can be anything you want in this world!” and know—finally—that it was the truth. To see the glass ceiling shattered forever… to quietly reflect over coffee that the presidency during my daughters’ childhoods did not have a white male at the helm.”
I closed that same blog with this commitment:
“So now…
I MARCH… I [will] give louder voice to those who aren’t being heard. I will be an ally to their cause. I’ll use my privilege to advance theirs. I’ll fight to keep my body my own, because I believe that is my right– and not for men, politicians, or the government to decide.
I COMMIT to a future that… is FAIR, JUST, and INCLUSIVE. I want to tell my daughters to change the world and have them believe they can do it! To have role models and to see others blaze a trail. I want them to work hard and earn equal pay. I want parents to not lose their children to senseless acts—whether black, brown, in law enforcement, or otherwise.
And, I LOVE. I think love is love is love. Period. We don’t live in binary. Nothing is that simple. We are complicated human beings. And I believe operating from a place of love and inclusion, versus fear and barriers, is always the best choice.
Oh yeah, and I WON’T QUIT. I’ll continue to live with intention and pay attention to the impact I have, good and bad. I’ll act in small deed and grand gesture FORWARD.
I will model the way for my children. This is my legacy; they are my reason.”
I am humbled. I am grateful. I am inspired. It was a LONG four years, but today feels like redemption. The powerful representation of strong women on the inauguration stage today makes it also feel like hope… like possibility.
Yet as impressive as they are, we cannot forget that they– THAT WE ALL– stand on the shoulders of giants, like those below and so, so, SO MANY MORE.
I received the book Goodnight Stories for Rebel Girls a few years back. It features “100 tales of extraordinary women.” Inside the front cover and before the table of contents, there is an inscription that reads as follows…
To the rebel girls of the world:
Dream bigger
Aim higher
Fight harder
And, when in doubt, remember
You are right.
I could not love that more!
To the rebel girls and fabulous females who blazed a trail before me, whether or not the mainstream and history books know your name… for those who made possible my opportunities and success through your anguish and hardships… THANK YOU! Your effort, struggle, determination, passion, tenacity, and voice were not lost. YOU got us to today and today is a good day!
To my own daughters, my Trifecta, you are magnificent and incredible human beings. More than anything, I hope for your happiness and your health. I think you can do anything you put your heart, head, soul, energy, and effort into and I will support whatever dreams you wish to pursue. Yet never forget, “If you see a turtle up on top of a fencepost, you know [s]he had some help!” (Alex Haley). And so did you. Stay humble.
As your mother, I strive to make sure you are aware of not only your privilege, but also that the promises of our country are not yet equitable to all. We must leave this world better than we found it. And we must bring others along.
On this incredible, magical, and spectacular day, I’ll conclude with this…
Life Lessons from my Christmas Tree
January 6… Epiphany if you’re of the Christian faith. In short, the REAL 12 days of Christmas complete. Given I started putting up decorations well before Thanksgiving, some might say I love this holiday. And, I do. Undeniable.
While many loathe taking down the Christmas tree, I don’t mind. Just as I do when putting it up, I love the process. Tree in stand, lights on, ornaments carefully unwrapped and placed—while kids argue which one is theirs, me demanding special placement for certain ornaments, and always—ALWAYS—the associated stories. We aren’t a “red and green balls only” family. Our Christmas tree is not meant for a magazine cover and it isn’t just an annual tradition. It is a walk down memory lane. It represents the people, places, moments, and magic that compose our lives.
As a new year begins and the last of my major holiday decorations come down, it occurred to me that there are many life lessons to be learned from my Christmas tree. And, as the mildly eccentric, never-without-something-to-say, document-everything mother that I am, I thought I’d make a list of the most pertinent lessons for my three daughters… and for all of you (should you care to read, which if you are doing so here—THANK YOU!).
Life Lessons
- Even if you lean, stand tall.
- It’s hard to look good from all angles at all times, so just show your best side.
- Glow from within… and don’t get your tinsel in a tangle.
- Cheer for something/someone.
- Volunteer.
- Never loose the childlike spirit inside you, no matter how old you are.
- It’s a small world after all.
- Keep things spicy.
- Let it go.
- Choose JOY.
- We can do hard things.
- Just DANCE.
- There’s no place like home.
- Believe in magic.
- “If you want the rainbow, you have to put up with the rain.” (Thanks, Dolly!)
- Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.
- Never forget… You’re kind of a big deal!
- Handmade with love is always better than anything store bought.
- There are angels among us.
- Embrace adventure, travel, and explore… both far away and close to home.
DISCLAIMER: I started writing this blog early in the day, well before the shocking, horrifying, and sadly historic events were underway in America. While I will proceed with publishing this blog tonight, I will not promote it via social media until later. I would never want for it to come off as tone deaf or insensitive. Christmas has always represented love and hope… family and friends… light and possibility. I cannot imagine an evening of late whereby I need those things more than right now.
Feeling Good
Happy New Year!
It’s still quiet in my house as everyone else sleeps in. I love waking up with a song lyric in my head that serves as a writing prompt. Here I am… quietly by the Christmas tree that’s still lit and sparkling, with hot coffee in my new glitter mug, laptop open, and writing my first blog of 2020.
2020 was… cue the Jeopardy theme song as I try to find the right word…
UNPREDICTABLE…Yeah, I’ll go with that.
A year ago, we had no idea what the year ahead would hold. Much like right now. But what we were handed was also… what shall I say… DIFFERENT than anything we could have predicted.
2020 handed us a lot of challenges and may came by way of curve ball… but if you’re reading this, you survived, literally and figuratively. I don’t write that lightly. As of this morning, 346,000 people in the United States (1.82 million in the world) aren’t waking up to a new day due to COVID-19. I don’t need to debate the numbers, the virus, or its impact. I’m just thankful that I am… that those I love are… that those reading this are… currently here, healthy, and able to walk boldly into 2021.
As I was ushering out 2020, I took stock of what I wanted to keep. I want to hold on to my new love, family game nights, more home cooked meals, and kiddo couch cuddles. I want to remain ever-present and fully engaged with my daughters as they continue to grow, learn, and mature into incredible, strong, and brilliant young women. I want to meet more of my neighbors, continue our community rock garden, and make more freezer jam and pickled vegetables. I want to keep writing. I want to keep photographing people, places, and things that intrigue me. I want to keep reading for pleasure.
Since I’m assuming that I didn’t achieve maximum new year’s resolution execution abilities overnight, I won’t be making a long list of new year’s resolutions. Instead, I’ll continue with my word(s) of the year.
2020’s word was “Boundaries”—which is now mildly funny given so much of the year was defined by where I could (or couldn’t) go, who I should (or shouldn’t) be around, and what I must (or must not) do.
That said, my 2021 words are: INTENTION, COURAGE, GROWTH
Threes have always served me well. I have my Trifecta—my three beautiful daughters. In numerology, this is a “3” year for me. And, I’ve always believed things happen in threes. So why not three words for 2021?
INTENTION
A former student intern is killing it—in life, in love, on Instagram—and she inspires the hell out of me. She has influenced my choice of this word selection for 2021 because she’s constantly reminding me (and her other followers) that what we want… what I want… it’s all up to me. I just have to do it! We all have 24 hours in a day, but how we chose to spend them is critical. Everything is a choice… EVERYTHING! How do I wish to spend my time, my money, my creativity? Those choices– day in and day out, big and small– they determine what I achieve. They determine my happiness. So, with everything in 2021, I will live with intention!
COURAGE
Ahhhh, being afraid but doing it anyway. I’ve always loved the question, “What would you do if you weren’t afraid to fail?” So, in 2021, I’m going to try to find out. Fear holds us back in so many ways. It is that negative voice in our head that says, “You can’t do it.” Often, the voice is so loud that we don’t even try, or we find reason to procrastinate, to avoid, to distract.
Lyrics from “Courage” by P!nk
GROWTH
Thank you P!nk for that segue, and for reminding me that I “don’t have to do this perfectly.” Growth is hard work, but so necessary. In 2021, I’m choosing (with intention and courage) to not only welcome, but also to appreciate the lessons and learning, the failing forward, and the hiccups and high-fives that life offers. I want to be the best version of me, on this New Year’s Day and all year long… year after year after year. But that doesn’t come with stagnation. So here goes, let’s grow!
While I started this blog with a T. Swizzle lyric, that wasn’t the lyric in my head when I woke.
This one was…
Lyrics from “Felling Good” by Nina Simone
Cheers to a bold world, with stars that shine, the scent of pine, where freedom is mine… I AM feeling good. Really good. I hope you are too.
Will You Shut Up, Man?
The media has been ablaze this week about Joseph Epstein’s Op-Ed for the Wall Street Journal (WSJ) about incoming First Lady Jill Biden’s earned title of “Dr.”
I must admit that, at first, I couldn’t get past the author’s last name, wondering if he was related to the now-dead convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. I thought maybe his chauvinism and misogyny were just a result of a poor gene pool. Alas, there seems to be no relation.
Op-Eds are a step up from this blog. Mr. Epstein is spouting his opinion, just as I do (though, I’d like to believe, a bit less eloquently). He just happens to have the platform of an award-winning international daily news publication… so he gets an audience too. The WSJ isn’t going to bristle about being the recipient of clicks, column inches, and water-cooler conversation. Their job is to sell newspapers. I’d say the attention from Mr. Epstein’s piece has spiked a Q4 gain for the WSJ.
All that said, I’ve spent most of my career to date in higher education (18+ of ~23years). Let me be the first to disclose… I only have a bachelor’s degree. Only. My higher ed career wasn’t as a formal educator, but rather as an administrator… though I’ll argue that I still did a lot of teaching and educating.
Unlike the hubris of Mr. Epstein, my “only a bachelor’s degree” is the basis for many bouts with imposter syndrome and numerous moments of feeling less than. While those feelings aren’t as prevalent today as they once were (because what I do for a living is becoming less-and-less how I wish to be known), commentary like that of Mr. Epstein is insulting and diminutive to all women. To imply an EdD is less than a PhD is less than an MD… and that the title Mrs. is the most relevant title for an accomplished and brilliant woman is, well… asinine… and, Mr. Epstein, you can kiss mine.
Formal education has always been important… not my favorite way to learn, but always valued. I’m not a first-generation college student… I’m a fourth. FOURTH. Let that sink in. My mother and paternal grandmother were educators, as was almost every woman I admired growing up. My paternal grandmother, father, ex-husband, numerous friends, and my current partner all have master’s degrees… in the friend realm, add a healthy number of PhDs and EdDs to that list. I’m the least formally educated (by degree) person in most of my social circles.
Do I think having an advanced degree makes you smarter than me? No. Better than me? Nope, I don’t.
I do think you earned it though and, as such, get to use and flaunt your title as much as you’d like. I think it was hard, challenging, and demanding… and the title you earned is a small reward for the work, dedication, and commitment you made. I do think you have specialized knowledge in a specific field. Honestly, I think most of you are bad-asses in the much the same way I think veterans are bad-asses. It takes grit.
I know I could do it… I just don’t want to. I have other priorities and dreams I prefer to invest that time in… so, I am. I don’t have to defend myself and my decisions. And you know what? Neither does Dr. Jill Biden. Not to Mr. Epstein. Not to anyone.
I’ve witnessed first-hand my female colleagues be greeted by their first names, only to add Dr., Dean, and Vice President before their male counterparts’ names in the same room. I watched a male university president be hired only to have the campus community mildly panic about how to address his also Dr. wife. It’s not hard folx, but it is infuriating. Maddening even.
Ladies– you earned it, so use it! Say it, display it, add it to your social media profiles, and put it in your signature lines. Add it to your nametag. Embroider it on your shirt. Get some letterhead and a desk plaque with it prominently displayed. You get to use it—when, how, and as much as you like—and I will too when I address you, because I support you and your accomplishments!
As for you Mr. Epstein… Kiddo, I might suggest you consider some classes in feminism or women and gender studies. Or, at the very least, worry about your own damn self. If you didn’t EARN the degree and the title yourself, you certainly don’t get to critique others who did.
To close, I’ll borrow from Hamilton…
“While we’re talking…
Let me offer you some free advice…
Talk less… Smile more”
~from the song “Aaron Burr, Sir”
Note: Mr. Epstein, in case you are unaware, Hamilton is a brilliant and acclaimed Broadway musical. Perhaps you’ve heard of the Arts?
One Year Later
November 1.
Damn there is a lot that happens… or not… in a year.
365 days ago right now (I’m typing at 5:15 p.m.) I walked out of my office as the Director of Communications for Student Affairs at Virginia Tech. I’d only been in that particular position for three years, but at the university for more than 18 years.
I moved to Blacksburg at 23 years old. Over the next 18 years, I had a variety of incredible positions, amazing colleagues, and I experienced some pretty darn remarkable things. As the only non-graduate of Virginia Tech in my immediate family, I paid enough dues to earn official Hokie status… at least in the eyes of current University President, Dr. Tim Sands. I also married, had three children, and divorced. Life hadn’t exactly gone as I’d planned… but I’d also learned it rarely does.
After several challenging years, the year prior to my departure had been the hardest… which says a lot given I was at Virginia Tech during the 2007 shooting. Rehashing the reasons isn’t necessary here, but I’d reached a crossroads. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, burned out, beat up, and worn down. Something had to change.
But when you are raised on the values of work ethic and reputation, walking away from a good-paying job… leaving an employer after nearly two decades… and doing so without a plan, at least not one that comes with a paycheck and health insurance… well, that was more than difficult.
I debated. I struggled. I justified. I rationalized. I tried to stay. And, ultimately, I knew I had to make a change. I had to leave.
I was reminded of a quote about the “three C’s” in life:
You must take a chance, to make a choice, or your life will never change.
While I haven’t decided quite yet if I took a small step or a giant leap, I am absolutely certain that my life has changed… for the better. Ironically, thanks to the shit storm that has been 2020 and a global pandemic to boot… I’d say I had some pretty impeccable timing and unknowing foresight.
I left for many reasons, but my children and my health were at the top of the list. That hasn’t changed. In fact, this year has proven to me… a thousand times over… that I made the right decision.
Has it been easy? No. Have I settled in? Nope. But, has it been incredible? Abso-freaking-lutely! And I am so, so, so very grateful and appreciative to be able to do so. That is not… and has not… been lost on me at any point over the past year.
So let’s see… a Cliff Notes version update is as follows:
- I was accepted to the UNC Chapel Hill MBA program. I turned them down. They didn’t accept me as a undergrad, so getting into their Master’s program proved reward enough. And, I discovered that a large part of my pursuit was simply to please other people while also having an “acceptable” next endeavor response to, “So, Hunter, what are you going to do next?”
- Writing a book is hard work… but I’m working on two now, not just one. The first is a memoir counter-narrative about growing up in Appalachia. There are actual words on paper for that one, along with research underway, and loads of motivation (given J.D. Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy is going from book to the big screen this month). The second (the original book inspiration) is a novel (fiction) about the complex and beautiful relationships that exist between mothers, daughters, and sisters. This one consists of index cards taped to the wall, outlines, character descriptions, random notes, and daily inspiration. Both will happen. My commitment is to “trust the process” and, as much as possible, trust myself.
- I accepted a part-time job that I was really excited about in late February as a project manager for the ACCelerate Creativity and Innovation Festival. This exciting partnership between Virginia Tech and the Smithsonian Institute, however, was postponed due to COVID-19 from spring 2021 to spring 2022… resulting, understandably, in my position being eliminated.
- I am a trained and approved substitute for Montgomery County Public Schools. That, in the age of COVID, has also been an interesting endeavor. And, luckily, one in which I get to decide the schedule and commitment. My first experience, subbing for the middle-school ESL (English as a second language) class, was… humbling. Spanish- check. Albanian- not so much.
- I have read more books in one year than ever before… so exciting!; AND…
- I’ve overhauled this blog (with some help) AND I’m launching a photography business/side-hobby (to be determined) called GlitterLens Photography.
As for the Trifecta… my three amazing daughters who are, without a doubt, my priority… I am EXACTLY where I need to be! I could never have imagined what this year would look like– could anyone?— but there has NEVER been a more important moment for me to be present for and with my children. With 100% home schooling as of March, I can admit that middle school was a long time ago for me, I am not as smart as a 5th grader, and being a 2nd (or 3rd) grade teacher is not my future.
That said, we’ve had theme nights, family TikToks, nightly dinners, card games, dance parties, and more memories made in one year that I could have ever predicted. We even made freezer jam! My girls are closer to each other, our family bond is stronger, and our health is in tact. Just thinking about it makes me smile. My heart is so full!
Sometimes you will never know the power of a moment until it becomes a memory.
Dr. Seuss
In this case, I know that my full presence and availability to them over this past year (and at present) has been one of the most important things I’ve ever done… for so many reasons. When I was a new mom many years ago, I asked my friend’s mother what she thought the most critical stage of child rearing was. She said, “When they are a bit older… middle school and high school. That’s when they need to know you are present, interested, and available.” I’ve never forgotten such. I was reminded (and appreciative) of that wisdom many times over this past year.
This brings me to the most unexpectedly fabulous part of my past 365 days. Stick with me…
Upon the announcement of my resignation, I received many kind notes. I reviewed some of them today, and they were as poignant and special today as when I received them. But, it was the card I received in the mail this weekend that has meant the most. In part, the card was meaningful because someone not only thought of me, but took time to mail me a card knowing the one-year anniversary was (admittedly) something I was dreading (damn those expectations we have for ourselves).
The measure of a year is in the ways we have learned to love.
The contents of the card are even more special and, also, not words I wish to share. The reality? This individual is spot on. I had once said to her, “My picker is broken.” I was referring to relationships… specifically, men. She told me at that time that she didn’t think “my picker was broken,” but rather that maybe I just needed to slow down a bit… be open to love… know that I was worthy of it… take time to receive and accept it.
If there is one thing from the past 365 days that was a surprise… and truly meaningful (beyond being 100% present for my girls)… it’s that I’ve found love. I’ve loved before, and they were each special… meaningful. With each, I hold special memories. I grew as a person. I’m a better partner because of those prior relationships.
That said, when I “swiped right” in mid-January on a man I knew of from my prior role at Virginia Tech, I had no idea what would happen. Honestly, I knew he was funny. I knew he was a Vol. And, I definitely thought he was attractive. After some of the online dating “dates” I’d been on, I figured I’d at least enjoy a few drinks and the company. What I got was SO MUCH MORE!
I found a partner… an emotionally mature and available man. I found someone who hasn’t had it easy, but has done his own work to be the best version of himself. I found someone who ALWAYS makes me laugh… who not only entertains, but educates, me on the daily. He’s freaky brilliant, well-read, and insightful. We never lack for conversation… or sarcasm. He gives incredible hugs. He listens, supports, and is my champion on the daily. He loves my girls, and also holds their best interests at heart.
We both have been hurt before. We both have things we’d do differently; but, we also know that we’ve grown from every experience– good, bad, and re-evaluated after-the-fact. I could gush for days, but I won’t… because one of the things I’ve also learned over these past 365 days is that this life is mine and mine alone. I don’t have to ask permission for it, nor explain it. I decide for and answer to me. Only me. This life is mine and mine alone.
In short, I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. I am happy, healthy, and surrounded by love… as are my girls. This has been hard year– for so many people– but I am so grateful, thankful, and appreciative for each and every single day.
Cheers to the next 365! May we all remain healthy, seek happy, and be open to possibility!
We hold these truths…
Here we are, only 4 days from the 2020 presidential election and a possible second term for a man who lacks so many of the things I value. Donald Trump has been president of the United States of America for 1,378 days. In my opinion (and this is my blog so you get my opinion), that is 1,378 days too many. There is a prior post that I wrote shortly after the 2016 election and subsequent inauguration. I was heartbroken. Were the last 1,378 days as bad as I feared? Yes and no, I can admit that. Does that make me feel better that they haven’t been “as bad” as I feared? No. Have I gained any respect for Trump? No, in fact, I’ve lost even more (if that is possible).
Prior to this election, I would arrive to the polls at some convenient-to-my-schedule time on election day and complete my civic duty. For the 2020 election, and with proper acknowledgement for the global pandemic we remain in with COVID-19, I requested a mail-in ballot months ago. When it arrived, I didn’t open it. I didn’t complete it. I didn’t mail it back in. There was too much news, hoopla, and uncertainty. I needed to KNOW, with certainty, that my vote would count.
This past Tuesday, one week prior to Election Day and the day after the appointment of Amy Coney Barrett as an associate justice to the U.S. Supreme Court (another questionable action and individual I don’t support; #RIP-RBG), I carried the unopened mail-in ballot to our local early voting site. I turned it in, it was voided, and I was handed a fresh ballot.
I voted… for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. Not shocking, I know. I voted because I want my vote to count and I don’t trust our democracy, nor its systems, at this time.
IT FELT GOOD! IT FELT IMPORTANT. It was validating to mark the boxes, feed the ballot into the machine, and claim my sticker. For many, at this stage, their job is done. But not for me, not yet.
I want to document my 2020 vote. I need my daughters, who have no vote right now, to understand the importance of this election. To know, unequivocally, that I was on what I believe to be the right– or, perhaps, actually LEFT– side of history. I want them to know that I voted for them, and for their futures.
I voted so they…
- …can resume school and activities safely without fear of COVID-19.
- …have the best public education possible.
- …know a woman’s body is her own, and that she alone decides what happens to it.
- …have a stable economy and future job opportunities.
- …can love and, if they so desire, marry whomever they want.
- …might never again hear about, much less experience, another school shooting.
- …can trust, rather than fear, police officers.
- …can expect equal pay.
- …don’t have to be a victim of sexual harassment or assault; and, that if (heaven forbid) they are, they will be heard and believed, not blamed.
- …know their mental health is as important as their physical health.
- …don’t fear nuclear warfare.
- …can have clean air, drinkable water, and a planet they can enjoy for decades to come.
I want these things for my daughters… for your children… for everyone.
My daughters are beyond privileged (as am I) and there are many things they simply don’t, and won’t, have to worry about in life. In these cases, I voted as if my daughters weren’t privileged. I voted with care and compassion so that their (our) friends, teachers, colleagues, neighbors, teammates, coaches, mentors, peers, extended family, loved ones, mere acquaintances, and even strangers might live in a country…
- …NOT defined by whiteness.
- …where going to college is not a financial burden, and where college graduates aren’t riddled with school loans and education debt.
- …where access to healthcare and medicine are available and affordable to everyone, even to those with pre-existing conditions.
- …where opportunity isn’t limited by class, race, or geography.
- …where all religions, and non-believers, are respected.
- …that welcomes asylum-seekers and immigrants; one that supports DACA and cares for DREAMers.
- …where the “self-evident” truths of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” be truly self-evident and applicable to all citizens.
- …whose promises of “liberty and justice for all” really means FOR ALL.
Many people cast their vote for a candidate based on the candidate’s stance on a particular issue… one singular thing of critical importance to the voter. This is true on both sides of the political spectrum. It is why (though I don’t agree) I can try to understand the logic of many Trump supporters.
For me, however, there isn’t just one issue. There are many. And they aren’t equal, they’re weighted. Our country is complex. Its history and foundation are problematic. Our systems and structures remain oppressive.
There are ideals I wish to espouse and uphold… ideals I hope to demonstrate in my life AND support with my vote. So I voted… for integrity, equity, justice, empathy, science, fairness, love, hope, generosity, and kindness.
I voted for my daughters.
I voted for the future. Mine. Yours. Theirs.
OURS.
Best Laid Plans
“Where do you hope to be in five years? Ten?”
This must be the most pointless question ever asked. I guess, depending on the answer, it might show ambition… desire… hopeful achievement. Maybe.
Thus far, however, my crystal ball of wishful thinking has been terribly off track. I can’t help but wonder what other expectations this foreshadowing line of questions might laden us with at the same time.
Don’t misunderstand. I value hard work. I love a solid plan. A forward trajectory in life is a GOOD thing. It is important to dream, wish, seek, pursue, and hope. They are vital elements to a life well lived. I just think they need to be paired with grace, understanding, forgiveness, kindness, and compassion… mostly for oneself, alongside a healthy dose of self-efficacy.
Is where you are right now where you want to be? If not, can you define your “where” or “there”? Is “there” something you’ve always wanted? Does “there” seem unattainable? Is “there” even where you still want to be… or are you hanging on and unsure why? What if “there” will never happen? Or if it is entirely out of your control? What if you planned for none of it, but you are exactly where you are supposed to be at this moment time? How would you know?
Living to meet the expectations of others can make life complicated. Living to meet our own expectations can sometimes make life miserable. If you’d asked the 13, 23, and 33-year-old versions of me where I’d be at 43, I’m certain I’d have gotten it all wrong.
For starters, I didn’t think I’d be divorced. I won’t say this unilaterally, but I will say with decent confidence that most people don’t get married thinking they’ll one day be divorced, despite the statistics. I most certainly did not, yet I know it was best.
I didn’t think my own parents would be divorced. In the simplest and most selfish of thinking, I never imagined having to negotiate holidays with my ex, my mom, my dad, and my brothers. I just assumed I’d always provide my children with Christmases like I experienced… where predictability and tradition prevailed. That said. I’ve learned those traditions CAN prevail if you care less about them occurring on a specific calendar date.
I didn’t think I’d be the mom of THREE girls. I knew I wanted to be a mom. I’m even certain I would have found a way to achieve such regardless of the how; but, to have given birth to three beautiful daughters? Nope. I had two brothers. I thought I’d have boys. I’m not sure I get sisters and the inevitable estrogen warfare to come. Most days, I have no idea how to handle all three with their varying personalities and penchant for individualized drama… but I adore every minute.
I didn’t think I’d live in Blacksburg, Virginia, and work for the university that I vehemently swore I’d never attend (because being the black sheep in my family was a coveted position); but, I did, for nearly two decades, all the while enjoying a successful career.
I didn’t think I’d ever walk away from that institution to be a stay-at-home mom for a bit, while also trying to focus on my writing and photography. I sure as hell didn’t think a global pandemic would occur mere months into this new role rendering my kids at-home 24/7 for nearly six months. But, I can now add teacher, short-order chef, and peace negotiator to my resume.
COVID-19 has landed us all in a NOT where we thought we’d be scenario. There are memes and jokes about what you have on your 2020 Bingo card… because, quite frankly, you cannot make up the array of ridiculousness that’s gone down this year. Tiger King, murder hornets, Meghxit, and asteroids, oh my!
It is only in thinking way too much about where I am not… what I am not doing… that I started thinking about expectations… my own and others… and decided to recalculate my thinking to focus on what I AM doing. What I’ve come to realize is, no matter how uncomfortable it feels, I am right where I need to be.
What if we are always right where we need to be when we need to be there?
Beautiful thought, isn’t it?
Yeah, I know, it doesn’t ease my mind very much either. At least I can be honest about that.
I worry about what people think… yet, I cannot explain why I care… or if I even do. I fret about what I’ll “do next” (from a career standpoint), berating my daily productivity and criticizing my contributions… invalidating the good and hard work that I’m doing in this moment. I am anxious… for myself, my kids, my community… as “unprecedented times” have now fully claimed their role as “the new normal.”
But then I focus on what I AM doing and I realize that I am happy. I feel more balanced. My well-being is improved. My priorities are in alignment with my actions and my time given. I sleep eight hours per night. I get more fresh air and exercise. I laugh A LOT. I’m reading more than I ever have. I’m pursuing passions that fuel my creativity and imagination. I am fully present for my girls… less stressed and more available… offering them the best version of me that I can… at a time when, perhaps, they need it more than ever.
I am not where (or “how”) I thought I would be; but, I do believe I am exactly where I’m supposed to be at this very moment in time. I’ve never been good at predicting the future, but I believe there is the invisible string that connects every moment in my past to the right here, right now.
Perhaps hindsight really is 20/20.
Maybe 2020 is the year that teaches us to live *comfortably* in the here and now… the year we learn that no matter what comes next, we are always exactly where we are meant to be?
The In Between
In late 2019, I left my job as Communications Director (along with a damn good salary) at an organization I’d been with for more than 18 years… the majority of my career to date. My priorities were out of sync in life and no longer aligned with my workplace (which, as a communicator, can be problematic at best and annoying at worst). I envisioned something different. And I needed to step away to figure out what “different” might be.
Since my departure, there have been more school shootings, natural disasters, and debates and primaries to determine the Democratic candidate for the next U.S. Presidential election. There has been a global pandemic known as COVID-19 that still remains a U.S. health crisis and has resulted in “unprecedented times” and a “new normal” involving quarantines, home schooling, masks or facial coverings, and social/physical distancing. There have been murder hornets, 17-year cicadas (Brood IX distinct to southwestern Virginia, southern West Virginia, and western North Carolina), and a Saharan dust storm. And, there is ongoing protest and racial unrest due to police brutality and white supremacy. In short, it’s been a dumpster fire year… a first-class A-1 shit show.
This pretty much sums up how I feel about it all…
Between pretending to be smarter than my 2nd grader, hand sanitizing, and becoming a Netflix connoisseur, I’ve done a good bit of reading, thinking, writing, and reflecting. That said, I haven’t had any epiphanies. I can’t offer any solutions or answers. Hell, I couldn’t even figure out new math. I have no clear direction on what the future looks like… or what my future may be. At this point, I’m just hoping for a workforce to return to when I’m ready.
My greatest takeaway to date from all this introspection, however, is that we are a society that unwaveringly lends itself to “either/or” thinking, rather than “both/and” thinking. There are rarely continuums of choice or possibility. Society insists on a binary. You must be EITHER this OR that.
- Male or Female
- Black or White
- Rich or Poor
- Smart or Stupid
- Republican or Democrat
- Straight or Gay
- Skinny or Fat
- Good or Bad
- Pretty or Ugly
- Right or Left
- Success or Failure
- Happy or Sad
- Hard or Easy
- Right or Wrong
- Liberal or Conservative
- Old or Young
- Beginning or End
- Arrival or Departure
- Dead or Alive
ALL or NOTHING
This extreme… the perpetual binary… is not only short-sighted and inaccurate, it’s harmful, restrictive, and diminishing. It’s lessons us as individuals and demoralizes us as a society. If there is a demise to the United States, I fear it will be because we insist on extremes… because we label indiscriminately and carelessly… because we don’t take the time to know ourselves, much less anyone else… because we forget the in between.
I’m reminded of a poem called, “The Dash” by Linda Ellis.
Or, musically, U2’s song All I Want Is You…
… But all the promises we make
From the cradle to the grave……All the promises we break
U2
From the cradle to the grave…
So many of the promises we make… to ourselves, to others… in our “dash” are based on what we think we should do/want/desire. This is why they are also the promises we break… to ourselves, and to others.
I cannot help but wonder what it would be like to be unconcerned with the perceptions of others… to give a rat’s ass about the labels we’re assigned. To just be… enough. As we are. Or, even better, to let others be… enough. As they are.
As I’ve been thinking about all of this, a photographer friend has been doing her own soul searching. Like any great artist, she found a way to channel it to outward expression. When she first announced it, this is what she said…
What within you is demanding expression? I’ve been posting some black and white self-portraits of me recently because 2020 has been a Chrysalis of change, not only in the world, but deep within me of who I am. Do you also feel this? I created a unique session so I can help you have portraits like this too. It’s called a Chrysalis Session…
Debbie Smith, FiftyCentLove Photographie
This spoke to me. I’d done glamour portraits with her as a late 40th birthday present for myself. But this felt different. This felt… vulnerable. As we discussed about my session, she posed some thoughtful questions. Here is an excerpt of my reply:
…COVID and quarantining has stripped me of so many things– perfectly painted nails, coiffed hair, flawless makeup, dressing up… in short, it’s removed all the pretense… all the doing to meet the expectations of others… I’ve done better than survival, but it hasn’t always felt that way…
…Raw. Real. Strength. Exhaustion. Courage. These are words that come to mind…
…I walked away from [my job] with not much more than a ‘wing and a prayer’ to realign my priorities and values. I scored a part time job and then lost it because of the pandemic. I’m trying to write [a book] … I’m working to overcome some ‘big stuff’… And, I’ve fallen in love again… If this isn’t all growth, change, becoming, and transformation– I’m not sure what is.
There is no arrival… no finish line, per se… but I’d like to document the journey at this particular point in time. Change is the only thing that stays the same… we evolve, or we die. 2020 has been hard, REALLY hard, but I like the progression and evolution of who I am, what I want, what I’m willing to sacrifice (or not), and what truly matters to me in life.
Me
Quite frankly, it was nice to leave my house (in a safe, mask-wearing, socially distanced way) to capture the “me” of right now. The results are exactly what I hoped for… Raw. Real. Strength. Exhaustion. Courage. And yet, as I was downloading them, I could help but think of the “dichotoME.”
Sometimes a visual is better than words…
I am both of these women… and a whole hell of a lot of in between. And this is just the physical me. It’s a static, captured, moment in time me. Yet, the 4D version of me is dynamic, complex, and a conundrum of humanity. There is a 4D version to everyone.
We aren’t limited to EITHER this OR that… we are the complicated and beautiful IN BETWEEN.
The English idiom “don’t judge a book by its cover” remains exceptional advice to live by. Whether appearing new and pristine off the bookshelves or tattered and dog-eared from numerous handlings, it’s not our covers and bindings that matter. They may keep us temporarily safe and protected but they, ultimately, are UNnecessary to the importance of what lies within… our content.
If only we could be content with our own content…
If only we could spend more time understanding the stories of others, instead of judging the cover…
If only we could be more comfortable with the intricate, imperfect, unpolished IN BETWEEN of ourselves and others…
THEN… then we might be able to appreciate and sit comfortably in the enormous library of love and light surrounding us.
GlitterBombMom 