Riding the Roller Coaster

Grounded: My One-Word Resolution for 2019

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Wed, 02 Jan 2019 23:59:00 +0000

Another year has passed, and suddenly here we are in 2019. Time to start fresh with some new goals. Time to take the lessons learned from last year and apply them to this year. And time to reveal my new one-word resolution.

The words I chose for the last two years -- Balance and Wellness -- came to me quickly with little contemplation. I somehow instinctively knew those words belonged to me for a year. But this year wasn’t as easy. My list of words to choose from was longer, and any one of them would be fitting for me.

But after a month of test-running my list of 20 potential words, I figured out which one I wanted to bring with me into 2019.

That word is:

Grounded has a handful of definitions:

Mentally and emotionally stable
Sensible, realistic and unpretentious
Unable to move, as in a grounded ship
Punished, as in a child who is grounded after misbehaving

But then I noticed that every time I attended one of my beloved hot yoga classes, the instructor would say the word Grounded multiple times. Whether we’re in mountain pose, standing tall with our eyes closed and feeling our feet grounded on the floor or we’re in a seated position, noticing the long line of energy that begins where we are grounded on the floor and traveling up our spines to the top of our heads, I’ve come to think of Grounded as meaning something other than those standard definitions.

To me, Grounded means:

Mindful
Rooted
Supported
Calm
Focused
Aligned
Connected
Energetic
Present
And circling back to my favorite word in the dictionary...Balanced

Grounded also makes me think of one of my favorite guided meditations that I fall back on when I’m stressed or angry or nervous or worried or just generally ruminating over thoughts that do nothing but exacerbate whatever emotional I’m trying to soothe. To paraphrase, in this meditation, you envision tying this unwanted thought on a string that’s attached to a balloon. And from the ground, you watch the balloon float away with your thought.

Watch from the ground...Grounded.

I live inside my head a lot, and the image of watching my troubles float away while I stay firmly on the ground -- and capable of walking away -- is comforting. But I’d like to use it more. I’d like to improve my ability to let go of what’s unnecessary or out of my control and simplify my thoughts. I’d like to be able to plant my feet on the ground and be mindful of where I am at any given moment, mindful of what’s truly important in my life while ignoring the chatter.

So with my word in mind, I started off 2019 on January 1 by applying it as literally as I could. I went outside. I took off my socks and shoes. And I walked around my backyard, letting the earth kiss my bare feet. I stood in mountain pose, closed my eyes and imagined all the not-so-great parts of 2018 floating away with a bouquet of colorful balloons, while giving thanks to all the wonderful parts of 2018.

I’m excited to see where this word and this year will take me. Bring it on, 2019!

Roller Coaster 2018 Year in Review

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Mon, 31 Dec 2018 00:20:00 +0000

"Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us." ~Hal Borland

'Tis the season for year in review posts. And now that we’re mere hours away from a new year, I thought I’d join in on my own personal walk down the 2018 memory lane.

So what did my 2018 look like?

My January was all about preparing for a hysterectomy that would put me out of commission for six weeks. When a freak blizzard canceled my original surgery, I spent the rest of the month regrouping, rearranging and re-prepping for the second attempt, which was successfully completed with no complications.

I spent February in a blur of pain meds, hormonal changes, juicy novels, Netflix binge-watching and the realization that my son, who turned 14, had surpassed me in height.

In March I returned to work, reminding myself the art of moderation.

My body told me in April it was ready to get moving and in shape again. I signed up for Orangetheory Fitness and hot yoga memberships, two very different practices that I would soon learn greatly complimented each other. My first essay about my hysterectomy was published.

In May I turned 42, I published my second piece about my hysterectomy and I finally started believing my body was finding its new normal.

I had to wait until June to celebrate my birthday, but the parasailing adventure in the Outer Banks of North Carolina was worth the wait. My son graduated from middle school, my daughter graduated from elementary school.

July uprooted our lives with the news that we had to move unexpectedly. We found a new house in the kids’ school zone in less than a month. We spent the month packing.

Four days into August, we moved into our new house. Not two weeks later, my boyfriend and I were driving around Iceland on an unforgettable vacation. We wrapped up the month celebrating my daughter’s 11th birthday.

Life attempted to slow down in September. Daughter started middle school. Son started high school. We finished unpacking our new house.

October brought pink hair for me and the Halloween my son chose hanging out with his friends over trick-or-treating with his mommy.

In November, I spent time with my parents, celebrated an early Thanksgiving because the kids were with their father on the real one and got my first piece published on a travel site.

I ended the year with December Christmas craziness, my son’s first track meet, a vision board workshop, the anticipation of a kiss from my boyfriend at midnight on New Year’s and lots of new goals for the new year to come.

Happy New Year!!!

What Will My 2019 One-Word Resolution Be?

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Thu, 29 Nov 2018 21:48:00 +0000

"For last year's words belong to last year's language

And next year's words await another voice." ~T.S. Eliot

Every year around this time, I start creating my own personal year-in-review mental slideshow. I know it’s a little early. It’s still November. I haven’t even put up my Christmas tree yet. But I feel like I need to start early and really take the time to figure out how I did in life the past 11 months so that once New Year’s Day hits, I have a clear plan in place as to how I want to approach the upcoming year.

I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions. But I do believe in the power of a single word. And because I feel like my last two years were positively defined by two words, part of my early year-end reflection involves choosing my next one-word resolution.

My 2017 word was Balance. As a working mom who has a million things I want to pursue in my free time, I felt like I was living an unbalanced life. I spent the year finding balance in my body, mind and space. Every time I felt the stress of imbalance creeping in, that word flashed in my brain. In fact, I loved Balance as my one-word resolution so much I was tempted to use it again for 2018 (as I’m tempted to use it again for 2019!).

But I knew I needed a new word, a fresh word for a fresh year. So my 2018 word was Wellness. As the year kicked off with a hysterectomy, I needed a word that would remind me why I chose to have the surgery, as well as a word to motivate me to stay healthy, both physically and mentally, throughout the year. That word was there as I dealt with the difficult recovery after surgery, as I struggled to get back into the shape I was accustomed to as an athlete, and as I listened to my body when I had pain I shouldn’t be having 9-months post-surgery and spoke up to my doctor. With Wellness on my mind, I can say that word helped me get to the here and now with a focal point I needed.

Now I need a 2019 word. And I want that word settled on and ready to work its magic when I open my eyes on January 1. Words randomly pop in my head all the time, but the following 20 have serious potential. Some are straightforward. Some have dual meanings. All of them can be applied to things I want to see in my life as we switch calendars.

So which of these will be my 2019 word?

1. Grounded

2. Breathe

3. Mindfulness

4. Priorities

5. Energy

6. Words

7. Calm

8. Flow

9. Meditation

10. Mountain

11. Momentum

12. Motivation

13. Listen

14. Create

15. Present

16. Steps

17. Float

18. Importance

19. Connect

20. Explore

Fakesgiving: Co-Parenting During the Holidays

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Mon, 19 Nov 2018 13:13:00 +0000

I don’t have my children for Thanksgiving this year.

The good news is that this means I get the kids for Christmas.

But on Thanksgiving, the kiddos will be eating turkey and stuffing with their father.

I’ve been co-parenting for nearly five years now. For five years, the parent who gets Thanksgiving, doesn’t get Christmas, and the parent who doesn’t get Thanksgiving gets Christmas.

I’d like to say that five years of missing every other Thanksgiving and every other Christmas with my children has eased the emptiness I feel on my childless holidays.

But I can’t.

It doesn’t get easier, but I guess I’ve learned to cope with their blatant absence better.

As a former military spouse who had to figure out how to celebrate all the holidays and special occasions that were either postponed or outright ignored because of deployments, I learned to get creative. And flexible with dates on the calendar.

That means that this year, Thanksgiving has already come and gone for me.

Well, to be more accurate, “Fakesgiving” has come and gone.

Just as I’ve made up a new last name to call our household that combines mine, my kids’ and my boyfriend’s, I’ve made up new names for the holidays we celebrate early.

Because I refuse to ignore holidays.

And who cares when you celebrate together as long as you celebrate, right?

So this year, when my parents came to visit the first weekend in November, my family with the three last names smushed into one sat down for our Fakesgiving spread on the most random of days and shared what we were thankful for.

It didn’t matter that the calendar didn’t say Thanksgiving.

While I’m thankful to be able to share Fakesgiving with my kids, and I’m thankful I don’t have to plan an early “Fakesmas” until next December because this year I get to share the real Christmas with them, I can’t help but feel a bit deflated this week.

Everyone around me is planning for Thanksgiving, buying their turkeys and planning their menus.

Yesterday, as my boyfriend and I braved Trader’s Joe’s on the Sunday before turkey day, the busy yet cheerful cashier asked if we were excited for Thanksgiving.

“Well, we’ve already done our Thanksgiving,” I blurted out.

(I really need to stop saying that. People don’t know how to react. I need to just say yes and move on with my day.)

I try not to complain. After all, my kids are thrilled they get two of every holiday each year.

My divorce hasn’t totally scarred them for life.

They’re growing up learning that life is filled with the need for adjustments and it’s important to make the best of odd circumstances.

But I already know on Thanksgiving day, even though my boyfriend and I will enjoy our day hiking at our local state park like we usually do when the kids aren’t around for holidays, my heart will still hurt a little.

After five years, handing my babies over to spend a holiday with someone else still hurts a little.

And I think that’s ok to admit so I can acknowledge that hurt, say hello like it’s a familiar acquaintance, and then move on.

To planning Christmas with my kids!

Happy Fakesgiving or Thanksgiving or whatever you may be celebrating this week!

I Miss Writing

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Mon, 22 Oct 2018 22:29:00 +0000

I miss writing.

I hear myself say these three words.

Every. Single. Day.

I can’t stand that I’m saying them.

I can’t stand that I’m not writing with the frequency and passion that once drove me to this blog.

Every. Single. Day.

I can’t stand that writing has somehow fallen off my list of priorities.

What’s going on? Why am I not writing?

This year kicked off with a major surgery in January.

I attempted to return to work four weeks after my hysterectomy.

I wasn’t healthy enough.

Two more weeks of recovering, and I was good to go.

But I was slow.

Slow to get my work done.

Slow to get back into physical shape.

Slow to get back to normal life.

But one day I discovered I felt normal and healthy.

The rough winter was over, and spring bloomed with the sunshine I craved, multiple pitches to editors and an outline for a new book I was itching to write.

I signed up for hot yoga.

I signed up for Orangetheory Fitness.

I had one essay about my hysterectomy published and then another.

My boyfriend and I decided to go to Iceland for our end-of-summer vacation, and I started planning our epic adventure.

Summer was in full swing, and I couldn’t wait for all the beach days of paddle boarding and sunsets.

I said to a friend, “I’m so happy I can’t help but wonder when the other shoe is going to drop.”

And then it dropped.

The day after celebrating the 4th of July, the owner of our beach rental house informed us we had to vacate because she was selling it to a family member.

We had six weeks to find another house. In the kids’ school zone. And move.

No beach days for me.

I spent every minute of free time house hunting and packing.

I stopped finding time to write.

Hot yoga and Orangetheory were afterthoughts.

I contemplated canceling our trip to Iceland.

But somehow we found a house and moved in under a month.

I spent every minute of free time unpacking and creating a new home for my family.

And getting one kid ready to start high school and the other to start middle school.

And finalizing our trip to Iceland (because, dammit, I refused to cancel the trip to Iceland!).

I still wasn’t writing.

I stopped going to hot yoga altogether and made pathetic appearances at Orangetheory.

I treated our 11-day drive around the entire country of Iceland as a break from moving boxes and change of address forms and stress.

(Side note: Iceland was absolutely incredible. Truly an epic adventure. I highly recommend and will gladly help plan your itinerary.)

I returned home to work and new house stress and schools not releasing schedules because I had no proper proof of address.

I told myself life would settle down soon.

School started (after finally getting schedules).

I resumed a hot yoga and Orangetheory routine.

And while I wasn’t working on my books, I finally made time to throw together some essays and send out pitches.

But editors didn’t bite.

I got a couple of kind and constructive rejections, but mostly I got no responses at all.

Which is very discouraging.

And more discouraging?

Realizing I haven’t been published since May.

Realizing I haven’t written a blog post since February.

Realizing I have two drafts-in-progress of books begging to be worked on.

Which brings us to up to date.

These are my thoughts today.

I miss writing.

Because I have yet to find the time and energy in between a full-time job, parenting a teen and a tween, spending time with my boyfriend and taking care of my health to rekindle the passion I once had to write.

Every. Single. Day.

But life was no less hectic back when I published a blog post every weekday.

Life was no less hectic when I participated in three consecutive NaNoWriMo’s to make significant progress on my novel.

Life was no less hectic when I scribbled pages and pages of journal entries that included endless ideas for topics to write about.

I miss writing.

But life never slows down.

So it’s time to stop making a blog post worth of excuses for why I haven’t been writing.

And start writing.

Every. Single. Day.

To Whom It May Concern

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Fri, 23 Feb 2018 17:08:00 +0000

Dear Pets,

The last four weeks post-surgery have been rough.

And when I say rough, I mean I’ve been rotating the same comfy pants and baggy shirts for over four weeks.

I’ve been keeping medication charts.

I’ve been taking naps.

I’ve watched more tv in the last month than I probably have in the entire last year combined.

I’ve been missing exercise, baths, wine, going anywhere quickly and general contact with the outside world that now feels like a foreign country because I’ve been inside my house too much.

But you, my loyal and sweet dog and cat, have been right by my side through it all. You’ve cuddled close and absorbed my pain. You slowed down to match my pace. You looked cute and made me smile. Pet therapy is a real thing. And I’m so thankful for you both.

With love and appreciation,

A Furbaby Mama

Dear Authors,

I have read eight of your books in four weeks. You’ve kept me entertained while I rested and tried to keep my brain functioning as I take time off work. You’ve reminded me of the power of the written word and my own passion to share what’s in my brain. And you’ve inspired me to get back into a daily writing routine, as well as start a new project I’ve been contemplating for years.

Thank you for helping me find new words,

A Writer With a New Plan

Dear Psychic Energy,

As rough as this month has been, I feel like I've managed to rearrange you in such a way that any negativity is transforming into positive juju.

I had my annual psychic reading last week. As always, my session was a practice in reflection, insight and motivation. And although most of the reading wasn't much more than an affirmation of things I already planned to do and my mom later claimed she could have told me all that for free, I needed to hear it from an objective stranger.

You also went through a cleansing by smudging. I started with my house and finished with my body. My house instantly felt cleared of negative energy, and whatever negative physical vibes were left over from my surgery drifted out the open windows as well. I cleansed, I dismissed, I dispelled.

Best,

A Cleared and Focused Woman

Dear Passport,

I’m starting the process of figuring out how to use you again this summer. Last year was the Dominican Republic. The year before was Costa Rica. The year before that was Turks and Caicos. My list of travel dreams never stops growing. Thank you for helping me satisfy my wanderlust and see fun new parts of the world. I can’t wait to see where you take me next!

Gracias,

An Aspiring World Traveler

Dear Beach,

Since I had my hysterectomy over four weeks ago, you have been my goal.

As my happy place that just happens to be a short three minute walk from my front door, I fear I may have taken you for granted. Even in the winter, I typically visit you multiple times a week. I use you for sunsets, dolphin watching, paddle boarding, reading, dog walks and anytime I need a break.

For the past month, you’ve seemed too far away. The first time I reached my goal of walking to you, I was ecstatic! And I was also exhausted. Too exhausted to do anything but say hello and turn around and head home.

But two days ago, I finally reached my goal. On an unusually warm and sunny near 80 degree day, I did more than just say hello. I visited you for almost an hour and a half. I dug my toes in the sand. I meditated. I stared at bright blue sky as the clouds crept by. I read. I walked to the shoreline with my daughter as she braved the freezing water.

After weeks of not enough fresh air, you were exactly what I needed.

Namaste,

A Believer in Saltwater Therapy

5 Word Friday: My Current Status As Told By a Dog and a Cat

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Fri, 09 Feb 2018 12:27:00 +0000

Sixteen days ago I had a hysterectomy. And for 16 days, I've never been more aware of every ache and pain in my body, every wave of intense fatigue and every limitation that reminds me I'm in the middle of recovering from major surgery.

Despite all that, I remain positive that I'll continue to get better every day. In the meantime, here are my dog and my cat to illustrate my current status in 5 words:

Wellness: My One-Word Resolution for 2018

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Mon, 22 Jan 2018 19:11:00 +0000

A new year has rolled around once again. And like most people, I spent the last few weeks of 2017 reflecting on the year about to close and outlining goals for the new year to come.

Did I do everything I hoped I would do in 2017? Did I learn any lessons to bring with me into 2018? And more specifically, did my 2017 one-word resolution bring me what I was looking for, and how would that answer affect my word choice for 2018?

I may not have done everything I set out to do in 2017, but generally speaking, it was a year filled with exactly what I was seeking: Balance. That was my 2017 word, a word so perfect for me that I almost wanted to repeat it for 2018.

My word helped me to balance my body by incorporating yoga and other exercises into my workout routine to keep me injury-free, by eating more nutritious meals and by drinking more tea and less coffee as per doctors’ orders. I balanced my mind by making meditation and mindfulness daily practices and by returning to my love of reading by carving out time to disappear in a good novel. And I took advantage of my balanced space by using my Meditation Station and making sure it continues to be a stress-free space I can escape to anytime for meditating, practicing yoga or cuddling with my dog, who often joins me for yoga sessions.

By the time I closed out 2017, I really did feel balanced.

But as a writer who prides herself on having original ideas, I knew I had to come up with a new word. Balance had treated me well, but I had to build on that, not repeat it. I had to take those goals accomplished and lessons learned, couple those with the new challenges I found myself facing at the end of 2017 and forge forward with a different word.

Despite my goal to balance every area of my life, my body had something going on that was beyond my control. Towards the end of 2017, when I found I could no longer ignore my near-constant pain and the myriad other pesky symptoms I was experiencing, I was forced to make a decision to advocate for my health and schedule a pretty major surgery that requires a lengthy recovery period.

Suddenly, my health was in the spotlight, and getting well was all I could think about. Because of that, I knew what my 2018 word needed to be.

That word is:

My surgery was supposed to be shortly after New Year’s, but thanks to the worst timing ever of a blizzard, it was pushed back to this week. I thought by now I’d be almost halfway into my four to six week recovery, in the middle of my total focus on Wellness. But as we all know, life rarely goes as planned.

As I waited for the new surgery date to roll around, I shifted my Wellness focus from recovery to prep. I figured the stronger I am going into surgery, the more solid my recovery will be. I had 20 extra days to run, swim, practice my beloved yoga and meditation, and shed those holiday pounds I inevitably gain the end of every year.

After surgery this week, my Wellness journey will switch back to recovery. Instead of running shoes and bathing suits, I’ll be focusing on rest and listening to my body’s cues. And then, when my body (and my surgeon) let me know I’m ready in late February or early March, I’ll shift gears again and gradually rediscover Wellness in those running shoes and bathing suits.

Where will my 2018 word bring me from there? I’m not sure. My January has been all about taking life one day at a time, and I imagine I’ll be in wait-and-see mode for a good portion of the first half of this year.

So far, I can say I’ve meditated every day in 2018 thanks to the Calm 30-Day Meditation Challenge I discovered on Twitter. As I learned from my 2017 year of Balance, meditation is beneficial for me in lots of ways, including stress reduction, pain management, sleep aid and maintaining a general sense of calm, so I plan to continue meditating throughout my recovery and beyond as an integral part of my Wellness journey.

I expect each day my focus might be different than the previous day, but being patient and flexible are also big parts of my Wellness journey. For today, I’m focusing my Wellness on washing my hands like crazy and praying I can go a couple more days without catching the nasty flu that’s going around so this second surgery attempt will happen.

As for tomorrow and the next day and the next day? I’ll just have to wait and see.

15 Inspiring Cheryl Strayed Quotes About Life and Living

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Tue, 16 May 2017 20:50:00 +0000

I'm a sucker for a good quote. There's something about making connections between someone else's words and my own life that makes me pause and think. Whether that pause is to soak in inspiration, wisdom, humor, motivation, an aha moment, or a sense of belonging, I jot down those quotes that speak to me in a running list I've had for years.

I recently finished reading Cheryl Strayed's book, "Tiny Beautiful Things," which is a collection of her "Dear Sugar" advice columns. As soon as I closed the book after the last page, I knew I needed to read it again. This woman is filled with wisdom about everything from love and relationships to family and loss, offering perspective that could benefit anyone. A beautiful writer with a true ability to dish out advice in a blunt yet kind way, Cheryl Strayed has quickly become one of the most frequently quoted people in my personal collection of favorites.

In need of some perspective? Here are 15 inspiring Cheryl Strayed quotes about life and living:

1. "It’s up to you to make your life. Take what you have and stack it up like a tower of teetering blocks. Build your dream around that."

2. "Don’t surrender all your joy for an idea you used to have about yourself that isn’t true anymore."

3. "Don’t do what you know on a gut level to be the wrong thing to do."

4. "Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you'll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you'll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room."

5. "I'll never know, and neither will you, of the life you don't choose. We'll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn't carry us. There's nothing to do but salute it from the shore."

6. "This is how you get unstuck. You reach."

7. "Stop worrying about whether you’re fat. You’re not fat. Or rather, you’re sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit?"

8. "Forgiveness doesn't sit there like a pretty boy in a bar. Forgiveness is the old fat guy you have to haul up a hill."

9. "You don't have a right to the cards you believe you should have been dealt. You have an obligation to play the hell out of the ones you're holding."

10. "There are some things you can’t understand yet. Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding."

11. "At a certain point we get to decide who it is we allow to influence us."

12. "It is impossible for you to go on as you were before, so you must go on as you never have."

13. “There are stories you’ll learn if you’re strong enough to travel there. One of them might cure you.”

14. "Trusting yourself means living out what you already know to be true."

15. "Nobody's going to do your life for you. You have to do it yourself, whether you're rich or poor, out of money or raking it in, the beneficiary of ridiculous fortune or terrible injustice. And you have to do it no matter what is true. No matter what is hard. No matter what unjust, sad, sucky things befall you. Self-pity is a dead-end road. You make the choice to drive down it. It's up to you to decide to stay parked there or to turn around and drive out."

Lessons from a Road Trip

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Mon, 24 Apr 2017 19:48:00 +0000

A couple of weeks ago, my kids were on Spring Break from school. I took the week off from work. The cat and dog were set to hang out at home with the pet sitter. Our bags were packed, and my parents were waiting with open arms on the other end. All we had to do was get ourselves from Virginia to Florida and our vacation could begin.

Anyone who has looked into flying to Florida during Spring Break months knows you practically have to win the lottery be able to afford four plane tickets. So my boyfriend and I decided to skip the airport and take the more adventurous route and hit the open road. We had already driven the 14-hour trip to my parents’ house twice before, experimenting with both driving straight through in one day and breaking it up with an overnight pit stop. But that was just the two of us when the kids were with their father.

It can’t be that much harder with a 9- and 13-year-old, right?

The kids weren’t immediately convinced, so I took to Facebook and asked my wonderfully experienced and creative mom friends for tips on road tripping with kiddos. Living up to my expectations, my friends filled my feed with so much advice I had to take notes so I wouldn’t forget it all as the trip got closer.

I had every intention of writing this blog post. I just knew the trip would be epic, that I would pull into my driveway a week after we drove off with the best road trip advice to pass along to other families. I would share the tips my friends passed along, as well as others we came up with along the way. Yes, our road would be epic!

Well, our road trip was epic alright. But definitely not in the way I was going for.

On the way to Florida, we broke the trip into two days. The first day we drove six hours and spent the night in a hotel in South Carolina, where we met up with friends heading in the same direction. We were safe and sound in Florida the following day after another eight hours of driving. We all managed that pretty well so we decided to drive straight through on the return trip. It was the return trip that might be the reason I’ll never get my kids to road trip again.

So what about those expert tips I had teed up? Yeah, those went out the window along with the stench of vomit and rules about gadget usage. All those detailed plans that were supposed to earn me Mom of the Year status disintegrated as each hour of the 16-hour trip home passed and transformed into the following three lessons that are so basic, yet so necessary in their simplicity. I should have started here:

1. Handy essentials are essential.

My 9-year-old daughter has never been carsick. However, for my 13-year-old son, carsickness is a fact of life he’s dealt with on every road trip he’s ever been on. So I always have a steady supply of plastic bags that he knows to grab the second he gets that queasy feeling, and over the years, he’s perfected his aim. While it’s not ideal to sit in an enclosed space with a puking kid, we’ve never had to deal with chain reaction vomit.

That’s why it was so shocking when one minute my daughter said her tummy hurt and the next minute she was puking in a McDonald’s parking lot. Even more shocking when, an hour later, she suddenly grabbed one of those plastic bags in the backseat for round two.

Convinced she had nothing left in her stomach, I figured we were done. My son had taken Dramamine, which worked well for him on both the boat ride we went on in Florida and the first day of the drive there (but not on the second day because, as he learned, it doesn’t work if you don’t take it.)

But an hour later, I heard the rustling of a plastic bag. Apparently, my son was experiencing a delayed chain reaction.

And an hour after that, the kids were tied at two pukes each.

Round four was the worst round because it came on so suddenly that my poor boy’s perfect aim was off, and he missed the bag. Then, after driving at least ten minutes before an exit finally appeared on the interstate, I had to dig through luggage to find clean clothes and shoes before scrubbing floor mats with baby wipes in a gas station parking lot.

The moral of that story? Have a list of road trip essentials, and keep those essentials handy at any given moment. My list now includes at least 20 plastic bags (for both vomit and vomit-covered items that need to be double bagged so the smell doesn’t set off another chain reaction), baby wipes, ginger ale, gum, a change of clothes for each kid and the Dramamine that will knock those kids out (rather than the “non-drowsy natural” crap I bought).

2. Seating arrangements matter.

I have fond memories of my childhood summer vacations, trips that always involved a road trip. Whether my father was driving us from New Jersey to Cape Cod or to Myrtle Beach, the seating arrangements never varied. My brother sat in the backseat behind my father, I sat behind my mother on the passenger side. Sometimes we all talked. Sometimes we entertained ourselves individually with a Walkman, toys, books or crafts. There was never talk of switching assigned seats.

Maybe those childhood memories are the reason I didn’t relinquish my seat in the front of the car, even though I knew my son’s bouts with carsickness would greatly decrease if he sat in the front. Or maybe it’s because I wanted so badly for my children to bond and use the forced proximity to figure out a way to pass more than 15 minutes at a time without fighting. Or maybe it’s because I’m not crazy about the backseat. After all, my boy inherited the carsickness gene from someone.

But after the last vomit stop I gave my son the front seat. He felt better the rest of the trip, his sister was happy to be in the back with someone who allowed her to stretch out beyond the barricade they had created to keep each other on their own sides, and once I popped a couple of Dramamine myself, I discovered cuddling in the backseat with my girl and a pile of pillows wasn’t so bad.

Moral of that story? Most carsick person gets the front seat.

3. Don’t try to be Mom of the Year.

I planned to have a fancy binder for each child that contained maps, destination information, coloring pages, Bingo and other games. I envisioned the four of us coming up with elaborate, hilarious stories where each person adds a sentence for maximum interactive word play. I had podcasts lined up that I had researched and approved for age-appropriateness and attention-holding subject matter. Seriously, Mom of the Year material!

Let’s just say those binders never came to fruition because the kids said they sounded boring. And let’s also say those elaborate “add a sentence” stories lasted maybe five minutes because every sentence the kids added included the words “poop” or “fart” or a synonym of “poop” and “fart,” and five minutes was about all the patience I had for that. And those podcasts? Thankfully, the daughter of the friends we met up with in South Carolina recommended one because all the others I researched and downloaded were deemed too boring to listen to.

So after all the vomit and the declarations of boredom and the “get off my side!” fights and the “can we get back on screens yet?” whines and the countless failed attempts to interact with my children, I remembered another road trip tip shared by a Facebook friend: “We do what we must to survive.”

I was not going to win Mom of the Year, and as I gave the kids permission to get back on their devices (again), I decided that I didn’t need to. We had an awesome Spring Break, spending time with each other and my parents, staying active and having fun. This 16-hour road trip was just one day out of our lives, and I had no energy left to try and implement mandatory fun. It just wasn’t worth spending time with an inner debate with my mommy guilt. As my wise friend wrote on my Facebook thread, “They will not die over this, right?”

Moral of that story? Buy the plane tickets.

Balance: My One-Word Resolution for 2017

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Tue, 14 Mar 2017 11:48:00 +0000

I think it all started with a running injury. Then I noticed my hair was falling out. Later it was the tightening of my clothes. Sprinkled in there was the increase in debilitating headaches. Before I knew it, I was ending 2016 waiting for the results of my third cancer scare within six months and overwhelmed with stress.

Thankfully, none of those cancer scares resulted in a cancer diagnosis. But as I celebrated those medical results, I realized it was a wake-up call. The universe was telling me I needed to take better care of myself. And what better time for new goals than a new year, right?

I gave up on the idea of New Year’s Resolutions a long time ago. Those grand plans and bulleted lists I once wrote down and promised myself would come to fruition throughout the new year did nothing but leave me with a sense that those resolutions had set me up for failure. The specificity left me with an all-or-nothing mentality. The lack of wiggle room I unknowingly built into those resolutions ultimately led me to abandon the resolutions altogether.

That’s why the trend of one-word resolutions appeals to me. Instead of bulleted lists of precise resolutions, I could start with one general concept to trickle down and touch upon multiple areas of my life. All I needed to do was come up with one magical word to encompass how exactly I wanted to go about taking better care of myself.

Choosing one word is no easy task. In fact, a couple years ago I chose 50 words because I couldn’t settle on one. But when a word popped into my head clear as day at the end of a yoga session, I knew that word was the perfect theme for my 2017.

That word is...

Once the word found me, I immediately started working out a plan to apply it to as many areas of my life as possible.

So why am I writing about New Year’s resolutions in March? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve never made it this far with a New Year’s resolution. But more importantly, it's because my mindset has improved, I’ve created lifelong habits and I am healthier and happier in just a few short months because of that one little word.

Balance.

So how has my word affected my life? I’ll break it down into 3 main categories: body, mind and space.

Body

Unbalanced: I’m 40 years old. I am no longer at the point in my life when I can run nearly 30 miles a week with absolutely no cross training and expect to stay uninjured. My legs were overtrained and tired from doing all the work, while the rest of my body was undertrained and weak from doing none of the work.

I also have multiple autoimmune disorders that I’ve been pushing to the periphery for years. I take my meds, but I can no longer pretend they don’t exist, that stress and poor food and drink choices don’t affect my health.

Balanced: Physical therapy for bursitis in my hip stopped producing results, so I switched to massage therapy. It was when massage started working and I resumed running that I implemented my balance plan, cutting my mileage in half and giving some love to other muscles. Thanks to my boyfriend’s old P90X DVDs, I alternate workouts and muscle groups, including yoga and kickboxing. I joined our local rec center and swim laps, sweat it up on the rowing machine and lift weights. I’m finally losing some of the weight I gained from my thyroid issues -- my first 2016 cancer scare -- and my upper body is getting stronger while I remain injury-free.

My massage therapist also suggested I rethink my office chair. I work from home. I work a lot. In a chair, in front of a computer. So I took her advice and ditched my office chair for a balance ball (see, there’s that balance word again!). It was life changing. My pain is gone, and it works my core and posture. I will never sit in an office chair again.

As far as those autoimmune disorders, well, they will always be with me. However, I have finally listened to my rheumatologist and other doctors I have to see on a regular basis. No more three cups of coffee a day. As doctors have warned me, my body doesn’t like that. I now have one cup of coffee first thing in the morning, and the other two cups have been replaced with tea. And you know what? I don’t miss that coffee one bit. In fact, I LOVE tea.

You know what else I surprisingly love? Vegetables. Because balancing my body wouldn't be complete without the inclusion of a better balanced diet.

Mind

Unbalanced: Like most people I know, stress is a constant in my life. My most reliable stress relief has always been exercise. But when I got injured, I couldn’t rely on a long run to release the pressure valve. So the stress built up, and I found myself with headaches that rendered me nonfunctional, chronic fatigue and an inability to figure out how to relieve my stress in other ways.

Balanced: My body wasn’t cooperating, so I decided to let my mind take over. That’s when I discovered the joys of meditation.

I don’t claim to be a great meditator. In fact, I can’t sit still for more than about 15 minutes at a stretch, and I need the help of guided meditations. But my meditation practice has produced so many positive results with my stress management, both throughout the day and at night when I need to turn my brain off to sleep. I even set the alarm on my phone for various times throughout the day to remind myself to take a deep breath. Now, using breathing techniques, mantras and mindfulness, I have tools to not only relieve existing stress, but also to work toward stopping the stress where it starts to prevent snowballing.

My mind also needed something I had stopped making time for: books. I’m an avid reader, and for me, reading for fun is a mental break. So now, instead of spending too much time scrolling through Facebook, I use free time to read a book. Many afternoons when my work day is done, you can find me on my couch with calm music, a cup of tea and the latest on my Goodreads "Want To Read" shelf.

Space

Unbalanced: Every area of my house I moved into last August was allocated for something or someone. Sure I had an entire room I could call my home office, but I never felt as if I had made it my own. I used it for work and storage. It screamed stress and clutter.

Balanced: As Thich Nhat Hanh wrote, “The key to creating a home meditation practice is to create a space where the busyness stops.”

So I created a space.

I moved all the furniture in my home office to create my Meditation Station. In one corner of the room sits my “Thinking Chair,” and next to my meditation cushion stands a little table with candles, stones and a chime. It’s not a big space, but it's filled with positive energy. Although I can still see my work area, no stress or to-do lists are allowed in that corner. It's where the busyness stops.

I have a long way to go before I feel the balance I’m hoping to ultimately achieve, but I’m thankful for the strides I’ve made so far and I’m confident I’ve laid down some pretty strong stepping stones to continue on my path toward a healthier, more balanced lifestyle.

To Whom It May Concern

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Fri, 24 Feb 2017 12:39:00 +0000

Dear Meditation,

I thought I’d be better at practicing you by now.

I’m about to finish the book Real Happiness: The Power of Meditation, which is a four week program to learn all about meditation. I all read about the benefits of meditation, and I’ve practiced breathing meditations, body scan meditations, letting go of thoughts meditations and lovingkindness meditations. I’m now on the final week, and instead of being able to ease through the recommended five to six meditation sessions a week, at least one of which is over 20 minutes long, I still find myself wiggly and itchy and fidgety and peeking at the timer to discover that only two minutes had passed since the initial chime.

My massage therapist encourages me to keep it up, that meditation is like exercise and I just need to keep practicing so those meditation muscles get stronger and can be used for longer stretches of time. So I’ll keep trying, finishing this week’s lovingkindness focus with the mantra, “May you be safe. May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you live with ease.” And I’ll make sure that, in addition to sending those vibes out to those I’m fond of and those I’m not-so-fond of, I’ll include myself in lovingkindness wishes.

Namaste,

An Improving Meditator

Dear Commercial Airlines,

Thanks for making your flights ridiculously expensive during Spring Break. At first I was totally bummed that flying four people to sunny Florida would require me to auction off my internal organs, but as Facebook friends continued to offer fun suggestions for road tripping with kids, I’m kind of looking forward to being trapped in a car with my family for many, many hours. I think back very fondly to the family road trips my parents took me and my brother on when we were kids, and I know one day my little ones will appreciate the time spent together as well.

V/R,

A Mom Ready for the Family-Friendly Version of Spring Break

Dear Parents of Teenage Boys,

I have less than a week until my boy enters his teenage years. He is almost as tall as me, his voice is suddenly so deep I barely recognize it, and the other day he received his first love note from a young lady requesting to be his girlfriend. None of that really scares me though. That’s pretty typical. It’s all that other stuff that teenagers face these days that my generation didn’t have to deal with that really scares me. Snapchat. Cyberbullying. Internet porn.

So parents, how do I get through these teenage years with my sanity intact? How do I get him through his teenage years with more wisdom than rebellion? How do I not screw it all up?!

Send some prayers,

A Parent About to Join the Club of Parents with Teenage Boys

Dear Lady in the Grocery Store Checkout Line,

I saw you out of the corner of my eye. I saw you look away when I looked at you. You and your husband were overdressed for Food Lion, likely picking up some essentials after church. You were an older couple, older than my parents, and I figured you averted your gaze because of my pink hair. And while pink hair isn’t as wild and crazy as it was once considered, I don’t think older generations get it. In fact, just minutes before, another older woman looked practically frightened when I passed her in the international foods aisle. So I thought I was about to get handed some harsh judgment when you tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me, but I just have to know…”

Here it comes, I thought. She’s going to ask me why I would do such a horrible thing to my long blonde hair. I braced myself and prepared to brush her off.

“Which came first: the hair or the shirt?”

Huh? I looked down and realized I was wearing a pink shirt, a shade that almost exactly matched my hair.

“Because you’re perfectly color coordinated,” she continued with a smile.

I laughed, and she gave me a wink. “I just love the hair,” she said to me, then linked arms with her husband and said to him, “Don’t you just love her hair, honey?”

I waved to the couple as I left with my groceries, hit with the realization that not only had this couple NOT passed judgment on me or make assumptions about me based on my appearance, but I had done exactly that toward them.

With everything going on in the world right now, it sure is easy to pass judgment on others and brace ourselves in a defensive stance. My brief encounter with this sweet woman in Food Lion was a great reminder to keep an open mind, avoid jumping to conclusions, and by all means, take the time to share a laugh with others, even strangers with pink hair in the grocery store.

With thanks and appreciation,
The Stranger with the Pink Hair in the Grocery Store

What Motivates Me: Time To Go Back to the Beginning

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Thu, 16 Feb 2017 18:38:00 +0000

I haven’t been writing.

And when I say I haven’t been writing, I mean it’s been months. Not just days or weeks. I’m talking months since I’ve written much more than a Facebook status update.

I tell myself the noodling around I did on my novel in November for NaNoWriMo counted as writing. But it didn’t. I spent so much time revising while getting reacquainted with the characters I had abandoned since the previous year’s NaNoWriMo attempt that the actual writing of new words wasn’t really happening. And then I abandoned it again.

I tell myself I don’t have the zen writing spot in the house I moved into six months ago or the house doesn’t seem to have the right juju. But I have a whole office to myself (with a door that closes!), and I smudged my house to evict bad juju (twice).

I tell myself that I’m blocked because the last piece I wrote, a piece that was quickly accepted and published by the Washington Post, left me dealing with horrible internet trolls whose comments I had to stop reading, whose tweets I had to ignore, whose snap judgements made me question why I bothered to open myself up like that.

I tell myself I don’t have time. But I could make it.

I tell myself I don’t have the energy. But I could find it.

I tell myself I don’t have anything to write about, but there’s ALWAYS something to write about.

I tell myself that my hair stylist is right, that I’m not writing because I’m happy. And while it’s true that my most prolific periods have been during challenging times in my life, I can’t rest on that as an excuse because I plan to be happy for a very long time.

So what the hell is wrong with me?! Where are the words?!

Well, it turns out I might have finally found them hidden within a deeper message in someone else’s words.

I recently finished reading the book, “Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us” by Daniel H. Pink. It’s a research-based theory of motivation that explains how businesses attempt to motivate their employees in all the wrong ways. Most people assume that external motivation like money is the best motivator for hard work. But that’s not the case. In fact, studies show it often diminishes intrinsic motivation, decreases performance and kills creativity. So what does work? An approach that includes autonomy, mastery and purpose. Hmmm, I totally dig that.

I also liked the author’s explanation of the “Sawyer Effect.” Based on a fence whitewashing scene in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, this theory asserts that (1) rewards can turn play into work and (2) focusing on mastery can turn work into play.

As I read the book, I tried to apply this theory of motivation to various parts of my own life. First, I realized that’s probably why the promise of a weekly allowance no longer motivates my kids to exert much effort into their household chores. And then I realized it might be why I’m not writing.

One of the reasons this blog has collected so much dust is because I started writing for other outlets. At first I wrote for free, because let’s face it, everyone knows what the Huffington Post is and it’s a great addition to a writing resume when you’ve never gotten paid for freelancing gigs before. But then I branched out and started writing for cool websites that not only shared my work, but also --oh my gosh! -- gave me money too.

So I wrote more. And got paid more. It’s not that I needed the money from freelancing. I already have a full-time job that pays the bills. No, it was the rush I got thinking I had turned something that was once a hobby into something worth being paid for.

But that rush is gone. Because just as the Sawyer Effect states, those rewards turned my play into work. I had to research media outlets, figure out what kinds of angles they wanted, how much they paid, how to submit pitches, how to write a pitch, re-submit pieces with suggested revisions. I found myself using a voice or phrases that weren’t quite my own because I was writing for a certain audience, a certain editor. I found that editors were altering my work more than I wanted, moving things around that I had placed for very particular reasons, changing headlines to get more clicks. And now with so much politically charged material out there, it took another step for me to figure out if I want to be associated with certain outlets that have veered in a more political direction than I’m comfortable with.

I’m an editor myself so I get it. I understand that’s all part of the game. I just feel like maybe it’s time to bench myself from the game for a bit so I can find my voice again.

One day during a recent meditation session my mind wandered to my writing, and I decided to follow it. At the dead end of those thoughts, I saw a big sign: Go back to the beginning.

So I took that sign, combined it with the Sawyer Effect and ended up back here. At my blog. That I started over seven years ago with no writing background, no audience, no voice that I knew of yet, no clue whatsoever. What I did have was a desire to direct my own path (autonomy), an urge to make progress and improve at something that mattered to me (mastery), and the yearning to do something in the service of something larger than myself (purpose).

Autonomy. Mastery. Purpose.

Those three motivators were the reasons I wrote every single day. I didn’t earn a dime. For a long time, my only audience was my parents. I wrote quickly, yet from the heart, without the fear of editors chopping my words. I actually enjoyed writing, to the point that I craved it, that something felt missing if I went a day without writing something, whether it was published publicly or journaled privately.

I want that back.

So now that I’ve had my aha moment, that I realized rewards might have turned my play into work, it’s time for me to focus on turning that work back into play. I want to enjoy writing again. I want to find my voice again. I want to use that voice to work on different projects, namely, that novel I’ve had written in my head for years but only pay attention to every November. I want to get back on the roller coaster that started it all.

Here I am.

What the First Day after a Summer Co-Parenting Pass Off Looks Like

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Sun, 19 Jun 2016 20:15:00 +0000

At 5:30 Saturday morning I left my children at an airport with their father. The kids are spending the summer overseas with him, and I won't see them for 10 weeks. Pass offs never get any easier, especially when the separation is so long, and my emotions are like a ping pong ball bouncing all over the place. This is what the first day after a co-parent pass off for an entire summer looks like:

5:30 am: I stand by my car at curbside drop off with tears streaming down my face, waving at my 8-year-old daughter through the sliding glass door as she cries and waves back. Her father must have called her name because I watch her turn and walk away. I stare at the empty space for 5 long seconds before walking to my car and driving home alone.

5:45 am: My drive home parallels the beach where I frequently go to watch sunsets, and the colorful sky reminds me how early it is. I have nowhere to be, so I pull over and watch the sunrise. Sitting in my normal sunset spot but facing the opposite direction, I realize I had never seen the sun rise from this beach I had been to a hundred times before. It is awesome.

6:00 am: I cuddle with my boyfriend and my dog, and I cry.

6:15 am: I call my mom. And I cry.

6:30 am: Time for action! Strip the kids’ beds. Start a load of laundry. Put away Xbox remotes and school backpacks and stray Nerf darts and dirty socks. Start a list of things to buy in 9 weeks before the kids come home. Throw away all the random clutter the kids told me not to throw out “yet” because they’re gone now and in 10 weeks they’ll never remember the shoebox filled with cut up pieces of cardboard or the year-old Dave and Busters tickets they found two days ago or the paperclip necklace that kept mysteriously showing up after I disassembled it. And pencils. Where did all these pencils come from?!

7:00 am: I’m exhausted. Crash on my deck with coffee, a book and Facebook sympathy and support.

8:00 am: I have to get up and move! Another load of laundry. Tidy daughter’s room. Trash more random kid junk.

8:15 am: I’m exhausted. Crash on the couch with a book and my foot spa. Is this day over yet?

9:00 am: Kids call during a layover. They sound so far away.

9:15 am: Have to get up and move! Another load of laundry. Hang Nerf guns on designated hooks. Clean son’s bathroom. Trash more kid junk.

10:00 am: Have I eaten anything since the banana at 4:30 this morning? Tropical Smoothie run. Surely this super healthy smoothie and questionably healthy breakfast wrap will energize me and put my day on track for mega productivity!

10:30 am: The food failed to energize me or generate mass productivity. Back on the deck with more coffee and a book. My brain isn’t processing what I’m reading. I watch the kids swimming at my apartment complex’s pool below. Just two days ago it took me 15 minutes to drag my daughter out of the water. As we walked home she said, “I don’t want to leave.” I told her I realized she was having fun with her friends but it was time to shower and get ready for bed. “No, Mom,” she said. “I don’t want to leave you for the summer.” That was when the real tears started for both of us.

11:30 am: I’m taking a bubble bath. Not a typical Saturday morning activity for me, but today hasn’t exactly been typical.

12:30 pm: Overheated and totally relaxed from the bath, I let myself take a snoozer.

1:45 pm: Feeling a bit more human after a nap and a gooey grilled cheese sandwich. I look at my planner and sigh at the extensive list of to-do’s I created for myself days ago, anticipating I would need distractions from the emptiness I knew I would feel. But I know not a single item will be checked off that list today.

2:00 pm: Back on the deck with coffee and a book. I contemplate going to the pool, but it’s crowded and my introverted tendencies are on high alert.

2:30 pm: Deck to couch to kitchen to bathroom to deck to kitchen to deck to couch. TV on, tv off. I should go somewhere, leave the house. I should stay home, I’m exhausted. Music on, music off. It’s not so much the silence that makes me unable to sit still. It’s the lack of their presence.

4:30 pm: Boyfriend and I settle on the couch for a night of binge-watching the new season of “Orange is the New Black.” After the first episode, he picks up sushi so we can eat and watch in our comfy pants. I’m not going anywhere the rest of the day.

7:30 pm: On our way to the beach! I realize I’ve never watched both the sun rise and set in the same day from the same spot on my favorite beach.

7:50 pm: Daughter FaceTimes! The kids reached their destination safe and sound. Tween son is too cool to chat, but daughter looks tired, happy and beautiful.

8:26 pm: Sunset.

8:45 pm: Back in comfy pants. One more episode of OITNB. Wine.

10:00 pm: Time for bed. This tough day is over, and tomorrow it’s time to end my pity party. Daughter’s room will become the staging area for vacation packing. Meal planning will begin that includes more grown-up food and less chicken nuggets and squeezable yogurt. A new routine that includes exercise, guitar practice and writing will fill the hours I’d normally spend wearing my mom hat.

I know the summer will fly by. I know my kids will have fun. I know I’m allowed to have fun too. And I know I need to spend this time reenergizing and doing things I can’t do when my kids are around. Let the summer begin!

SUNRISE

SUNSET

This is How to Crush a Bucket List: A Year in Review

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Mon, 06 Jun 2016 00:52:00 +0000

Ask just about anyone you know if they have a bucket list of awesome things they want to do before they die, and chances are, they'll say yes.
"I want to travel the world," some will say.
"I want to start my own business," others will say.
"I want to win the lottery and retire at 45, never to work again," other (delusional) friends might say.But how many do you know who are actively working on their bucket lists? It wasn't until I finally started knocking items off my own bucket list that I realized how long I'd been hiding in the category of all talk and no action.
People tend to reevaluate their lives when they go through major transitions. My divorce was no exception. It was during the dismantling of my marriage that I started on my bucket list. And if I'm being honest, I didn't even know that's what I was doing. At the time, I was just in need of a distraction, a goal, a reason to get out of bed and move. My bucket list came knocking on my door, telling me it was time, promising that the only way I could fail was by not trying.
That was three years ago. So how am I doing on that bucket list? I'm proud to say I'm kicking its ass. What all have I checked off? Well, a year ago I wrote a piece for the Huffington Post called, "How a Divorce Bucket List Helped Me Move On," listing six big-ticket items on my bucket list. Here's how I'm doing on that list:

1. Run a marathon

This is what kicked everything off. I decided to run the Marine Corps Marathon during one of the most difficult times in my life, and that decision didn't just get me in amazing shape, a cool medal and the bragging rights to put a 26.2 magnet on my car. It also made me realize that I'd been talking about running a marathon for years in the same sentence as "bucket list" and "some day." Crossing that finish line made me realize my some day had come. And I wondered why I waited so long for it instead of making it happen.
And just like that, I wanted more of my "some day" wishes to become "now" realities.

2. Remove a tattoo

When we're 14 we think we know it all, don't we? Well, we don't. And I have a regrettable tattoo to prove it. (Click here for the story on that.) The tattoo is small and privately located, and I probably could have lived the rest of my life keeping it hidden and simply ignoring it.

But I wanted it gone.

What originally cost $40 and 20 minutes of my time is now a continuing project that has taken well over a year and over $1,000. At the end of this month I'll undergo my 12th laser treatment, and it won't be my last. Fingers crossed for lucky 13!

3. Write a novel

I've had a novel written in my head for as long as I can remember. The tricky part it seems is transferring it from my brain to my computer. I can't say I'm accomplishing this bucket list item in a timely fashion, but the novel has officially made a home on my computer with several chapters completed. I don't know when it will get done, and I'm trying not to put too much pressure on myself with a deadline. Right now, the fact that I've started gives me hope that I'll finish. Write on.

4. Learn to play the guitar

I've always been really good at listening to music, but not so good at making it. A million years ago, I played the drums in middle school, but I quit for fickle middle school girl reasons. My dad picked up the guitar after he retired and listening to him reminded me that I've always wanted to learn. With his help and encouragement, I set out on this acoustical journey that has proven to be way more challenging than I expected. But I take weekly lessons, try my best to practice at home and take pride in my efforts and accomplishments.

5. Sky dive

When I turned 39 last year, I had an overwhelming itch to do something epic and a new boyfriend who was more than willing to be my partner in epic-ness. What started as an outlandish suggestion over coffee one morning turned into a plunge out of a perfectly good airplane. It was a extreme lesson in overcoming fear with a bonus shot of adrenaline. It was pure awesome.

6. Go on a solo vacation

When my ex and I first split up, I had a hard time going out to dinner by myself. I felt like people were staring at me, wondering why I was alone. I felt awkward with no one across the table to talk to. It was lonely and boring.

But the more I started doing things alone, the more I embraced it. So when I found out that my kids would be spending last summer overseas with their father, I decided to take advantage of that time to go on vacation. By myself.

I spent seven amazing days in Turks and Caicos. I swam, walked, biked, shopped, read, wrote, collected shells, snorkeled, sailed, flew on a trapeze and totally de-stressed. And I ate every meal alone, a concept I never would have entertained three years ago. I treasured every second.

BONUS BUCKET LIST FUN

7. Go on a hot air balloon ride

This one is a relatively new idea and wasn't on my list a year ago. In the months leading up to my 40th birthday, I wondered how I was going to top my last birthday sky diving adventure. And one day it hit me out of nowhere that I wanted to go on a hot air balloon.
The logistics were a bit more complicated for this one because it required traveling, working around a university's graduation and obsessing over weather reports, but it all came together in a chaotic, perfect kind of way. That new boyfriend of last year was once again my partner in epic-ness, plus my best friend who was also celebrating her birthday.
Although both birthdays revolved around an up in the air sky theme, the experiences were totally different. Unlike the blurry rush of falling from 14,000 feet, hovering in the middle of the sky at 1,100 feet in the balloon was calm, peaceful and beautiful. I have to admit I had moments of frozen realization that I wasn't wearing a parachute and one false move could hurl me over the side of the basket. But when we started descending, I felt myself trying to stop time so the flight wouldn't end.

So what's next on my bucket list? I haven't figured that out yet. I think generally speaking, I want to continue trying new things, especially cool things I never thought of doing before. Since my boyfriend kindly amuses me by participating in my birthday adventures, I try to do the same for him. Last year we went camping in Shenandoah National Park, and I scrambled up rocks and bagged a peak when I didn't even know what that meant.

This summer, when the kiddos are once again with their father for 10 weeks, we're heading out to Costa Rica for zip-lining adventures and sloth sightings. Other than that, I'm not quite sure what's next.What I do know is that I refuse to sit around and wait for things to happen. I'm going to keep getting up and making things happen.

*****Despite the tight squeeze in the hot air balloon basket and my fear of losing my grip on my phone and watching it plunge to its death, I did manage to take a Facebook Live video while up in the air. Check it out.

40 Things I Learned By 40

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Sun, 01 May 2016 18:46:00 +0000

Four years ago, I wrote a blog post on my birthday called "Today is My Birthday...And I'm Turning Beautiful." And for the last three years, I returned to that post, reread it, shared it and reflected on my life and the twists and turns it's taken.

But this year, as I celebrate my birthday -- the big 4-0 -- I thought I'd take one step beyond mere silent reflection and jot down the lessons I've learned from the last decade of those twists and turns, lessons I plan to keep in my back pocket as I embark on my fabulous 40's.

So what did my 30's teach me? Here are 40 things I learned by 40:

1. Enjoy your own company.

2. Friendships require effort on both sides.

3. You’re never too old to dye your hair pink.

4. Don’t skip dentist appointments.

5. "Fake it till you feel it" isn’t good enough. It’s no way to live your life.

6. The longer you plan for something, the less likely it is to happen as you planned.

7. Life isn’t a competition.

8. Trust your gut.

9. When someone offers help, take it.

10. Be a person who makes things happen.

11. Read voraciously.

12. Pursue passions, no matter how small or silly they may seem.

13. Laugh. A lot.

14. Always accept your children’s hugs when they offer. One day they won’t offer.

15. You never know what goes on behind closed doors.

16. Stop repeating bad patterns.

17. Dancing it out really works.

18. Don’t let your people-pleasing tendencies dictate your decisions.

19. The grass is always greener on social media. Don’t compare your behind-the-scenes reality to other people’s highlight reels.

20. Don’t talk for the sake of talking. Have something to say.

21. Wear the red lipstick.

22. You won’t always get the apology you feel you deserve. Don’t waste time chasing it.

23. If something is important to you, you can find the time for it.

24. Done is better than perfect.

25. Listen to your body.

26. Be careful what you say, but not so careful that your life is censored.

27. Sometimes knowledge is power. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. Know the difference and plan accordingly.

28. Everything happens for a reason, but there’s a good chance you may not ever find out those reasons.

29. Pets can help you get through the toughest of times.

30. You never know until you try.

31. Take the time to snap photos, but not so much time that you’re not living in the moment.

32. Learn forgiveness.

33. Your children see and hear everything. Be a good role model.

34. If people want you in their lives, they’ll find a way to keep you there.

35. There are two sides to every story.

36. Don’t feel guilty about taking time for yourself.

37. Be thankful for unanswered prayers.

38. Travel to another country at least once when you’re old enough to appreciate it.

39. Learn how to cut unnecessary expenses to save money for big adventures (like traveling to another country).

40. It’s never too late.

To Whom It May Concern

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Thu, 07 Apr 2016 22:57:00 +0000

Dear Writer’s Freeze,

You are Writer’s Block’s less famous cousin, the one who lurks in the corner of the party because, despite the fact that you are bursting with things to say, you’re overwhelmed and paralyzed by all those words.

Unlike Block, you don’t need ideas or inspiration or motivation. You have plenty of that. What you need, dear Freeze, is your confidence. All those ideas are frozen in a state of “I’ll write that later” or “I don’t know where to pitch that” or “I'm rambling and I'm not sure I have a point in all this mumbo jumbo.”

Right now you’re lurking in the corner of my brain, clutching onto all those words even though your arms are so full of them that they’re about to drop all over the place. Honey, I need those words. So go ahead and drop them. Let yourself melt and drop those suckers right onto my computer screen. Don’t worry where they fall. I’ll be sure to put them in the right order. Thanks for collecting them and keeping them safe.

Best,

A Writer Who Misses Writing

Dear Body,

For most of my life, I’ve asked more of you than most people ask of their bodies. I’ve asked you to swim to national rankings and college scholarships. I’ve asked you to run to state championships and half marathon finish lines. I’ve asked you to create, grow and deliver two human beings. I’ve asked you to respond to treatment, heal from injuries, recover from surgery, strengthen from physical therapy and dodge proverbial bullets. I probably don’t thank you enough or show my appreciation by pampering you with frequent massages or eating less chocolate, but as I stare down yet another health issue, I hope you know I don’t take you for granted.

So I ask you for help now, Body, as I get ready to have an MRI on my hip tomorrow to figure out why, after being able to consistently run 20 plus miles a week, I can now barely walk. I scratched the half marathon I was training for. I got a cortisone shot that offered little relief. I rested, iced, Ibuprofen’ed and hobbled on crutches just like the doctors told me to. It’s time for answers and a plan. Can you give us a hint on that MRI? Show us what the doctors and X-rays are missing? Sometimes it’s the not knowing part that’s the most frustrating.

Love you,

A Runner Who Misses Running

Dear 40th Birthday,

Now that April has rolled around, I can say that I will be meeting you next month. And I have very mixed emotions about our introduction.

I have 43 days left in my 30’s. If I was looking to shake things up in my life, I certainly used this decade to accomplish that. A baby. The loss of a dog. An overseas move. A blog. A new dog. A career path. Another career path. A divorce. A boyfriend. And more twists and turns than I can count. In a way I’m ready to leave this decade behind, claim that I tried my best and jump headfirst into this new decade that I keep hearing all these great things about.

I’ve been watching the last several months on social media as friends I went to high school with hit their big 4-0. With a May birthday, I was always one of the last of my peers to age up. Now I’m thankful for that lag because I can watch how these friends handle the transition. I love the photos from their 40-themed parties and the status updates reflecting on their past and their excitement for the future. Seeing that and talking to my friends who have already passed into the next decade makes me think this might finally be the age where we are beyond the overriding angst and self-consciousness of that part of our lives when we’re still trying desperately to figure out who we are. Maybe by 40, we have it all figured out.

Oh who am I kidding…will we ever have it all figured out? I’ll probably be writing the same exact thing when I’m 43 days out from my 80th birthday. But even if my 40th birthday doesn’t bring total enlightenment, at the very least I have a super cool celebration in the works to greet this new decade.

Cheers,

A Believer That You're Only As Old As You Feel

Dear Spring,

Thank you for making a brief appearance last week so we could enjoy our Spring Break in Washington, DC. The weather was perfect as we hung out at monuments, the zoo, and my favorite, the Tidal Basin, where the cherry blossoms were waiting for us. We may have missed them peaking a few days earlier, but that also means we missed the massive crowds. Cherry blossoms hold a special place in my heart after living in Japan for 3 years, and despite the kids' whines about having to “look at some dumb trees,” I’d like to think they too appreciated our lucky timing.

Although I had to pull my winter jacket out of my closet again this week, I’m looking forward to your final push to overtake winter.

See you soon,

Not a Fan of Winter

Dear Riding the Roller Coaster,

I neglect you, I know. You are the reason for my writing career, yet I’ve done little recently to keep you in the loop and show you some love. But I still need you, old friend, and I’d like to hang out with you more. I admit that I now save what little personal writing I do to pursue freelancing opportunities, but maybe you and I can chat over coffee every now and then. Maybe what Writer’s Freeze (see above) needs to thaw out a little is some random free association that isn’t going to be chopped by editors. Maybe I need to go back to my roots and remind myself how this all started, back when the words flowed with ease and a daily blog post was a reality, not a laughable daydream.

I miss you, RC.

Love,

Roller Coaster Meets ESME

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Thu, 18 Feb 2016 20:45:00 +0000

I'm super excited to share my first post over at ESME, a community for Solo Moms to share resources, stories and laughs. I thought I'd share the story about how my best friend took over my online dating profile to find me a boyfriend. Click below to read all about it!

My BFF Hijacked My Match.com Profile!

To Whom It May Concern

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Mon, 26 Oct 2015 12:24:00 +0000

Dear NaNoWriMo,

November is almost here and so are you. National Novel Writing Month. Writing a novel in one month. I attempted you last year, but after the first half of the month my energy and motivation dwindled to zero and I completely abandoned you. Time to redeem myself this year.

Of course I worry about adding one more plate to the lineup of plates I already have spinning. I’m a single mom with 2 kids, a full-time job, a boyfriend I want to spend time with, a need to exercise daily, a passion for the guitar that requires practice, and all the other unexpected life surprises that pop up, like flat tires and lingering sinus infections.

But I can’t sit here and make excuses for failing before I even start trying. It all boils down to creating time where I thought time didn’t exist, asking for help and accepting that some things just won’t get done. Restricting my social media check-ins throughout the day, taking my boyfriend up on his offers to cook and being okay with a messier than usual house will all create pockets of time for me to write. My schedule might need a little rearranging, but the time is there and waiting for me to use it wisely.

Plus, I’m kind of cheating. The novel I’m working on this year was already started last year, and I’ve noodled with it here and there since then. So technically I have a 3-chapter head start, which feels like a much smoother jump off than a completely blank page.

So please be kind to me, NaNoWriMo. You are both my muse and my nemesis. You gave me the gift of the beginning of my novel, but you also slapped me with the bitterness of failure. Let’s be friends this year.

See you in 6 days,

A Writer Hoping to Call Herself a Novelist

Dear Sinus Infection,

Please. Go. Away. And. Never. Come. Back. You are killing my productivity, and I have no time for you. (See above.)

Thanks,

My Eye Sockets

Dear Residents of My Apartment Complex,

You know that movie “Good Luck Chuck,” where Dane Cook becomes a relationship good luck charm because every time he breaks up with a woman she then meets the love of her life? Well, it seems I am the Good Luck Chuck of real estate. Over the weekend I helped with the move of my fourth friend to leave my apartment complex after finding a cool house. I will miss my across-the-hall neighbor and girls’ night out wine gal pal, and Gunner will miss his canine play dates.

So if you’re in search of your dream home just start hanging out with me, and I’ll be helping you move out in no time!

Sincerely,

Good Luck Heather

Dear Halloween,

I’ve never claimed you as my favorite holiday, and I’m not one of those adults who goes crazy decorating my house or dressing up in anything more elaborate than a witch’s hat with black hair attached to it. But as I watch my kids grow up in the blink of eye, I realize that your special magic that I get to experience through the eyes of my children won’t last must longer.

My 11-year-old son may be dressing up for you this year, but he refused to participate in the pumpkin carving, I practically have to chase him and hold him down to snap a picture of him, and worst of all, he had no desire to join in the annual viewing of “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” It’s only a matter of time until he announces he’d rather stay home while I take his little sister out trick-or-treating.

Thankfully I have several more years of entertainment with my 8-year-old daughter. And she never fails to entertain. The same girl who wanted to change her name to Cannonball in preschool decided she wanted nothing to do with princesses or anything else that might be construed as remotely girly. Nope, this year Cannonball is dressing up as Captain America.

Happy Halloween!

Love,

Halloweeney Sweeney

Middle School 2.0: 7 Tween Anxieties that Don't Age

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Tue, 06 Oct 2015 18:38:00 +0000

Last month my son started middle school. I thought I'd be hyperventilating the first day he ventured out into the world of tweens, but I was surprisingly calm. It wasn't until I went through a mock school day at the back-to-school night last week that everything I hated and feared about middle school the first time around came back to haunt me the second time around.

Check out my list of those fears in my latest over at the Huffington Post:

Middle School 2.0: 7 Tween Anxieties that Don't Age

How a Divorce Bucket List Helped Me Move On

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Sun, 16 Aug 2015 15:09:00 +0000

Do you have a bucket list of things you've always wanted to do? Most of us do. Well, after my divorce, I got tired of talking about my bucket list and started checking things off.

Head over to my latest at the Huffington Post and read about my bucket list.

How a Divorce Bucket List Helped Me Move On

(Yes, that's me skydiving. It was fabulous.)

The Red Years: Redefining Life After Divorce

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Fri, 13 Mar 2015 10:53:00 +0000

After a breakup, it's hard to figure out how to redefine not only yourself, but all the external memory triggers that surround you.

Click over to my latest at the Huffington Post and read about how I worked on redefining my life.

The Red Years: Redefining Life After Divorce

(Featured on the HuffPost Divorce home page as "Redefining My Life After Divorce, One Paint Can At A Time.")

50 One-Word Resolutions for Life After Divorce

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Wed, 18 Feb 2015 02:26:00 +0000

Did you make a one-word New Year's resolution this year? Well, since New Year's, I've collected a list of 50 one-word resolutions. These resolutions apply not just to my 2015, but to my life as a single woman in general.

Want to read the whole list? Click on over to the Huffington Post and check it out. And let me know if there are any words I should add to my list!

50 One-Word Resolutions for Life After Divorce

When a Writer Tries to Date: ‘Are You Going to Write About This?’

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Mon, 09 Feb 2015 12:54:00 +0000

It’s usually asked with a chuckle. It’s usually asked with a hint of cautious curiosity. It’s usually asked with the expectation of reassurance that private moments won’t go public. And it’s usually asked on all my first dates:

“Are you going to write about this?”

Depending on the date, a variety of answers come to mind.

“You seem like a nice guy, so I’ll give it a proper waiting period before I include this date in a blog post.”

“Heck yeah I am. I can’t believe you just said that!”

“Huh? What was that? (Big gulp of wine.) Sorry, I just wrote a blog post in my head. Is this over yet so I can go home and publish?”

But because I’m a single woman who’s attempting to shed her dating cynicism, I usually just chuckle back with a flirty smile and say, “Of course not.” I figure that’s enough to appease their fear, but nowhere near a promise that they’re safe from becoming an example of a bad date in the Huffington Post.

I realize it’s tough dating a writer. We pull material from any life event, and our interpretations can be brutal. But I can tell you it’s not easy on the flip side either, being a writer trying to date.

As much as I dread the “Are you going to write about this?” question, there’s another inevitable one I dread more:

“What do you write about?”

This is intended to be a simple question followed by a simple answer. When it comes to blind date ice-breakers, this is pretty much a no-brainer when all you know about a woman's professions is she's a writer.

However, the answer is not simple.

On one hand, I could say my job is to write about military discounts. But as exciting as military discounts may be for military families, it’s not exactly glamorous. Military discounts don’t scream, “This chick is cool!”

On the other hand, I could say I have my own blog, I’m a regular contributor at the Huffington Post and I’ve written for the New York Times. That would definitely up my coolness factor. But then I’d have to admit I write about divorce, single motherhood, how much I hate dating -- subjects that probably guarantee no second date.

Being vague and saying I write about military life doesn't satisfy the question either because then my date thinks I'm a service member. Explaining that I'm not leads to talk of my ex, and the last person I want invading my date is my ex.

I’ve finally discovered the best bet is to mention my interview with Gary Sinise. We’re off topic in no time.

Then there’s the Google factor. One guy I went out with was from my running group (always nice when a guy asks you out after he’s seen you sweaty with no makeup), so unlike guys from online dating sites, he knew my full name.

“I read your Veterans Day article,” he said as we sipped coffee.

My first instinct was to be flattered that this very young Navy guy enjoyed my article. But my next instinct was panic. If he read my article, that means he Googled me. And if he Googled me, that means he knows I write about really personal stuff. He knows details about my emotional journey through divorce. He knows about quirks and insecurities. He knows I have a tattoo on my ass.

That’s pretty heavy stuff for a first date. Plus, it means our relationship is already lopsided. He knows way more about me than I know about him.

Finally, being a writer might actually be preventing me from even getting to the first date. After communicating with one guy on Match and then exchanging a few texts, he asked the question even my friends ask:

“Are you mentally editing my texts?”

Well, of course I am. I edit for a living. I can’t help it. It’s instinctual. But I’m more than willing to ignore poor grammar if it’s overshadowed by impressive content.

I don’t remember how I responded, but shortly after that, he apparently lost interest and stopped texting before the mere suggestion of a date.

One of my friends analyzed my online dating profile and said maybe I’m too intimidating. She suggested I dumb myself down, maybe neglect to mention I have a Masters degree.

But I don’t want to dumb myself down. I’m an intelligent woman with an advanced degree, an enviable career and cool personal successes. If a man find that intimidating instead of attractive, I don’t want to date him anyway.

So what’s a writer to do in the dating world?

After two attempts at Match and a never-ending stretch on eHarmony because they won’t let me close my account, I’ve decided to laugh it off.

Out of curiosity, I joined Tinder without bothering to create a profile other than a single old photo. I text my guy bestie screenshots of all the crazy rejects that I can’t imagine would ever get a swipe right from even the craziest of women.

“I hope you’re laughing at these,” my friend said after a batch of Tinder pics that included a dude with a crab on his groin, multiple men wearing masks, an overweight man holding a jumbo jar of Nutella, a man wearing women’s clothes and a group of young men passing a joint.

I do laugh.

Then I take a moment to appreciate both my single status and the men who provide all this writing material.

Sorry guys, I AM going to write about it.

To Whom It May Concern

noreply@blogger.com (Roller Coaster) — Mon, 26 Jan 2015 12:46:00 +0000

Dear Apartment Complex,

I want to apologize for being in such a hurry to abandon you for a house. I know I said I wanted a yard for my kids and my dog to play in, and I would love to be able to claim the title of “Home Owner” for the first time as a single woman, but after deciding it’s not the right time to move closer to my parents, I’m realizing I have it pretty good because of you.

You are the Melrose Place of Transitioners. I can sit on my deck that overlooks the pool and point out all my fellow divorcees who, like me, needed a place to go to put their lives back together. I can point out the newlyweds just starting out, the retirees who no longer want the hassle of maintaining a house, the military families who know they’re only in the area for a year. It seems almost everyone here is in transition. These are my people. And I’d be crazy to rush away from a home where Friday evenings can be spent drinking wine with a neighbor whose husband is deployed while our kids eat pizza, play with dolls and make zip lines for Lego figures, fun nights that end with a child swap so the boys sleep over at my place and the girls sleep at hers.

I do still want to be a home owner, and I’ll continue brainstorming with my realtor friends and going to open houses, but for now I think I’ll enjoy Melrose Place a little while longer. And the fact that I don’t have to mow a lawn.

Always,

Your Loyal Transitioner in Building 13

Dear Physical Therapist,

Please don’t go easy on me. Kick my ass! Yell at me! Rip my toe off with that stretch cord! Whatever it takes to get me running again, please do it.

My foot starting hurting about 8 months ago. I ignored the pain until I couldn’t. X-rays. A month in a clunky boot. An unsuccessful cortisone shot. An MRI. Two surgeons telling me I needed surgery. I was tired of the drama. I had a hard time wrapping my head around the thought of surgery, but once I did, I wanted it over and done with ASAP.

So when I got the call that my cutting day was bumped up to right before the holidays because of a cancelation, I jumped on it, despite having less than a week to prepare for the aftermath of a foot surgery as a single mom.

The surgery was successful, but I’m impatient. I was working 2 days after the surgery. I quit the Percocet with more than half the pill bottle still full. I ditched the crutches after less than 2 weeks because they slowed me down. And I never forgot that my surgeon said he was running 8 weeks after he had the same surgery on both feet.

Today I am 8 weeks post-surgery. And I’m nowhere near running. Physical therapist, you’ve warned me if I push myself too much too soon, I’ll be back in surgery getting a metal rod in my big toe that will prevent me from running for the rest of my life. I keep that in mind as I wrap my dog’s leash around my toe and stretch, hoping the next time I see you, I’ll measure at more than a 20% backward bend.

You’ve also told me the St. Patrick’s Day 8k in March is too ambitious and I should shoot for the Final Mile race I’ve done with my kids the past 2 years. So I’m trying to focus less on how bummed I am that my running goals have shrunk so drastically and more on the fact that my first post-surgery run will be with my 2 favorite people on the planet.

Painfully yours,

An Impatient Patient

Dear Tae Kwon Do,

One or both of my children have tried soccer, t-ball, coach-pitch baseball, kid-pitch baseball, swimming, running, Brazilian jiu-jitsu, tennis, chess club, pottery club and science club. For one reason or another, none of these activities sparked a passion in my kids.

But then you came along, Tae Kwon Do.

Getting them to their first class was filled with pep talks and bribery, but since their first bow to the mat, they haven’t looked back. I don’t want to jinx it, but I think you’re going to be around for awhile.

Thank you,

A Proud Mom

Dear True Friends,

You know who you are. Some of you have been a constant in my life from the moment we met. Some of you are brand new. Others have resurfaced from my past. I want to thank you for reasons you hopefully already know. You are the reason I am where I am. You are my support and strength. You are the glow behind my smile.

Love,

Dear Bucket List,

I’m done being all talk and no action when it comes to you. At the end of 2014, I dusted you off and tackled item #1 by starting to write my novel and quickly moved on to #2 by getting myself a guitar and enlisting my father’s services as my instructor.

But that’s just the beginning.

2015 is my year. Watch out…I’m coming to get ya.

Sincerely,

Determined and Motivated