Broken...

I am broken.

He is gone.

My whole world has left me. I cannot find the energy or the willpower to draw my next breath.

I am broken.

Stressing Out...

What if I'm not good enough?

In the last 24 hours, I think I have had my first pre-law school panic attack. Everything is becoming so real. A few months ago I was worried about finding roommates and a place to live. And now that I have found some amazing roommates and a beautiful home, the real worries of law school are beginning to take over.

What if I'm not smart enough?

Academics have been relatively easy for me. In elementary school, the only thing I studied for were spelling tests and honestly, even when I didn't know how to spell something, typically I could just look at the word and rearrange the letters until it looked "right". I'm not sure that's an option in law school. In middle school, the only thing I ever worried about was if my clothes were the right name brand-- academics were never a concern. In high school, I was not the kid who had to bring homework home-- I was nearly always able to finish homework for 8 classes in a 30 minute study hall. I've always been smart enough...until now.

What if I don't have what it takes?

College wasn't much of a challenge for me. Of course I had projects that stressed me out or classes that I spent extra time on, but in all honesty, I don't think I've ever come up against something that I simply couldn't handle. Is law school going to be the thing that breaks me?

What if it is all too much?

Will I still have time for friends, family, daily workouts and the occasional movie night? What about finding time to find someone?...I've been single for 3 years and not that I want to rush into anything, but will I have time to find the happiness I deserve?

What if I can't handle it?

What if I feel trapped?

What if I want to give up?

What would I do then?

Changing it up...

There are things in our lives which are simply beyond our grasp.

For example, I will never understand why margaritas and fashion magazines combine with sunshine to create the perfect summer afternoon. I will also never be able to change my DNA, the laws of physics, the weather, history or the fact that I have spider veins on my thighs.

And while so many facets of life are beyond our grasp, many more lay within our boundaries to change. I can change my hair color, my location, my significant others, my house, my job, my wardrobe, my feelings, my body, my friends, my choices...

Perhaps it is because so many things lie within our power, that I become frustrated when people can't get happy. Don't get me wrong-- I have spent plenty-o-days griping about life. I have allowed many things to keep me down; friends, lovers, the aforementioned spider viens on my thighs. But in all truth, most of the components that build my life are components that I choose, and if I should become unhappy, all I have to do is change them.

Yes, change is hard. Yes, it can be terrifiying. And yes, sometimes change hurts people, people you care about. But what is worse is spending your life pretending that it is outside of your control. We all have so much more power than we think.

I don't know how much longer I can watch as people continue to complain about the same things for days, weeks, months, years! If you are so unhappy, then change it. It could get messy. You could walk away scarred, but would you rather be resigned to spend the rest of your life unhappy?

As far as I'm concerned, we aren't put on this earth to be miserable. God gave us many great gifts-- the greatest being free will. So feel free to cry, scream or feel depressed for a while. But then, for everyone's sake, pull yourself up off the ground and make a change!

Crossing the Threshold...

Lately I feel as if I am standing at the doorway leading to the rest of my life...

The door is cracked, just barely, and through the crack I can see glimpses of the life I will live. I see Margarita Wednesday with friends, I see a handsome man who makes me laugh, I see children running through the sprinklers being chased by a dachshund, I see a quaint house all lit up during the holiday season.

But there are also things hidden in the shadows of the door-- uncertainties. Will I be good enough, smart enough, strong enough, brave enough? Will I be a success, a failure, or drop out? Will anyone be there to catch me when I fall or dry my tears on a lonely Tuesday night?

On my side of the door, life is familiar. It may not be everything that I've dreamt of, but it is safe and warm. I know that I'm smart enough and strong enough on this side. I know that I have people to catch me and hold me on this side. But this side is slowly slipping away and I will be forced to open the door and cross the threshold into a new, daunting life.

My stomach churns and my heart aches with mixed feelings as I get closer to that doorway. I mourn for the familiar life I will be leaving behind. I worry for those who I know will be lost without me, even if only temporarily. But I also feel a deep sense of excitement for the unknown, the unconquered and the endless possibilities. That doorway could very lead to everything I've always wanted.

Still, I do not rush to open the door. Instead, I'll sit down beside it on my safe familiar side for just a while longer. I'll let the rays of light, shining through the cracks, warm my skin. I'll cross my legs and hum a soft song to myself. I'll remember that life is about choices: Choices that scare you, Choices that excite you, Choices that make you sad...But most importantly, Choices to see what's behind the next door.

Passing Judgment...

Social networking is both a blessing and a curse. It allows me to stay in touch with my Arkansas friends, it gives me the freedom to interact with others I hardly see and it provides me with an outlet for my daily stress, frustrations and boredom.

However, I have recently begun to understand it also opens up the doors to quick and irrational judgments. I usually consider myself a kind person. I give to charities when I can, I never yelled at customers while working in sales, I always say please and thank you-- even to people who are incredibly frustrating! I have learned however, that Facebook gives my mind free reign to judge people.


I believe everyone has a right to live their life according to their own design. If that is so, why do I constantly find my inner monologue critiquing the life choices of others...

Why did she get married? They have how many kids? That is what he does for a living? I'm not sure why anyone would make that choice? How could she possibly be happy? Doesn't he have any drive or ambition? That relationship will never work! Why did they choose to never grow up?

I don't want to be the person who is constantly judging others. I love my life choices and would be hurt if I knew someone was looking at my profile and criticizing everything I've done. The beauty of life is that we all get to trudge our own paths through it. Some of us jump in head first, some take their time, some never fully let loose and others never truly live. But if it weren't for the vast array of life choices we each make, the diversity that I love wouldn't exist.

So, here is my, albeit, late New Year's Resolution-- Quit Judging. The next time I hear my inner monologue start to talk smack, I'm going to tell myself, "If those choices make them happy, then you should wish them all the happiness and blessings in this world."

Who knows, maybe someone is sending blessings and happiness my way as well.

Remembering a Good Kid...

You never think it can happen in your own backyard...

A few nights ago, a young boy was enjoying a sleepover at a friend's house. Now, his family is mourning his vicious murder. They were good people--he was a good kid.

I worked with his mom. She was a single mother who doted on her sons. They were the light of her world. She proudly displayed their photos on her desk and routinely spoke of them while on sale calls. He was a good kid. I only met him once. I was putting together an event which required "stuffing" of 900 goodie bags. He woke up early on a Saturday morning to volunteer an extra set of hands. He was a good kid.

The man who took him from this world was a repeat sex offender. Repeat. He had twice been arrested for indecent behavior with a child. Why was this man on our streets? Why was this man free to lure an innocent young boy from his friend's house? Why did our justice system allow this?

It brings me to tears to think about the last moments of Justin's life. I can't imagine how terrified he must have been. I can't imagine the fear and pain he experienced. I can't help but wonder if he thought about his mother, his brothers, his friends...

He was a good kid. No kid deserves such an ending. And no sex offender deserves the chance to break something so precious.

Life goes on for the rest of the world. But life for Justin has ended and life for his family will never be the same.

You never think it can happen in your own backyard...

Saying Goodbye Again...

365 Days.

That is how long it has been since my sweet Rascal slipped from this world to the next. For the first two or three months, I was numb. My last semester of college was clouded with sadness. I would wake up every morning and cry in the shower. I would hope that by the time I got to class and work, no one would be able to tell I was a complete wreck.

After I graduated, my little Samson came into my life. After several weeks of howling at night and constant potty breaks, I longed for the ease of life with my Rascal. I began to remember how he could curl up on my chest at night, somehow always managing to get in between me and the book I was reading. I remembered how he would chase fireflies during the warm summer nights. I remembered how he would saunter into a room and immediately take charge of any situation. Slowly, I was starting to remember the joy of life with Rascal instead of how painful life without him was.

A full year later, my life is preoccupied with work, family, Samson and my preparation for law school in the fall. And as hectic as it all is, I still make time nearly every night to glance at Rascal's picture on my nightstand. I tell him how much I love him and how I can't wait to see him someday. I sometimes update him on all the trouble Samson is getting into and tell him that they would gotten along for sure.

Last Friday at work a very old lady came in the office to sign her Last Will and Testament. While we were waiting on the appropriate witnesses and lawyers to become available, she began to reminisce about her life. She had lost one child at only 10 months old. Later on, her youngest dropped dead at 21 years old with an undiagnosed heart condition. Recently, her 18 year old grandson died of a drug overdose and she lost her husband of 50+ years awhile back. After hearing her tragic tale, I commented about the strength it must have taken to lived through that.

She looked at me and said, "Exactly. When someone is taken from you, you have no other choice but to pick yourself up and move on. You have still been blessed with time on this planet and as hard as it is to go on without them, you must. If not for you, then for them."

Her words came at the right time. Earlier I'd been thinking about the day my Rascal was taken from me and I was beginning to feel despair. Yet, this woman, who has lost so many precious lives, was happy. When signing her will she asked that if something were to happen to her, she not be kept on life support. She looked at me and with a smile said, "No use prolonging it. I've got plenty of people to see."

Perhaps she is right. My Rascal is gone. That fact still makes me sad each and every day. But being sad is no way to live my life. Instead, I should be grateful for the nearly 11 years we had together and know that one day I'll be able to run my fingers through his fur again.

Until that day, I'll think of him often, I'll love his memory and I'll live my life knowing that I was lucky to have had him in it.

I love you Rascal.

Looking on the Horizon...

Not too long ago I sat with my mom and my sister as they discussed men. Both have been divorced and perhaps it is that fact, more than anything, that influenced the advice the dispensed to me:

Be realistic-- you'll probably end up divorced someday.

Don't look for romantic-- try for practical instead.

Happiness with one person forever isn't possible-- sorry.

One person won't have all the qualities you look for--- so just settle.

If all else fails, get a sperm donor and do it all yourself.

Listening to their "advice" immediately made me question my cynicism. I had always thought I was the pessimistic one. Maybe I'm a little "love" hyped because I spent the weekend watching, Valentine's Day, Sex & the City, Notting Hill and my favorite, Pride & Prejudice.

I don't think I am impractical. I know that promising to settle down with one person forever will be a full time job. A job that is full of frustrations, compromise and sleepless nights. I know that some days I'll want to walk away and never come back home. I realize that there will be times I'll pray that he does walk back through the front door. But I refuse to lose faith that true, life-lasting love exists out there, somewhere... waiting for me.

After spending the weekend watching such a variety of movies on the topic of love, I can't help but think how many generations have considered its power. Since I was a small girl I have heard love stories written from nearly every period in history and place on Earth. That can only lead me to one conclusion-- it is out there! How could so many artists, writers, philosophers and rulers proclaim such love without having seen it in some capacity?

The other day I saw a story on the Internet about the longest married couple still living. They have been together for eighty-something years. See. It is out there. It does exist.

I won't become a cynic just yet. I won't cast doom and despair on my future. Instead, I'll keep my head on straight and look on the bright side. He is out there somewhere. I can see his outline on the horizon. I may not know his name yet, but I know we'll spend long Saturdays in bed arguing over which movie to watch next. I know we'll drive through neighborhoods admiring houses we'll never be able to afford. I know that we will fight over the remote and race each to the fridge for the last Popsicle.

But more than anything, I know that he is real-- that love is real-- that happiness is real.

I'm not giving up on it yet.

Going it Alone...

Life seems to move at a staggering pace. I feel as if I am standing on a street, watching as people pass me by. They walk onward, moving forward with their lives together.

I feel alone sometimes. I feel as if there isn't a single person who needs me in their life. Perhaps this is a condition in which I set myself up for. I used to crave attention and I did whatever was necessary to have someone look my way. And even though I have long ago dealt with those demons who are my past, I feel as if a small part of me is now icy-- immune to ever being needed, being desired. Perhaps I fought that needy side of myself to an extent where I am no longer needed at all.

Nine months ago I moved away from everything I knew. I turned my world upside down because I had no choice. I guess a part of me half expected for everything to freeze in place, awaiting my return. It hasn't. Life has continued without me. No one there needs me.

Mother Teresa said, "Even the rich are hungry for love, for being cared for, for being wanted, for having someone to call their own."

If the rich are hungry, then I am starving. I crave for someone to think about me when their day gets a little too tough. I wish for someone to need to speak to me to calm their fears, their nerves, or even to get to sleep. More than anything, I want to be a necessary element in someone's life. But I am not.

Instead, I stand watching as people walk by. Some are friends, some are lovers, but all are people who rely on each other to make it through the day. For now, I am an island. Only myself.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll be more.

Taking Stock of my Hand...

The recent situation in Haiti has got me thinking about how lucky I am.

I guess life is kind of like a card game. Sometimes, it doesn't matter how good of a player you are, because in truth, the game can be determined simply by the cards you are dealt.

Think about it. If you are born into a wealthy family and a great life, it is likely that you will hit the jackpot. After all, it is hard to lose with pocket aces. If you are born into an average family and have a good life, it is a possibility that you could walk away with some winnings. After all, a having pair of tens beats having nothing. But if you happen to be born into a impoverished nation and have a hard life, the only thing you are likely to do, is to lose. After all, low cards offsuit usually end in a muck.

Looking back over it, my hand wasn't too bad. I was born into a family of hard workers. Growing up, we weren't rich but there was always enough for me to have a bike to ride with friends. I may not have gotten an ivy league education, but I did go to an amazing school with amazing people. I may not have had life handed to me on a silver platter, but I have learned how to fend for myself, how to count on others when necessary and how to make smart decisions while still having fun.

So, while my hand may not have been top-notch, it was workable. And for days now I see images of children walking streets littered with the dead. I hear of little girls begging their mothers not to let them die. I watch as people cry out for food, for water, for relief. What kind of a hand is that? How are these people expected to even play the game...much less have a shot at winning? How can people born into poverty and sickness be expected to survive?

Is that really what this life boils down to? Are our lives ultimately determined by the life we happen to be born into? Is there really any difference between us and them?

Is the only difference, where we were born, who we were born to and the resources available to us? And if so, how is that fair? I know that the Haitian people have hopes, dreams, families, friends and lives that deserve to be lived fully. And yet, hundreds of thousands were tragically cut short in a mere moment. And yet, I still breathe.

If the difference really comes down to the original hand we are dealt, then I guess I should say a prayer of thanksgiving tonight-- a prayer for the life I have been afforded, a prayer for the lives that have been taken, and a prayer that I will always understand the precarious line that divides us.

After all, when the river turns, the game could change for everyone.

Growing Up at Last....

Lately, I've started to feel older. And not just in the sense that a new year brings yet another birthday.

I feel as if for the first time in my life, I am starting to really mature. It isn't as if I have never matured in the past. When I graduated high school, I matured enough to take care of myself and go to college in a distant town. In college, I matured past drinking way too much and acting out to get attention. But now, I feel as if something much bigger is happening.

I pay a car note, car insurance, and cell phone and credit card bills. But it really isn't about the money. I've begun to make some life altering decisions about law school and loans. But it really isn't about the career decisions either. I am currently filling out paperwork to obtain my very own life insurance policy. But this really isn't about the grown up things I'm forced into doing.

I think it is about all the little things I am starting to think about all on my own.

I guess I have begun to seriously contemplate my future-- beyond law school. Sometimes I find myself wondering when I'll be able to start saving for my children's education and my husband and my retirement. Since I don't have a husband or children, I at first found these thoughts to be a little misplaced.

I used to swear I would never be ready to be grown--and true, I still don't feel ready to take on a serious boyfriend, much less a husband and kids. But for the first time, I can see that readiness on a distant horizon.

I used to fret over getting older. I used to declare I could grow old but no one could make me grow up. True. Still, a part of me is looking forward to growing up. I don't plan on rushing into anything. I still want to enjoy each step in the process. But I know that one day, when my hair is gray, I'll be grateful that I finally grew up.