HE LIKES ME!!!

It's amazing the changes a little weight loss, and the increased confidence that comes with it, had on my life.  I became more social, I was more willing to step out of my comfort zone and I saw myself in a different light.  That last part is what allowed me to believe I could try out for the High School Play, and thus was able to get a major role. 

The play had put me in contact with people that had previously not been a part of my social network.  They weren't unknown to me, as I had classes with some, and others had been a part of my older sister's social circle, yet none had ever truly seen me "as me" and visa versa.  The daily interaction of rehearsals had thrown us together in a way that broke down the barrier between the supposed social groups.  I suddenly found myself enjoying the company of people who's interests were different than mine, and enjoying the experience. 

For those within my Junior Class, the Musical experience helped to bridge the gap that social "clicks" created.  For the seniors, whom had spent the previous 4 years working along side my sister in their "performance mode", I was no longer seen as "Eliza Doolittle's" little sister, but instead as me, Mary.   

It was one of those Seniors who asked me out on my first date.  He was the male Lead in the play and I was slightly intimidated by him.  Not that he was intimidating, as he wasn't, it had more to do with the fact that he had been my sister's friend, and I thought for sure he'd never like me as much as he did her (what can I say, I had issues).  I was pleasantly surprised to find out otherwise.

One day after rehearsal, he asked me if I'd like a ride home.   I remember looking over my shoulder thinking, "Is he talking to me?".  Once I was sure he was, I smiled (probably like an idiot) and stumbled through a positive response.  As he helped me on with my winter coat,(hmm, a gentleman) his hand brushed my shoulder and I felt an electric response run through me (what the heck was that!?)   

 As we got to his car, he opened the car door for me and I was instantly smitten.  You see, my Dad always opened the car door for my Mom (not a common site in our world) so to me it was impressive he knew to do the same.  It was a snowy and cold night, so we sat chatting as we waited for the car to warm up.  It was freezing, and I was cold and without gloves.  He gallantly offered me his gloves, and as he put them on my hands, I blushed at the contact.  He chatted through the entire process, and then looked up at me, through the longest lashes I had ever seen, smiled and kissed my hand(swoon)...which he than held in his the entire way home.  I was giddy with excitement...He liked me!  No one had ever liked me before...this was a new experience and I have to say, I was truly enjoying it!

As for the drive home, it was the first time I ever wished we didn't live so close to the school, as the ride only lasted 15 minutes.  Of course, we lived on an Island, so there probably weren't that many places where the ride would have been much longer, but I really wished it was.  He was easy to talk to, charming really, and I was totally enjoying the attention. I just didn't want it to end!

As the car came to a halt behind my father's, I put my hand on the door to get out, and he said, "Wait, what kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn't walk you to the door?"  He then flashed that gorgeous smile and I felt warm all over.  As he let go of my hand to turn off the car, he glanced at me through those killer lashes, and said, "I really enjoyed holding your hand, we need to do that more often"...OMG! He like's ME and he wants to do this AGAIN!!!  Pinch me!!!

As he came and opened the door for me, I had taken off his gloves to give back to him.  He smiled, took my bare hand to help me out of the car and brushed his lips gently across it.  Again, electricity flowed through me...WHAT IS THAT!?!  As I climbed out of the car, he gave me a quick hug, (ahhhh!) and then took my hand as he walked me to the front door.  Let me clarify that, I wasn't actually walking, it was more like "floating" across the driveway.

  As we climbed the stairs, he suddenly stopped talking.  As I looked over at him, he smiled shyly and I saw a blush fill his cheeks.  He took a deep breath and looked down, then, through those great lashes, he looked into my eyes and said "I'd was wondering if you were free to go to a movie with me on Friday night?" 

"WHAT???  Did he just ask me out on a date???  What do I do?  What do I say?...this is unchartered territory for me.  No one's ever liked me before let alone asked me out on a date!!!  OMG...please don't let me mess this up..."

One second later, I stepped out of my head and with all the eloquence and cool that I could muster said, "YES!"  Ok, maybe too eager, and not eloquent or cool, but the smile he gave me in response was confirmation enough that I hadn't made too big a fool of myself.

Another hug, this one lasted just a little longer, as he said he'd let me know what time tomorrow at rehearsal. He pulled away, smiled one of the happiest smiles I'd ever seen, and pulled the screen door open for me, thanking me for letting him drive me home.  (Oops, I should have been thanking him...what's wrong with me!?!) All I could do was blush, smile and say "Thank You" as I walked into the house and closed the door behind me....

As I hung up my coat, I yelled for my Mom, and heard her response from the kitchen, "Honey, what are you doing home?  How come you didn't call?"...As I walked in the kitchen, she saw the incredulous look on my face and said, "What's wrong? "  I broke out in the biggest smile of my life and said, "I am going on my 1st date!" ...The smile on her face confirmed that I could, the scowl on my Dad's face, as he lowered the paper, made me realize it would take some convincing...but no matter what...Someone finally liked ME!  Life was good!!!

THE OBVIOUS CHOICE!

As I progressed through my Junior year in High School, life was good.  I was feeling really good about myself, the first time in a very long time, and things began to fall into place.  I was suddenly getting lots of attention from the guys, the "cool girls" seemed more open to including me within "the group", and I was taking chances that I otherwise wouldn't have.

This was the year I stepped out of my comfort-zone and started putting myself out there for others to see.  I went to parties (Homecoming Float building at the Whiting's comes to mind), I went to more school activities (football games, home and away) and I just started having fun!  Instead of complaining about what wasn't happening in my life, I was actually making things happen! 

Like my sisters before me, I decided to try out for a part in the High School Musical. That year the play was South Pacific and I wanted the lead.  You see the year prior my sister had held the lead of Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, so of course I wanted to be "just like my sister!  The only glitch was the lead called for a  thin soprano... unfortunately, I was a voluptuous alto, so they would only consider me for the part of Bloody Mary (oh No, that meant I could only play "the fat girl part"!?!?)  Not again...I wanted to be the pretty girl!!!

The first day of auditions came and it was focused solely on the singing.  All hopeful gathered in the choir room, and watched nervously, as one by one, we were all called up to sing.  For the part of Bloody Mary we were asked to sing "The Impossible Dream" and the Choir Director, (oh no, he hates me!) took time to "teach" us all how  he wanted us to sing it.  I was a member of his choir, and I have to say, he was the first Choir Director I had ever encountered that didn't like my voice!  My thought was there was no way he was going to give me the part, so I decided to just do it my way! 

As they called my name, I was a little nervous simply because I followed a girl who I knew was one of his "favorites".  She had a tone to her voice that I knew he preferred thus I knew my chances were slim to none.  Oh well, the effort was futile but I was here, so I may as well take the only moment in the spot light and make the most of it.  As he began playing the piano, I took a deep breath and looked at the "audience" around me, including the Director who sat directly in front of me.  As I opened my mouth to sing, all nerves disappeared with that first note, as I had always found my strength in my own voice. 

As I sang softly, sweetly and with all emotion the words evoked, I felt the song fill me.  As I glanced at the piano, I saw a look of unhappiness on the Choir Director's face because I was not singing it the way he had performed it.  I was singing it as I felt it, which is exactly the way we all should sing.  After all, we should all be true to our own voice! 

As I saw his face I thought "Well, I knew going into it, he wouldn't choose me so I may as well enjoy the moment", and I did!!  As I came to the ending the words soared, so did the energy in the room.  With the last note, everyone began to clap and whistle...I was the only one who got applause... it was amazing!  I wasn't going to get the part, but I was heard for who I was, and that was surprisingly satisfying!

Imagine my surprise the next day when my name was included on the short call back list for the part of Bloody Mary.  Of course, at the top of the list was the Choir Director's "favorite", but mine , though at the bottom, was there!  I have to admit, my initial reaction was surprise then the nerves took hold!  OMG...how was I going to do this???

As the day came for the auditions, I was nervous.  The singing part was easy for me... I had always loved to sing so to me that was a no brainer.  It was the "acting" part of it, I found kind of intimidating. I think it had more to do with the reading in public (I'd had an issue with that since childhood) then thinking I couldn't "act" the part.  Thankfully, all the years of reading plays with my sister, had taught me if I was going to make it through, I needed to remember the lines" before" the reading so I wouldn't make any mistakes.  So as I sat in the auditorium, I re-read the line's of my "scene" and had an epiphany.  I suddenly saw the scene a totally different way then that in which it was being performed by all those who had gone before me.  Each girl had taken the traditional role of Bloody Mary and played her "rough around the edges"...I saw her differently...

Once again I followed the Choir Director's "favorite", who did her reading just as he had said Bloody Mary should be.  She knew exactly how to take direction and did it with perfection.  With that I knew the odd's of me getting the part had flown out the window so once again, what the heck...I may as well do it my way! 

As I got on stage, I didn't have the script in hand and it was noted that "I might need it".  I shook my head and took Direction as to where to stand (yes, I do know how to take direction I just don't always do it), and waited for my reading partner to take the lead.  As he delivered his first line, I smiled a sly little smile and began to "react" to his lead...in doing so my version of Bloody Mary (a flirtatious, cheeky woman) came to life!  This threw my scene partner for a second but he quickly fell into it and when the scene was done, I looked at the Director and Choir Director and was surprised to see them both smiling...Hmm, maybe I did have a chance!? 

The day had come when the lead would be announced and as we all sat in the Auditorium I sat next to "Miss Favorite".  We chatted about everything but our nervousness at who was going to get the part!  In all fairness, she was a really likeable girl, so the time we spent together was enjoyable.  As the Directors appeared on stage, they spoke of the "great pool of talent" and "how hard some had made the choice".  They announced that "because they had so much talent to choose from they had decided to have two casts"...Ugh!  Who really wants to share a part?  Though maybe, that meant there was some hope for me...

As they announced the "1st Cast", it was no surprise to me when "Miss Favorite" got the part of Bloody Mary.  My hopes (which I had convinced myself I didn't have) dropped a little as what I had predicted to be the case, came to fruition.  She was "his" version of Bloody Mary.  I was truly happy for her, she was a nice girl and if I stayed objective, I could see exactly how she fit the part better than I.  As cast # 1 celebrated, they were quickly shushed and then cast #2 was announced...as they got to the part of Bloody Mary, "Miss Favorite", took my hand and said, "I hope it's you!"...Wow!  That was a compliment I wasn't expecting! It helped relax me a little!

 As the Director said, "and for Bloody Mary the obvious choice is" ...(drum roll please) "Mary R..."!  OMG...I got it!  I was quickly hugged by the "other Bloody Mary", my new ally, and was just as quickly petrified as to whether or not I could do this!  I quickly ran through my head all the reasons I can't do this:  I can't act, I'm not as good as my sister, they will realize I wasn't as confident as I seemed, "she" was better, yada yada, yada....What was I going to do?  Then just as suddenly I said "I'd worry about that tomorrow" (ala Scarlet O'Hara), took a deep breath, put my smile back on and decided to enjoy the moment, after all they had said I was "the obvious choice"...

WHO KNEW?!?!?!

After my first failed attempt at Weight Watchers, I was sure that it had nothing to do with my "metabolism" verses my lack of "will power".  I had lost control and eaten a cookie, so surely the dismal results just had to be my fault!  It just made more sense, though I probably choose that explanation to be a more credible one because I had no idea what "metabolism" meant!  What can I say, I was 9 and to be fair, metabolism was not part of daily conversation as it has become in this day and age.   

Due to my devastation, eventually my mother backed off and the subject of my being on a diet ceased.  This is not to say dieting stopped within our household, as my mother was continually on or off a diet.  Yet for me, my focus wasn't on dieting, though it was on being "fat".  After all, every time I got a new outfit my Dad would say "You'd better not gain any weight"! 

I remember always feeling "fat" because I looked different than most of the girls going through school.  At the age of 13, I was 5'2, weighing 133lbs with a 36B bust line..a child in a woman's body.  Not a bad thing, but seeing I was different, I became the center of ridicule.  I thought the label of "fat" must be true, because most of the other girls didn't look like I did.  I wish now I had the proper perspective to know that I was not "fat", I was just already a woman! 

As the years past, I was so focused on being "the fat one", that I did start to get heavier.  It really is true that what you think about you bring about, and I hated myself for the additional weight I gained by the time I was going into my Junior Year.  That summer I decided to lose weight, so I asked my mom if I could do Weight Watchers once again.  As we went to the weekly meetings, I was still mortified at being the youngest there, but I was on a mission so I endured.

The weight loss was still slow, painfully so, but I wasn't going to give up on myself! It appears my Mom was right about the metabolism thing! I weighed and measured everything I ate and added bike riding to my weekly activities.  This was a first, because up until that year, I hadn't had a bike since I was a little girl.  We moved to a busy main street when I was 7, and with it's 45mile per hour speed limit, our mother was worried we'd be hit, so we weren't allowed to ride a bike!   

The bike riding didn't speed up the weight loss, but it did help to tone and sculpt my body.  Thus where I had once been soft, I became more toned and defined, so I looked better.  Surprisingly, the activity itself and how I challenged myself to go a little further each time, also had an unexpected result.  I became more confident in who I was, thus I began to see a different person that summer.  Little did I know, the different person I was seeing had little to do with the slow weight loss and much more to do with the level of confidence.

I remember walking into School on the first day of my Junior Year and knowing, as I stepped through those doors, that things would be different.  It was apparent almost immediately that I was right!  I walked into that building and people actually "saw" me...everyone was saying "hello", guys who I'd known since childhood and who had previously ignored or made fun of me, came up and hugged me saying I looked "great"!  ??? What did they say???  10lbs did that???  Wow!  I should have dieted more often!!   I was on cloud nine and excited about what the year would bring.  I was no longer the "fat" girl, I was "hot"! 

Of course, the 10lbs helped but not so much in my becoming "skinny", because I wasn't, but instead in what the effort did for my self-esteem.  The weight loss only took me down to 150lbs, so at 5'4, I was still on the heavier side of average.  The change was in my confidence.  I walked in knowing "I was all that" and thus others saw it.  I believed I was noticeable, thus people noticed me! 

Who knew that all I wanted people to see in my was always there, I just needed to see it first!  Who knew that if I believed I was beautiful, others would see it too?  Who knew that, to have the life I wanted, all I needed to do was believe in myself?  Who knew that making your dreams come true all starts with believing you deserve it?  Who knew??? 

Where's the CAKE????

I am 19 days into my latest effort to lose weight and I  am happy to say I am down 13lbs ..Woot Woot! (only 27 more to go!)  Well, let me qualify that, I had set a goal at the low end of my ideal weight range (thus the 40lb goal) but as each day goes by I find myself rethinking that thought.  Maybe I'll go for the high end of my ideal weight range...that way there is only 7 more to go!  Believe me, the way I am feeling today, 7 sounds much more appealing!  Sometimes to survive "dieting", you have to wheel and deal your way through it!

This time around I have decided to give Aitkin's a try.  You know the one, high Protein/low Carbs... I've done fairly well for myself.  Over the past 21/2 weeks, I have been able to change my diet enough to find a modicum of success.  Though tonight I have to admit, since day 15 I have been dying for a slice of double cheese pizza...Ok, who am I kidding, I don't want "a slice", I want the whole pie!  Unfortunately, that's way too many carbs for me to even "cheat" a little.  Sigh...(heavy sigh)...So as I sit here struggling with the desire to eat as many carbs as I can get my hands on and trying to do so within the limitations of the "diet" (the cup of raspberries, though my favorite, didn't help) I find myself feeling the familiar tug of resentment that inevitably comes with each "diet" I undertake.  

We all know to be successful in achieving and maintaining weight loss, dieting is not the way to go.  Instead, you need make a "life style change".  You know, healthy eating, exercise, blah, blah, blah.  Now I don't mean to diminish the need to do just that, it's just not as easy as one might think.  For one thing, healthy eating contains a lot of vegetables...did I mention how much I hate vegetables? Heck, I'm even deathly allergic to broccoli!  Then there is the exercise, exercise is great with the exception of the sweating part...I hate to sweat!   So going into that "life style change", immediately starts with the thought, "I am going to hate this!"  After all, how many green beans and carrots can one eat?  

I do realize going into a "lifestyle change" with that thought in mind is self-defeating, but I promise you, telling myself I am going to enjoy it, just doesn't work!  I am three weeks into this "diet plan", because I choose a diet that actually minimizes the number of veggies I have to eat.  It was a calculated choice in an effort to" trick" myself into "hope".  The Aitkins diet at least allows me to enjoy a good steak and eat cheese (though due to carbs, have to measure my daily in-take) while limiting the number of veggies I can eat!  The first two weeks were actually easy for me, thus I am hopeful to make it to my goal. Though I have to admit, in week three, it's getting old fast!! So as I sit here struggling to stay positive, I started to think about what had put me on the weigh-loss rollercoaster for the majority of my life...What was the catalyst that had placed me on this particular projectory that over took my life?  

As a young child, I was referred to as "the pretty one", due to my large blue eyes, tow-head blonde hair and petite stature.  I craved the compliments from strangers and attention from relatives that fed the "ego" of a little girl who loved feeling special because sometimes she felt a little left out as the youngest of three.  It felt good to hear people say "you're a pretty little thing"...it fueled my soul in a way that gave me confidence in who I was.  I spent a lot of time looking in the mirror (I still do..what can I say, some habits are hard to break), in an effort to confirm that "the pretty" was still there.   I loved the attention my looks got me because they put me front and center (remember, youngest of three).

Unfortunately, at the age of 6, the attention I got for my looks (which had become fuel for my confidence) became toxic.  It bought attention that changed me, changed how I looked at men and how I looked at myself.  I still looked in the mirror and the face I saw was that of a pretty little girl, but deep inside of me, I didn't recognize her.  Somehow I had been changed, and it was frightening.  I didn't know what had changed, I still looked the same to everyone else, yet I knew I was no longer pretty.  The problem was no one else knew it.  All my 6 year old mind knew was "pretty" was no longer the best thing to be, yet I loved being pretty.  I was struggling with the dichotomy that had been created and yet was too young to handle the feelings of guilt, fear, doubt and failure.  I loved being "pretty" yet "pretty" had hurt me...how does one so young do anything but feel hurt, feel sad and feel bad about themselves?  So even at such a tender young age I instinctively found a way to protect myself...I began to eat. 

By the age of 7, I was no longer referred to as "the pretty one", but instead I was called "the chubby one".  Imagine what that would do to one who's self-identity was tied to being "pretty" and suddenly the attention my looks drew had changed.  The positive love and light that came with "pretty" suddenly turned dark and lonely in the negativity of "chubby".   The more people made fun of me, the more I ate, simply because the food (specifically carbs) made me feel numb.  Believe me, numb felt good compared to the painful secret I carried inside compounded by the daily pain of being bullied.  So I continued to eat away my pain.

Now my mother saw what I was doing, but couldn't stop me, because she couldn't stop herself.  You see my mother had a weigh problem too.  I didn't realize that my tendency to "eat away the pain" was a learned response from watching my mother.  She too struggled with her own pain, her own issues, and somehow in my "little girl mind" I saw that she was happier after eating a piece of cake, or a few cookies. I didn't realize it was a double edged  sword that cut the pain out for a time, but inflicted more due to the weight gain that came with it. 

One day I came home from a friends house crying.  When my mother finally got me to tell her what was wrong, I told her the kids were making fun of me because "my Mother was fat and I was too".  I immediately saw a look of hurt and then shame cross her face and she hugged me, telling me she "wouldn't let me get fat like her" (the thought of that conversation still breaks my heart...) That conversation was the spark that led to my "going on a Diet", my first.  Unfortunately, the first of many....

I'll never forget walking up the long thin stairway with my mother (and I believe my sister too though I could be mixing up the memory of yet another diet) to the second floor meeting of my first Weight Watcher's Meeting.  I had no idea what to expect other than my Mom had told me to sit quietly and listen.  As we walked through the door I remember feeling a bit of panic as I realized that I was by far the youngest in the room!  There were no other children, instead I was surrounded by a room full of "fat" old ladies!  I was instantly mortified because once again, this was something that made me different, and again, not in a good way.  I suddenly realized, if I was here, what everyone was saying must be true, I was the "fat kid"! As we sat through that first meeting, I looked out the window and wished I could be anyone else but me.  In that hour as I looked around the room, I saw who I was going to be, who others thought I was, and I felt a sense of hopelessness. It was one of the longest hours of my life!

My Mother threw us into the "diet" with all the hope and "will power" she could muster.  I had no idea what "will power" was, I just knew when my mother caught me sneaking a cookie, that I 'didn't have any".  Making me feel that I was a failure, even though I wasn't quiet sure what I had failed at...lol  That cookie was my only fall from "grace" that week and thus there was much excitement as we all made our way up that long stair case to our first "weigh in".  Mom went first as she stepped on the scale, the woman smiled and said "Congratulations, you lost 7lbs!" , then my sister, just 17 months older than I, stepped up and I heard "Congratulations, 9lbs, great job!"...I was so excited to receive the same accolades, sure that I had done just as well...As I stepped on the scale the woman looked at me (was that disappointment I say in her eyes?) and said, "You've lost 2lbs!"...What???2lbs?  That can't be right?  I ate exactly what my sister and mother ate, with the exception of that one cookie, so how can that be.  I looked up at my mother with tears in my eyes, and saw disappointment in her eyes.  I assumed it was disappointment in me for failing.  I didn't realize it was disappointment in herself, because she was feeling like she somehow let me down. 

Through the rest of the meeting tears streamed down my face as I felt the "weight" of my own failure.  My sister had lost over 4x's the weight I did!  She was, once again, better than me.  Throughout the meeting my mother tried to encourage me by saying not everyone has the same "metabolism" (what the heck was she talking about?), thus that is why my sister had lost so much more weight than I.  It didn't matter, I had failed and I was devastated...When I think about it, I can't help but feel bad that my Mom was trying so hard to encourage me, that Kath didn't get the kudos she deserved.  After all, she had lost 9lbs and that was major cause for celebration!  So let's celebrate...where's the CAKE????

HAPPILY EVER AFTER...

"Happily Ever After", the promise of a perfect life.  From the time we are young we are conditioned that in order to live life "Happily Ever After", we need to fall in love and be part of a "couple".  From the very beginning, we are inundated with images of life as a couple.  It's every where in our day to day life: in our homes, in our bedtime stories, on television, in magazines, in music, etc., etc.   We are helpless to escape the conditioning of "two" vs. "one".

A child's first exposure to the world of "couples" is their parents (or at least that's how it was in my day).  After all, they are our first role models so naturally we want to emulate who they are.   Then there are the stories we hear; "Cinderella", "Snow White", "Sleeping Beauty", all of which tell us "Happily Ever After" only comes when "one" becomes a part of "two".    Then their is TV (everyone has a love interest), in print ads, in Movies, etc., etc., it all seems to revolve around us living Life as "two" instead of "one".  Even in the Bible we are shown how two is preferable to one...You do remember Noah right? ("and then they came, two by two")!

As we grow, the propaganda continues. Life just seems to be set up for those who come as two...School Dances (Who's your date?"), then their is Homecoming "King & Queen".  Now if that isn't enough,  then comes Prom (Junior and Senior).  In my day, no one would ever consider going to Prom solo, or with friends.  Thus if you didn't have a date, you didn't go.  Even amusement parks rides are set up two by two...not fun when the ride operator yells with annoyance, 'Is there any other singles???" and then when there isn't you are asked to step aside.

Then in college, the first question you are asked when you come home for break, "Do you have a boyfriend".  After that, it becomes less a set up and more so an assumption.  Friends start getting married and the invitation reads +1.  God forbid you don't have a plus one, because then the table sitting is thrown out of whack!  As your friends become couples, they stop inviting you to the movies or dinner out, because it's more fun "with another couple". 

Try walking into a restaurant solo, you are immediately seated, but usually in the back, by the kitchen, even though you have walked by many open tables up front.  Restaurants even have discounted "dinner specials for two", so now there is even a monetary price for being single.  Oh and let's not forget the Holidays that just naturally seem made for "TWO":  Valentine's Day, Sweetest Day, and let's not forget, New Year's Eve.  There is nothing worse than being in a crowd of people on New Years Eve at midnight and being the only one with no one to kiss!

I remember being a little girl and being told that, "because I was pretty the boys would be tripping over themselves to get to me" or "you'll probably the first to get married at 18".  I was five at the time and adults were telling me this, so naturally I believed it to be true. Imagine my surprise, and disappointment, when it wasn't.

I had my first "boyfriend" at the age of 5...he was actually my sister's boyfriend, but he was fickle.  Then at 6 there was the neighborhood boy who gave me my 1st Kiss.  Of course both of those stellar romances only lasted a day or two, so  even though they made me feel special at the time,I suppose they do not really count.  My first "long term" boyfriend was in Middle School...that lasted an entire week (hey, in 7th Grade it's a Life time)!  

From that point forward, my life became fairly solitary.  I was different than most of the girls in my class at that point in time.  Though young, I had a fairly voluptuous figure for a 12 year old.  Remember, that was back in the early 70's,  before all the hormones in the foods that has created a generation of young girls "in a woman's body". 

As you might expect, being voluptuous did draw a lot of attention, but unfortunately it was not in the least bit positive.  The girls in my class made fun of me for being "fat" (I was 5'3, 133lbs and was a 36B...I wish I had realized that I was far from fat), and the boys, so not to ostracize themselves from the others girls, went long with it.  That was until we were in the back of the Science Lab and the Teacher shut off the lights to show a movie....I hated those movies, as they always involved fighting off multiple boys with wandering hands.  As boys will, as soon as the lights went on, they started to make fun of me again.

I didn't fair any better in High School.  I went on two dates my Junior year in HS.  After my second date, he dropped me off at a slumber party and my friends made fun of me for dating him (he was a Play Geek, so I was I).  When he asked me out again, I said "No", not because of him, but I didn't want to give anyone another reason to make fun of me.  Two weeks later, he was dating the hostess of the Slumber Party!  Because he was the only guy to ask me out, I never got to go to Homecoming Dance and I never went to Prom.  I did get to live the Prom experience vicariously through my sisters, as both went to multiple Proms.  Unfortunately, I never got to pick out a dress of my own. 

Thankfully High School ended, and I was hopefully for the possibilities to become "two" in College.  Sadly, that didn't work out so well.  For a period of time my Sophomore year, I was a couple, but only briefly.  After that experience I quit school, mostly because I hated it, but partly from a broken heart (drama of youth).

Both my sisters dated throughout High School and married in their early 20's.  I was happy they had become "two", though a little sad that they had left me alone as "one".   Once they married, I slowly felt secluded.  They were always doing things together as "couples", and felt like I was left on the outside looking in.  I am sure it wasn't their intent, though even if it was, it would have had more to do with who I was at that time vs. the "couple" I wasn't. 

I didn't really become "one of two" until I was 41.  Not to say there weren't men in my life before then, as there were, just not any I could call my own.  At the age of 25 I fell head over heals in love with my boss, who came in and out of my life for the next 15 years.  Unfortunately, he was married to someone else, and thus, because he was already part of a couple, we could never be.   A year later a couple guys came in my life and stayed briefly, but unfortunately, I could never be part of a couple with them, because I was still in love with "him".  And so the story goes...

As I ended my 20's,I found myself a single mom, and for the next five years did not date anyone.  When I finally decided to date, I realized I couldn't bring anyone into my daughters life that wasn't going to stay (a choice so she wouldn't be hurt if it didn't work out), so the options became slim to none. 

At 41 I met the man who finally made me "One of Two"...I was thrilled to finally really be a part of a couple.  The best part was spending time with the person who was my best friend.  Our first year together we did all the "couple" things, dates, dinner for two, Valentine's Day, New Years Eve (though we included our children in this one) and we became engaged!  Then we got married, to live "happily ever after".  Unfortunately, the marriage didn't last, and 4 years later, I was once again "single".

Two years later I threw myself into the on-line dating game and can tell you that after 51 First Dates, I had learned what I didn't want in life, but still hadn't learned how to be "one of two".  Yet never one to give up, I kept trying.

After many more dates, some of which were enough to hold onto for a third or fourth, I have finally decided that living Life as One is not so bad.  I have learned not to settle for less than I deserve, thus will never settle again just in hopes of becoming "one of two".  I will no longer wait to do things just because I don't want to do them alone.  So I've stepped out in Faith and finally decided to live this life as it's been given to me, not as society tells me I should.

So don't be surprised when you see me eating dinner out solo (though not by the kitchen, as I have learned to ask for a better table).  Or taking a long drive to Sedona, or the Grand Canyon just to enjoy the view.  Be sure to say "Hello" when you see me by myself taking in the latest at the movie theaters.  As for weddings, I will attend with my +1, but don't be surprised if it's one of my girl friends vs. some guy who's there to fill the void.  When you see me on New Years and ask me how life is treating me, you know my answer will be "Happily Ever After"!

It's Christmas Time: All Is Possible!

November 1st brought with it the start of the Holiday Season... at least in my world.  I am a woman who loves Christmas...not so much the day, but most definitely The Season.  To me it's a season filled with Possibility...possibilities for Love, possibilities of Joy, possibilities for Light and possibilities filled with Hope.  It is the Possibilities that fill my heart with excitement at what the Season may bring year after year.   The calendar reads October 25th and the excitement starts to build. By November 1st, IT'S OFFICIAL: the Season has begun and Hope once again takes up residence in my heart!  It is in this moment I truly Believe ALL IS POSSIBLE!

I am not sure where this Love for Christmas comes from...or more so why it has stayed with me my entire Life, but I know it's been with me as long as I can remember.  Obviously it started as a child, just not sure why, even after learning the truth about the fables that surround the Holiday, did the Joy, the Love, the Light and the Hope remain with me.  I may not know why, but I am Grateful that it did.j

My earliest memories of Christmas include a visit to Downtown Buffalo to see the Window Displays at the areas biggest Department Stores.  I remember we'd get all dressed up and go with our Mother to see the Displays, talk to Santa on the street corner (I didn't realize he was a Salvation Army Santa) and then go "shop"  and get a bite to eat at the "Lunch Counter".  I was three and fell in love with the beauty of Christmas, the excitement of the decorations, the way the Sales Woman treated me like I was special and the smile on Santa's Face. 

Santa Claus...what can I say, the first guy (outside of my Father) that I ever loved.  He represented what was possible each and every year, as one never knew what Santa was going to bring.  He inspired one to be the best they could be, after all, "..He knows if you've been bad or good so be good for goodness sake!"   No matter what the neighbor boy told me years later, I have always believed in Santa (or at least the Spirit and Possibilities he represents)!

I love Christmas Decorations: the shine, the shimmer, the imagery and the "happiness" they evoke.  I love the Lights (the more the merrier) as they sparkle like the stars in the sky and remind me of "the reason for the Season", the Light within all of us. 

I have to admit, I am woman that has to restrain myself from putting up my Christmas Trees (yes, I said trees,  I've had up to five at a time throughout the house) before Thanksgiving.  I am thrilled when an occasion comes that gives me an excuse to put the Tree(s) up early (surgery one year, and a couple years of my Mary Kay Holiday Open House) and am in no hurry to take them down after the Holiday ends.  Thank God for the idea of "Little Christmas", because it gives me the perfect excuse to shut down the criticism from those who wonder why I didn't take my tree down by New Years. 

The decorations help to add to the Joy I feel on a daily basis throughout the Christmas Season.  I remember as a young child the physical presence of Christmas didn't show up at our house until Christmas Eve.  That is the Tree wasn't decorated in all it's glory until that night.  Yet, the Manger was set earlier, and the statue of "Baby Jesus" was put out as a welcoming  to the Season.  Once it made it's way into our home, I knew the Possibilities of the Holiday had just begun.  The story of The First Christmas always enthralled me, and I remember the way my Mother spoke about the GIFT God gave us.  Her voice softened, her eyes smiled and Love filled the air as she spoke about the Hope that Gift brings.

So throughout the month of December I found Joy in the decorations, Hope in the Manger and Possibilities about what could come.  Yet the Love of the Season was always evident to me in the Celebrations: the Family get-togethers, the school parties, the cookie exchanges, and gift exchanges.  All were filled with Love, from the planning, the coordination of decorations, the preparations, and finally the actual Celebration. 

I can tell you exactly the year that the Celebration became synonymous with Love.  I was 5 years old, and we were going to our Aunt Steffie's house to Celebrate Christmas Eve.  Our Mother got us and her, dressed in our Holiday best, then we packed ourselves and the Christmas presents into the car to go to my Daddy's big sister's house.  I remember pulling up to Aunt Steffie's and Uncle Steve's house and seeing Lights in the neighborhood.  I was mesmerized as they made the snow diamonds sparkle in a rainbow of colors. 

As we walked into Aunt Steffie's home, it was crowded with my father's side of the family and friends.  The feeling of Love and excitement was palpable in the air.  The excitement was further ignited by the decorations and smells that surrounded us.  The food smelled yummy, but the Joy that came at the site of the dessert table was a child's idea of heaven!  To this day, the desserts still take center table at all our Holiday celebrations.

We grew up in a time where "children where seen and not heard", so my sisters and I would huddle together and watch as my Father and his sisters would , at one point or another, end up in song.  In those moments, as they sang Christmas Songs, the Love was so evident, that the Celebration and the Season's Music became forever indicative of Love.

Now, the memories are wonderful yet they do not explain why, at the age of 52, I still find such joy in the Holiday Season.  I think it's simply this, at this time of year, because of what it represents, The Christmas Season becomes a time of Giving.  Yes, money is spent, presents are brought and gifts are exchanged, but that is not what I mean. 

This Season, Thanksgiving Included, seems to bring out the best in others.  We find a reason to be Thankful, we find a reason to be patient (you have no choice this time of year), we find it in our heart to help those less fortunate, even when we are not fortunate ourselves.  We take the time to see others, whether it's to hold the door for the person weighted down by Holiday purchases, or saying "Happy Holidays" and "Merry Christmas" as we pass a stranger on the street.  We stop to listen to the voices of the children to hear what they would like from Santa, and many times are touched to learn what they ask is for someone else.  We become aware of others trials which magnify the level of our own blessings.   We sing songs of love and joy.  We become present in the Light within.

So this year, if you find yourself complaining that I have started the Christmas Season too early...ask your self this...Why do we only want to celebrate the Holiday Season in December?  Personally I wish the Christmas Season could last all year long!...After all, it is The Season of Joy, The Season of Love, The Season of Light and The Season of Hope... THE SEASON WHERE ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE!

Reflections...

Today I had an experience that brought complete clarity to the saying "the mirror has two faces".  It was nothing unusual, nothing major, nothing I hadn't done 1000's of times before, not even something unique to myself.  It was simply the act of catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror that stopped me in my tracks, and brought the truth to the forefront.  

Tonight I found myself looking in the mirror and realized the person I was looking at in that moment, looked somehow "less" than the person I saw earlier in the day.  The image I saw was somehow off...different then the me I saw this afternoon. The face I was looking at now somehow looked older, the body somewhat heavier and me, somewhat "wrong".  I hadn't changed, still the same outfit, still the same face...so what was the difference?  

As I pondered this, I realized that shortly before looking in the mirror for the umpteenth time today, I had an experience that made me feel "attacked" for what I believed, for what I said, for speaking my truth.   The truth of the matter is, the "feeling" I had because of the conversation, probably wasn't even true, as I am sure the person was well intended.  The point is, I perceived it as an attack, thus opened the door of fear and self-doubt that caused me to diminish my own Light and thus tainted how I saw myself.    

This realization got me thinking about how we see ourselves when we look in a mirror. Now I know I probably look in a mirror more than most, as my bedroom wall is fully mirrored and I sit directly across from it as I write, watch TV, and sleep.  I've recently become aware of the varying person I "see" from day to day.  This got me wondering why and so I started to pay attention.

My "reflection" seems to change based on what I am feeling that day.  The days I wake up fully within Gratitude and Faith are the days I like the woman looking back at me.  On those days I see a twinkle in her eyes, her face looks somehow "younger", I see beauty and I see her thinner (Really, it' true).    Basically, on days when I am feeling happy or joyful, I like the woman I see looking back at me.... That's how I felt this afternoon when I  first looked in the mirror.

On the days when I allowed fear and self-doubt in ("I won't have enough money", "I won't be successful", "they'll be mad at me", "where am I going to go from here") those are the times the reflection I see looking back at me is somehow different.  Somehow "less than" the real me.  THAT woman looks "older", not much life in her eyes, her beauty gone and yes, she's somehow heavier too.  This was the woman I saw looking back at me after I had the conversation that caused me to doubt myself.  

Let me rephrase that...the conversation didn't cause me to doubt myself, the person talking to me didn't cause my doubt, it was what I heard within the conversation that "reflected" back at me something that I already feared within myself. 

 I realized that most times when we look in the mirror, the reflection we "see" is seen in a  two sided mirror.  As we stare at our own reflection, we tend to see a combination of  our true reflection and that of how other's (all the people in our life) have taught us to perceive  ourselves.  Hopefully the "others" see us truly through the eyes of love or better yet through rose-colored glasses that hold us at a higher esteem, then we are able to see our true self.   

Unfortunately,more than not, the other's in our life see us through eyes that are tinged through years of  their own fears and doubts.  Thus the words they use to describe us may be filled with judgment, criticism and untruth.   Those are the words we hear throughout our entire life.  Those words (and those eyes) are what cause us to see our own reflection through a warped mirror, a mirror that reflects a diminish version of our true self...

So because of this, the "Mirror has Two Faces".  I realized I have the choice to see who is looking back at me, simply by choosing to react in Love and Light, verse fear and doubt.  Good news is, every time I look into the mirror, I have the choice of whom I see looking back at me.   

As I glance up from my computer, I am happy to report the woman looking back at me is once again familiar, once again beautiful and once again filled with much promise.  The face reflected in front of me feels "right" and thankfully, as I look into her twinkling eyes, I see nothing but possibilities looking back at me!

Kindness Matters...

2011 was the year I turned 50 and because of that, a year filled with much possibility.   I just knew it would be a year of big changes, opportunity for travel and filled with much love.  Unfortunately I didn't realize exactly how those possibilities would present themselves.  If I had I may have stayed in bed, pulled the covers up over my head and waited until the year's end to find my way back out. 

The year was less than a month old when the first change came about.  My sister and her husband, the only family/friends I had here in California, moved back East.  Their departure left me solo here in a place where people lived a life that felt less than sincere, very superficial and one where I didn't quite seem to "fit" in.   I was afraid to stay here on my own, but had enough Faith to know that God had brought me here 2 years earlier for a reason and until I figured it out, I wasn't leaving.  Not to mention I had no where to go, or the financial means to get me there even if I did!  So here I stayed, hopeful to see what others changes the year would bring.

Unfortunately, the next change was devastating.  February 10th brought about a fall for my father, who was in Nursing Home.  Three days later it was discovered he had broken his hip so he was moved to a hospital.  Two day's later, he had surgery and the next day I got a call telling me to come home.  This turned into the first trip of the year.  I flew into Buffalo, NY at 10pm on Friday, February 18th and sadly, my father passed away at 2am on the 19th.  I never got to say goodbye, but thankfully I knew he was happily reunited with his beloved Mother, sisters and brother who had died years before.

The next few days were a blur of activity and sadness as I watched the pain of loss on the faces of my daughter, my sisters, my family and, most especially, our Mother.  She had lost the love of her life; the man who challenged her, angered her, bolstered her and loved her beyond any other.  Oddly enough, we buried her husband on their 53 wedding Anniversary, an occasion of joy suddenly tied to sadness. 

Though that time was hard, and the loss unbearable, the love that came from that pain was truly a gift.  One, I like to say, that came from my father.    As we grew, life and our choices had taken us three sisters in different directions.  Our choices, experiences and geography had put a void between us and we were not all as close as my parents would have liked.  The loss of my father, and the needed support for our mother, brought us all together again.  An occasion that made it easier for our mother to "show up" the three days it took to "say goodbye"

An unexpected gift that came from my Father's death was the opportunity to see him through the eyes of others.  He was my Father, so of course I loved him dearly, but to hear how much others loved him too was a Gift that we weren't expecting.  Story after story from family, friends and strangers talked about how "kind" our father had been.  Story after story recounted  how each and everyday our Daddy went out of his way to make another smile, to lend an ear and offer words of encouragement when they where needed.  Almost all stories ended with "He was so kind, we loved him so". 

I am embarrassed to say that we were somewhat surprised at these tales.  You see, our father was generally a man of few words, not big on encouragement (other than to say, "you'd better not gain any weight" whenever we showed him a new outfit:), and somewhat of a loner.  To see him through the eyes of others was eye opening to say the least.  The label of his being "so kind" wasn't a foreign concept in our household, as our Mother raised us to "Always come from a place of kindness", we just never realized that our Father felt the same and lived it every day, not just with us, but with others too.

After our Father's death, life went on, as it will do.  The sadness would sneak up and show itself in some of the most inappropriate moments, but one thing that seemed to help was my almost daily phone call with my mother. I spent most lunch hours on the phone with her, discussing her dreams of "wanting to finally start living life again, now that Poppie is gone".  We made lots of plans during those phone call: talk of her joining the Senior Citizen Center in our home town, talk of visiting Kathleen and Paul in New Jersey, talk of spending more time with Michelle, and my favorite, a trip for her to come visit me in California come September. 

2011 had other ideas.  In late July I got the call that my mother was in the hospital and a day later, a call that she had a stroke.  Within two days the second trip back home came and I walked into the hospital room to find a mother I didn't recognize.  Her stroke had left her paralyzed on one side, unable to speak, and on death's door.  On August 4th we got the call to come to the hospital, and we all walked in together not sure of what we'd fine (the call was to come to say goodbye).  Surprisingly, we found her sitting up for the first time since her stroke, and more lucid than she had been in days.  I guess she decided not to die the day before both my sisters were to celebrate their Birthdays.

Though Mom still couldn't speak or eat whole foods, she got better each and every day from there.  I flew back to California a week later and once again I tried to get back to living life as normal, the only difference was I could no longer talk to my mother everyday.  She had no phone in the hospital, what was the point? she couldn't talk...yet almost every day, I'd pick up the phone and have to stop myself as I hit her number.

The final opportunity to travel came with heartbreaking news on a gloomy Saturday afternoon in California (very rare in sunny SoCal).  September 10th, the day my mother had planned to come for her visit, is the day I got the call that shattered the last pieces of my heart.  Our mother had past just minutes earlier, two days after the Doctors had taken her off of Hospice "because she was no where near dying" and one day since they moved her into a Nursing home.  The sadness was again overwhelming, but this time there was an accompanying peace in knowing my parents were once again together, forever.

As I traveled back home for the third time that year, I knew it would be the last time  I would be "going home".  As the plans were made for our Mother's final "farewell", I noticed that our individual pain had created a tension between us sisters upon my return.  Loss will do that.    I wondered if it would have made our mother and father sad to see that the healing that had begun, took a back burner as each of us dealt with the enormity of our own pain. 

This time the wake/funeral took place over two days times (after my Father's passing, my sisters could not do the 3 days again).  Each person that came through the door spoke as to "how kind" our mother had been.  They once again told us stories of love, laughter, kindness and support'.  No surprise to us, as our Mother was the epitome of Kindness.  After all, we grew up knowing "Kindness Matters"...  

After the funeral, we spent a day or two (I don't remember) going through our parents things, separating what we wanted, donating or throwing out the rest.  We pack up what was left of their life in quick succession; we shared our memories, we laughed, we cried, and we laughed again.  The atmosphere was one of purpose (we were on a deadline) yet strained from the different layers of pain throughout the room.   By days end, it was time to say "Goodbye".  As we walked away from the end of our mother's days, we hugged each other tight, said "I love you" and then quickly went our separate ways.

2011 turned out to be the year my sisters and I became "orphans".  Even though we are all in our 50's. losing one's parents makes one feel "solo" in the world.  Our parents hold our "home" in their hearts.  When their hearts cease to beat, one is left feeling "homeless", feeling separate from all we once knew, feeling alone on an Island of pain.

No matter the distance between each of us, with our parents here on Earth, siblings life's are still connected.  Sadly, sometimes when the parental tie is broken, the geographical distance is large, the unresolved tensions (or newly perceived affronts) can damage what's left of the ties that bind brothers and sisters.  With the bridge between them gone, they are lost.  We were no different.

 In the storm of pain that came with the loss of both parents, I somehow lost sight of the hand of the siblings who loved them too.  It is in this storm of loss that I forgot I was not the only one in pain.  I was not the only one who lost and I was not the only one that felt left behind. 

Fortunately, as time goes on, we can find our way through the storm.  We can build a bridge back to the ones who got left behind and hope, that they can find a way to cross it.  In time, as we find ourselves coming out of the fog of devastation and grief,we can once again reach out our hand and wait for our siblings to grasp it.     

Oddly enough, 2011 was filled with big changes, many opportunities to travel and much love...Love lost (our parents), Love cherished (my daughter) and Love valued...as in the love I feel for my sisters and their families.  It also brought a lesson that Life is short and it reminded me that I am part of something bigger than myself.  I am a part of a Legacy...and as such, I own it to my parents to live it fully in love and Light, hold on to the family they loved so much and to make a positive difference in the Life of others through Kindness and Gratitude...

I can honestly say, in the loss of my Mommy and Daddy, I found Hope... 

Let Your Light Shine....

I was raised in a Catholic household, Irish and Polish heritage made it near impossible for us to be anything else.  When we were young, our Irish Mother insured that we went to church every Sunday and of course, all the important Holidays. As a child I vaguely remember our Father joining us, but mostly the memories of Church revolved around time spent with our Mother. 

As a child, what I remembered most about Church was not the service, but instead the fact that we got to always dress up in our "Sunday Best" and we got to wear the pretty lacey scarves to cover our heads!  Yes, it's was the 60's, and at that time, in the Catholic Church, women (and girls) had to cover their heads.  I loved those lace scarves...they made me feel as pretty as a bride!  So you can imagine how truly excited I was to reach the age of "making my First Communion"...I was finally able to look like a bride! Life was good! LoL 

Despite the fact that, in those early years I was more focused on the finery that the ladies of the congregation wore verses the scripture, I actually did manage to pick up some of the lessons taught.  I proudly recited the "Our Father" and the "Hail Mary", and to this day, you'll still hear me say them in moments of fear, sadness or stress.  I trusted completely in the existence of God, even thought I learned that my Father wasn't sure there was a God. 

I learned of Jesus and his being "The Reason for The Season" and of Easter, and I just "knew" that he was a Gift from God.  Not once did I question the idea of a Virgin Birth (once I understood what it meant) or of the Resurrection.  Somewhere in those early years of going to Church with Mom and my sisters, I learned about, and developed, Faith. 

Not to say there weren't times I didn't know what I believed.  When I was 12 and I was given the opportunity to stop going to Religion classes and Church, I took it.  Though that probably had more to do with wanting to sleep in on Sundays, then what I believed about God.  Then as I hit my 20's, there were moments when I didn't know if I still believed in God...when difficulties came, I felt alone, and if there were a God, how could that be?  So I waivered. 

My true acceptance of Gods existence came when I was 28.  I was pregnant with my daughter.  The Miracle of those nine months gave me 100% certainty that God existed.  Ask anyone who has carried a child and they will tell you of the Miracle of Life...That Miracle confirmed to me what I knew as a child, there is a Creator, a Source of all Life, and to me, that Source is who I call God.

Now I am not saying that my understanding of "God" is perfect, as it is based more so on what I feel verses what the Catholic Church taught me.  Though my belief is based on what a Nun told me when I was 7 years old.   In Religion class, I asked the Nun "Where is God?"  Her answer was simple, "God is in everything and everyone".  In that moment, I completely understood the truth of that statement.  It is something I just knew to be true. 

Years later, as my Gifts blossomed, my understanding of the Source of ALL Creation was solidified.  Though I grew up in the Catholic Church, I am no longer affiliated with any Church.  I would call myself Spiritual. I absolutely know that we are all connected by one Source, one Energy, one Light.  That Light is our Life Force and it exists within all of us. I call that Light, God.   The trick to Living Life Happy, begins by connecting to that Light within ourselves.  Once you can connect to that Light you can begin to live Your best Life.  In living your best life, you are allowing your Light to illuminate the Path for another so Let Your Light Shine!

By shining one's Light, one can have a positive influence on the Life of others.  When we live within the Light, we can have a positive influence on our own Life.  When we see ourselves through the Universal Light, the Source of all Light, as God see's us, we can finally be kind...first to others, and then to ourselves.  Believe me, Kindness matters!

Living Life EXTRAORDINARY...

It appears that each time I complete a blog post it sets me off in a new direction....who knew I had so much to say???  Well, to be honest, I did, but never thought anyone would care to listen!!!  I guess that's the good thing about writing a blog, you can say what you want, put it out there and just tell yourself others are listening....whether it's true or not doesn't really matter, it's the delusion that keeps one going!  After all, it's normal to want to be heard, normal to want to be acknowledged for who we are, normal to want to have our ideas considered, normal to want to have our opinions validated...It's NORMAL!  Don't most of us want to just be "normal"??? 

Is that true? I don't think so, at least not for me. I remember as a young child( before the age of six) I actually believed I was more than "normal", I believed I was "special".  I just instinctively knew that I was born for Greatness and that Life would be easy.  I was told by my Father that I could be anything I wanted to be, do anything I wanted to do, and I believed him!  He was my Daddy after all, and MY Daddy wouldn't lie.  I was told I was beautiful and thus the world "was my oyster" (whatever that meant)!  Everyone seemed to love me, things came easily for me and I just expected it to always be so.   

Then when I was six, things began to change.  I learned that being "the pretty one" was not as desirable as one would think.  Though I knew my Daddy loved me because I was pretty, had a pretty voice, etc.... unfortunately, because I was pretty, other's took advantage of me in ways a child should never know.  So suddenly, the thing that made me special, had become a double edged sword.  I had so identified with my "being the pretty one" in the family of three sisters, that I struggled to maintain that identity but not let it make me stand out to the one who used it against me.  I suddenly didn't want to be so special, I just wanted to be normal, so "he" couldn't hurt me again. 

From that point forward, my world changed, I learned that what I thought made me special was now also something that could cause me harm.  It was in the time between the ages of 6 and 7 that I went from being "the pretty one" to being "the chubby one".  I instinctively knew that to protect myself, I needed not to be as pretty, yet to maintain my place within my family, I needed to stay focused on "the pretty'.   I struggled to hold onto that identity because I thought that is what my family wanted me to be (what can I say, I was just a child).  I didn't know my family would love me, no matter what. 

As I struggled to be special yet not stand out too much, a new facet of my being became apparent that made me do just that.  One night I woke from a dream crying because my Uncle Joey, my mother's beloved baby brother, had died in a car accident.  I was so upset that it took my parents a long time to calm me down and convince me it was just a dream.  About an hour later the call came that changed our life... the call asking my mother to come to the Hospital because Joey had been in a car accident.  By the time my father got her to the Hospital, Uncle Joey was already gone.  This was just the beginning of my dreams that foretold of one dying before my parents got the call.  There were many that came after this...this new development made it kind of difficult to not stand out.

My parents dealt with these dreams in part because my mother had similar experiences as a child.  It wasn't until I started "Knowing" things that my parents told me not to tell people, they would think I was "crazy". This surprised me, because I thought it made me kind of special.   My parents words taught me that my being different, somehow made me wrong. 

As I got older, I struggled with trying to fit in, to be "normal".  Yet somehow, I always felt like I was on the outside looking in.  In school I had friends, but was never really included in "the group".   When I started working, I was different, so many kept me at a distance.  Even in my family, I felt like an outsider.  My two older sisters took similar paths in life, I went in the other direction.   They had husbands,  homes to decorate, important jobs with BIG titles, and me, I was working in a grocery store, single (always single), and lived with a roommate.  So when we'd all get together and they talked about the intricacies of furniture, or the responsibilities of their jobs, me, I had nothing of substance to add to the conversation.  I wanted to be included (as I always did when my mom and my sisters would talk) so I might talk about my nails, or my outfit, or my makeup because, after all.  I was "the pretty one".  Though really it was simply because I knew they wouldn't understand what was going on in my life, it just didn't fit in with theirs.   Yet again, I was different. 

For many years, my being different was a problem.  My family worked so hard to help me "fix" my life, yet they told me to live it as they would.  The problem was, I wasn't them.  I was different...actually, each of us were different.  We each made choices that were unpopular with the other family members.  Though, by far, my choices were overwhelmingly the most unpopular!  Hey, at least I was consistent!  LoL 

I didn't make choices to "buck" the system, I made choices that felt right to me.  I knew I was different, I always had been, in others minds that may have been a bad thing, but in mine, it felt like me.    Different was all I knew...it was who I was, who I had always been.

As the years went on, I decided that, despite what others said, it was ok to be me.  I had failed so many times trying to be like others wanted me to be and I just didn't want to do it anymore.  Not sure what the catalyst was that forced me to understand my own Truth...most likely a series of events and epiphanies that resulted in my finding the Light within.  Yet in doing so, I realized what I knew as a child and somehow buried along the way was still true; we are all born to be EXTRAORDINARY. 

Suddenly I realized that what made me special, what makes all of us special, is the fact that we are all different.  Each created to be individuals, to stand out for our own special gifts (as we all have them), and to be loved for our uniqueness.  God created us to Live Life EXTRAORDINARY!  

So in each day I now wake with Gratitude for the person I am.  I strive to listen to my intuitive voice as to how to live my life which, by the way, is still much different than what my family might want for me.  Yet for once, I am comfortable in knowing what is best for me.  I am comfortable in knowing that I am finally exactly on the Path that I was meant to walk.  I am comfortable in me! 

I will be the first to tell you that who I am and what I can do (I am a Psychic Medium) is not "normal", far from it.  From where I sit, it is quite extraordinary!  As I told you before, I have always known I was born to be special, and it wasn't until I tried to be "normal" that my troubles began. 

I promise you, I am no more special, or no more extraordinary than you...the only difference might be, I have learned to be proud of who I am, and to strive every day to be the best me that I can be!  So to those of you who may be having some of the same struggles that I had, I encourage you to be true to you.  You cannot live life as others live theirs, because you are not them.  You are an individual, walking this Earth, in your own time, learning your own lessons. 

So my advice to you, if you were to ask, is simply this, find a way to connect to The Light that is within your self, let it illuminate your path and Let Your Light Shine!