Tag Archives: SoCs

The phoenix

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I spent four hours lying in a tattoo studio yesterday. I’m turning 51 in a few weeks, and with each passing year, I notice I’m having more “F-it” moments. Like getting tattoos. Or getting divorced. Or changing jobs. Or speaking my mind. Or taking chances on myself. Or whatever else it is that I thought I was never allowed to do during my life.

This is my second go-around with my tattoo artist, Holly. I first sat with her in 2019, getting what I thought was the biggest tattoo ever. (Just wait till you see the one started yesterday!) Holly truly excels at what she does. 100% artistry. 20 years in the industry does that for a person.

What’s just as cool as her tattoos is the conversation we have during our sessions. Back in 2019, I was just starting out on my inner-child work, healing that generational trauma no one ever tells us about. She’d had her share of life shitting on her too, like we all do. That’s just what life does.

She tattooed a deer on me, which was just so symbolic of what I’d been through. And we talked about some deep stuff, which, as we all know, is what I do now. Go deep or go home. My philosophy is that we have all been so damn conditioned to not talk about the stuff we should be talking about. And when someone does talk about that stuff, it gives others permission to do the same. Holly’s on that same page…so we talk.

As of yesterday, I hadn’t seen her in over three years, and a HELL of a lot has happened, to all of us, in the past three years, right? I caught her up on all the progress I’d made in my life since then; continuing the work on myself, having more work published, hosting retreats with amazing women, taking on a new job, finding love…

And I caught her up on all the shit life dished out to me, too. Because that’s what life does.

And she had a LOT to fill me in on, too. Of course, she had to shut down during the pandemic. It’s a physically intimate setting; you’d be hard-pressed to find a tattoo artist who can ink someone from six feet away. And life handed her some shit, as well. But despite said shit, Holly being Holly, decided to have herself an “F-it” moment and start a cat rescue while the world was shut down. Thanks to Covid, the non-profit “Lucky Cats Rescue” was born in Watertown, MA. They provide “specialized foster homes to cats that need extra care and compassion and match cats with humans that need some love and light in dark times.”

These cats hit the jackpot. Follow Lucky Cats Rescue and see for yourself.

As the pandemic transitioned into our new normal, she started tattooing again, but life was different. Of course it was. This woman had survived as a small business owner when so many hadn’t. This woman had started a successful non-profit. This woman worked on healing the parts of her that needed healing and I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel the empowerment radiating from her as she worked. She shared her dreams with me. And, when you share your dreams out loud, they become a plan.

Holly’s plan is named “The Sanctuary.” It’s a place where people in need of healing, whether it’s trauma survivors, lonely elders or anyone who needs a place to just get away from it all and have a cat sit on their lap, can come and do just that. We hear so much about therapy dogs, or horses or even bunnies, but not so much about cats. And there’s a LOT of cat lovers out there, so why is this not a thing?

Actually, it was already a plan before she told me. She’s raised over 40k already! She needs help grant writing, and probably a million other things, but this woman is doing this, because it needs to be done. And the possibilities at The Sanctuary are endless. My mind was swirling with ideas, and still is. I’ll bet yours is, too…

She shared the story of a senior woman who was missing the love of having cats. She couldn’t make it up to the second floor of the tattoo studio to spend time with Holly’s cat, so she set up a small loveseat in the entryway downstairs for her. She comes to visit and lights up when this cat bounds down the stairs to see her. There’s a video of this on her IG page, and despite my not being a huge cat person, I just about teared up watching this in action. Her joy with this cat was so wholesome. And I swear, the cat enjoyed her equally as much! The woman laughed and smiled and exuded the emotional energy of a child. It was beautiful. She needed the joy of playing with this cat. As a nurse, I can completely understand the loneliness of being old and alone. I see it all the time. And as a trauma survivor and a trauma recovery coach, I also understand the need to have a place to go to where the shit of the world isn’t. We all need moments of joy.

Holly tattooed a phoenix on me yesterday. It symbolizes rising up anew from the ashes. It’s making something beautiful and strong out of something dark. It’s empowerment. It’s beauty. It’s strength. It’s me. It’s Holly. And it’s every dream and plan we have. Like the phoenix, we are unstoppable.

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Nov. 12, 2022 | (lindaghill.com)

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My nest is empty

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My nest is empty.

This week felt like a marathon. I come from a long line of procrastinators, and that gene never skips a generation. My son spent his last night at home, and even morning, packing up his life for his freshman year at college.

I have two sons, 18 and 20. Even though I’d sent one off to school already, I still surprised myself with the bittersweet emotions. In no way was I a hot mess, but there was a lot going on inside me yesterday as we hugged goodbye in his dorm room. My eyes glistened throughout the day.

No one ever prepares us for the repeated grief we experience as our children grow. It happens in the blink of an eye, and in slow motion all at the same time. I wish there was a way to know when each part of their childhood was about to end, so we could savor those last moments of holding our hand, playing games together or hugging in public. We never realize when the last hand-holding is over until it’s not happening anymore. I think we all would savor that moment with gratitude, if we knew. I suppose their independence is proof we did our jobs correctly. My sons are prepared to handle the world on their own, at least these parts of it. Still, I miss the feeling of their tiny hands in mine. Enough to cause my heart to ache a bit.

My favorite moments of move-in day were when each child hugged me…as frequently as I needed them to. It’s true when they say that kids eventually come full circle. The days of avoiding mom’s love in public are over! My heart smiles.

Parenting is an amazing process of learning to let go of our attachments, over and over again, and feeling good about it when it happens. Easier said than done. I miss those little boys. It tugs on my heartstrings to realize the childhood season of their lives is over. But I know that having an empty nest means I did my job. These young men are embarking on their journeys, and oh, the places they will go!

This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Aug. 28, 2021 | (lindaghill.com)

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Father’s day coming in hot

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It’s Father’s Day weekend, and it’s coming in hot. Get ready for your social media pages to be flowing with photos of dads. Restaurants will be busy, car shows will be attended, grills will be smoking and fish will be getting caught. Many will spend tomorrow remembering fathers who are no longer here. Graves will be visited, stories will be told and hearts will ache a little, remembering days gone by.

There is nothing like the bond we have with our fathers.

This can be true even for those who don’t talk to their fathers anymore. It could be from setting a boundary with an abusive dad. Or, maybe it wasn’t so much a boundary being drawn but a distance which slowly grew further each year, without either one recognizing what was happening until it was too late. There could have been a big blow-out fight which resulted in hurt feelings, stubbornness and resentment. A controlling partner might be keeping you from him, or him from you. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to be a dad, and wasn’t there from the get-go. You could play the scapegoat role in a narcissistic family. He might have had demons that were just too strong, or died before you could reconcile… or maybe you don’t know why he’s not with you. The possibilities are as endless as the number of this weekend’s cookouts.

How can one feel a bond to a father who isn’t in their lives? Maybe some are holding on to memories of better times, while others might cling tightly to the idea of what a father should be or could have been. For some, the bond to resentment is all that is left of their father-child relationship.

So, to those who are swimming in the complex emotions surrounding this Father’s Day weekend: I see you. I see all of it. I see the tears. I see the heartache. I see the jealousy. I see the shame. But I also see the strength. I see the accomplishment. I see the empowerment. I see the love. I see the lovability.

That’s right. I see the lovability. Because your father’s inability to father is not a reflection of you. Not. One. Bit.

So go ahead and give yourself permission to feel the very normal feelings which occur in response to the very abnormal situation of an absent father. Whether it’s grief, anger, sadness, relief, joy or peace…feel it freely. Let yourself feel the things you need to feel, say the things you need to say and do the things you need to do in order to continue on your path of living your best damn life, despite what may or may not be missing from it.

You’ve got this.

This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS June 19, 2021 | (lindaghill.com)

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Sky’s the limit

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I am a nurse by trade, but most of my days are spent doing something much bigger.

I seek out miracles.

It sounds like a long-shot, but I am successful. Every day.

It’s 11am on a Saturday, and here’s today’s miracles…so far.

1. I woke up.

We are in the middle of a pandemic. Many people went to sleep last night praying for this miracle, and did not receive it.

2. I don’t have too much pain today.

As a person with chronic illness, even a mild reduction in pain is a blessing.

3. My children are happy (as far as I can tell) and safe.

Research statistics on addiction/bullying/foster children/suicide. Too many parents pray for this miracle which has been given to my family.

4. I am sharing company with a man who authentically shows up for me every single day.

I am only capable of receiving him because I learned how to show up for myself first. Anyone who follows along with my journey understands this miracle.

5. I have learned to allow space for opinions that differ from mine, at least for today.

To be able to craft a well-written response to a political comment, then delete it before posting because you remember that you don’t have to show up to every debate you are invited to is a miracle. At least for today…

It’s 11:45am. The sky’s the limit, my friends. What’s your miracle?

This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday

The Friday Reminder for #SoCS & #JusJoJan 2021 Daily Prompt – Jan. 9th

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In the corner

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“Nobody puts Baby in the corner.”

Indisputably the BEST line from Dirty Dancing. It’s goosebumps material. For the random outlier who hasn’t seen this movie, it’s the climax of the film. Baby is a teenager who is kept under her father’s thumb, living her life based on his expectations and, more so, his restraints. She was trained to live quietly and appropriately in the shadows. Patrick Swayze’s character is the dance instructor at their summer vacation retreat and stands up to her father using this line. They then dance the dance of a lifetime, her father realizes the error of his ways and everyone lives happily ever after.

I always end up feeling a surge of energy at that line, and more often than not, will clap or pump my fist in the air with some sort of verbal affirmation. “Damn STRAIGHT nobody does!” or, “Hell YES!” I can’t help it. It’s an automatic reflex. This scene is what fairy-tales are made of. What woman hasn’t daydreamed about an attractive, sensitive, talented man standing up for her? Regardless of gender, I think we can all relate to how good it feels to be noticed and validated. Knowing that someone thinks you are worth standing up for can bring a tear to your eye.

I spent the better part of a lifetime daydreaming about a scenario like Baby’s. I don’t need to anymore, because someone DID rescue me from the corner I’d been assigned to my entire life. That someone was me.

I’ve since used my validation skills like a superpower to rescue others from the corner. If the stars align, they use that experience as a stepping-stone to learning how to validate themselves. Or, at least, that’s what I hope happens. As a home care nurse, I have the unique opportunity to see my patient’s family dynamics in their natural habitat. It always fascinates me to see family members delegating their loved ones to sit silently in the corner of their lives, without even realizing that this is what they are doing. More often than not, it never even occurs to the person assigned to the corner that stepping into the center of the room is even a possibility.

Many dysfunctional family dynamics have been a part of my patient’s daily lives for decades and are way beyond a quick pep-talk from a nurse. One episode of validation is not going to substitute for marriage therapy. But, you’d be amazed at how effective a conversation can be, in regards to making someone feel worthy. Even if it’s a quick chat that normalizes an eighty year-old woman’s emotions. She may opt to continue sitting in the corner, and that’s absolutely her right. But, there’s nothing like seeing an old woman’s eyes sparkle because she finally feels “seen.”

Do you ever notice anyone delegated to the corner? Consider letting them know you can see them. You might like how it feels to have a superpower.

This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s “Stream of Consciousness Saturday”

 

The Friday Reminder for #SoCS & #JusJoJan 2021 Daily Prompt – Jan. 2nd

 

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Soul box

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Can you remember how old you were when you started putting things in the box?

I was nine. My parents divorced and I put the uncomfortable feelings of rejection and fear and insecurity in the box. I held on to the shame, though. It’s too bad you can’t control which ones you stuff and which ones you allow to permeate through your entire sense of self.

And no, I had no words, at the age of nine,to describe what I just wrote. I had no idea the box existed. Or the emotions. I just knew I felt horrible. Bad. That’s how the box works. No one ever taught me otherwise. There’s no manual for the box.

I stuffed some more in there when I was thirteen. Similar emotions to the ones from four years earlier. I used to say thirteen’s trauma was way worse than nine’s, but it doesn’t really matter. That box weighs the same, no matter what you put in it. No point in comparing stories. A heavy box is a heavy box.

I tossed a towel over the box so it wouldn’t be staring me in the face. Stuffed it deep into my soul and kept myself busy with other things so I wouldn’t notice it. I always knew it was there, but if I made my life busy enough, or hazy enough, I could forget it was right inside me, even if for a little bit. You don’t notice things so much if you’re numb.

I wasn’t even aware I was putting things in there. Only in hindsight can I tell you about this. That’s just how it goes. I don’t make the rules. No manual, remember? It just is what it is.

It’s no different than putting a box in the corner of your living room and leaving it there for a few decades. Eventually, you become so used to it being there, you don’t even notice it anymore. It becomes a normalized part of the scenery.

Until something happens, like maybe you rearrange your furniture. Then, it sticks out like a sore thumb, and you say, “That ugly box has been sitting there forever; I’m getting rid of it.” If only it were that easy with the soul box.

I rearranged my life a few years ago, and boy, did I suddenly notice the box. I couldn’t believe I’d normalized the weight of that thing for almost my entire life. I had become so used to it, I almost forgot what was in it. No wonder I was so tired. Lugging that thing around, letting it determine my life.

I had to rip it to get it open. I clawed it open till my fingers bled while walking through a firestorm. No, not really. That’s just an analogy for the pain one feels when opening the soul box. Everything I had stuffed in there oozed out, like a can of crescent rolls. Can’t fit that stuff back in there once you open it. It was everywhere. Messy.

I let the contents go. Sounds so simple. It’s not. But it is. It’s both.

I’m so light now, I can fly. Soar, really.

Sometimes, I catch myself tucking something in there again. I think it’s human nature. The key is to be aware it exists. Know we all have the box, and it’s OK that we want to put things in there. Learn how to walk inside there and learn how to get out. Be comfortable with the mess, so you aren’t afraid to clean it out. And instead of normalizing the weight of it all, we need to learn how to normalize the lightness of an empty box. Normalize the release of emotions. Experience them, and let them go instead of ignoring them and stuffing them down. Society needs to stop normalizing the stuffing of the soul box.

Wait, did I just write the manual?

This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Dec. 26/2020
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Magnet for the marginalized

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I spent most of my younger years trying so hard to be cool. I desperately wanted to fit in, to feel normal. But, the harder I tried, the more different I felt. The other kids knew it. As much as I tried to keep my secret from them, and even from me, they knew it. I was different.

Life continued, with me watching from the sidelines. Marginalized. Things happened. Experiences shaped my perspective, and even changed the trajectory of my life. That’s what happens to all of us, our experiences become the filter through which we view life. Good experiences give you a great view. Bad experiences, well…

Eventually, I escaped the sidelines. Somehow, I fabricated a better version of me, and no one caught on that the old me was still inside. I finally appeared to fit in. No matter that it didn’t feel that way to me. I was fine with the illusion.

Fast forward a few decades: I dropped the illusion and uncovered the real me. I put in a shit ton of work on her, and didn’t care about fitting in anymore. Funny, because that’s when I developed the most authentic relationships of my life. Go figure.

Of course, we all know that letting my light shine was a bit too much for some, so again, I was marginalized. It stung. But that’s ok. I’d outgrown them, anyway. It’s just a sad story, now.

Revealing the real Jami meant she could do anything she wanted. That’s what authenticity is, right? On top of the world. Badass mom. Best friend. Superstar nurse. The sky’s the limit.

But what I found I wanted was to connect with people who were like the old me. Or, the current me, depending on who you are asking. The marginalized. I was drawn to them like a magnet. Volunteering for the most difficult to love patients in my work life. Connecting with lost souls, hoping my offering of validation would allow them to be seen.

People just want to be seen, without having to earn it.

I spent a good year caring for a patient named Bill. No one else wanted to. His house was dirty. He was dirty. He didn’t care. Well, he didn’t seem to. He swore at most of the nurses and turned a lot of them away. He was the kind of guy most would roll their eyes at when they got assigned to him. But, for some reason, he liked me. And even though he never did anything I instructed him to do, I enjoyed taking care of him. I pretended his house wasn’t a mess. I pretended he wasn’t a mess. Or more so, I overlooked those things. They didn’t define who he was. They were just symptoms of something else. Like a fever.

I looked him in the eye when we spoke. I complemented him on his taste in music. I laughed at his jokes. I didn’t rush through our visits. I treated him like a human being, not a burden. He felt seen.

I wasn’t pretending. I did see him. No one will ever feel unseen around me, because I know what it’s like to be invisible. I may be a badass mom and a superstar nurse, but I identify as marginalized. The people who made me feel this way did it to punish me, but the joke’s on them. It’s actually a gift. It keeps me humble while I change the world, one little interaction at a time.

This post was written in response to Linda G Hills Stream of Consciousness Saturday

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Dec. 19/2020
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Maximizing by minimizing

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2020. This was supposed to be THE year. The year I held my first retreat. The year I gave a TED Talk. The year I graduated from college at the age of 48 and finally took all the little side gigs I’d been doing, like writing and speaking and recording my podcast, and maximized them into something big. I remember telling my friends, referring to my laser-sharp focus on my goals, “2020 is the year for clarity!”

Instead, Covid happened. Everything was postponed. My retreat, my TED Talk, my speaking engagements, my podcast. Luckily, I DID graduate. And instead of doing those things, I kept working. Unlike most of the world, I worked even more during the height of the pandemic. I’m a nurse, so…

My last post on here was in April. I suppose that’s the side effect of nursing during a pandemic. The post was me writing about all the emotionally reactive feelings I was having about the virus, and people’s responses to the pandemic. Kind of like everyone else in the country, I was scared, and people were pissing me off. I suppose triggered is the more correct way to say it. We are all human.

I’m not as reactive anymore. I think if you do something enough, even if it’s scary, you get used to it. Complacent, even. I’m at the point now where I feel like “you do you, I’ll do me,” and that seems to get me through it. Through the pandemic, through the election, through my own personal battles.

I’ve been maximizing my time, and my life, by minimizing what I have to do. This includes tasks as well as thoughts. I’ve started minimizing my personal belongings. I became certified to teach meditation. I say “no” to things I don’t want to do. I’m enjoying every bit of conversation with my teenage boys while they are home. I’ve lost my FOMO (“Fear Of Missing Out). I don’t try to change people’s minds anymore. Well, not as often. I’ve come close to mastering the art of surrender. I know gratitude. I don’t waste my time arguing anymore, though I will speak my truth. Someone dulls my sparkle? I move on. Well, most of the time, at least. Remember, I’m human.

You are, too. So, cut yourself some slack. Even if you think you don’t deserve it.

Turns out, 2020 IS the year. In the midst of loss, tragedy and fear, I’ve found joy, peace and accomplishment. And love. Anyone who has followed my blog will understand my struggle with love. I’m amazed at how this year has been a joy for me, despite the tragedies. Like how life grows new after everything’s been burned down by a forest fire. The phoenix rising from the ashes. A mosaic made from broken tile. The Japanese art of Kintsugi, which fills cracks with gold, to make something broken beautiful. You get the gist.

I’ve seen neighbors helping neighbors. Communities uniting to support each other. People shopping local. First responders kicking ass. Teachers stepping up, despite being scared. Single acts of kindness changing someone’s entire perspective on life. The down-time has allowed for connections which we are usually too busy for. These are everyday miracles. It’s time to start noticing them. 2020 is still the year of clarity.

Beauty and joy are everywhere, even in the middle of a pandemic. Sometimes, you just need to minimize your thoughts, and everyone else’s, in order to maximize what’s right in front of you. Clarity. It’s yours for the taking. And for the giving.

What’s your miracle today?

This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s “Stream of Consciousness Saturday”

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Dec. 12/2020
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Unpacking my soul

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I’m one of those people who goes on vacation and doesn’t unpack their suitcase until the next trip. Or, until something essential is needed from the bag. I still haven’t unpacked two of my beach bags from last summer. At this point, we are getting close enough to the next summer, so why bother? Is it laziness? Maybe. Or maybe it’s efficiency. Maybe I’m just prioritizing. Some unpacking is more important than others. Like unpacking parts of my life that don’t belong with me anymore.

Have you ever unpacked your soul? I have. I didn’t realize how much baggage a person could hold on to throughout a lifetime, until I started unpacking. Emotions, resentments, unhealed childhood wounds, negative thought patterns, toxic relationships (friends OR family who just can’t seem to lift you up)…the list goes on and on. The soul is a hell of a big suitcase.

Unpacking your soul isn’t for the weak. You are so accustomed to the weight of it all, the heaviness becomes normalized. It’s difficult to let go, even when you can clearly see that what you’re holding on to, isn’t yours to hold. Prying your fingers open after a lifetime of gripping is painful, like they are breaking, so most of us change our minds and keep holding on, because carrying the weight around is a familiar pain that we are used to. Who wants to feel like they are breaking, just to let something go? Trust me…YOU do! I’ll tell ya… once you make the break, the lightness of it all is heavenly. Heavenly.

I’ve been writing in this blog for over three years now. Processing. Growing. Healing. Taking two steps forward, one step back. Sometimes, a dozen steps back. Or sideways. I’ve been working out my “stuff” in here. Trying to figure it out. Trying to rewire. Trying to learn how to let go, let be. Sometimes, just trying without knowing what I was trying for, but doing it anyway. Sometimes, giving up. But always starting again.

I haven’t “had” to write in here too much lately. Do you know why? Because, I did it.

I figured it out.

The lightness of it all is most definitely heavenly. I’ve unpacked almost all of it. I’m not sure we are ever truly “done” with the unpacking… the healing. I don’t even think that’s the end goal, after all. I think our purpose for being here is to understand that the goal is to simply be aware enough to know what needs unpacking. Then, being brave enough to try.

I’ve unpacked a lot, and even though I’m not completely empty of it all, I’ve unpacked “enough.” Enough to allow peace into my life. To allow happiness into my life. To allow LOVE into my life. This is more than enough. My soul is smiling now. I am light.

Do you feel heavy, in places? Is your soul smiling? What do YOU need to unpack?

This post was written in response to Linda G Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday. It’s funny, because I just recently realized I’ve been calling it Stream of “Social” Consciousness Saturday for years now. I suppose that’s fitting for most of what I write.

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Feb. 8/2020
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Reunion

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I just got home from my 30th high school reunion. I was a pretty shy and insecure kid in high school. I had my small group of friends, who I still keep around me today. But there’s a huge number of people who I’ve never even said hello to, in all the four years we were in that building together. I was mostly invisible. Although I put a lot of effort into being cool and fitting in, I also put a lot of effort into being invisible. I think I was torn with craving connection and fearing rejection. I didn’t have the words to put on it at the time, I just knew I was different. I think that’s a pretty common feeling for kids who grow up in a home like mine.

I was asked to be on the reunion committee this year. I wasn’t really sure why they chose me, and I was surprised, but I said yes. All summer, I kept wondering what my role was, as they seemed to have the logistics all figured out. I wasn’t really contributing much, and felt like they probably regretted asking me. As the date neared, we hadn’t sold very many tickets. I was thinking social media had pretty much ruined reunions, as we all know what everyone’s had for dinner and where their kids go to school and whatnot. What’s left to catch up on? I reached out to a few former classmates, asking if they were going. I was surprised, and saddened to hear a common response, something along the lines of, “I hated the reunion I went to before. All the popular people were still popular, and with alcohol added to the mix, were even more popular, while I sat alone.” That was the basic theme, and it struck a chord in me. We are all in our late 40s now, and many are still feeling like the insecure kids we used to be. It makes sense, as we carry around our inner child everywhere. That child guides our decisions, whether we realize it or not. Until we do something brave to heal him or her.

I decided to do something about it, which is pretty ironic, coming from the unpopular kid. But, I did it, anyway.

I wrote a post to our reunion Facebook wall, talking to the people who didn’t want to go. I told them about how hard I tried to fit in, which was dumb, because changing yourself to fit in means YOU aren’t really fitting in at all. You are just pretending. And I told them my biggest regret was spending energy on feeling different and unlikable, instead of getting to know the hundreds of kids around me who likely felt similar. And let’s face it…we are all the same. Sure, we are unique and different, but as human beings, we all crave connection. We are hard-wired for it. And we all, in one way or another, fear rejection. And the people who weren’t going to this reunion were likely afraid that the connection wouldn’t happen, and they would return to that insecure kid sitting alone.

I had found my role on the committee.

I put words on the elephant in the classroom. Because even though it’s 30 years later, the little kid in some of us is still afraid or uncomfortable. And we all know how I like to put words on the uncomfortable things inside us, because it takes it’s power away. If anyone knows about rejection and fear, it’s me. I’m sure half the people reading that post had no idea who I was. And if I’m being honest, I was a little nervous making that post to all those people who never even spoke to me in high school. It was so easy to slip back into that feeling of needing to be invisible so I wouldn’t feel rejection. But, I did it anyway. That’s my superpower now…being afraid, but doing it anyway. And do you know what? It worked. It took the power away from the insecurity of going to a high school reunion and gave it back to many people. People who weren’t going to attend ended up showing up. Even though they were nervous, they did it anyway. That’s pretty brave. I saw people talking to people they normally would have never spoken to…including myself. Also brave. I think everyone made some pretty great connections tonight. We seemed to have all matured enough to do this, and were grateful to just be there together. I introduced myself to so many former classmates, many not knowing who I was, yet they were all receptive…and I saw others doing the same. I have so many new friends now, and the people I was sure wouldn’t be interested in talking with me, they actually were! And the people I assumed were “snobs” back in the day, actually weren’t! And the one’s I thought were shady…well, some of them still kind of are, but that’s ok; it makes for a great “how was the reunion” story! (Being one of the few divorced singles at a high school reunion makes for some interesting stories…I’ll save them for another day.)

It makes me wonder what people thought of me back then, and who they learned I am now. Is it different? I realized you really can’t know who a person is by what they were like in high school, because really…that’s just your perception. Every experience you have in life is filtered by your perception, which is shaped by your own experiences. It’s different for everyone. I think we are starting to learn that. We were all cool and popular tonight, speaking from our hearts and from a place of honesty, respect and love. I felt like I fit in with everyone tonight, and I didn’t have to change a single thing about who I am. And I know others feel the same. That’s some pretty good stuff right there.

There just wasn’t enough time to connect with everyone on the level I was hoping to, but we made a pretty good start. I’m proud of us…and I hope we continue choosing to be brave and taking our power back. The little kid in each of us deserves that.

See you guys in five years!

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Nov. 30/19
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