To The Men Who Hung The Night Sky

People have the power to weave their way into your life, for life. 

My Dad is my best friend. He is the one that gets me, the one that understands my overly sensitive, hyper emotional way of being. He understands my need for open pastures and my love of the sweet smell of Senior horse grain and calf milk replacement... It's weird, I get it. For us it's the norm. He taught me to keep my heels not too deep into the stirrup, and how to trailer a wild mustang.

I've put down childhood horses, held my baby calf as she passed away, named every last one of my pigs and chickens and goats and turkeys, and yeah, I slept with the tiniest, cutest potbelly piglet for part of my life; RIP Ollie. 

We've experienced life and death together. 

Life on the hobby farm, and life striving for this grandiose life we both saw.

I used to be his shadow. Wherever he was, I was. I admired this man like he must have hung the moon; he did, I know. 

He took me dress shopping. When we would fix fence, he'd dig the holes and fill them back in so I would feel like I was doing it. When we would build chicken coops, he'd give the nail a hard hit to get it started so I only had a little work. He made me smart, he made me driven, he made me a lot of...well, me.

Fast forward through these dreamy years of inseparable daddy-daughter bond, insightful conversations, yodeling and laughing our heads off on horse back rides and eating Beanie Weenies with a pocket knife, and here we are today. 

I'm 24. 

Yet I often feel like that frail, frilly-pink dressed little girl who needs her Dad; who looks up to her Dad like he hung the entire night sky. I need his advice, his strength, and his unwavering love for me.

I need his humor, most of all. I need his understanding of me before I tell him what's wrong. I need him to fix my car and fix my heart when they've been broken down. I need a kick in the ass when I'm being stubborn, and a five minute hug when I'm sad. 

I need my Dad, like a 9 year old girl needs her Dad. 

Most of all, I need my Dad happy. 

Back from the surgeries, the seizures, the postictal memory loss, the pain and confusion. Before the days of war, before the days of losing your son, before the days of the market crashing, before the days of vodka, and before the days of brain surgeries.

Because I'm tired of finding some blanket statement for how I feel. I'm tired of covering. I'm tired of living some double life. 

I want my Dad back.

I can't lose you and I'm tired of clawing to keep you alive. To keep your memory alive. 

The hardest part of this is learning to build a relationship with someone I don't know. Someone YOU don't know.

Because I'm hanging on to my 9 year old self, and you need my adult self to care for you. 

So Dad, I love you. 

I'll hold your hand like you held mine. I'll walk you down stairs when you're feeling weak. I'll tell you the same story fifty times like that story you used to tell me when we'd ride horses over and over and over again until you were blue in the face. I'll take you clothes shopping and not say a word when you look like a geek, just like you did when I picked the most outrageous dresses. 

I'm here for you, like you've been there for me. 

My, my how time changes things. 

Thanks for hanging the night sky for me, Dad; I'm using it to look into tonight and pray for your health and happiness.

To all the frilly-pink-dressed little girl's at heart reading this, I'm wishing health and happiness for your Dad too. Here's me hoping you can find that blind, childhood love you once possessed, and love with every fiber of your being. Make amends. Reach out. Love... 

To all the Dads who hung the night sky; thank you. The world wouldn't be as bold, daring, bright or loving without you; the world needs you, fathers. Your little girls need you. 

From your baby girl who still needs you in this big ol' city, 

TheWordMedic// Bean // HomeTeam // Your Bohemian Princezca 

I love you, Dad. 

What It's Like To Lose Someone Slowly

It's this excruciating pain of losing someone slowly that is unbearable. Although, losing someone in the blink of an eye is also torturous. If you're reading this and you know this feeling, I'm sorry. I wish I had words that could mend your soul and patch all the holes in your heart; I truly do. 

At first you claw to keep them alive. You dig your nails into the inseparable bond that surpasses all others. You don't want them to go away; you can't imagine a world where they don't exist. 

You fight for them so hard. You dig your heels in the carpet and stand firm on the belief everything will turn around.

You hold onto this for years; decades even. You fight, defend, weep, enable.. 

You cry over their hospital bed. You try to see between the doctor's words. You become used to clammy hands and keeping your cell phone by your bed like a gun in a holster. 

And then you come to grips with reality. 

The reality of a situation that is entirely outside of your control. That is outside the control of your prayers.

And then you deny this reality, again and again.

Until you've reached a point of exhaustion and acceptance, all at once. 

Sometimes people find a way to weave their way into your life, for a lifetime. Although you lost them slowly on our tiny planet Earth; your bond is unbreakable in the heavens.

Now dig your heels into the ground and don't lose yourself slowly. 

Do so much more than fight, defend and claw to keep yourself alive..... Live. 

Because, dear sweet pea, you deserve it. 

I. Don't. Want. This.

I am what I write. 

Not what I eat, although burritos do have the sexiest of curves. 

This world of blogging on my tiny space of the WWW allows me to toss my ideas to the wind; grandiose, petty, strong-headed, sexy, childish, dreamy, painful, private truths.

It's a double-edged sword really, because usually my brain is stuck on a dark, one-way street on the wrong side of south Chicago, and then I'm permanently posting things to the Internet, where everything is both true and temporary.... Err, maybe the opposite of that? 

My thoughts at 2:17am go something like this, Internet... 

Have you ever had something promising in your life, and then it collapsed on itself in under five seconds? A screeching halt into a wall at 65 mph. 

That's happened to me a time or two; it's a little bit like hell on wheels... Not the television series on Netflix, but while we're on the topic, DAYUM, I dig me some Cullen Bohannon. ((Go to Netflix now and watch Hell on Wheels if you haven't, take a little road trip to heaven, realize you haven't finished reading my blog, say hi to your grandparents, and then come back)) 

That whole enticing, tenuous, teetering on promising thing just ends. 

And not for any particular reason. Not a reason you can formulate in any coherent sentence or thought; it just does. 

You chalk it up to, "It wasn't meant to be." 

This, unsurprisingly, happens quite often. 

It wasn't meant to be that I could get one green light when I wake up late for work. It wasn't meant to be that I step on the 90% of the bathroom floor that's dry and not the part that will make my fresh socks soaked. It wasn't meant to be that I get the promotion. It wasn't meant to be that the guy that makes me feel the whole zoo, forget just butterflies, wants me back. It wasn't meant to be that my fly could have been zipped while talking to my boss's boss.....

Some things just aren't. meant. to. be. 

And while the sarcasm runs thick right now, there's one phrase I've strayed from using in my life, for the most part. 

"I don't want this."

Powerful, really. 

Have you ever stopped and thought about the meaning that one sentence holds? The transitions it can create, the opportunities it can unravel for you. 

I don't want this. 

Some people don't get the luxury of choosing what they do or don't want. 

We do, here. Right now.

You have the power to say, "I don't want this." 

That job that makes you feel like you have no purpose. That almost-relationship. That sweater your grandma gave you that's hanging in your closet..... Just kidding. Keep that. They have ugly sweater Christmas 5K's now! 

The point of my little tirade is this, sometimes something promising ends abruptly, out of your control. Sometimes things just aren't meant to be, flat out. But most things, sweet pea, you're in complete control over. 

So to the things you can say, "I don't want this," I deserve more. Please start saying it today.

I need you to come alive.

I need you to take that interest, and pursue it. That's where talent comes from. If you're willing to practice, you can do it. 

The world needs you to show up, and use that talent.

You have limitless possibility. 

  

Trusting Yourself- The Struggle Is So Real

Hi, sweet pea. 

I know you're going through life and at the very minimum of ten times a day you think to yourself, "Am I doing this right?" In life, in love, in what restaurant to eat at... Window or aisle seat? Full blown panic attack; heartbeat of a hummingbird. 

Decisions stress you out to the max. You don't want to make the wrong choice, make a wrong move, or the worst, let somebody down. 

There is always, without a doubt, a cloud of uncertainty filling your mind with fear. 

It's easy to trust other people now. It's easy to say, right now, I'm going to depend on your word. I'm going to let you in. But trusting yourself, that tiny inner voice... That's a whole different game. 

It's time to trust yourself.

It's time to listen to your gut feeling. To put aside that overly-analytical, pessimistic, worry-wart of an inner-voice. Slice up that voice box and throw it away. Have you ever thought about how many friends you would have if you talked to them how you talk to yourself?! 

I'd have zero. They would hate me with a seething passion; so why do we talk to ourselves like that?! 

I'm trying this new thing in life called, "trusting myself." Trusting myself enough to follow my dreams. I'm trusting that I have to fill my own cup before it can overflow to others. Trusting myself on what my tastebuds want to eat. 

Most of all, I trust myself to move past the failure of making a wrong decision. Choosing stupid Chipotle over Qdoba. Choosing the wrong path, the wrong job, the wrong partner, the wrong hobby.. 

Being trustful that my life will be filled with disappointments, mistakes, anxiety, and wrong decisions, but that I've let my passion lead me. I've listened to that tiny voice I so often hush, and I've followed my heart. 

And in the end, I trust that I will lead a grand life. Filled with extraordinary monotony and all the love a life can possibly hold.

I hope you too will choose to give yourself far more credit than you have been; listen to that tiny, whispering voice you've been hiding. 

I'm changing my middle name..

My middle name is Dawn. 

I have a tendency of searching for meaning in everything. Like, OMG, the guy at Starbucks totally put an "H," at the end of Sarah on my cup. What does that mean? 

...it means he wasn't an idiot and had two options to spell, "Sarah/Sara," ok?

I am queen of over analyzing; a curse and a blessing.

I've always been envious of those people who had this elaborate story to how they got their name. Better yet, a name that was passed down. My older sister got the middle name of, "Leigh," which was passed down for generations, and like many things I'm jealous of in my older sister, her middle name is certainly one of them.

My middle name is Dawn. Yes, I know it saves baby animals from oil spills and yes I know every rhyming word with it along with all the possible jingles you can use it in. It was my Mom's best friend's name for a big portion of her life; so there's not lost hope entirely for meaning. 

I think I've finally (after almost 24 yrs.) reached a conclusion on why my middle name will suffice. (These are the questions I mull over in my head for decades, people) 

Ah, the peace I've come to. 

"The night is always the darkest just before the Dawn." 

That's me! 

That's my middle name! 

In my life, I've gone through some dark stages, but more importantly, I hope to be the light. The dawn.

In my own life, in your life.

That annoying sunshine that creeps in when you're not ready but you love it anyways. 

Or, you know, that breath of fresh air after a long, heavy night of riding front row on the struggle bus. 

It's provided me with a constant reminder that no matter how hard life gets, the dawn will always come. We often focus so hard on weathering the storm that we don't know what to do when we get to the other side. But the dawn is coming, the ray of hope and sunshine will soon arrive. Keep holding on. 

So I guess I'm not changing my middle name, it's provided me enough meaning... For tonight. You can change yours though, Dawn suits you perfectly. ;) 

"The night is always darkest just before the Dawn, and I promise you, the Dawn is coming." 

Somewhere, Someone

I've always believed in this crazy notion since I was a child that somewhere in the world was someone doing anything I could think of. I used to come up with the craziest ideas, and tell myself with how many people there are in the world, it was bound to be true. I think it started out as an innocent daydream, "I bet there is someone out there that gets to swim all day like a mermaid and then snuggle with ten puppies at night," and then (as most things with myself do) just snowballed from there... 

It would always be the most outrageous, ridiculous ideas that probably nobody in the world was doing. 

But, I believed that somewhere, someone in the world was bound to make it happen. Too many people existed for it not to. The chances were just too high, it was inevitable. 

I brought this idea into adulthood. 

Both in the outlandish way of daydreaming about absurd things that someone, somewhere is doing, and also, on the more reasonable side, just believing that somewhere, someone is feeling the same way I am.

This crazy idea is one of the main reasons I write; one of the things that pushes me to share my life; my lessons. You know, it's not always easy to push a pencil to your heartbreak. To share your blonde moments. To toss your dreams to the wind and see what happens. 

I write because I still believe in this outlandish idea that somewhere, someone needs to know there is someone, somewhere going through the same thing. The same hurt. The same happiness. The same insecurities. All stemmed from a million different things, but in the end, the feeling is the same.

So to the one reading this, you're not alone.

You never were and you never will be. 

The chances are too high. 

The odds are too low. 

You're one in seven point three billion, but you are certainly not alone. 

Somewhere, someone is feeling the exact same way you are right now.