The Only Thing To Explain It All

I went back to Minnesota for the holidays to meet up with family and friends, to shower my dog in kisses, but also to heal. You see, I was certain my relationship was over.

He was a real treat. Paranoid, hostile, cranky and irritable at all hours. He would hug me and tell me he was scared and that something was terribly wrong with his health one minute, and the next he would be roaring like a lion, telling me to get out of his apartment because I was an ungrateful brat with no sense of all he had helped me with. It was nuts. He was nuts.

I grieved a little in Minnesota during that trip. I was certain it was over. We didn't talk while I was there, and I didn't write him. I was afraid of him and sorry for him at the same time. I didn't know what was wrong, but I knew he was abusing me. It was hurtful and confusing, and I felt like I was spiraling down into a hole.

I returned to Hawaii and was determined to keep my distance and not buckle under his charming pleas to come keep him company. I rejected dinner plans and made excuses to be busy. But he was relentless that first week back, and so I agreed to lunch. Over spicy fish and green beans, he told me he had a brain tumor. Not a small tumor... a 2 inch mass that was pushing his pituitary gland into a different region of his skull. For a little background on Pituitary tumors, read here. In a nutshell, it caused a complete crash of his sex drive, pleasure sensors, and ability to handle stress. He slept for large periods of time and could barely leave his bed for much of the day. Of course I decided to support him through the surgery and recovery. I mean, what sort of an asshole abandons their best friend before having a tumor removed? I was scared and scared for him, and he was so completely erratic and angry leading up to the procedure that I was very jumpy. I was living in a glass house.

The procedure lasted 1/2 a day and caused many small crises in my mind. When they wheeled him into surgery, I almost became a patient myself, and passed out at the elevators. I was wretching and terribly concerned. What if he didn't wake up? What if the neurosurgeon had an off-day? What if, what if, what if. My anxiety level back at work (yes I'm a dummy and went back to work) was out of control. I couldn't concentrate and all of my Buddhist zen principles went out the window. I tried hard to stay in the moment, to not jump ahead to presuppositions, to repeat over and over that there was nothing I could do. I finally couldn't take it anymore and went back to the hospital, waiting too patiently to be allowed back to his recovery room. He awoke his crabby self and bossed nurses around. I gave them sympathetic glances and reassured them in the hallway that that was normal. He was on heavy pain meds and had leakage in the wound site, leading to a lot of red fluid that looked like blood but was really drainage from the site. It was super traumatic. After one night's stay in the hospital, they couldn't wait to discharge him to me! The recovery thereafter at his apartment was quite plain, and involved a lot of bedrest and a lot of me doting on him to keep him happy, entertaining him and making sure he was comfortable. He was very grateful I was with him, and very loving and affectionate.

It will be some time before we know what happens next. He has a 3 month check-up to determine if it was a successful removal or if he must undergo more work. Until then, I wait with bated breath for life to do it's thing. I don't know what this means for him, and I don't know what this means for us.

6 ways to Prevent Preventable Derby Disasters

Me? I'm pretty accident prone. But I learned a LOT with my latest injury, an MCL tear, as well as through my years of playing. It seems like common sense, but sometimes it's just good to review.

 6. Invest in the best gear that you can afford, and wear it. 

But not all great gear is expensive. These are my faves!

Don't get "Atom Gear" kneepads until you can confidently slide-fall instead of faceplanting. Instead, get well-constructed kneepads with a ratchet strap on the bottom that have a built-in knee gasket. I'm not interested in Atom Gear because I still fall, and not always well :/ Elbow pads are important because we actually do use them, knowingly or not. I was a little unsure if I actually did use them a few years ago and started choosing to NOT wear them when I skated the boardwalk. One day, I caught a big pebble and bit it. Hard. I was wearing my wrist guards and my kneepads, but not the elbows. I had two scabby bows for a while. They got infected. It sucked. Get wristguards with a wide plastic protective piece, and always wear them on skates. I've broken my left wrist and my right hand playing derby. Both times I was wearing Protec wristguards with that measly plastic piece running up the palm. If I hadn't been wearing them, I probably would've had 2 hand surgeries by now-but if I had been wearing something like I have now, it probably wouldn't have happened. Make sure your helmet fits snug, and that your chin strap isn't loose. The reason we wear helmets is to protect one of our most valuable organs: our brain. Don't be stupid. Wear it. Properly. I've seen dozens of concussions. WITH helmets on. Without wearing a helmet, I know of one death, on skates. On a flat, indoor surface. This means wearing your gear at open-skate in rinks, the boardwalk, and every parade. Is your brain worth risking for a little wind in your hair? Is a 30-minute free skate down the boardwalk worth a month in a cast? Mouthguards are important for game play and full contact. I can't argue that we should always wear them because it's super tough to yell the instructions to a full drill with it in your mouth... but I ALWAYS put it on before I demonstrate a hit or any full body contact. Mouthguards don't just protect your teeth-they protect you from concussions... and from biting off your tongue. No thank you!

5. Use your resources, or find some.

Where are their helmets??

On my first league, we had skaters that were massage therapists. We also had a chiropractor that skated, and a slew of medical professionals like OT's and EMTs. In my current league, I know of at least 4 Occupational Therapists, several nurses, and several massage therapists. Derby is rough, dude. Injuries happen and muscles/ligaments/bones get jacked. Ask questions from your league mates, get advice from the professionals, and when appropriate, see your doctor. Don't just ride it out and think everything will magically get better. This is not Never Never Land. This is cold, harsh reality. Do you want to be bionic and take 3 months off to have surgery/do physical therapy for a knee injury, or do you want to learn how to train your muscles properly and skate? Don't be shy asking for help or advice, and don't wait until your 7th year like me to start learning about dynamic stretch routines and knee strengthening exercises. I was a fool. Don't be a Calamity. You'll end up in a wheelchair 50th birthday like me someday. Also, don't skate without medical insurance. I tore my MCL the same day I returned to skates after taking a break from being uninsured between jobs.

4. Come prepared.

me before I'm warmed up

Be on time. Be ready to go when the warm up starts. Get your routine in so that you're warm and stretched for the beginning of drills or the start of the jam. I used to be chronically late to everything, but because of derby, I make a point to get my warm up in. Maybe it's because I'm "derby old." Maybe it's because I'm growing up. Maybe I'm just getting smarter... (I would like to think it's that :)) When I don't get a good warm up complete with stretching, my body is tight and non-responsive to fast-twitch muscle movements (like lateral track work and jamming). I'm a hot mess, and easy to bowl over-it's just bad all around. But more than that I'm a threat to myself; if my muscles are cold and stiff, I'm crazy susceptible to injuries. I have been injured soooo many times, and I bet a lot of those times were due to a bad warm up. Some leagues are really strict and make sure everyone is skating warm before they launch into a drill... but some leagues are more laid back. This is where injuries happen. Sprinting out to the track at the start of a jam or contact drill without warming up is like asking for a trip to the E.R. You're better off to yourself and your team by taking at least 5-10 minutes and preparing your body than you are taking a hit when you're cold. The start of the jam is NOT the time to be warming up. It's just not. Everyone will notice-even you.

3. Mental game is crucial for practice, as well as for bouts.

There have been girls that come to practice or to a bout completely distracted by their toddler in the stands or a head full of stress. I've been guilty of showing up with a zillion other things on my mind that are way more important than doing pack work, and I know how detrimental it is to not have focus (I play bad. Really bad). Unfortunately, this is a judgement call that we all make to ourselves, and I have to trust that my teammates will make the right one and not skate if they can't be fully present in their heads. How many times have you been distracted by a blocker, only to end up on your ass because her teammate landed a monster hit on you from your opposite side?

Squirrel!

Being aware of your surroundings and not allowing outside distractions into your head is critical to safe game play. If that skater chasing her toddler in between lines during a drill (or worse, a bout) isn't watching the pack as she skates, she's a liability. I don't want to be her casualty. Call your fellow skaters out on their shit. If someone isn't able to concentrate because of x, y, and z, tell her to work it out and then come back. Is waiting until the toddler runs out on the track to say "hi" the time to address this? You bet your ass it is. Now she's putting her kid in harm's way, too! We have laws in our state prohibiting cell phones/texting and driving, and we surely shouldn't allow girls to skate that have their heads in the clouds or their eyes fixated on the bleachers. We all owe that to each other. I've growled at children and I've growled at derby moms when this interferes with my game or my practice. Number of times I've regretted it? Zero. It may be hard to juggle derby and parenting, and I realize I can't relate to that and those challenges... but I know when something is unsafe and I'm vocal about saying so. It's dangerous!

2. Listen to your body. PAIN stands for "Pay Attention Inwards Now."

Through error, mostly, I have learned to listen to my body, and when I feel out of it or my game is off, I pull myself from the drill before something bad happens. It doesn't happen that often, but when I notice, I stop. I used to just power through bad practices like that and sometimes I still do because I'm stubborn, but I've found that really it's dangerous to myself and to my fellow skaters when I'm scrimmaging on a bad day. Drills are meant to be hard and work us over in order to improve, but when you enter into a scrimmage, your teammates are counting on you to be playing your best. I try to assess how I feel in the first 1/2 hr of every practice. If I'm pmsing and having a bad practice-lots of trouble connecting my hits like I usually do and excessive clumsiness (I run into walls and trip over air during pms)-I cruise on the sides while the team scrimmages or I watch and try to guess their plays. I've had some bad falls and caused equally bad pileups because I wasn't feeling that great. I also do a lot of dynamic warmup exercises and never stretch cold.

Kinesio tape and/or braces do NOT make you bionic.

This is also true for nagging injuries; when my knee starts feeling strange and a repetitive drill is adding extra stress to the joint, I stop the drill and skate laps instead. "Strapping" or using kinesio tape on an injury does not make you invincible. You still have to heed your body's warning signals and be prepared to R.I.C.E. on the sides if need be. Re-injuring my knee is only going to make me miss more drills and be miserable. Not worth it to practice plow stops for 5 minutes. I'm cool with taking a time out now to save myself a longer recovery.

1. Don't take unnecessary risks. Derby is hazardous enough.

The venue we skate at in town is unsafe because it is smaller than regulation size, and there are perilous obstacles like the fencing enclosure, steel beams, and volleyball posts, nestled right up to the outside boundary. Our team has dubbed them the "Murder Poles." We pad the poles during practice now, but doing full-on scrimmage or big hitting drills are super scary and ridiculously dangerous in that space. The fence is what caused me to fully tear my MCL... I did a controlled knee stop and slid jussst a bit too far out of the track boundary (I was used to more clearance on a full-sized track). I hit the fence skate first, and there was a twist and a pop. It was a horrible sound and there were many swear words. Ideally we would find another venue, but it has proven nearly impossible in our area as real estate is in high demand and rental fees are atrocious. So... in the meantime, we skate near Murder Poles. Some skaters are cool with full-on derby scrimmage there, but I am not. So now, when a drill starts, I assess if I feel safe. If I don't because the drill is too wild or uncontrolled, I sit and watch. What's harder than watching a drill at practice? Watching a bout on crutches because you were too stubborn to heal or too reckless to acknowledge a bad situation.

no fun.

Preventing preventable disasters is a guiding principle to the new chapter of my derby existence. It's a great rule of thumb, really. My latest recovery has taught me many lessons that are probably good for other aspects of my life.

The moral: Don't be an idiot any more than you have to. ;)

Three Little Birds

'rise up this morning
scowled at the rising sun
3 little birds
dead by my doorstep
smelling sweetly
of your wretched rue

This is my message to you.

Don't try to chide me
don't try to call my name
if I'm hung up on you
you know I'll die alone
baby don't call me
don't even call my phone

This is my message to you.

If you did want me
you should have made it known
instead I groveled. Damn you!
You ripped my heart out
It was just freshly sewn
Now leave me alone.

Each sickly message is an open sore
your words blacken my loss
and I want more.
You are a maggot turning into a fly

Now fly
Now fly

Finding My Center Through Derby

I know it's generic to say that life is amazing, but it really is.
Sometimes I think about the incredible journey that I've had over the past few years and I can't believe it all really happened. I lost a super close relative, sacrificed a stable situation in my home town near all my family and moved across the ocean, moved five more times, went through a slew of jobs and slumlords, went on/off welfare, lived on different islands, got in a motorcycle accident, broke bones/tore ligaments, lost touch with lifelong friends, surrendered my dog, landed my dream job. So much has changed, yet one thing has remained a steady constant:

Derby.

No, I'm not saying that derby itself has stayed exactly the same; rule sets are adjusted annually and the newest strategies have fans and players alike in an uproar... but the spirit of the sport is solid. So many sacrifices by thousands of girls throughout the world have gone into creating this unique and stable identity, a beacon of empowerment, inspiration, reward, triumph, and most importantly, support through defeat.

I've skated for three leagues. I left the most established of the three to fall backwards into starter leagues that had shaky foundations and growing pains. I reluctantly took on leadership roles in attempts to help build an environment where the league could grow. But despite best efforts, plans fail... intentions are misinterpreted... friendships, destroyed. My current league has had so many internal conflicts that I sometimes feel like a child in a broken home. It's heartbreaking. It is my abusive relationship that I just can't quit. Something deeper, richer, and more important than petty arguments compels me to try harder and invest more. Derby has become a part of me, and when I step away to take a break and breathe, I feel like something has been ripped from my chest. Derby is in my center.

Derby is the extended family of sisters that I quarrel with, and yet I have to learn to trust them in the heat of battle when our opponents are out for blood. Alpha bitches that hate being followers instead of leaders, all with the common goal of making our sport the best it can be, yet mostly too pigheaded and stubborn to accept that sometimes our own take on things isn't the right perception. Mothers, career girls, homebodies, world explorers. We all love the sport. And like moths to the flame, we intentionally get too involved and get burned. Again, and again. We make mistakes. We fall from grace.


I'm on a crazy path of spiritual awakening at present, and derby is at the center. If I step away from practices for too long (as of late), I feel incredibly alone in a very big world, and quite unsettled. 80% of the contacts in my phone and on my facebook are derby people with derby names. I can't imagine my life without all that it encompasses. Looking at my smaller group of friends unassociated with the sport, I sometimes feel bad for them and hope they have a community with as much purpose as mine. It's all ego, I'm sure, but I feel so lucky to have this extended family that in a cultish way, I want them all to join me. I've been playing since 2007 and yes... I've been recruiting since 2007. I want to teach everyone all that I know about the sport. I want them to love it as much as I do. Of course I know that everyone can't possibly, but like a Jehovah's Witness, I pack recruitment flyers and business cards in my purse and freely distribute on the bus, the sidewalk, Subway, the grocery store, the mall, the doctor's office. You just never know who you'll save.

Every derby girl has a before and after; before derby, I longed for a nickname and felt like a misfit. After derby, it feels bizarre to have someone call me by my legal name, and I am so strong inside, so confident. What other place is there than this rich one, oozing with opportunity/inspiration/hope/identity/courage/strength/wholeness? The church. But I don't go to a temple to worship; I'm a Buddhist that doesn't meditate regularly and never chants. I'm living as zenlike and present as possible for what I'm comfortable with, and yet derby.... a violent, strategically competitive sport... makes me feel closer to enlightenment than any amount of time in a temple. I feel high on life after a hard bout. I am emotionally and physically drained, like an evangelical born-again abolished of sins by a slap to the forehead. I am so at peace, and so calm. It is the ultimate release.

Derby takes me to my higher place, so despite any amount of drama within a league, my spiritual growth from derby is sound.


Derby is my rock.

Yuppies happen when hipsters and preps grow up.

Pretty sure the world is ending and pigs can fly...
I just purchased organic vanilla soy milk instead of 1% cow milk tonight at the grocery store. 
Two weeks ago, I (probably permanently) switched my triple grande mocha to a triple soy skinny mocha. I also ate All-Bran for breakfast all weekend with soy milk and organic bananas, black bean soup from scratch, organic spinach, tomatoes and hummus. I even had raw almonds in there. But... yesterday I freaked out and ate really badly. Sigh. This new age food regimen is challenging. Being a yuppie doesn't come naturally when you're raised in dairy country. It's an exciting and difficult test of my will power and a true lesson in discipline and consequence. 

There is no one to hold me accountable but myself.

I downloaded an app on my iphone that I already despise to track my food journal entries. It forces me to stare each "secret eating" indulgence in the face when it destroys an otherwise great food day. I'm only a few days in to the attempt, but the bad choices are glaringly obvious. Before, I could eat something with some guilt and plenty of glutton, then go about my business and not think about it again. With this app, I now track every item that enters my body, every day, week by week, month by month. If I don't work out and I eat shitty, I see my fall from grace. I had no idea I lacked so much discipline until now. Bummer.

Someone told me that women lack discipline more than men do, that women want to be comfortable and don't want to be inconvenienced by withholding favorite foods or creature comforts. Men, supposedly (at least this source), can withstand more discomfort to reach a goal. I'm not 100% buying that opinion, but it is an interesting one to make a study of. Can I sacrifice creature comforts and favorite foods in the interest of trying to cut out the fat? So far the score is tied, with only four days recorded.

I've been dealing with some real derby problems the past few months, and my safe place has been uprooted. It would seem the derby drama truly never ends. I sort of did it to myself by taking on leadership positions, fully knowing that I would have a target on my forehead, but yet... I thought I could keep it cool and help stabilize the very turbulent waters of this league. Enough said. Amidst the chaos of all of that, I have made enough poor diet choices amidst recovering from injury to feel like a baby rhinoceros. I am taking back some control. This really boils down to an attempt to be more aware of what I'm ingesting. I'm no angel. But I'm starting to try harder.

Derby, My Internal Clock, and Sacrifice

Yesterday was my 35th Birthday. You know what that means, boys and girls! That's right... sexual peak. Which consequently means that my biological clock is working over time to remind me that my eggs are shriveling up and rattling around in my barren uterus.

Pleasant, I know. That's how my confused, post-modern, career-oriented brain feels. I feel overly saturated with multiple agendas and a conflicted identity. I am a walking contradiction.
I was designed to breed... but too keen on traveling, sleeping, pursuing dreams that don't involve diapers, and involved with a man that isn't too thrilled about the sacrifices makes for a pretty solid argument against child-rearing. But there is this clock. And it is a very nagging internal voice that tells me I will regret this decision when I hit menopause. Oh Em Gee. What's a girl in the year 2012 to do?

For one, said girl will continue with her re-entry into roller derby post-injury to burn off some of her frustrations. Except derby in itself is a giant hairball of incessant drama and catty confrontations. So that doesn't really ease my burden... it adds to it. I started working on a big painting... and that is therapeutic, but I'm nervous that little babies will start working themselves out through the canvas to expose my delicate psyche battle...

So far, no babies. But it's interesting how things have changed within me in the past 5 years. I was pretty set against kids at 30. Prior to that, I was sure I'd consider abortion if there was an accident.
Now, my man likes to make fun of me at the height of ovulation by pointing out my estrogen peak and then mentioning all of the local Chinatown bars filled to the brim with deadbeat men who will gladly knock me up for free.

Yeah... I'll get right on that...

So, human programming and the need to procreate in order for the species to survive has a grip on my good judgement at the moment. What about all of those women out there who don't have the ability to conceive? What about those who lose their kids to bad accidents and miscarriages? Am I more selfish for choosing to have one, or incredibly selfish for NOT having one? This is a complex situation.

If I got pregnant this month, I would:

• Not be able to travel to foreign countries on my bucket list with any ease, if at all
• Say goodbye to sleeping in for the next 10 years, if not longer
• Have to quit derby for at least a year
• Would have very little support from family (they live very far away)
• Would have some hard sacrifices to make in order to afford my rent/bills
• Would have no guarantees that I wouldn't be a single-mom 

These are serious sacrifices. So those baby-mommas out there need to weigh in on this junk. I'm not even saying I have the option of this biz going down... but I really need someone to validate my anxiety over this clock situation. Someone needs to tell me it's all gonna be okay, because my poor brain is freaking out. What if I make the wrong decision? What Would Buddha Do?
I don't have that much longer to make this choice. Thirty-five is no spring chicken. It's late summer chicken.

Other than that burning question, life is beautiful;

Last night for my big birthday, my man took me to Ruth's Chris for the most expensive steak I've ever eaten (my steak alone was $50, and that's all he told me).

Today I was approved for hire "officially," so I think I sign the last document tomorrow... meaning I will FINALLY have stable income, benefits, a 401k, 3 weeks vacation a year, and sick leave. Working my dream job.

My life is fucking fantastic right now.

I just don't think I was grateful for what I had when I had it; when I was laid off in 2007 and lost my full-time job with benefits, I began a journey of soul-searching. I developed appreciation for all I had lost. I needed until now to realize how important it is to my health and lifestyle to have stable income and all of those benefits, that they allow me a standard of living that is coveted and privileged. Stability is important to me now. I don't know that I thought it was important in 2006.

But just to reiterate yet again... Hawaii is hard. It took a lot of suffering to make it to this point! I need to constantly remind myself to be grateful for what I have, instead of worrying about what I don't have.

All we have is now. That's it! Just now.

Through the Single Moments

I think it's great to take on a philosophy of living in the Now. I have done enough Zenmaster reading and thinking to feel it is a suitable mindset. I'm going to immediately launch into a life-altering moment. Actually, I have several, but right now I'm just going to tell the one that touches me the deepest and carves out my pathway today. Several revolve around death which I don't find to be too much of a surprise, as it is a truly awesome moment (and by that I mean inexplicable):

Not even a year after my grandmother died of breast cancer, my aunt (48 yrs old at the time) was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. She was a rather modest individual (conservative in dress and spirituality), and she was very private (didn't talk about feelings or insecurities or sex). This cancer, in addition to being a devastating diagnosis, was deeply embarrassing to her. Over the course of two years, I watched her struggle with the reality she was facing and how she tried to keep her composure and dignity-the wrath of chemo and radiation, coming to grips with all she would never accomplish, how she explained to people that she had terminal cancer, and her fights with my mother (they had always fought as siblings do, but these were even worse).

I watched her slowly die.

It was not a quick and painless death. It was an evil, crawling-up-your-leg-and-gnawing-at-your kidneys type of death. I would take off days of work when she was having a "single moment" as she called them, just to sit with her or take her shopping to distract her. She would buy me a latte and talk to me about her positive spiritual approach to overcoming this terrible cancer. She tried hard to believe she would be spared. She was weak from chemo and pale as sheets. Her hair had almost completely fallen out, but before it did, I sat with her while she had Glamour Shots taken at ProEx camera. She said she wanted to look nice in her obituary photo. When they gave them to her and we left the store, she laughed and cried as she told me stories about all of the horrible obituary photos people put in of their loved ones, and how she wanted to go out with a bang and be remembered as beautiful. She had a sense of humor about it, which helped ease the tension.

My aunt was the mother I thought I should have had growing up (I think we all wish we had other mothers at challenging times... though I am certainly glad for mine now). She was funny as hell and always the rowdy one at family gatherings. She was in a theater rodeo in South Dakota in her 20's, was a flight attendant that hawked goods from Seoul, Korea, sold pagers back when those were a big deal, bought a house all by herself, became a realtor and made big money off of house sales to the very end (she actually sold a house from her death bed)... and she totally "got" me. More than my mother. She loved travel, she was in the dating scene, she went to concerts and liked to bend rules.

She was a free spirit that didn't want to fall into the typical steps of women. She wanted to explore and have adventures. She struggled with those "traditional" desires, though... which I also relate to. She wanted a husband and family, someone to love and nurture and share the joys of life with. She was hopelessly single and tried every sort of dating scheme out there... with no luck. What I admired about her most is that she never let it stop her from doing what she wanted to do.

When she was financially ready, she invested in a few properties and bought a beautiful 1904 Victorian. Everything she ever dreamed of in a house. English garden in the back (that I helped her build), million dollar view of downtown St. Paul and the Mississippi, and all of the prestige that goes with living in a historic neighborhood. I think she made choices along her path in life that brought on her singledom (she was very picky about men and unwilling to bend about quite a few things), but she didn't deserve to die with such agony and struggle, and certainly not feeling so alone. Sadly, that was her end. She had her sister and her sister's family, and we included her in everything... but it was not her own. We made due, but the ache was always there for her.
I watched her pass through the stages of death and held her on the couch. Her last conversation with me was painful and heartbreaking. I asked her if she was satisfied with all she had accomplished in life, and she told me "no." It shocked me. It wasn't what I wanted to hear from her. It was the truth. She told me she "needed more clarity," and "it wasn't fair." It haunts me. I never told my mother about that conversation because I thought it would break her heart.
I don't ever want to die knowing that I didn't do everything I wanted to do. Of course, It would be impossible to check every thing off of my bucket list since I keep adding to it, but I intend to pursue things. I don't want to end up feeling like I didn't give life my all. I don't want to die alone. I don't want to hold back because of guilt over how it's impacting other people, and I don't want to settle for less than I deserve.

All of that said, I was to inherit her house and all of the things within it were divided between myself and my two siblings. Most of the furniture stayed there. It was a beautiful house with an original mural of a forest/swamp scene around the perimeter of the dining room, a fully stocked kitchen that had heated floors, leather embossed paneling on the walls leading up the spiral staircase to upstairs. Seriously, this house was a dream. What I couldn't shake, though, was that this was someone ELSE'S dream. I wasn't me there-I was living out her life. My mom still referred to it as "Kim's house" and "Kim's couch" and "Kim's garden," and I knew, after trying to afford the mortgage for a year with roommates, that I needed to let go and get out. I was living in a museum and it would never leave my mother's mind. Leaving was the key. It was the only way for me to truly be happy. So I ditched it. Let my mom and dad sell it, quit my job and moved to Hawaii... my aunt's favorite place.

So here I am, three years later from when I first packed up that house and moved to Hawaii. I'm a little more certain I made the right choice. I think about my aunt all the time. I wish she was here today to share in my trials. I want to thank her for pushing me to get out there and do something with myself, instead of taking the easier path. It has been lonely and it has been uncomfortable, but I have grown in the most amazing ways. I have learned to love myself and to earn my way. I have suffered and I have gained. All from remembering that life is short.

Life IS short, and life is beautiful. Carpe diem.