The Birthday Blog...34 Is HERE!

So I'm 34 today and this entry will be short and sweet. I took the day off. I slept in until 7, took my kid to school, grabbed a late morning workout, came home and showered and am about to run errands and then treat myself.

The birthday love on Facebook is awesome, and I'm so grateful for all the texts. Today I just wanted everything to be chill, and so far, so good. 

My hubby did pretty well, he made my favorite dinner from his restaurant, he got me a small cake, and a new book by one of my favorite authors. I was able to relax and enjoy last night and my daughter "threw me a party."

I'm grateful for some much needed chill time, and even more grateful for cake. Today I'm opening the forum for comments about future post suggestions or what you'd like me to write about. So comment away while I enjoy the day! Thank you all for reading and I'l be back to normal-ish length posts tomorrow.   

Last Day Of 33, Whatcha Got For Me?

On the eve of my birthday, or as I have been referring to it this year as, "Just Tuesday the 26th," while of course saying goodbye to 33 and hello to 34, I'm almost forced into some reflection so just bear with me.

I remember last year going to an amazing concert with some of my favorite people around this time of year, running the St. Patty's 5K and I think there was ice cream cake. Not to mention, my mother's annual forced upon new fashion or a shopping trip with her. This year I am opting for as much calm and quiet as possible.

My daughter has promised me a "boutique" of flowers and as much as I didn't want to correct her, I did and told her she meant "bouquet," and I hope to snag some time to myself, a novel idea in motherhood.

I will say this, 33 has been a huge year for me personally in terms of growth and strength. Last year at this time I was still settling into things after surviving one of the worst Christmases of my lifetime. I was trying to scrape things together and stay positive, but I was feeling really hopeless and utterly alone.

This was before April, and in April my life was completely turned upside down in every way and I didn't handle it well. March, and especially my birthday, was the beginning of the chaos. At that time, I was still in a place of fight or flight and I was faced with having to support choices I didn't agree with, but sucking it up "for the greater good." It wasn't my best start to 2018.

This year has a much different vibe, more positive and affirming, and I'm proud of and happy with that. After a horrible April 2018, in May I took my life back. I really stood up for myself and my daughter and redefined our family norms. It was a bit rocky through September but we are still building, and growing. So this year, I'm just ready for 34.

Birthday wishes are great, but I no longer feel they are some kind of required barometer for a friendship or an attention level anymore. I feel grateful when someone remembers to text me, let alone remembers something as trivial as a birthday. I won't feel "forgotten" because people have lives and any relationship is complicated and scattered at times. Not getting a nod on a Facebook wall or a text the day of won't break my birthday or get anyone in trouble.

There aren't many years of my 34 on earth that I can recall the kind of strength and growth that I've manifested, especially over these last 6 months, so I want to celebrate that, more than anything else within the birthday. As an only child, my mom cannot help herself when it comes to making it a "thing," no matter how much I beg to just have some ice cream cake and call it a day. My husband gets annoyed I ruin my own requests by buying myself the stuff I need instead of waiting for him to do it for me.

I've decided that Jenny Lewis' new album "On The Line" was released as a birthday gift to me, as she is my spirit animal and one of my most favorite artists. She also starts her tour tomorrow, in Indiana unfortunately, but I can rock from here, regardless. I've been replaying her album as part of my reflective time because she usually writes and records all the feels I need, and somehow exactly when I need them. So, little things like this I consider part of the celebration.

For 34 I want continued growth, strength and bravery. I want to become less and less afraid to stand up for myself in every situation. Ironically this past weekend I had a recurring nightmare about still working in a place where I was made to feel intimidated, inferior and where my needs and requests were consistently ignored only to wake up disgustingly grateful that I'm no longer there. I'll take that as a good sign that I'm in a better place.

Also this weekend my family seemed to master "the chill," of which I am completely the worst. We did some household chores and some necessary upkeep, but we were lazy and watched too much TV, ate what we wanted, had a family sleepover, slept in and just bummed around. It's not something we indulge in often, even though it is necessary. On top of that, I had good conversations with favorite people about struggles and growth and about how we just need to face certain things head on anymore. We're too young to take it for granted and too old to mess around, and I think those two are interchangeable.

So 33, what else have you got for me? I'm ready for more with 34 and yes those all kinda rhyme in weird ways. Maybe the corny, dorky stuff comes with age too. Here's to growing up!

Sorry Not Sorry Is Truly An Epic Phrase

There are only a few phrases in terms of slang that I actually enjoy. For instance the phrase "Throw shade at," is a slight against God and all that is unholy in any grammar usage. I'm also not that big of a fan of "Bae," it just feels like someone forgot the other "b" in "babe."

However, the whole "sorry not sorry" phenomenon, is actually quite insightful, or so I think.

We go through life learning to apologize at an early age. "Say you're sorry!," become the mantra of mothers. We are supposed to teach accountability right? But as women, the whole sorry thing is just another level.

With all the women's empowerment movements the above quote from one of my favorite famous humans, Amy Poehler, is beyond perfect. Women are taught to be sorry for, being loud, especially if it means raising our voice to a man. We are made to apologize for having children "inconveniencing" other walks of life. We have to apologize for dressing provocatively or being "too sexy" and therefore attracting the "wrong kind of attention." We apologize too much, in my opinion but to sum up, "I'm sorry, I'm NOT sorry."

The reason this phrase is both easily thrown around and very appropriate is because you can feel regret that you aren't feeling badly about something you are "supposed" to feel badly about. Think about this: should we feel bad that we stood up for ourselves? Sorry, not sorry. Should we feel badly that we left a situation where we were treated poorly? Sorry, not sorry. And should we feel bad that we say "no" to doing things that "don't spark joy?" Sorry, I'm not sorry.

I started thinking about all of this in reaction to an argument with my six year old. She is 6 going on 16 and said something sarcastic. She gets her sass from me unfortunately. Anyway, I sent her to her room to cool down and feel her feelings and then she made a rude, hurtful remark. So, I took away some precious privileges and cracked down. In effect, I'm sorry that she is upset, but I'm not sorry I disciplined her. She needs to learn respect, even when she feels like things are unfair. Most of life is unfair, but we don't get to be horrible to people just because we are having a bad day, or at least that is the lesson I hope to convey.

I also had the sorry, not sorry, thing come up this morning. In most cases of parental life, weekends are packed. This was the first one in a long time that wasn't completely booked with everything and where we could all just decompress. We had a weird couple of weeks too. As mentioned often before, to me, relaxing is a foreign concept. There is always something I "should be doing," and this morning my husband made me stop, and was actually able to stop with me. On a good week, my husband and I have about 16 hours together, and I'm not exaggerating. Days when we can actually just chill, are few and far between.

So this morning, I was sorry that I blew off the "obligatory," but not sorry that I was lazy and binge-watching Hulu with my husband, a pile of pancakes and bacon. Sorry, not sorry. I'm sorry that I don't feel badly that I said no to things that I wasn't feeling happy or calm about. And, sorry but I'm especially not sorry that I didn't fake some social interactions this weekend just so I could feel like I was socially accepted. Sorry not sorry.

As you get older you become more and more unapologetic and it's not always a mean or snarky thing, but once you get mid thirties, you are kind of like, "So this is who I am now." For me, I will do just about anything for a friend who can treat me kindly and not make me feel badly about myself or my life. But, if you are just going to make me feel like crap, sorry, not sorry, you can just head the opposite direction.

And sorry, not sorry; I'm very done feeling sorry for myself. Life is hard. All you can do is grow. It's not about being, "so strong," it's not about the "resilience," it's about just living. Didn't Matthew Mcconaughey tell us in the cult classic, Dazed and Confused it's just about "livin," "L-I-V-I-N,?" I think so.

So with all do respect, I am truly sorry I'm not sorry. However I maintain that sometimes that is okay. If I actually cause some harm an owe apologies I'm not just going to be that person who refuses to apologize, but overall, let's just turn the Demi Lovato hit up, and keep L-I-V-I-N!

The Bad NewsFeed

I've been super sensitive to social media causing me many waves of anxieties and have been sticking mostly with Instagram as of late. However, things have been slow lately and Facebook has been my "down time." This is never a good idea.

Yesterday, among the weird quotes and pictures, the people posting inappropriate jokes and political statements, I read a sad, sad update. To preface this, this news came from the wife of an old friend and she tagged him in it, which is the only way it came in our newsfeed. Before I leave the bad news in the blog, a little back story if you will.

I went to school with the same twenty kids from 3rd grade to sophomore year of high school. I wasn't in the popular clique, I wasn't in the "losers" group, I was just a weird middle. If you ask my best friend she'd say, I "got along with everyone." My mom was that mom who wanted me to hang out with certain people based on their parents. Like, "Oh they own that restaurant chain ya know? Her dad is that litigator. His dad runs his own business." Seldom did I get along with those kids based on stuff like that.

There was this one popular goofball boy and I always thought he was kind and hilarious, with a slight mean streak from time to time, but he seemed not to be bothered by me. In fact about 9 years ago he said, "Oh come on Ali, you'd be pretty hard not to remember." Mostly because I was loud. I have a lot of pictures of us in groups together.

My first introduction with him outside of being in my grade was kind of awkward. My mom had just spearheaded a grief group at Hospice of Lancaster County for children who had lost their parents to terminal illness. She desperately wanted this boy and his sister to attend. She pushed me to make it sound cool, as I was usually drug along to these things to make more friends. He came to one to play once and we did okay. He never really talked about his dad's death and to this day I'm still unsure of exactly how old he was or what happened, just that when I found him in 3rd grade, his dad had passed away prior.

We were never best friends, nor did we confide in each other or hang out often. He came to my birthday parties, Halloween parties, he did the act that followed me in the Talent Show, a skit from one of my favorite lame movies at the time, which I have somewhere on VHS. When we left St. Anne for Catholic High, 8th grade to High School that is, we were friends and he always said "hi" to me in the high school halls, cafeteria and at football games and dances.

When I left and moved, until Facebook came around we fell out of touch but when I sent that friend request, he accepted and it felt kind of cool ya know? Like we could keep tabs. We'd never been able to connect the few times we messaged each other when I was home to visit but I saw his family pictures and successes running a charity or non-profit type thing. I believe he named his son after his dad, and got married on his late father's birthday or something of that nature. I always admired him for growing into a good guy through that loss.

It was yesterday I saw an update that his wife posted with the completely heartbreaking news that their 3 month old daughter had passed away and everything just kind of went hazy for me. It was the saddest thing I've ever read. I was completely shaken.

This might seem weird, because we're not even that great of friends right? We haven't seen each other in like 18 years, and we don't even talk, so why am I so affected? Because I'm a mother, and because I'm a human.

There was a Parkland shooting survivor that killed herself this past week. We have friends that live in New Zealand and the shooting there has rocked the world. Then I read about this poor baby girl passing, which is just horrific. Is there really anything else to say about it?

Weeks ago at church they asked me to volunteer in the nursery and I declined, unsure of if my schedule would allow. Hours after I read that terrible Facebook announcement I got a reminder that I needed to watch the babies in the nursery tomorrow and I just about started to cry. I had successfully distracted myself but then it just all hit me at once.

Losing a parent when you're so young is just completely shattering, but you are forced to continue no matter how the growing pains. I don't know this from anything but proximity to such loss, rather than personal experience, so if I'm wrong, feel free to tell me. Now this poor guy and his wife have lost a child, and their son has lost his little sister. I honestly couldn't think of anything worse.

I'm not sure how she passed and I'm not sure I need to know. I'm not going to reach out and try to befriend him but I'm saying all my prayers for their family, without a doubt. This isn't an entry about sending them love and healing vibes or rallying emotional support. For me, this is about the profound occurrence of feeling something for someone somewhat removed from your life, because as a parent and human, you don't want to ignore the suffering.

I think of his wife just feeling so completely broken and blaming herself. I think of him losing 2 immediate family members in 34 short years on this planet. I think of his son missing his baby sister. They just posted family pictures a month ago. And I think about all of this happening around social media. Because if we didn't have that would I even know?

My best course of action is prayer and hoping that if they have some kind of donation in the baby's name I can participate. I won't send a condolences card or flowers. We don't really know each other anymore, but as a mother and and old friend I just feel like carrying some of this with me right now.

I know that sounds depressing and what a huge bummer of a post, right? But as a person who is healing and feeling a lot lately, I just wanted to be present in this reality for a bit. I know we can easily be removed from news of shootings, suicides and death in general right? Until it hits home? This hit a weird version of "home" for me.

So to my old friend, the one that made me laugh and stayed kind to me, just know you're in my prayers. You'll probably never read this, but if you ever happen upon it, my best wish is that someday when we meet again, the sadness and devastation will have lifted enough for me to make you laugh. I'll be over here hugging my daughter a little extra, and tomorrow's post will be lighter!!

If I'm Never Asked When I'm Having Another Baby, It Won't Be Soon Enough

I may have referenced this subject in ancient posts, but definitely not recently. And I think it bears repeating. I find it completely crappy and inappropriate when people ask women when they are going to have "another baby," or even "a baby," at all. And here is why:

Much like randomly touching a pregnant woman's belly or telling someone how to birth or raise their child, it's super not okay to put these weird expectations on women. Some women have no desire to have babies, some women cannot have children for various reasons, and some of us just want to live our lives as we have designed them.

"Oh, just the one?" "Really, just one?" "You don't want any more?" When I get these questions my heart begins to cry in my chest, why? You all just have no idea what being a a parent is like...FOR ME. And I stress FOR ME, because everyone has a different experience.

I've come to this place again because recently I found out that two women in my life are having babies, and both of them I thought, had no interest in having babies. And when I found out the blessed news, I felt really badly that I hadn't had a real conversation with them about motherhood and just made my own assumptions. I felt badly that I made assumptions, because similar assumptions have been made about parenthood for me.

This isn't a blog entry to "set the record straight." This is just saying we need to be more compassionate IN GENERAL, but especially in regards to parenting, parenthood, and making babies. Upon further discussion with one of these gorgeous, child-bearing women it became clear that she had kept her journey extremely private, and had an extremely difficult time becoming pregnant. This is not uncommon; I've known many women who have shared this with me, but, it's also very, very delicate.

For me, motherhood has been super tough. A lot of it had to do with working and doing the mothering thing, and a lot had to do with how we've had to arrange schedules and sacrifice to make everything work for our awesome daughter. So when you approach me about when baby number two is coming? Guess what, it's not that simple, and it's not a fair question.

I have two half sisters from my dad's first marriage but was raised in every way, as an only child. It never occurred to me in my youth to ask for a sibling, or that I would ever have one. I just lived my little life.

My daughter has started asking about a brother or sister. I always opt to buy her another dog. We treat the dog as her brother anyway. What's funny is the second child discussion isn't even a closed subject. I mean, anything COULD happen. But again, not an easy question or answer, nor a fair one.

Every single woman, family, and child is completely different and I really wish we could just quit the judgmental assumptions, and this goes for me too. Even small ones are just ridiculous. I remember a close family friend becoming pregnant with her fourth and idolizing her as this super mom that just "must love kids." She then revealed to me she really disliked infancy and infants in general, but loved having kids as a whole. It was sobering to me because I think we are often led to believe that we fall in love with these burping, pooping, milk-draining babies, and just become Martha Stewart in home life, but instead we are mombies, accepting each stage and falling in and out of love with certain aspects of mom life daily. 

The snarky, cynical and mean side of me has not-so-nice responses to that ugly question of "when is the next one," from time to time. But it wasn't until recently that I discovered how much that question negatively affects me. And mostly, my answer just all goes back to that Taylor Swift chorus in her infinite wisdom of, "You don't know, what you don't know."

I feel like in the continuous trend of empowering women, and as I'm raising a fierce little woman, we really need to change our attitude and view of what "should be" part of life in general, and what women "should do." Excuse me but we are laboring under some bullshit expectations, pun intended. 

There was an old episode of Sex and The City that suggested we need to stop "should-ing" all over ourselves. This is still relevant. Sex and The City was actually a series that also handled some of the facets of women and their drive to have kids, or lack there-of, and the complications of all aspects of child-bearing. We need to support each other as people, but especially as women to just do what is right for YOU. 

As Amy Poehler said, "Good for them, but not for me." Make it your mantra! And I think it is every woman's right to design her life as shes fit, share what she wants to, and to not have to answer insensitive questions like, "When are you having a baby, your second baby or your 15th?" Let's take it easy on each other, starting now! On your mark, get set, go!

Hal Versus Walter: You Cannot Possibly Appreciate Breaking Bad If You've Never Watched Malcolm In The Middle

Today we are going to introduce something a little different. As many of you have gathered, much of my childhood was spent as a "vidiot," a term my dad used to tease me with if I watched too much TV. There was no such thing as too much TV. I completely agree with all aspects of Jim Gaffigan's opinion on television, which you must YouTube immediately. 

I was raised to watch many different, wonderful series. The more sarcastic and witty, the more we watched. My dad and I laughed endlessly at shows like The Simpsons, Seinfeld, Friends, Mad About You, Frasier, That 70's Show and the extremely well-written, completely under-rated sitcom, Malcolm In The Middle.

Malcolm In The Middle is about a family of 4 boys in middle America, with one wunderkind in their midst, struggling to find their way in the working class. It stars Bryan Cranston, best known for his award winning performances on the now infamous AMC series, Breaking Bad.

Breaking Bad is about a high school Chemistry teacher that gets a cancer diagnosis and, genius that he is, underpaid and struggling as their family is, decides to start cooking meth to make enough money to pay for his treatment and set up his family for when he dies.

Malcolm in the Middle debuted in 2000 and ran through 2006. Breaking Bad started in 2008 running through 2013. Like all great series of the past decade, I am always late to the party. I wait for the hype to die down before I'm completely invested and am usually so involved that by the last season I'm caught up, engulfed and then immediately depressed it all ends so fast.

When Breaking Bad began, I had only known Cranston's work from Malcolm in the Middle and bit parts in movies like "Little Miss Sunshine." I always liked him, but had no idea about his talent and it's range until Breaking Bad took off. When I finally watched Breaking Bad I was just completely amazed by his portrayal of the iconic, Walter White.

With all of this said it is my belief as a writer, reviewer, television and film enthusiast and even a fan, that you cannot possibly nor truly appreciate Cranston's performance in Breaking Bad, without first watching Malcolm in the Middle. Why? Well, here we go:

Malcolm in the Middle was wonderfully written, with amazing cynical and sarcastic humor and witty remarks and retorts. What Malcolm achieves that most sitcoms lack was a complete relate-ability to normal, American working class woes and problems. As a Friends super-fan, the lifestyles of the characters were a dream world, there was nothing relate-able about maxing out credit cards at Bloomingdales for me, ever.

In Malcolm, the mother and father, Lois and Hal, own a boring, normal and crappy two bedroom house with four ill-mannered boys and they never pretend to be anything but a family doing what they have to to make ends meet. Hal is some kind of office executive type and Lois works at a local drug store. The boys attend public schoo,l even though Malcolm tests a genius levels, and they don't break the bank to give him every chance, they make him succeed where he is. The boys have jobs when they come of age and are always a part of home life routines and chores, much to audience enjoyment and laughter.

There are episodes that talk about super normal things like "Pizza night" being a luxury and fighting over the last piece of bacon. There are forgotten mom-birthdays and arguing about pets, fighting over who gets new and who gets hand-me-downs. They have mom and dad struggling to buy new appliances and repair their crappy cars. They have two queen beds in a room with 3 boys and another kid in Military School, for which they scrape by to pay for only to have him emancipate at 17, ditch out, join the working world and hate it. He comes back in later seasons to help the family during their ongoing struggles. Put all of this together with great acting, hilarious jokes and coming of age stories and it's a hit, although seriously not appreciated in it's time.

My six year old and I have been watching a lot of Malcolm, and although it slips in some swear words like "ass" and is rife with "shut up" and "stupid" being thrown around, we laugh at what those silly, bad boys do and how wonderfully the parents discipline and reprimand them when they continue to act badly. It also portrays real marriage problems, like the strain finances cause between husband and wife, and not making real time for each other, health concerns and being overwhelmed. Again, ultimate, relate-ability.

For six years I watched Bryan Cranston as this lovable, goof ball dad, Hal and that was how I knew him best. When I saw Breaking Bad, his ability to portray that dark character and develop him was of course, award-worthy and nothing short of epic.

When an actor displays that kind of range in terms of ability to evolve such a character as the great Heisenberg, it is riveting, in my humble opinion. The evolution of Walter White is binge-worthy, to say the least, but watching him morph from this character you love and feel for, this underdog you root for, to this very subtle but terrorizing force to be reckoned with over 5 seasons of Breaking Bad is just an emotional cinematic journey.

There will be no major spoilers for those of you that have never watched, but for those of us who started off with simple intrigues like the series Weeds and were invested in "good people gone bad" story lines, Breaking Bad took the cake. It blew everything else out of the water.

Not only did Breaking Bad pay homage to Malcolm in the Middle on some late night comedy show flashback thing that was all the rage upon it's finale, but it really shows that Cranston appreciated his journey on his own, even more than we appreciated watching it on TV. He has since gone on to be in many more fantastic films but for me, he will always be Hal before Walter and not the other way around.

If you have watched neither of these, Malcolm is now available on Hulu and Breaking Bad is still available on Netflix. I highly recommend watching Malcolm first but if you first knew Cranston on Breaking Bad, definitely visit him pre-Heisenberg. Anyway, if Bryan Cranston ever comes across this, I'm not so much fan-girling as just appreciating the artistic abilities and craft when it comes to the acting. Perhaps I will start writing more of these perspectives, however under-rated or unappreciated in our time.  

Anxietal Shifts, Yes I Just Made Up A New Word

If there was one word used to describe me ever...it would be "anxious." When I was younger and my family went places like amusement parks I was always very aware I could get lost, like really lost because this was before cell phones. If someone says they will be at my house in 10 minutes and don't arrive in 15, clearly they have died in a 40 car pile-up. Okay, I've dialed down the mania by a long shot now but I'm usually the person that is the master of un-calm. The anti-calm if you will.

I don't know if that comes from trauma or it's just me, but here I am. Somehow, in the past year or so, I've been the easygoing one, and have learned a bit of calm, and it's the people I'm used to being calm that have become more unhinged, or at least appear so. It's so weird. Cue the Stranger Things theme music.

I've been prompting myself to better respond, better handle negativity, and control my reaction rather than let myself be disappointed by the actions of others. It's no easy task but I've found the pay-off to be invaluable to my mental state.

Lately I just remind myself that I have virtually no control over anything anymore. I can control my finances, most aspects of my timing, and my behavior; but I can't make people, even my own child, act how I want or need them to. All I can do is control my reaction to the situation in front of me.

Last year we went on the weekend trip from hell. As a family we hadn't traveled together in years. I was very used to it just being my daughter and I. Also, I refused to let the family step in and control the trip so I did everything myself. It went downhill fast.

I booked us on the worst airline that charged for carry on, which I didn't realize until the day before we left. I put the rental car under my husband's name because I have PTSD and hate driving unfamiliar cars, and he forgot his only credit card so they were mean about upholding the reservation. We got to everything late, we were rushed or tired and because karma is awesome, I got food poisoning...badly.

My husband was in a horrible mood the whole time, he was anxious and very angry and frustrated and on edge. Me? I was like "We'll get there when we get there. We'll call the company and figure it out. We'll stay in touch and see if we can make it happen." I was literally vomiting outside of the church where my cousin was about to be married, and I showed up smiling, holding it together and pushing through because...WHAT ELSE COULD I DO?

In all my years before I had my child, I was the one with panic attacks that needed calming down. I was the over-thinker and one to throw the tantrums. Had I lost the will to scold? Or had a I outgrown it? If anything teaches you how little control you have, it's parenthood! But, really, where was the shift?

Last week my daughter had her first brush with lice, all the puns intended. I have serious lice PTSD issues, no joke, but my daughter was upset enough. My husband was at work. I just had to handle it. In the days after the treatment we are still checking and combing daily. We had't found much but were staying tenacious. My husband wanted to keep her on lock down as if she had chicken pox she could rub on her friends. I got annoyed and felt like, "Hey we have to let the kid have a life. She has been medicated and treated properly, we are maintaining the issue, we can't keep her prisoner. It will be fine."

I wasn't going to punish my kid for some weird rite of passage and we also did everything in our power for now, and could only treat and then use preventative measures going forward. You really do just have to take things one day at a time.

I'm starting to identify my triggers and when I'm most anxious and it's truly eye-opening. Knowing that has helped to calm my busy mind when the chaos creeps up. You'll hear people suggest all the anxiety-quelling tools about mindfulness and meditation but those things are so difficult for me. I do try, but some days are more successful for others. You also have to find what works for you and stick with it, that's my most generic, but best advice.

I don't know when the shift was exactly. We've had such a rough handful of years maybe I can just handle close to anything at this point. Mostly, I just don't have the energy to let everything ruin me anymore. Again, maybe this comes in part of recovery from all the trauma, but every day has it's challenges and let downs. It is up to me and only me as to how I handle them.

In some ways I am so proud and impressed with myself from this shift. I feel like I'm becoming a real grown up. In other ways I wish I hadn't wasted so much time being upset before, but I learned through the hardships, so I have that. The "anxietal" shift is still in flux, but I'm enjoying the ride now more than ever. I'm much better equipped to say the least. I wonder what shifts are yet to come and I certainly hope to never regress on my forward journey. I'm told that "relapses" are common but I think they will be lesser and lesser as I continue to tackle this thing called life.