slamming doors

Never burn bridges.

One door closes for another door to open.

Approaching a crossroad.

Thus far, I've excelled specifically at one characteristic in life: leaving doors open. Setting myself in a position to proceed in any direction. Leaving the exit door of the past ajar has kept my mind at ease and emotions at bay. Saying goodbye has never been pretty when I'm involved. This reassurance has been created as a coping mechanism. Cracked doors mean I posses the ability to sneak back into the past and act as though I never left-- if desire one day strikes.

Neutrals and vintage and pearls and lace; never go out of style. Comforting knowing that my favorite black dress with matching lace pumps won't ever be considered last season. Worse comes to worse I find myself in a bind, that outfit is tucked safely in my closet. Familiar combination of lace and bows and neutrals and pumps never let down; never underdressed. Holding sentimental value, my precious outfit is becoming tattered and torn and quickly approaching the moment where we must part. Representing key moments of the past, people, places, emotions, decisions, priorities-- all which have altered over time. Begging for one more memory. It has served its purpose. The end is near. The time is now.

Certainly, I'll encounter this seasons lace and pearls and bows and pumps that leap off the hanger to share more of life's memories with. Surely this new dress will become tattered and old and eventually hold heart filled and heartrending emotions. In order to arrive safely at these unknown destinations, one must let go of familiar and dependable and recognizable and safe.

Doors must be closed completely; slam if necessary. Emotions will whirl and tears will fall and occasionally, smiles and giggles and sighs of relief accompany these moments. Decisions and doors unique to their own; the prize is reaching forward to the next door handle. Promise, the other side holds hope and adventure and new black lace pumps with bows.

Sometimes, there is no going back.

Gate D11 Seat 27A

I swore To myself I'd write before I touched down in Paris. Do me a favor and read between the lines on this one. Pay no mind to the disorganization, the rambles, the sweaty palms and emotional jargon this post is about to contain...in just a short while.

Propped up cross-legged in a leather airport chair. I'm beyond gracious for the Starbucks I stumbled upon moments ago. Approaching the gate, not a single Starbucks in sight. What airport, international none-the-less, doesn't have that gold mine in a cup? Just my luck, this one did. I swear I heard angels sing.

Miami International, Gate D11. It's quickly approaching. Surrounded by strangers catching up and joking in an unrecognizable language. I'll assume it's French but I'm not willing to confirm it. At this very moment, it just occurred to me:  the most 'foreign' place I've ever been is El Paso, TX. There aren't beaches in El Paso. Definitely foreign.

'The moment.' The moment I've had branded on my calendar for months. The moment typed in all caps accompanied with little airplanes and strokes of emotion. It is here.

Four months ago I stood in my parents driveway begging and pleading her not to go. Heaving, gasping for air, doubled over in physical pain, piercing eyes met mine. Regretfully forcing her to second guess her decision, if only for a second, fearing I would not be okay without her. For the fist time understanding what "take care of yourself" meant. Take care of myself?! I wanted to shake her and say, "THAT'S WHY I HAVE YOU!" Too self-absorbed in the moment to form sentences. All she could fathom was, "should I go get Mom?" My countdown began the very next day.

Writing this, seat 27A houses the emotions of that night. Fighting their way out in the form of tears. Pain has ceased but recounting how vulnerable I felt is a horrifying realization. Sounds dramatic; I'm well aware but I'm also aware that grasping our relationship from the outside, is beyond challenging. It's rare and it's natural. We communicate silently through our eyes. In our early twenties, we whisper and giggle and hold hands under the covers in our childhood bedroom. My heart aches for those who never experience a relationship of this magnitude.

Less than twenty-four hours from now, we'll be [by choice] sharing a tiny bed, holding hands and whispering months and months of stories early into Friday morning. Longing for this for so long, it's just now I realize why the anxiousness feels absent. She hasn't felt it either. Initially, my heart ached. Are we OK being far away from each other? Have we grown apart? Has this destroyed our precious relationship?

Surely not but we have changed as women. We've grown wings; we've ventured beyond what is safe and what is cozy and what is expected. Conquered fears, overcome adversity and proved to ourselves we are strong and independent and adventurous; bound and determined to be better than we were yesterday. I believe I wrote--and if I didn't, I surely intended to--this would be our chance to grow separately together.

That, we did.

I land on unfamiliar soon, welcomed by all the familiarity I can guzzle at once. From there, we will embark on our next adventure, together. Four months ago I prayed that nothing would change between us. Appreciative for unanswered prayers, things have surely changed.

We are better women than we were four months ago; we are changed for good.

taste it

I spent, likely, my last Saturday night with the boys last weekend. Matt and Nick. I've been their 'stand-in' while my sister's gone exploring the unknown of foreign countries. They're her pride and joy. She's been with them close to six years and they adore the ground she stands on. Wonderful boys. They almost make me want a few. Never thought I'd be saying that.

Soccer balls soared across the yard at sunset. Spur-of-the-moment, fully clothed dips in the pool. Their negotiation was won. Blue and blown eyes disappeared behind reflective goggles. Splashes and giggles were music to my ears as I finished up dinner. Summer is close enough to taste.

Politeness earns adventure. Little boys with manners deserve exploration. Rushed a blonde and a brunette out the garage door, grabbed scooters and we were off. The race began. Three of us racing the sun to the finish line. Rules were made clear: crosswalks alone are forbidden, recklessness around patrons was unacceptable and maintaining manners was essential. Agreed upon. The race continued.

The eldest adventured further than my blue-eyed baby. Living to push the limits. Conversation trumps struggle in baby blue's world. Finding protection in conversation.

Our prize was in sight. Petite legs pushed harder, little feet moved with urgency. Spin. Self-serve frozen yogurt. Anxious eyes glared at me from crosswalks as to say, 'hurry! we're so close!'

Scooters propped against the building. Cups filled quickly. Concoctions mentally prepared. Finding a seat outside, we shared spoons. Heaping spoonfuls of candies and tart yogurt and popping boba. This time my older one finds comfort in connection. Shares knowledge about passing cars and motors and why I don't want a motorcycle license.

Our adventure is slowing dwindling down as the sun sinks beyond the horizon. Close to my side on the trek home. Pointer fingers and big eyes on the 'super moon.' Again, knowledge about the moon is heard from the older one. Retained information, like a sponge, from TIME Kid's. I didn't even know that existed.

The night ended with jamies and toothbrushes and hugs and giggles. Sweet, sweet giggles. Conversation continued until the lights were forced out. I pray they remember these days when they are older. I pray they remember this feeling. When they drive downtown at their leisure. When they spend more time with friends and less time with each other. The day when these adventures are not so special.

I pray they long for this feeling; hopeful that we made memories they'll long for. The magical feeling they allowed me to feel again. Carefree, summer adventures amongst nature.

Unexplainable tingles that summer is so close & Saturday night, we took a big bite and tasted it.

Shining light upon ordinary

How I long for inspiration. Someday, I'm borderline begging for it. The kind that awakens another side of my being. Forces an out of body experience. Instills empowerment and weightlessness, butterflies and spine chills. That "no one can stop me, I'm going to make it, you may not know my name but you will" kind of feeling.

Once in a blue moon, the universe surprises me. Shining light upon ordinary. Sparking questions amongst routine. Inviting itself into my heart and is graciously welcomed with open arms. I become more appreciative of these moments more and more when I'm longing and wishing and hoping for inspiration and it is nowhere to be found. I go to write and I have nothing. Fingers tapping and clicking, itching to write, only to find that they're still riding the last burst of inspiration's coattail.

I question if inspiration is attainable when desired. I've flirted with this idea through days of predictability. I trust that inspiration is all around us-- with the curiosity to explore it. Snuggling teary-eyed babies who miss their Momma. Candlelit showers on a Saturday morning. Fresh fruit smoothies at breakfast. Cracked windows on unseasonably chilly nights. Girlfriends belly laughing over glasses of white Zinfandel. Cool grass tickling bare feet that dangle just beyond a blankets edge.

Inspiration. We're unknowingly drowning in it.  Societal embedded blinders keep us from enjoying the beauty. Suffice our hunger to bask in the sun of inspiration. The beauty in the ordinary, beauty in routine, beauty in the predictable. I'm starving for it more often than not. All I have to do is seek and I will find. Beauty is all around us.

Little Miss Crankypants

Walking into my house this afternoon, this post dawned on me. After hustling all day at work, I left nearly sweating. Finish the newsletter, print this, email that, chase that one down, give these people a tour, take reservations & the list went on. Every time I turned around there was a wrinkly old person standing at my office door needing something. They are very needy. I feel like you hit a certain age and then proceed to regress back to a helpless child. It's okay though. I am happy to help. It is my job after all. No problem. The weird part? The second I stepped out of the front doors, I turned into Ms.Cranky. BOOM. Like that. Out of nowhere. Cranky, irritable, anti-social and wishing I was "I dream of genie," could nod my head and be home. No such luck. At least for now.

I (of course!) fought traffic the entire way home. I know, I know- it comes with living in paradise. From Christmas to Easter our little beach town is swamped with those who drive too slow and don't quite know where they're going. To top it off, they're in absolutely no hurry what-so-ever. Again, its ok. It's only for a few months and this town does survive off tourism. I get it. I'm usually the only one that doesn't complain about the traffic but today, Miss. Cranky had a few choice words... followed by a prayer of apology for my impatience...for our precious tourists and snowbirdies.

Then, it dawned on me. Am I sorry for being cranky? No, not really. Sometimes you need to be cranky. You need to go home and lock yourself in your room, hurrying to get in your pajamas, without so much as muttering a word to your poor roommate. Normally, I'd send a text across the house saying "sorry for being a bitch" and then make up some excuse like, "I'm just really tired." Not this time friends. I'm allowed to be cranky every once in a while. I don't have to be Miss Politically Correct and Miss Friendly every. single. day. I really try but sometimes, I just have an off day. Sometimes, the wrinkly people just wear me out. Sometimes, I can't muster a happy "hello." I just can't. I'm allowed to sit in my bed for the entire evening and continue to work.  I'm allowed to skip Wednesday service at church to catch up on work. To finish stuff for work, stuff for Rotaract, stuff on my to-do list that seems to grow by every waking moment. I'm allowed to eat chocolate chip waffles for dinner, with milk, in bed-- because I want to.

So, needless to say, I have been Little Miss Cranky this afternoon. I'm not sorry about it. Tomorrow is another day. I will wake up with a smile on my face and seize the day. Today, I learned that you're allowed to  be cranky every once in a while.

Cross it off, chalk it off

No better time than the present right? We can go ahead and cross off the trusty Bucket list,

• permanently delete Facebook

I know I said from the beginning that I was well aware that there would be days when I would be totally and completely out of my comfort zone. I said it like I was perfectly fine with it-- which I thought I would be. Thought it would be new and fun and exciting. I couldn't have been more wrong. I am, always have been, the type of person to own up to my mistakes, to own what I've done and admit when I am wrong. With that, I was always forgiven; it was always a lesson learned.

Well, I suppose, here's my big, warm "welcome to the real world." I have spent the past two days in tears, on edge and more than ever, wanting my old life back. I would, without question, trade the past two days for the worse days training, ever had to offer. For ladder drills up to twenty and back down again, for being put in the circle, for a timed 5k on a torn hamstring or a kick to the face with the mirror breaking my fall. I'd take a loss to someone I've already beaten, I'd take the mental games, the put downs, the let downs and the tears. I'd take it all because I knew it was worth it. I knew that the day would end and the next day would begin-- maybe better, maybe worse.  There was no denying that eventually, days or weeks or months down the road, there would be one day where it was all worth it. Where every drop of blood, sweat and tears would pay off in pride and glory and success.

Looking at the situation like that, I suppose that's life. There are, and always will be, days where people knock you down, put you down and even kick you when you're already down & the worse part? There is no center referee to break it up, to make the calls, to warn you or deduct points. It is just you against your opponent, and these days, that opponent may very well be the entire world-- or at least, what feels like the entire world.

There were many times I let people get to me-- I let them make me cry and doubt myself and question my own ability but one thing I never let them do, was break my spirit. No matter what I was faced with, I still had the desire to keep going. The hunger was still there to make it & to prove them all wrong. 

Here I stand with my big girl pants on, in the real world, with everyone scrutinizing my every move. It's literally like being in the circle-- where everyone gets a piece & you have no choice but to keep going. To do whatever it takes to stay standing. To fight through the pain and suck up the doubt.

A very smart Jersey boy once said, the more things change, the more they stay the same. 

And thus, in the face of any adversity, it's sink or swim. Really though, it's swim.

Failing is not an option; sinking is not a possibility.

"I have to..."

Wow.  Where has the week gone?  Feels like the days drag on, but you turn around and the week is over. There have been lots of emotions and lots of thinking since the last time I've posted.


I just had a short conversation with an old, I suppose you could say, friend.  A comment was made stating "I have to." I surprised myself... twice... with my immediate reaction. Part of me thought, I know what that's like;  it used to be one of my infamous lines in, what I like to refer to as, my old life. However, my initial reaction is no you don't!  Isn't that what we've all waited for our entire life? To be an adult & make our own decisions, exactly how we want to make them & not a single person can tell us otherwise. That's what was most exciting for me when I entered official adulthood. So why did I spend so much of my life saying, 'I have to?' It's simply explained but not so easily understood...even by me.

Athletes become stuck in this life of routine and predictability. Become used to having other people make decisions for you-- you essentially surrender your ability to make decisions independently. Life becomes a whirlwind of goals and desires and competitiveness, combined with blood, sweat and, in my case, tons & tons of tears, an empty stomach & bloodshot eyes, plane tickets, hotel rooms and strange places, all held together with the glue of passion and desires. It was years of my life that I wouldn't change for the world...or would I?


I practically have my breath taken away each time I open the trunk of my car, to see a Nike bag full of gear that may never be strapped on a body again, let alone see an actual ring.  I still do not know how to go through an entire workout without picking my leg up.  I hunger to scream with passion when making contact with another body, understanding that it may, very well, never happen again.


As I finally find the courage to walk away, I forced myself into an emotional disconnect to see the reality of the situation.  Simply put, at the end of the day, the bottom line is, it was time to move on.  As I type that, I know it is true;  I know it is time but, if that's the case, than why is it a day-to-day struggle of regret and a screaming desire to keep trying.  I constantly read about athletes and their accomplishments, about their goal to retire on a positive note and if not, they keep going.  I mentally criticize myself;  that I am weak, that I took it for granted, that I was careless with the situations I allowed myself to get into & that, essentially, I let someone else dictate my fate.


At the end of the day, this is life as we know it.


I came across an article the other day regarding Olympic athletes.  This part of the article really hit home:


                         '...when it's a choice between unbridled freedom or the structure they have      been used to since first entering the gym as a kid, the latter wins- hands down.'


                         'It's nice to wake up in the morning, know what I'm going to do, know where I'm going. It is easier mentally for me to have that than wake up and say, "I have nothing to do today.'"


                         'I miss being structured.'


Yeah! I feel ya! But do we want structure for the right reasons?  Is it simply that it's comfortable; that it is all we've ever known?  Is that not what life is all about?  I'm pretty sure the real challenge in life lies in the ability to make those decisions, independently.  Of course it's easier when there's a coach there telling you what to eat, when to eat, when to sleep, when to train, how to train... and the only line that is yours is, "I have to."  Actually, we don't have to.  We get so wrapped up in passion and wanting to be the best, that we do whatever it takes, for however long it takes, for that chance to be on top.  I was never the best & not even close; that is something that may never leave my conscience for as long as I live.  If not, so be it.  


When it is all said and done, I didn't have to walk away, I chose to.


I chose to start my career, to have a social life, to give back to the community & to care about what other people want, not just what I want.  I've accepted that, as I type this, there are people out there calling me a quitter.  I'm officially the "what ever happened to..." girl.  I also know that I've disappointed people for more reasons than one & I'm certain I've let people down.  I've chosen to leave people in my past because maybe, just maybe, some bridges are meant to be burned.


Whatever the word on the streets are regarding my decision, I cannot let it effect the way I feel about myself.  After all, that is how I found myself in this situation to begin with.  Whether this choice will morph into a regret somewhere down the road, has yet to be determined.  It was a choice I made, at the time, that best fit where I was in life.  If that is not enough justification for my decision, than nothing will be.


For now, I'm taking every day in as if it's the last experience I'll have.  I will feel these emotions of regret, envy, defeat, excitement, curiosity and tons more, everyday for the rest of my life.  But I did ask for that didn't I?  Yes I did.  I want to feel it all, everyday, all the time.  To take it all in & let it all out.


I am no longer just an athlete. I am much more than that now & I will be much more tomorrow, than I am today.

A heart big enough to change the world

With all the things that have been going on the past few days, has just reinforced why I have chosen to embark on this journey. As many reflect back on the life and times of a good friend, who has left us all too soon, it has made me reevaluate my own life and I have been forced to see the truth in our mindset & behaviors. At this point in our lives, I feel we honestly believe we are truly invincible. By we, I mean those I associate with. We're young and educated and come from great families and wonderful support systems and are, by all means necessary, bound to change the world. Tragedies don't happen to people like us. Right? Wrong. Statistics and tragedies do not discriminate and they certainly do not warn. They come in all shapes and size, every day of every week, taking loved ones far too soon.


In this recent crisis, I believe that her heart was, in fact, big enough to change the world. But, has she done that already? The sequence of events that took place that dreadful Friday were published one time-- & that was when I really searched for the truth. Somehow the reality was covered up by the outpour of love for such a wonderful woman, which is, no doubt, undeniable. Regardless, that is just another opportunity for her to change the world. By letting us all, who think we're invincible, know that we are not. That accidents happen. That regardless of how many times we text & drive or play with our hair or fix our make-up, and arrive to our destination safely, it's still a risk we all take. All of this goes specifically for myself, but I know I'm not alone. My Panhellanic Pal was, without question, unforgettably one-of-a-kind, who certainly had a heart big enough to change the world of those she loved. Though she is no longer with here, I can only wish that she remain a life lessons in the day-to-day life of every single person she's touched.


She brought people together when they needed it most. She showed us how to laugh a little bit louder. She's whole-heartedly warned every fraternity woman and man to hold our brothers & sisters a little bit tighter & a little bit longer. Taught us all to love each other a whole lot more. Again, I can only hope, she has proven that we are not invincible-- that nothing is worth risking your golden years for.