Exciting Times + Extreme Sadness

Tomorrow is my last exam of Nursing School.

The big pre-NClex predictor exam.

I get pinned on Monday, and walk in Commencement on Tuesday.  

It's been an extremely emotional time.

I literally have cried at least once a day for the past 4 weeks.

I'm so happy + excited to be done.

I'm also anxious + a little terrified about being responsible for patient's lives now.

And if I'm being completely honest + transparent, I'm just so sad.

For months, I've been fighting with myself over reaching out to my mother.

We haven't spoken since 2021.

I've typed out countless letters, emails, and text messages - but have not sent a single one.

Because when I pause + take a minute to unpack all the baggage that I know will surely follow IF I actually do send that particular message - I come to the realization again + again, that I'm just not ready to open myself up again to her toxic behavior.

It really is a daily struggle but I don't really understand why.

Are we just pre-programmed to always want a relationship with our parents?

Does the desire for your parent's approval ever go away?  

I'm 45.  

So much of my life has been spent trying to establish my value in someone else's life. 

My interpretation of self-worth has been directly tied to how productive or successful I've been.  

I'm a crier.

I cry a lot at church.  

Sometimes I'm embarrassed that I cry so much at church.

I often wonder if that's ever going to taper off.  

This past Sunday, I straight up ugly-cried.  

While wrapping up his message, Pastor B said, "You have been assigned value well before you've done anything to earn it."

- And that was like a sucker punch in the gut.  

So I'm actively trying to rewire my brain (+ my heart) to see my value + worth through God's lens - instead of an unrealistic filter of an unhealthy, narcissistic mother.

Some days are easier... but today has been extremely hard.  

Death, Fear + Faith

My father's oldest brother died on Friday.  

My uncle.  

His daughter, my cousin, lost her husband - I'm assuming unexpectedly - on Monday of the very same week.  Please keep her + her family lifted in your prayers.  

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I met them all for the first time - that I remember - when my dad died in 1999 - at the viewing.

Growing up, I had seen pictures that my mom had of my brother and me with my cousin and her brother.  We were all pretty close in age.  But my parents separated when I was very young, so I don't recall any memories of my dad or those cousins from childhood.  

My dad grew up + died in Springfield, TN.  

My uncle + aunt, and both cousins live in + around Mt Juliet.

I've been living in Nashville since 2004 but had never really made much of a point to reach out.  

I found both my cousins on Facebook many years ago and sent them friend requests - but that was the extent of my attempts to "connect".  Upon becoming social media friends, I learned that my cousin went to high school with my former sister-in-law and that they were friends.  Small world.  

Back in 2009, I remember reaching out to my uncle by phone when I was having a lot of medical issues.  I knew he owned a business locally, so I looked up the number and left him a voicemail.  When he called me back, we chatted briefly about my dad's health issues, and about what doctors and hospitals he went to, but that was the extent of our conversation.

...

From what little I know of my dad's life and his past, I gather that he was kind of the proverbial black sheep of the family.  He went in the Army, went off to the war in Vietnam, and came back with a wife - my mom.  I don't know much of the happenings between my mother and father - as my mom spoke very little about him most of my life.

All I know is he left when I was very young and my mother struggled a lot as a single mom.

My earliest memory of my dad was going to see him for a short visit in a hotel room on base with my brother. - I'm assuming it was in Arizona - where we lived before I started grade school.  I later found out that the reason for the visit was that he was ordered to appear in court over child support and had asked if he could see us while he was in town.    

The story that I've pieced together is that my father left my mom for a German woman with several kids.  - I have no idea if that's actually the truth, or if it's just how my mind wove different pieces of the story together as my mom threw out little tidbits over the years.  I learned to just not ask her about him.

He never made an effort to contact us again until I was in middle school.  

He went through my best friend's parents to get a message to us and left it up to us to decide if we wanted to talk to him.  I remember being the one to call and talk to him first.  I wasn't eager or excited, more so, indifferent, I guess.  But it took a lot longer for my brother to get on the phone with him - because my brother was older, he remembered the broken promises our dad made to him and experienced that hurt.

My dad shared during our first phone conversation that he had recently gotten saved and that was the catalyst for trying to reconnect with his kids.

...

On Friday evening, my cousin's son sent me a message that my uncle had passed that morning and shared that funeral arrangements were probably going to be set for Sunday.  I thanked him for the information and asked that he keep me updated.  I got the official service information on Saturday.

I ho-hummed and went back-and-forth about attending.  

I went to church on Sunday morning, as usual.  

Came home, changed into my jammies, ate some lunch, and vegged out on the couch for an hour or so with Stephen + Xander.  

Visitation was 1-3pm with the Celebration of Life service at 3pm - and the funeral home was literally less than 10 minutes away from my house.

I don't know why, but I felt like I just needed to be there, even though I hadn't seen any of them in 24 years.  So I got myself ready, drove really slow to the funeral home, and walked in a little after 2:30.

Thankfully, my cousin's son immediately recognized me when I walked in and came over to talk to me.  He grabbed a few relatives as they passed by to introduce me and I was able to see both my cousins and my aunt briefly before the service began.  I also learned that his sister went to Mt Juliet High with my daughter before she moved schools to Green Hill High.  - And that he had done an ancestry deep dive into our family tree - which I'm kind of fascinated to hear more about. 

I sat midway back - by myself - through the service for my uncle. 

I learned that he was a devoted man of God.

He and my aunt were married for 55 years.

Both his kids - my cousins - are successful, married - only once - and are devoted to their faith, their spouses, and their families.

He was very active in church, and the lives of his children, and the lives of his grandchildren.

As I sat and listened to the preacher speak all these amazing things about my uncle, I kept referring back to words printed on the program about all of my uncle's personal and professional accomplishments.  I found myself wondering how different our lives might have been had my dad clung to the Christian upbringing he was raised in.  I also wondered if my uncle was the one interceding to God on my dad's behalf before he got saved and recommitted his life to God - and then to us.

  

...

Most of you know, I didn't meet my dad until the week of my high school graduation in 1997, but we spoke on the phone regularly throughout those years after he got saved.

He came down to Panama City to attend my graduation and to spent a few days visiting with my brother and me.  

He gave me a Bible as a graduation present.

He misspelled my middle name in it - Ha - but I never felt the need to say anything to him about it.    

It's still the Bible I use when I pull out an actual Bible - that's not the Bible app on my phone.  

I remember him voicing concerns about my driving and how I was always messing with the radio while driving - Ha - Not much has changed. - Sorry, Dad.

I recall him always urging me to get back into church - but to be sure to find a church that preached the Word of God - not one that preached any "New Age mombo-jombo" as he called it.  

We had made a few trips up to Springfield, and he had made one or two more trips down to Panama City before he fell sick.

The week leading up to his passing in October of 1999, was kind of a blur.  

But I remember the last thing he asked me before I left to go back to Panama City for a few days, was if I would sing at his funeral.  - And that he hung on just long enough for my brother to make it up to see him that same night, and then passed the very next morning.  

I remember meeting my cousin for the first time at the viewing, and through the tears (and the snot), I sob-laughed about how I always wanted to meet her.  

After I moved to Nashville in 2004, I only made a few trips to Springfield to visit my Grandmother and my dad's youngest brother - who lived with her - to make them dinner a few times.

I often drive to Springfield for clients or classes, and always make a stop at his burial site when I'm driving through.

...

After my uncle's service on Sunday, I hung around - kind of awkwardly - waiting to say goodbye to my cousin and give her a hug.  She was up front crying in the arms of another woman I didn't know or recognize, so I just hovered at a comfortable distance trying to hold all my emotions in - I didn't understand why I was feeling so much.

After a few minutes of watching her cry, I stepped in to offer her some clean tissue and she turned to the other woman and said "This is Sylvia, Uncle Ray's daughter."  I could see her start to tear up, as she asked if I knew who she was.  All I could do was shake my head "no" as my composure crumbled and I started ugly-crying.  I think she was an aunt or cousin of my dad's and she remembered me from when I was the chunky little girl in this picture.  

It's a little weird walking into a room full of people you don't know, but who all know you.

My family life has been dysfunctional for as long as I can remember.  

I honestly couldn't tell you why I never made more of an effort to connect with my dad's side of the family before now.

I think part of it was that I didn't want anyone to feel like I was reaching out because I needed financial help or wanted anything aside from a relationship from them.  

But after Sunday, I see now that it was more about being uncomfortable, emotional, and vulnerable.

- The fear of being judged.  

- The fear of being different.  

- The fear...

Fear robs us of so much.  

...

Social media paints an illusion of connection and being close to one another.  But it's all a lie.  

I set a personal goal for myself this year:

To seek out real CONNECTION with others - specifically other women.

To dive deeper + be intentional about cultivating connection + growing relationships.

To not shy away from new friendships because the old ones seem "easier".

Nursing school is crazy isolating.

Lately, I've been personally struggling in my relationships with some of my closest friends who are not in nursing school.

It's easy to not feel supported when you've be grinding so hard in your education and as a result you've lost touch with your inner circle.  

But recently, God's been showing me regularly that growth is, more often than not, uncomfortable.

- Not just for the person going through it - but for everyone else too - because in your absence - they've been grinding + growing through their own life experiences as well.  

I'm learning that it's totally okay to outgrow friendships and be in seasons of disconnect.  

- And that everyone deserves grace.  

I kind of feel like everything about last week was God - and mayyyybeeee even a little of my earthly father - showing me that walking into super uncomfortable situations, and being open + vulnerable - regardless of the debilitating fear - can open doors to potential relationships that I never would have the chance to experience + grow in if I hadn't taken that step out of fear and into faith.

Adult ADHD, Anxiety + Depression

 For several years I suspected I had ADHD, but I never did much of anything to address it because it didn’t seem like it was a serious problem until I started the nursing program. 

  I began asking questions about ADHD meds + treatment when I was still doing my pre-reqs at VolState, but my practitioners didn’t want to prescribe typical ADHD meds.  

  After a few years, I learned it was due to my anxiety. They didn’t want to prescribe a stimulant to someone with major anxiety.  At the time I learned all this, I recognized my anxiety + depression issues trumped my ADHD, so I stayed the course I was on. 

  At the start of last semester - I started feeling off.  - Like almost flat + emotionless.  All I wanted to do when I had any downtime was sleep.  - I started feeling like I was overly medicated by my anti-anxiety + anti-depressant medications.  

  In the Pharmacology + Mental Health courses I was taking, I started learning more about the drugs that I had been prescribed.  I immediately recognized that my life circumstances had changed quite dramatically since I was first prescribed meds to treat my anxiety and depression. 

  I was no longer a struggling single mom, going to college, trying to make ends meet.  And probably most importantly, I was no longer in a toxic, dysfunctional relationship with a man who would literally completely disappear from my life at the drop of a hat, for months at a time, then come back when it was convenient for him, only to repeat the cycle every few months, over and over again.

I’ve said it a hundred times already, and I’ll most definitely be saying it thousands of times more: 

Thank the good Lord for Stephen.  

He is the biggest blessing.  

- Because of him, my stress + anxiety levels are no longer at 11. 

- Because of him, I have financial security so I can work less and focus more on doing well in school.  

- Because of him, I have EMOTIONAL SECURITY and SUPPORT + HELP with Xander when I’m stressed, sleep-deprived, and an overall hot mess when I’m in school.

- Because of him, I don’t feel like my circumstances still warrant the need for the heavyweight depression + anxiety drugs I was on for the past 5 years.  During my spring break from classes in March, I decided to start weening myself off the meds so I could address the bigger issue at this particular time in my life: ADHD.  

Once I was successfully weened from the previous medications, I began my ADHD medication journey.

I’m still in the beginning stages of trying out different ADHD medication combinations, but I also know that I only want to take them while I’m actively taking classes.  

So I’ve had the summer off from all medications and I’ve definitely noticed as my levels have started normalizing back to baseline.

The first thing I noticed is that my general anxiety has returned.  - Even though it’s not panic level, I definitely recognize the unhealthy thoughts my mind produces.  

It looks like this:  Worry.  Incessant worry.  

About: my health + well-being… my kids’ health + well-being… their safety… Stephen’s career… my career… my ability to be a nurse… what happens if/when I die… will my kids be taken care of… do I have enough life insurance in place… did I love them enough…

I could keep going… and going… as this list is very long but I know no one has time to read alllll of that, so let’s move on.

Something else I’ve noticed this summer is that the melancholy depressive vibes are definitely hanging around.

Nursing school is so isolating.  You spend 16 weeks in your nursing school-struggle bus bubble with your fellow nursing school study buddies who have become like family to you.  But then summer break hits, and you’re no longer in the trenches with your classmates, but you’re not hanging with them - or any of your non-nursing school friends - either.

I feel like my whole friend circle has completely shifted during these first 2 semesters in nursing school.  

- People I thought were really good friends, aren’t really friends at all.  

- It also feels like some friends were only happy to be around when my life was a complete dumpster fire - maybe because it made their life seem less bad.  

- Like people stopped caring to check in because I have a really great life now.

- Some people who I thought would have my back no matter what, seem to not want to see me even succeed now.

Trust me, this isn’t a plea for a pity party.  I am blessed and I know this.  

It’s just a weird place: To finally be happy and feel secure in your relationship, but still feel super lonely and unlikable when it comes to meaningful friendships with other women.

When did making new girlfriends + maintaining friendships become so hard?

I don’t know, maybe it’s not.  

Maybe it’s just me + my anxious, depressive thoughts that make it hard for me to trust people enough to open up and make true connections.

Depression + anxiety have a way of making you feel so less than.

Less worthy of all the things: success, happiness, even regular old friendships.  

I struggle with my definition of worth + success on the daily.  

Often times, my self-worth is directly tied to how productive I’ve been.  

I struggle with comparison daily.  I find myself having to take breaks from social media because I catch myself in unhealthy cycles of comparison that rob me of joy. 

I find myself praying for opportunities to cultivate meaningful friendships.

I often wonder what people will say about me when I’m dead.

Will it be good?

Was I good person?

Was I a good friend?

Did I serve those around me well enough to leave a legacy of loving memories?

Did I apologize when I messed up?

Did I forgive and give grace?

Did I love like Jesus?

This list of thoughts that keep me up late at night is so long… too long honestly…

But it’s an everyday reality when you’re managing life with anxiety + depression.  

I’m definitely more conscious + aware of my anxiety spikes without the daily meds, I’m just thankful I’m healthy enough to recognize when my thoughts are spiraling - there are good days, and then there are plain out really bad days too.

All of that to say, check on your people. 

Just because things appear to be rainbows, sunshine, and positivity through the social media filters - that doesn’t mean they don’t need real connection with real people in real life.

We were wired for connection.

We were not meant to do life without a village.  

Let’s build a village + build each other up.

Amen + Amen.

Favorite Beauty Products + Tools

Click here to see the most Up to Date List: 

My List of Favorite Beauty Products + Tools on www.SylviaFox.com

1.30.2022 - I got Baptized

Written January 31st, 2022

Strap in + grab a snack, Friends.  

It’s story time.  

I moved to Nashville November 1st, 2004.

For as long as I’ve lived here, it was heavy on my heart to find a church home.  I’ve visited SO many Nashville churches with + without my kids over the years. 

When Stephen moved to Nashville in June 2021, we immediately started researching church websites.  We compiled a lengthy list of churches to visit, and started visiting the ones that were no more than 20 minutes from our home. (That was one of my non-negotiables. I’ve always felt like you should go to church close to where you live - especially in such a big city like Nashville - so you can make connections and really plug in.)

So a little backstory, Generation Changers (GC Church) made the list, but it wasn’t a top choice for me because my former father-in-law (Alan’s dad) goes to church there.  

Over the time Alan and I were married, we had visited GC Church, maybe a total of 3 times.

I think it was the 1st or 2nd time I attended a Sunday Service there, at the time the church was called “The River,” that I had a very powerful + emotional experience.

The worship team sang a song called “How He Loves” - it was the first time I had ever heard it.  It was literally everything my heart needed to hear at that time in my life and touched me so deeply I *legit* ugly cried through the rest of the service.  

I remember feeling uncomfortable for having that kind of reaction in front of my ex-husband because he had some really strong negative feelings about church that was a result of growing up in, and being heavily involved with, church because of his dad.  He saw first-hand how the bad politics that sometimes happens within churches can completely destroy church families.

That was in September 2013 - I only know that because I looked it up on my FB profile.  I remember referencing the song on FB many, many times after that service. 

Since then, that song has been a song that I’ve listened to on repeat, day in and day out.  It’s comforted me and helped me through SO many times where I felt less than, not good enough, unlovable, unloved, and unworthy. I wish I had a play count of just how many times I’ve listened to that song over the past 8 years.

Now back to July 2021, after visiting a few local churches, we attended a Sunday at GC Church together.  I had visited the church before, but this was the first time I felt overwhelmed by the welcome we received from EVERYONE. Pastor Barry preached a really good sermon like I’ve heard him do before, but Pastor Blake - who I had never seen or met before - made a point to come talk to us after the service, he got our phone numbers, and invited us back - AND even texted us during that week to check in. 

So we came back the following Sunday.

Then the Sunday after that.  

Then the next Sunday and the next…

On September 12th, we officially joined the church. 

Since then, we participated in a semester long parenting class, I started volunteering in the kids room, and Stephen has been volunteering with the parking + shuttle service.  

The day we joined, we filled out a questionnaire about what areas we wanted to serve in, if we had ever been baptized, and if we had a desire to be baptized.  I answered “Yes” to both.  I was “sprinkled” when I was a kid, but hardly understood the meaning of it and since have always wanted to do a full immersion water baptism. 

GC Church does baptisms the last Sunday of every month.  I had been asked a couple of times right after we joined if I wanted to get in on the next baptism Sunday and it just wasn’t ever lining up with our schedules.  

This weekend was our Leaders In Training conference - which is for current volunteers and for anyone interested in volunteering. It started with an awesome service + message on Friday night. 

Late that night, like around 11pm late, I went on the church website to register for the next day’s event that started at 8am on Saturday.  While I was on the website, I registered to get baptized.  At the time, I didn’t realize that it was for THIS SUNDAY (today).

At breakfast on Saturday, Pastor Blake apparently received my late baptism registration and asked if I wanted to do it tomorrow (as in today).  

I laughed and then floundered some gibberish about my son being with his dad and that I was already committed to serving during the 9am service in the Kids room that morning, and some other stuff about letting me see if I could make it all happen.  

After texting Alan to see if he could bring Xander, I found out that he had already planned for Xander to stay the night with his parents that night.  So I asked Alan’s dad who was also at the conference all weekend if he could bring Xander to church with him.  And that was that.  

Okay then, I guess it’s go time. 

All of that to finally get here:

Today was an experience I’ll never forget.  

I drove to church by myself this morning to serve in the kids room during early service and listened to my praise and worship music like I do a lot of the time when I’m in the car alone.

Stephen and Em met me for late service.  

The first song the worship team sang was one I had just listened to earlier this morning.  I’m singing and they go into the next song and I start getting a little teary-eyed and chill-bumpy-ish (because apparently that’s what I do when I go to church now) then Pastor Blake unexpectedly segue-ways into the chorus of another song… 

“He loves us, oh, how He loves us.”

If that wasn’t a message specifically to *ME* directly from God to let me know that He sees me and I’m right where I’m supposed to be, y’all can FIGHT ME.  

- Especially considering - that until this post - Stephen is the only person I’ve shared this whole, very long story with.  

I know I was already saved because I asked Jesus into my heart a long time ago, but I wanted to publicly rededicate my life to God because I can clearly see the evidence of HIS goodness alllllllllll over my life and I desperately want for everyone I know - but especially my children - to experience HIS love and goodness through me.  

This weekend was exhausting - especially emotionally - and consumed a lot of our time and energy - but it’s everything I’ve wanted and prayed specifically for.  

- A Christian man who would take me to church. 

- A church home where we could plant ourselves in and grow with.  

He is faithful, y’all. 

Just keep running toward Him. 

Thank You, Jesus.

Baptism Video

Recipe: Asian-Inspired Ahi Tuna

Zucchini & Plum Relish

• Slice zucchini (1 cup) and plum (1/4 cup) into 1/8 inch slivers.

• 1/4 cup coconut aminos

• 1 Tbls lemon juice 

• 1 Tbls wasabi 

Seared Ahi Tuna

• Marinate whole steaks in coconut aminos, lemon juice, and green onions for 20-30 minutes.

• Sprinkle with sesame seeds. 

• Sear on med-high heat in a tablespoon of olive oil. 

(Cook to Rare)

• Remove from heat and let rest for 5 minutes. 

• Slice. 

Dipping Sauce

Soy Sauce

Lemon Juice

Honey

Garlic

Crushed Red Pepper

Salt + Pepper

• Mix ingredients together

• Season to taste

Serve with steamed Jasmine Rice + Seaweed

A Writing Assignment from my English1020 Class #2

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                                                           Rewire

 

  I grew up without a dad.  My mom and biological father split when I was too young to remember him. 

  Years of counseling and emotional therapy - all my therapists were fixated on - and determined to - delve deeper into my long list of “Daddy issues”. 

  It wasn’t just my father though.  I have some major “Mommy issues” too.  My mother was jaded.  - Extremely jaded. 

  Even though she eventually remarried, she still wasn’t able to trust anyone again. 

  After she and my stepfather split - for good- somewhere around the time I was in middle school - she began to speak freely to me, offering up “advice” or tidbits of “wisdom” about men and relationships.

  For as long as I can remember, I was told to be ready - to expect - to plan for - being left by every man I choose to be with. 

  She imparted so many little nuggets of wisdom: “Marry someone at least 10 years older than you, so they won’t leave you for a younger woman.”  “Handle the family finances – and be sure to put money aside that your husband doesn’t know about, so you can survive when he leaves you.”

  She basically programmed me from a very young age to believe that no relationship was going to last. 

  Combine all these little life lessons from my mom, with the severe abandonment issues I didn’t realize I was living through from my father leaving us - and all you have left is me: a brainwashed little girl who constantly felt broken, unworthy of love, desperate to prove her mother wrong, forever anxious, and uber-clingy.

  When I finally started exploring the world of dating, I was such a mess.  Insecure.  Jealous.  Angry.  Mean.  - Any negative quality you can think of to describe one of your craziest ex’s - I was that - tenfold. 

  You’ve probably heard the saying, “Your vibe attracts your tribe.” - That statement is so true.  My crazy attracted more crazy.  I found myself in a slew of unhealthy relationships with emotionally unavailable, abusive men.

  As I entered “adulthood” - and I use that term loosely - by no means is anyone really an “adult” between the ages of 18 and 25 - I rushed into relationships, jumping from one, to another, to the next in record time.  Looking back, I realize now that I had severe commitment issues along with my abandonment issues.  I was always trying to be the one leaving before I could be left. 

  My dad passed in 1999. Five months shy of my 21^st birthday. That threw me for a loop I wasn’t prepared for.  I had no idea how to deal with - or even how to feel - any of the emotions I was cycling through. 

  Almost immediately, I turned to drugs and alcohol to numb whatever feelings I was experiencing in the moment.  I threw myself deep into the party scene.  I worked two jobs to support my reckless lifestyle.  I worked 8am-5pm at my “grown up” job as an insurance agent, 6pm-10pm as a server, and then partied every night until the wee hours of the morning, slept for a couple of hours, and woke up to do it all over again.

  I dove head-first into a “date safe” mode of operation - which at the time meant that I’d purposefully date men who I felt were not attractive, or men who had major character flaws.  I reasoned this to mean:  They are not that attractive + I am a pretty girl = They won’t be able to land someone better, so they will not ever be able to hurt me.

  My first real relationship with someone who I thought could never hurt me proved that I was completely off base with my thinking.  It was about a year after my dad’s death.  I quit both my jobs, moved across the country, and gave up every sense of security I had for this man.  I dove in headfirst.  I wanted to make it work - no matter what.  However, despite my best efforts to keep the relationship intact, this man completely gutted me and left me with nothing.  - Empty.  - Completely broken - emotionally and financially. 

  Despite my massive “Date Safe” failure, I continued with this practice through several more relationships over the next several years.  All of which failed miserably and left me more broken than I ever imagined a person could be.  Each relationship chipped away at what little self-worth I had left.

  In 2004, I got pregnant - despite being on birth control.  - You see, when you party as hard as I was partying, you tend to vomit - a lot - thus, rendering your birth control kind of obsolete. - I know, insert facepalm here. - I was 25 - not young enough to be a complete embarrassment to my family and fear being disowned - but old enough for it to not be a complete “Oh, Shit!” moment.  In hindsight, I can honestly say that my daughter - quite literally - saved my life.  - However, at the time, I had absolutely NO business becoming a mom and entering a marriage with a man I barely knew.

  I don’t know if you know this or not, but when you have a child, you can’t really be a good parent while being high or wasted all the time, so this forced me to seek out some professional help.  I started with my ob/gyn doctor.  He put me on an anti-depressant.  - Then after a few months of being on the meds, I reluctantly enlisted the help of a therapist. 

  They say when you start getting healthier - mentally and emotionally - you start to notice other people’s dysfunction around you.  After several months of therapy, I started seeing how unhealthy my marriage had become and I chose to leave my marriage of 10 months to focus on becoming a healthier version of myself for my daughter.

  Of course, as with any big decision in life, you often hear those wretched words ringing in your ears, “I told you so.”  Even if the person you fear hearing those words from never actually speaks them directly to you - you still hear them screaming them at you in the back of your mind. 

   First marriage - Failure.  Check.  “I told you so.” - Mom

  In a sense, after my divorce, I was still trying to cling to my “date safe” method.  It wasn’t going well.  I was dating nice, generally good people, but I wasn’t allowing myself to become invested.  I quickly got labeled: a heartbreaker; emotionally unavailable; even a gold digger.

  In my 30^th year, I endured another gut-wrenching breakup that left me completely depleted and desolate.  I thought I was going to get married and live happily ever after.  I was so wrong.  The way the relationship ended blindsided me.  He broke things off by quite literally disappearing.  He stopped all communication with me and just disappeared.  I was not okay for a very long time afterwards.  I was given no closure and just had to basically fight through the hurt without any clear answers as to why it ended.

  Despite going to therapy regularly, I was still drinking a lot - and often - when my daughter was spending half the week with her dad.  I didn’t realize it then, but I had developed some awful patterns that would almost always surface when I had too many adult beverages.

  Drinking - getting drunk - was a cycle - an unhealthy coping mechanism that would bring out every single insecurity in me.  The problem would then escalate to my picking a fight - usually with my significant other - but the problem was that I’d be too drunk to remember my actions or all the mean and hurtful things I said the next morning.  I’d wake up fine.  Happy.  Affectionate.  Only to be met with a cold shoulder - major stink eye - or stank face - from my then boyfriend.

  It was a real problem I never realized I even had, until I went through that awful breakup during my 30^th year. 

  Another substantial relationship down the toilet.  Check. “I told you so.” - Mom

  Even still, after all of that, I didn’t start addressing the issue until later the following year in August 2010.  I decided to cut way back on my drinking, reevaluate some friendships, start writing, and just trying to get my head - and heart - back on track in a healthy way.

  My blogging started gaining some attention in my friend circle, and then it started branching out into the outer rings of friends of friends in my friends' circle.  Eventually, my writings would be the basis of how my relationship with my second husband started.  We bonded quickly over our struggles with alcohol and the balancing act of trying to remain friends with the friends we had during our binge-drinking days - which, coincidentally, turned out to be a lot of the same people.  He had been warned about my past dating faux pas by mutual acquaintances.  I think maybe that factored into him asking me if I wanted to get married so quickly after we started dating.  - Like if I agreed to marry him, I couldn’t run away.  Ultimately, I said yes, and we were married 6 months later. 

  At the time, I hadn’t spoken to my mother for almost a year.  She had - still has - a habit of getting mad at someone and not speaking to them for months - even several years - at a time.  - She’s a real special lady, I tell you.  - She wasn’t informed of - or invited to - the wedding.

  We married in April 2011.  If I remember correctly, things did a total 180 within a month of our wedding date.  - The how, when, what, and where behind all of that is water under the bridge and would just be word-count filler at this point, so I won’t bore you with all the petty details of my failed marriage. 

  The gist was this:  I wasn’t happy - nor was I getting the help - or love - I needed from my husband. 

  In 2012, for some reason, we thought procreating would be a good idea.  We decided to start trying to get pregnant - which I did fairly quickly.  I miscarried though.  - We waited a bit, and managed to get pregnant again the following year and had my son in December 2013.  - By the way, I was still not speaking to my mom through any of this. 

  I think I nursed my son for 16 months - those 16 months were a complete blur.  I was working out of town a lot, and just trying to be a good mom and produce enough milk for my son.  It’s crazy just how much breastfeeding a human alters your day-to-day life.  - But formula was so expensive and I knew it’d be a struggle to afford it.  After I decided to officially ween my son, I started throwing myself into work again full-force.  I also started doing things that made me happy - for me - not for anyone else – including my husband.

  - Later that same year, I finally asked for a divorce, but stuck with it for another year, and then asked again the following year.  I remember talking myself down, and making the choice to stick it out one more year.  I promised myself that I’d really throw myself into my marriage - and at my husband - this time around to see if that produced any change.  I felt like I had tried - or talked about trying - anything and everything one could imagine in an attempt to rekindle our marriage that year.  Nothing changed though, and I finally decided to move out in November 2016.

  Another failed marriage under my belt.  Check.  “I told you so.” - Mom

  About a year after I left my marriage, I started dating again.  I met a man who was hardworking, and a real grown up - for a change.  He didn’t make fun of my “crazy” like all my previous exes had done.  Instead, he fought for me and said, “Let’s fix it.”  We dated off and on for 2.5 years.  Going to a couple's counselor off and on for the last year and a half.  We struggled to understand each other.  Anytime we’d fight, he’d disappear - which would then trigger all my past insecurities and abandonment issues - then our arguments would snowball and spin completely out of control.  It was a tumultuous and trying few years. 

  As awful as our fights and breakups were, for some reason, we always gravitated back towards one another.  I have a really hard time giving up on people.  - This man especially.  I wanted a partnership.  A companion.  A best friend.  - But throughout the 2 years of being together, I never felt like we had any of that nor did I feel like we were even working towards any of that either. 

  Even though it took me a very long time to get to a point where I felt completely done and over the relationship - almost 3 years - I did eventually get there on my own.  At the end of July, he had retreated and disappeared from my life - and out of my kids’ lives - without a word - AGAIN - and I finally had had enough.  I was done.  I wasn’t angry.  I wasn’t hurt.  I truly believed that we had done everything we both knew to do, and it just wasn’t in the cards to work.  I forgave him.  I forgave myself.  I gave it all to God, and let it all go.

  More years of my life wasted on a failure of a relationship.  Check.  “I told you so.” - Mom

  So now let’s fast forward a few months.

  God’s timing is something crazy sometimes.  I somehow randomly, and so unexpectedly, reconnected with a friend / major crush of mine from 20 years ago.  This man is everything I ever wanted in a life partner.  Kind.  Patient.  Committed.  Secure in his attachment style.  Honest.  Trustworthy.  Secure.  Stable.  He’s a Christian.  He prays with me.  He prays for me.  He does bible studies with me.  He’s making real and substantial plans for our future together.  I still cry every day, but it’s because he speaks directly to my heart - instead of saying or doing things that break it.  I truly do believe God orchestrated our reconnection with precision and purpose. 

  So then here lies my question - circling back to why I started writing this piece:

  All of my life, I’ve been programmed to believe that no relationship would ever be for forever.  I was raised to be self-sufficient - to always be prepared for the ball to drop - to be ready to survive on my own when whatever relationship I was in would inevitably fail.  - And despite my best efforts to prove my mother’s theory on relationships wrong, every relationship I’ve ever been in has ultimately failed.

  So how does one go about rewiring their brain? 

  How do I alter my whole way of thinking in regards to relationships? 

  How do I stop waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop? 

  Years of therapy.  Years of counseling.  Years of self-work. 

  Is it even possible?  - To rewire a brain - to undo the jumbled, tangled mess of crossed wires and misaligned connections I’ve not only been taught but have personally experienced firsthand all of my life? 

  I surely don’t have any definitive answers.  All I do know is that I’m trying.  It’s a constant battle, a daily struggle to quiet my worrisome mind and anxious heart. 

  I think it’s a struggle for most people to believe in things you can’t see - or have never witnessed in your own life, right?  - Isn’t that the basis of faith though?  - To believe without question.  - To trust.  - To love without limits regardless of what heartbreak the future may or may not have in store. 

  There’s a quote I love by Alfred Lord Tennyson, “tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” - I pray over these words every morning and then I ask myself; “Is it really better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all though?” and my answer is always, “Yes.”  - So, with every new morning, I make a conscience effort to believe - and to have faith - in God, - in myself, - and most of all, in love.