Big Wins, Winning Big

Sometimes I look at our new house and think what the hell were we thinking? It's in shambles. Boxes are everywhere. Outlets are hanging out of walls. 

What we're we thinking? We were thinking that it's the start to the rest of our lives. It's the house that we're going to make a home and we're already on our way there.  We've had some really big wins with this house and I need to remind myself that it's not in shambles. In fact, it's a pretty awesome house.  It's awesome because:

• We haven't killed each other... yet.
• There have been no broken bones as any direct result of said boxes.
• It's forced us to really learn how to communicate in a much more manageable way.
• I get to wake up next to him most mornings. 
• It's given us a lot of great memories already.
• We got an amazing deal on it. WIN.
• We've learned so much already and continue to learn more and more. For example, 18" bifold doors are NOT easy to find. In fact, they are impossible to find. 
• It gives us new goals, new plans, new excitement.

I'm going to make it my goal to start celebrating my wins, big or small, and I'm not going to hold back. It's a small step in my goal to be a happier person and to live life the way it should be lived. 

This morning, I slept through my alarm. Before, I would have let this absolutely run AND ruin my day. It would have laid the groundwork for the rest of the 'bad' to happen. Instead, this morning, I celebrated a WIN. I got ready in record timing, walked the dog, played with the cats, ate breakfast, chugged coffee, AND looked semi-cute and still made it to work before anyone else. WIN. On top of that, I've managed to laugh at it, smile and enjoy my day (a work WIN helped, of course).

Let's all celebrate our small wins, our big accomplishments, and anything that falls in between.  We deserve it. 

Life Does Happen

Last night I was feeling pretty awful. For the first time ever, I had a sinus headache.  Holy PRESSURE. I wake up this morning, a Friday, the start to a beautiful weekend... and it's made it's way into my ears, throat and I still have a throbbing forehead.

Life happens.

The other day I had to squeeze my giant thighs into some hoes.  After wrestling the sausage casing, I'm ready to walk out the door when I notice a huge run right down the leg.  Unpack the sausages, give 'em some new casing... they're inside out.

Life happens.

I decided to finish the edging of our ceilings in the master bath. Real simple- get out white ceiling paint, paint ceiling edges, put white ceiling paint away. Watch paint dry. TWO DIFFERENT WHITE PAINTS.

Oh... life really happens sometimes.

Hanging a towel rack. First holes found a stud. Broke wall anchors. Second holes, found another stud.  First holes and second holes managed to become one giant gaping hole.

Life happens A LOT.

This Malaysian Airliner story has been a huge focus of mine this past week.  Life didn't happen to these passengers.  Life was robbed from them, both figuratively and literally.  These people got on a plane with one goal in mind: getting to their destination.  They probably woke up, kissed someone goodbye, or maybe received an angry e-mail from a business contact.  Maybe they ate breakfast in a rush or spilled coffee on their pants.  They may have been running late to the airport, got stuck at security, or left their cell phone chargers at home.  These things are LIFE.  They are what happens to us no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try.  But this plane getting hijacked (presumably) is not life. It is so sad to me, so unbelievably heartbreaking, that they still cannot locate this plane.  The families, the friends, the acquaintances, the coworkers, the business partners... they have no closure.  Their lives have come to a screeching halt.  The fiancé of the only American on that flight has a bag packed with clothes for her and clothes for him when she gets the call.  This tragedy has changed the path of her life permanently.

Life happens A LOT. Things don't go as planned, we trip over our words and we vomit up thoughts.  We see the bad before we see the good and only then is when we try to dust off our glasses.  What about the good times when life happens?

On a whim, 5 years ago, I decided to end a longterm relationship so I could be reunited with the person I've always known is my soulmate.

Life happened.

I was offered the opportunity to work at an agency, a place I've worked so hard to get to, and quit my old job in SECONDS.

Life happened.

I opened myself up to meeting new friends and through that I've found some pretty amazing women (Schmidty, Natty and Kim).

Life happened.

If all we do is focus on the bad and we can't smile about the good, what do we have? It's not just this Malaysian flight that makes me see these things but the pain I feel for the victims and their families is something I cannot describe.

If for every 'bad' we could see the 'good', perhaps if not for anything more than our own personal satisfaction, we could find a happiness that is always there, lingering, dangling over us, begging and pleading for us to just breathe and enjoy life when it happens.

"All the adversity I've had in my life, all my troubles and obstacles, have strengthened me... You may not realize it when it happens but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you." Mr. Disney

Family is Friends is Family

What makes a family? Is it two parents, one male, one female? Children, at least one? Do you have to share the same blood? Must you come from the same ancestry line? Does family mean you are automatically gifted with friends for life? 

Dictionary.com: a basic social unit consisting of parents and their children,considered as a group, whether dwelling together or not: thetraditional family.

Merriam Webster: a group of people who are related to each other, a person's children, a group of related people including people who lived in the past.  

TheFreeDictionary.com: Two or more people who share goals and values, have long-term commitments to one another, and reside usually in the same dwelling place.

UrbanDictionary.com: A bunch of people who hate each other and eat dinner together.

Family is more than blood, it's more than who you were given to at birth. It's more than a title or descriptor and it's most certainly more than a last name.  

When people ask me who I am, the last thing that comes to mind is 'daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter, cousin.'

Family is about those people, those special people in life that have a way of sneaking into your thoughts when you least expect it. It's those who surprise you with their love and gratitude. It's the ones you never expected to grow fond of and the next thing you know you're sending them updates on your life, they're sending you pictures of their sons soapbox derby trophy. 

Family is that group of people that aren't forced to be a part of your life and yet become solid cornerstones in your day-to-day activities. 

I'm thankful for my family and lately, most especially thankful for my Zimmerman/Bracken/Gallen family. These guys have managed to wiggle their way into a world that I felt had no room left. They've filled a void I didn't realize I had.  They've given me strength, shown me respect, took care of me when needed and when all else failed, they were all right there, willing to help, when Matt and I needed them most.  The last few years have thrown a few punches our way, figuratively and literally.  Through all of the punches, all of the celebrations, this group has held steady, kept me afloat and most importantly kept me laughing. 

Some of my family <3

Me, Heather and Slutcakes on Put-n-Bay for Slutcakes' Bachelorette party.

 

Me and my pseudo-niece Katie. Love this little lady.

Brit, me, Lor, other Brit. Vacation 2013.
"ARMADILLOS"

Gary, Pat, and Colleen at Pat's birthday party.  

Me and my Natty after Tough Mudder.

Me and my dad. My best friend. The man who
makes the world spin on it's axis... and
sometimes the man who makes it go the other
way. :)

My grandma. Such a beautiful smile... a beautiful
laugh... a beautiful woman. 

Women Won't Rule the World

There is so much talk about women's bodies, their looks, their hair, the way their hips sway when they walk, the cellulite on the backs of their thighs (oh my god!), the way three random strands of hair always stick up on the side of their heads, how imperfect her toenail polish is and jesus, the nerve she has to wear a sweater from two months ago. 

This is NOT your typical feminist blog. I am not your typical woman. 

Recently, I had a photo posted of me on Facebook. 

I believe this is compliments to Larissa Markus, though from
the beers in the air and the cheesy smiles, I'm not sure I can
accurately give credit. :)

That's me... "the dude in the female 1980s bathing suit." Well, at least that's how one Facebooker described me.  

For those of you who don't know me, outwardly, I'm pretty self-confident. I am confident in my intelligence, in my work ethic, in my beliefs and in my relationships.  Inwardly, I struggle consistently with my body image and how I feel about myself physically. When this photo was posted, I actually felt a sense of pride. I saw myself as a fit, solid woman. I'm not a toothpick, I never will be, but I can look at that picture and be damn proud of how far I've come. 

You give that photo TEN MINUTES on social media, and some other FEMALE has the nerve to rip me apart.  I'm not sure which part of me looks like a 'dude'... and I'm not sure why my 2013 Victoria's Secret bathing suit looks as those it's from the 80's...

What I'm sure of is this: that one little comment, those words from a complete stranger, tore apart any sense of pride I had in that photo, in myself, in all of my hard work.

The point is: why do women do this to each other? How are women ever going to get ahead in the game of life if we continue to tear each other down?  I like to think that I'm immune to the shit-talking, the body-shaming, the negative people but this proved I'm not. The worst part is that I immediately looked up who she was to see if she had "the right" to say those things about me.  

What is that 'right'? If this girl would have been thinner than me and prettier than me, would that have given her THE RIGHT to say these things? If she's fatter, or "manlier" than me, does that mean she can't say these things? 

WHAT IS THAT RIGHT?

No one has the right to make anyone feel less than worthy, less than adequate, less than themselves. It's my personality to make that person see what she did wrong but this time, I didn't. I didn't because my response would have been something along the lines of "where does your fat lesbian ass get off thinking you can come at me with those words?" That makes me just as bad as she is. And maybe I am. I've been guilty of passing judgment. I'm sure we all have to an extent. 

Never have I blatantly said something to another person about the way they look, the way their body is shaped, the way their ears are lopsided or how their nose is curved slightly to the left.  I've never wanted to purposely hurt someone based solely on their appearance or their apparent lack of style. 

Women have a hard enough time battling body image and self esteem let alone with the help of their counterparts.  Even the most beautiful people in the world have issues. I promise you Heidi Klum doesn't wake up every morning and think to herself "my god, I'm a work of art." I would bet my life savings [read: this isn't much of a bet] that Kate Moss, Eva Longoria, Cindy Crawford and the girl next door don't think they are perfect, stunning or groundbreakingly beautiful either. It's all perspective.  We see these women as beautiful, an unattainable beauty only celebrities have.  But with the millions of dollars, the personal trainers, the makeup artists and hairstylists, these ladies are still ladies. They still wake up with matted hair and bags under their eyes. They still have cellulite and 'wings' under their arms. They still have to wax their eyebrows and put on lipstick the same way we do. 

Can we just take a break from caring about what each other looks like and start caring about what each other has to say, think and feel? While it's hard to look past completely, it's shoved in our faces all day every day, there has to come a point where our thoughts and intelligence supersede our curves and our wrinkles. 

Those that know me know I'm stubborn.

There are few things in life I KNOW I'm bad at.

Yes, this means I live in denial. I hate admitting I'm wrong, ESPECIALLY when I AM wrong. I also hate being bad at things, not being able to do things well, not knowing how to do things.  All of this translates into "Jess, you suck at life."

This house is a good example.  The simplest things are really not that simple at all. Mudding a crack, for instance, is not just about locating said crack and smearing on some mud and letting it dry. No. As a matter of fact, you must locate said crack, smear on a thick yet even coat of mud, let dry, sand down ALMOST to the wall yet not quite while using the proper grit sand paper, clean off dust completely, REMUD yet again only this time a much thinner coat, still even, AND SAND IT AGAIN. This task is continued until perfection.

I. AM. NOT. PERFECT. 

Failure Dos: Zoloft is back in my life. Why I see this as a failure is beyond me when in all reality I know that it is a very smart decision.  Being off of it was refreshing and a relief... not so much for Matt or anyone else in my life.  So, instead of the usual 100mg, I've started back up taking 50mg a day and have seen major changes.  Ideally, I will continue this for quite some time and eventually cut the dosage back even more.  <<No Doctor comments needed. I know what I'm doing is not appropriate.>>

So this begs the question why.  Why do I see these sorts of things as failures?  They aren't failures. They are new learnings, new discoveries, new ways to live life, new outlooks, new relationships.  Regardless, in my mind they are failures and I need to work on seeing it all differently.  

“Trying to be perfect may be inevitable for people who are smart and ambitious and interested in the world and its good opinion...What is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.” 

― Anna Quindlen

Lost in the Words

I need to read a book. The feeling of being so lost in a world that is out there somewhere, somewhere that you can never reach accept within the confines of your own mind. I love that feeling. Where you can't get enough of it. You can't put the book down no matter how busy you are, how tired you are.  I need that. A mini vacation from a never-slowing mind.

This past Saturday held two important events for me: getting coffee and celebrating Laura's birthday. You question the coffee, I get it. But let's be honest here: 4 hours of Master's classes without coffee is downright cruel and that's just what happened.  SO, it was VERY important that I get coffee immediately following said snoozefest.

Laura's birthday. I started thinking about birthdays. We're 27 years old. Do we really have birthday parties anymore? Does it matter? What I realized DOES matter is that I've celebrated so many birthdays with this woman, this magnificent person that I am lucky enough to have in my life.  How many people can say they've had the same best friend since they were kids playing on the monkey bars?  What's more is that no matter the distance, no matter the amount of communication, no matter the disagreements, morals, values and lifestyles, we've somehow managed to hang onto something really important.

It's not that we've held onto 'being best friends'...

It's not that occasionally we still know what the other is thinking...

What really matters is that as two individuals, we have been able to grow from children to adults and maintain a trust and a bond and a connection that most people can't say they have. For this and for her, I am undeniably grateful in every way possible.

<<And if we're being real here, how could I have possibly partied with her Saturday night without first drowning myself in a cup o' joe?>>

And in the appropriately wise words of one fish named Dory: No. No, you can't... STOP. Please don't go away. Please? No one's ever stuck with me for so long before. And if you leave... if you leave... I just, I remember things better with you. I do, look. P. Sherman, forty-two... forty-two... I remember it, I do. It's there, I know it is, because when I look at you, I can feel it. And-and I look at you, and I... and I'm home. Please... I don't want that to go away. I don't want to forget.