Let Me Sleep or Prepare to Die.

Today my hairdresser text me to postpone my hair cut appointment due to sick littles at her house. In the midst of our conversation I wished her well and my hopes that she would be able to catch up on her beauty sleep. She laughed and lamented the need to catch up on a LOT of beauty sleep. Aw, sleep, how I loveth thee. So much that I hereby warn my lovelies that if you mess with my sleep you may die. Don't believe me? Ha, good luck with that.  

Not long ago I read a compelling article about the increase in postpartum depression in women because there is an expectation to forego sleep because you're the mom and that's what you do. It posed some really staggering statistics about the increase in depression and mental illness in the early days of a new baby because the mamma is so damn tired.  Why does it have to be that way? Let the mama take a nap already!

I'll be perfectly honest with all of you that my biggest fear of being pregnant isn't actually being pregnant. It's the after-my-baby-is-born part. I know that I'm 100% capable of being a kick ass mom, but I don't know if my brain can do it. I'm a planner and a calculated maker of choices and the unknown of what might happen postpartum, based on my history, is hella scary. But, I digress....sort of.

So, why am I so cray about sleep? Well, two words: zombie redhead. I mean, let's be honest, I'm an unfiltered, sassy pants when I'm rested and fed. Do you really want to mess with the alternate version of Ray? Hint: the answer is N-O. All joking aside, I really am a believer in the immense power of sleep. While I was a teenager, my family would attend church at 9 am every Sunday. It was a contest to see who could eat lunch and be down for a nap the fastest after we got home. It was a win-win for my mom that all of her children inherited their dad's champion napping skills because it meant she had guranteed quiet time. I looked forward to my Sunday nap and I still do. As a busy teen, I needed those 2-4 hours to recharge my brain for the next week. This continued as a college student and in to my adult life. At one point in my career I lived close enough to my office that I could sneak in a 15 minute nap on my lunch hour. Those power naps saved me during a very trying time of life. 

Sleep has a way of resetting my mental batteries and helping me cope with just about anything. It grounds me during the storm.  When I've had a rough day I generally cry it out (remember how I'm a stress crier?), take a bath, take a nap and THEN make a plan of how to handle the situation. I know myself well enough to know that making any kind of decision while I'm sad and tired is just asking for trouble. Emotionally driven decisions are generally rash and short sided.  Nap it out, then work it out.  #putthatonapillow

The other reason I'm a fighter for the cause of sleep is because I know that in any kind of depression situation, the first thing to go is sleep. I know this because I've experienced it. I've spent too many nights staring at my ceiling and the spinning overhead fan while waiting....begging....for the sleep to come and as soon as the sun came up I couldn't stay awake. It's a viscious cycle and I guard my ability to sleep when I'm meant to sleep more than anything. 

I think the best reason to let me sleep (besides not dying) is my ability to move mountains when I'm rested and recharged. Let me sleep and when I wake we can move mountains. It's so simple! 

The moral of the story: Zombie redheads aren't fun. Let the lady sleep. Trust me.

Until next time, my lovelies!

-R

The Roots of Our Soul.

Over the years, I've often thought back on some of the poorest choices I made in my life and how they came about and why I thought it was acceptable to do it.  One particular instance haunts me because I know that it was a choice made while I was in pain and without deeply planted roots of self confidence and love for myself.  I've forgiven myself, but I will always live with a reminder in my brain of the how and why and that I am forever grateful I was brave enough to face my fear and be a better person in spite of myself.

I think many of us make choices in our lives because our roots are weak and we think that our worth is far less than it actually is so why would it matter if we do what we do? It breaks my heart when I have people tell me, "I hate myself so much that I can't accept that someone might love me."  What brings a person to this point?  The breakdown of trust, communication and a spiritual root system that keeps them intact.  I've been there. It's a dark, cold, lonely place. But, the good news is, it doesn't last forever.  And thank goodness.

I reference my time in organized therapy on a regular basis because I am not ashamed that I sought help to cope. I also want others to feel safe in talking with me about their struggles and their experiences with therapy. Therapy doesn't cure you. Not even CLOSE, but the greatest gift you can walk away with is the ability to grow your roots back and build a foundation again. It took about 6 weeks before I felt the breakdown of my weak root system. What commenced was a catastrophic meltdown and physical pain because of emotional issues. There is absolutely no way we can start over until we hit rock bottom. It's the moments of having absolutely nothing except for us and God that we figure out a way to conquer our fear to take root in new ways.

One of my all-time favorite Disney/Pixar movies is "A Bug's Life." For whatever reason it has always been a movie that I can pop in to calm my nerves and laugh. The dialogue and one-liners are some of Disney's finest. One scene in particular involves Flick attempting to give an analogy of the giant tree growing from a seed and the seed is actually a rock.  Dot says to him, "this rock is going to become a tree?" and Flick freaks out and has to reexplain his point and that it takes time to grow and become strong like the tree. I always laugh because Dot says to him, "you're weird." Oh how I can relate to being weird for being a woman who relates so well to analogies by a talking ant.

Another priceless gift that I gained from therapy was the ability to say to myself, "how can I apply this event, trial, whatever, to other aspects of my life?"  Along with that I also learned the valuable mental tool, "what have I learned from this mistake and how will I live my life differently because of it?" Both of those statements take an incredible amount of "reality check" and brutal honesty with ourselves because the answer may not be what we want to hear. To that I say with all the love in my heart, tough shit. Face reality, strip your pride and be brave and full of faith to face your weaknesses.

In nature, the strongest trees can withstand the elements of weather, wind and aging with a deeply bedded root system. The same goes for us.  I love the quote above about laughing at storms.  I don't know about you, but the last thing I'm doing in the middle of a storm, figuratively or literally, is laughing.  Usually I'm crying and hiding under my blankets in my bed.  The point of this quote is that we CAN face storms with a smile on our face if we have a root system that is strong and deep.  Without a solid root system, we can't discern what is right and what is wrong and where the boundaries lie as we fight the good fight and find ourselves again.

Many of you who read this blog know me personally and know the inner and external battles I've fought.  Some of you know more than others, but I want you ALL to know this, my roots of regrowth after I went to see my Jen is what changed EVERYTHING. (her website) I know this because I have never experienced anything like my 2015 and I am here to tell you that I didn't drown because I had roots of faith and strength to hold on to with all my might. I had love in my heart for myself and others around me and I kept myself grounded by serving and allowing others to serve me.

The moral of the story: Even when the roots are cut, they can still grow back and be better than ever.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

To Cope or Not To Cope...

Well, hello, my lovelies! First of all, HaPPy NEW Year! If you're anything like me you gave 2015 a swift kick in the ass and said hello to 2016 with gusto. I've been on a personal hiatus from le blog because I've been settling in to a new Chez Ray.  Chez Ray Country, as I've affectionately named it, is finally coming together which means my brain is less mushy and I can concentrate on the fun stuff like the bloggy blog!

They say that hindsight is 20/20, but I think it takes YEARS before that is actually true. I look back on some big life hurdles that I had in my 20's and a few of them I can say, "that happened for a reason because of THIS, but I don't know about that." Throughout my time in Utah, especially while I was in therapy, I was hella angry and bitter at my realities, but I know for certain that those 18 months of brutal shedding of toxins were preparing me for some tough life challenges that I would have 5 years later.  As I shared in my last post, Ogden was tough, but it was glorious.  I've officially been gone for 10 days today and they've been challenging, but they have also been full of peace. I have dubbed myself a "coping ninja" after 2015 because there were so many opportunities for me to give up and lay on the floor and get trampled and I didn't do it.  Not once. I paid my bills with hardly any money, I served others who were in far greater need than me and most of all, I turned back to God and put the outcome of my life in His hands.

To cope or not to cope? That is the question we face at times in our lives. I wish I could diagram it for some people because it seems that it is a concept that is not grasped by many. From an early age we teach our children that crying is not acceptable in certain circumstances and then at some point we hope that as teens and adults they pick up on the memo that crying is actually healthy and necessary and not a sign of weakness.  One of the first steps I had to take in my quest to be a coping ninja was letting myself cry.  I'm a stress crier.  It's ridiculous actually, but I've let it be. For many years, I was discouraged to cry in times of stress. The philosophy was that we cry when we are hurt; the rest of the time it shows we are weak.  Wrong, my lovelies.  Absolutely wrong. I held my crap together pretty well during 2015 and its long list of challenges, but there were a lot of times that I couldn't take it anymore and fell apart.  Probably the queen of all comeaparts (totally a word) was on New Year's Eve (impeccable timing) when the moving truck company called me to say that they did not have a truck on their lot in Ogden (I was in Idaho) and there was nothing they could do to help me since I wasn't standing in front of them with my fancy gold credit card in hand. I LOST MY MARBLES on the phone with the truck company employee. I'm sure she was pissed about being at work on the biggest drinking holiday of the year, but I was also completely pissed that it somehow wasn't her problem that the truck I had reserved ten days earlier wasn't sitting on her lot and I was finding out about it while my friend was there to pick up said M.I.A. truck.  The rest of the story goes like this: Uhaul saved the day and I got to move on New Year's Day as planned.  The end result was different than I had planned, but it still accomplished the same goal and for THAT I was grateful and moved forward.  That is coping.  Coping is accepting that we don't have control over everything so we need to accept what is and roll with it.

The second step in my coping ninja quest was finding the root of my pain and addressing the solution from there. I think it's really hard for people to be 100% honest with themselves about the root of their struggles. We all come from different religious backgrounds and family situations that have given us differing foundations (or none at all for some) of how to analyze our life and conquer our trials.  As a society we tend to opt to labels. "I have commitment and trust issues so I drink to numb the pain." "I just broke up with my girlfriend/boyfriend so I'm going to sleep with whoever will have me because that seems to make me feel better in the moment." "I've had a terrible day at work so I'm going to eat everything in my fridge and then throw it up so that I don't get fat." Each of those scenarios, drastic as they sound, are real and happen often to those around us.  I've generally been a "stop eating when life gets hard" kind of lady, but this year I didn't lose the token 20 pounds....I gained it.  I was SO angry when I realized that.  Wait what?  Because my fall back on stress should be the weight loss plan? What it really showed to me was my body was done and couldn't work on overtime to keep my brain functioning like a normal person AND burn fat AND keep me from killing small animals.  Not possible! Coping meant this to my body: going to bed at night and shutting my brain down to sleep, waking up my brain in the morning and filling my heart with faith to take more steps and sending messages to the muscles in my legs to take those steps out the door so I could conquer my trials. The rest was just details.

The third step is letting go of what we can't control and giving it over to a higher being. Many times I've had the opportunity to share my thoughts on God's role in my life. A lot of those opportunities have been to kids or teens so I have composed a simple version. Ironically, the simple version also appeals to the adult audiences because it's just that: plain and simple and to the point. Our life is a time line of events here, here, here and here. Sometimes we can handle a LOT and other times we can handle very little. The good news is that God and Jesus Christ fill in the gaps for us, as we communicate with them through prayer about our shortcomings and what we can't take anymore.  He then sends people into our lives to fill in the gaps, to fill our buckets when the well is dry.  I've experienced it over and over.  The element of coping comes in to play when we can put down our pride and admit that we are weak and the people being sent to help are there because WE NEED THEM. If you need help, ask, but don't turn away the acts of kindness when they arrive and seem remedial to you.  You are the source of someones intuition to help; don't crush that opportunity for them.  Let yourself be loved, looked after and blessed.

I am really grateful for the understanding that my life has a purpose and that my inability to control every little part is OK.  I'm also grateful that when I have a weepy weak day of missing my friends and loves that God fills in the gaps and carries me home and puts peace in my heart while I pour myself to bed.

The moral of the story: The future is bright for each and every one of us and we can accomplish a LOT with patience and the ability to breathe, trust and cope.

Until next time, my lovelies.
-R

My O-town.

Necklace - Ume Boutique, red dress - Deseret Industries, skirt - Chic Style Box

Chez Ray has been a teeny bit chaotic since last we chatted. The time has come, after much prayer and tears and more prayer and immense peace, to bid farewell to my O-town.  I didn't think I would ever say it, but the chain of events that have led up to it are nothing short of obvious that it's time.  The show must go on and I'm stoked for new adventures and new friends.  A lady can never have too many friends, now can she?

As I reflected back on my time in Ogden I was reminded of the immense blessing it was to be sent here.  I still remember the utter shock that people voiced when I told them I was moving to the 'hood. From the minute I parked my car in front of my new home, I knew it was home and for that I was grateful.  Kelsey and I set out to find urban art in Ogden for our last photo shoot.  The charm that Ogden has because of the incredible urban art is never-ending.  There is some serious talent in this awesome town.  My favorite is a mural that is located on the wall of a local eatery called The Pizza Runner.  It is a joint collaboration of two artists: Chris Kiernan and Rich Ramos. Chris' work can be seen in the Ogden location of Lucky Slice Pizza and I LOVE his style.  I swoon over his fonts.  Like for reaslies.  I mean check this out:

I asked Chris to share some of the backstory on his portion of the mural and this is what he said, "I was asked by my friend Rich Ramos to paint part of the Pizza Runner wall, he had painted the previous mural and this time he wanted to share the space. The beautiful female face on the wall at this time is his work. Dayton is the skater featured on my portion of the wall, he has grown up skateboarding in front of my camera so I decided to base part of my mural on a photo of him doing a crooked grind in downtown Ogden as a thanks for all the good times out skating. The previous mural also featured some Otown lettering and Rich always got good feedback on it so he wanted the new mural to carry on that theme. The lettering is my classic style that goes back more than 20 years, simple enough for everyone to read but still graffiti."

This location was insanely fun to shoot with as a backdrop.  LOTS of color and contrast, but also a bit of random matchy matchy.  Who hearts my nails and jewelry?  ALL handmade by amazing artisans.  As we shot this outfit, I had a chance to look at the lovely lady up close.  She is GORGEOUS.  Red lips and a look of peace on her face.  My kinda chick.  I may have said to her, "it's you and me against the world, lady!"

I found many treasures while I lived in the 'hood.  But, most of all I found me. I found the Ray that is supposed to be where she is meant to be.  I found a woman who loves deeply with all her heart, wants the small business owner to succeed even in the crappy times, wants the at-risk kids to be safe and wants every single female on the planet (and the men in their life) to know that they are of great worth and value no matter their size, financial status, skin color, mental health state, religion and sexual orientation.  "Let It Be and Celebrate" became my life.  Celebrate on the shitty days.  Celebrate when you really just want to cry yourself to sleep or punch the stupid boy in the face or simply give up.  Keep. Going.  Keep. Loving. Let. It. Be.  

Top & skirt - Macy*s, shoes - Endless Indulgence Retro Wear, location - Ogden Union Station

In Ogden I learned how to face my own shadow and look forward with faith.  I learned that some of the greatest adventures come to us in the midst of what we think is our greatest storm.  I lost TWO jobs in 2015 and not because of anything I did. Taking chances failed TWICE for me in a year. That meant I had to look at myself in the mirror every day for more than half of the year and say, "you did what you could and God will bless you during all of this."  That is NOT easy, my lovelies. Just ask my empty savings account. My shadow was my constant companion and I had to set the guilt aside and trust in God's timing and BREATHE. 

 This quirky railroad town stole my heart because it was FULL of history that included my family.  Ogden was home sweet home for many of my ancestors and I got to learn about them first hand and see their homes and visit their graves and gain courage from their struggles while living here.  I also learned that in the early days of Ogden you had to come here before you could go anywhere on the train.  I feel like that.  I know that I had to come here before I left Utah so that I could learn to love again and bust out of my shell for real.  I had to live post-therapy like a boss and learn some critical life lessons while I was at it.

One of the number one lessons I learned from Ogden is that good people who believe in a community can change the world.  This town is renowned for it's view and it's snow, but did you know that it is also known for the non-profit work that goes on?  We have one of the BEST homeless shelters in the country and my view of emergency housing drastically changed when I got to know the director.  We have NO idea the struggles that people face and why they are homeless. I learned to have compassion and look out for others who have it way worse than I do. 

 Ogden taught me that it's not always black and white. Sometimes we have to go against the grain because it is the right thing to do.  A seemingly wrong choice still has a lesson, thereby it is still a good choice because it has taught us that valuable lesson.  I learned to give people a chance, but to stand my ground when I had reached my limit.  

O-town was a good town for this lady and I will forever be grateful for the stones that were turned over because I took a chance on moving to the 'hood of Utah. Everything happens for a reason and I know that this next chapter will be just as amazing.  In the meantime, pray I don't go batty while packing up my house or send it all to Goodwill because I've had it with packing boxes. Pray that Mother Nature plays nice while I'm trying to drive a moving van with my life in it in the dead of winter. The struggle is real, believe me. Which reminds me, I should be sleeping...it's only 1 am.  Sigh.....

So now as I start my last week in Ogden and wait for the next chapter to begin, I thank my lucky stars that I have found my flair, my sass and affinity for red lipstick (and shoes) in this hippie, snowy, GORGEOUS, sometimes dog-food-smelly, quirky railroad town.  I'm a changed woman because I took a chance and followed my heart.  2016 is going to be amazing.  I know it.  How could it not be after this wackadoodle year???

The moral of the story: faith changes everything and in 2015 it did just that for me.  

Until next time, my lovelies!

-R

Life's Meaning.

Not long ago I was talking about riding on the terror-inducing roller coaster at Lagoon and how I looked my fears in the face and with my best friend by my side, said 'why the hell not?' and took my first (and maybe last) ride.

Well, my life's meaning and its SUPER chain of events, twists and turns continues, but I am happy to report that I CAN see my silver linings -- plural. Why you ask?  A boatload of faith, prayer and a heightened understanding of finding meaning in life because I read the book "Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor E. Frankl.

I was raised in a very devout Mormon family, but I was blessed to be exposed to a number of different religions and their beliefs and lifestyles.  I've always been fascinated by the intense devotion that is shown by Catholics, Jews and Muslims, to name a few.  For me, I always thought my religion had a lot to embrace and keep track of to be a "good Mormon" but I was and continue to be inspired by my friends who are devout to their beliefs. Judaism, in particular, is a religion that has always peeked my interest.  Maybe it's because of "Fiddler on The Roof" or Ross Gellar singing "Dreidel, Dreidel" in an aardvark costume, but it's probably because of my extensive research of the second World War and the persecution towards the Jewish people. When my lovely friend Amanda recommended this book I was going through a royal shit storm of all shit storms.  She shared with me that this book was written by a Jewish psychiatrist who survived living in the Nazi concentration camps and wrote this book to share his theories on coping and survival under the bleakest of circumstances.  At the time I tried to read it and the raw, tragic details and realities of the concentration camps was just too much.  However, I was not in the right place and when I was faced with the last curve ball of my life, I picked the book up and hardly put it down. I could write a LOT about the wonderful gems that caught my eye, but I will only cover a few to wet your whistle. I told Amanda that this book was like a good solid therapy session for me.

When I was reading this book I had to have a pen handy so I could underline all the things I wanted to remember.  I rarely share my books with another person because I don't want their mind to be drawn away from what it's supposed to glean from the words because the reader is looking at my notes.  Above is a quote that is truly profound.  Transforming our personal tragedies into triumphs.  What does that even mean?  Where on earth can we find the triumph in losing a job unexpectedly, a spouse losing the brave, warrior fight with cancer, or a child going to heaven before it could come home from the hospital with his mom and dad? How?  Well, that's where the miracle comes into play.  What I have found for me is a chat with myself (and then God, in prayer) that goes something like this, "I am so not thrilled with how this has turned out, however, I know that there is a reason.  Even though I can't see the reason this very second because I'm a sniveling, crying mess, I'm still going to tell myself that it was with reason."  Dr. Frankl talks about this a lot in his book...hence the title....and he often referenced people he knew in concentration camps who could bear gruesome conditions and brutality none of us can imagine because their lot in life was to find triumph in the tragedy.  I can't even imagine.  To say I was humbled by the stories he told would be an understatement.

Life really is a time for us to take control and work it out.  I hate to say it, but sometimes we just have to put on our tough kid cape and deal like a super hero. Many times dealing means having a brutal, yet loving reality check with ourselves (and God, in my case) and then using our brains to decipher the emotions from the solutions and then move forward.  As much as I would LOVE to lay in my bed with the covers over my head, I know that can only last so long before I go way cray and say to myself, "ok, Raylynn, you need to adult.  Like for reals, not the fake kind."  No matter our religious background or belief in a certain God, we all have a soul and a spirit inside of us that speaks to our heart and gives us the direction we need to live life to its fullest.  Dr. Frankl talked about prisoners who would get very creative with what little they had to cope and survive. He talked about the brain's ability to survive WAY more than we think it can because we have an innate sense of survival as human beings.  Absolutely beautiful, if you ask me and I've experienced it more times than I care to admit.

The will to live. For many it is difficult.  For many it is impossible.  It is tragic when someone is in a situation with the perception that their life is worthless.  What can we do to find the will when life is dark and sad and hopeless?  What did the concentration camp prisoners do?  They hid photos of their kids and spouses in their clothes, but most times they played mental videos of their perfect life at home.  It broke my heart to read the accounts of men (he only referenced men because they were segregated in the camps) who would talk about their beautiful wives and children and their homes and warm beds almost constantly.  Even in their delusional, malnourished state, they could almost always remember bits and pieces of the life they had before they were imprisoned.  He gave some staggering statistics about the survival rates of men who kept their brain and heart moving by remembering the "good old times" vs. the men who gave up and had a bad attitude and no hope for survival.  Our ultimate goal in life is to have the why so we can survive the how.  Why do you live?  Who do you live for?  The first thing that popped in my mind were the four little humans who call me aunt.  They are my sunshine and I am forever grateful that God has blessed me to be a part of their lives.  I live for them.  I absolutely do.  I also live for my future children who deserve to have a mother who was tough as nails in crappy, hard times and didn't give up.

As I said before, I wish I could share every single note and thought I had while I read this book, but then you wouldn't have a reason to read it and that is not OK.  If I haven't convinced you to read this amazing little book yet, I hope this last thought will.  The perfect race.  Ugh.  It breaks my heart over and over when I think about the underlying cause for the concentration camps and why Hitler's reign was one of the most tragic events in history.  In his mind, he had somehow deduced that there was only one perfect race and that Jews were not included.  How's that for a holocaust definition in one sentence?  Dr. Frankl shared his theory on race by dividing it in to two: decent and indecent. In a very real sense he saw this day after day in the concentration camps. There were extremely indecent Nazi soldiers who did inhumane things to the prisoners, but there were also those who were still human with hearts and took risks to help those prisoners they were keen on. Additionally, there were decent and indecent Jews living in the camps. Those who held the hand of their fellow prisoner when he was dying of a contagious fever so he didn't feel alone when he passed away. We are constantly bombarded with labels. I'm a better person because I have this or I attend this church or I have this skin color or I have this sexual preference.  Stop that. Stop it now. Are you a decent human being or aren't you?  That's the real question and we should all be able to give the answer for ourselves.

I am a better person for reading this book about the meaning of life and how those who had it far worse than I ever will found a way to embrace their triumph in the midst of tragedy.  I say it over and over that we can do hard things but it is TRUE! Put those reminders on the bathroom mirror that life will turn out for the better and that God has a plan and say them out loud to yourself every single time you see them.

The moral of the story: Figure out your why so that you can survive the how. Have a prayer in your heart that the peace will reside inside while the chaos continues outside.  Keep the faith.  Don't give up.

Until next time, my lovelies.
-R

This Thing Called Adulting.

Blank blog posts are always a little intimidating for me because I never quite know what I'm going to say and type for all of you.  Writer's block is lame and it's even more ridiculous when you know damn good and well that you could spew sadness and bitterness, but opt for sunshine and rainbows and let's all find the silver lining together. And so.......here I go.......

Oh!  Before I get deep, let's all sigh at this glorious photo from my last photo shoot with Kel-Z Photography.  We found this great backdrop on Washington in Ogden, Utah and she caught me in the "Ray being silly (aka normal)" moment perfectly.  This is basically my life.  Crazy and really winging it at adulting.  You'd think I would have it figured out by now.  Nope.  But, I digress.  And so.....here I go.....

Life is crazy.  Life is beautiful. Life appears to be unpredictable in our eyes, but in the eyes of God, it is planned just as it is meant to be.  This is a challenging concept for me to swallow tonight.  In case 2015 wasn't without enough adventure, I was thrown a pretty swift curve ball to the gut this week.  I won't get in to details because it's done and I am moving forward, but I will share some musings with you that I've had in the last 48 hours.

Last week I shared some thoughts about the seasons of life and the seasons of mental health.  I also shed light on how challenging it can be for me to deal with the sudden changes and bumps in my ride of life aka adulting.  What does it all mean?  Why does shit happen?  Why do we cry like a sniveling baby with seemingly no control?  I have people tell me, "you're amazing, you're strong, you'll be OK."  I've also thought, "OK, this is super rad blog content, but I'm kind of over it so can we JUST have unicorns and rainbows and cease with the shit storms?"  But, the reality of it is my life is beautiful chaos and a long list of imperfection, but it is MY life.  I've been brewing up some new projects for 2016 and as I thought about how this little bloggy blog and my Instagram started I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the ride.  This has been a healer and a helper for me in so many ways.  But, it isn't just about me!  It's about all of you and your stories and your struggles!  We do this together and I am so grateful.

Our blessings FAR outweigh our burdens and I can feel it.  I came home tonight after going to dinner with my friend and in spite of us saying fewer words that we usually do because we were exhausted after a LONG week of adulting, we both felt better and more at peace with our realities.  I feel MUCH gratitude for the people in my life who get my dry, often dirty humor and jaded Ray outlook on life, but also see the deeply spiritual, authentic thinker and fierce lover that I am.  I could totally be a bitter bitch and hate God and never get out of the trenches of self-shaming, but I'm not doing that.  I am doing all that I can to let my brain process and cope and laugh when I feel like laughing and cry when I need to cry. My dear friend wrote an incredible blog after her son passed away and she often talked about the sunshine promises.  The fact that there is always sunshine after the storm.  That is so so so true.  However, when we are in the dark of the storm, it's sometimes hard to remember, "oh ya!  Rainbows come AFTER the rain and flowers grow better with rain and then sunshine."

When it is all said and done, we will look back on our toughest days and think, "holy crap, I was a master of self control and patience for not killing kittens and puppies while I was going through that mess."  I also know that we will look back and LAUGH when we still have the most important people in our lives because they strolled in at just the right time and didn't leave.  I have a good amount of sadness in my heart right now, but I also have an even greater amount of love and pure gratitude for my tribe of humans who, once again, are carrying me.  We CAN do hard things.  Absolutely we can.  And in the meantime, I'm going to take a nap (or in this case, go to bed before the clock strikes 2 a.m.)

The moral of the story:  Blessings are greater than burdens.  Write it down.  Embrace it.  Believe it. And I'll do the same.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

Seasons of Life.

Hey hey, my lovelies!  It’s November!  How did THAT happen?  Wasn’t I soaking up sun in the pool like yesterday?  Sigh.  Winter is creeping its way in to the day-to-day of the ‘hood and it gives me much to be reminded about my love/hate relationship with the next three months at Chez Ray.

I’ve talked about my lifelong quest against that bitch named depression, but I wanted to focus on the seasons of our life in this post.  I’m also very pleased to reveal the fourth and final hair photo of this year’s series with Kel-Z Photography!  Behold straight and crazy hair, polka dots and lying on cobblestone at the Union Station in Ogden, Utah.  Cobblestone, you say?  Yep.  And the answer is no, it is not comfortable, but it looks cool so who cares??

I often forget that there are seasons in my life, both literally and figuratively, that I struggle with more than others.  Transition and change is hard for me. I was raised in a home with parents who valued roots and consistency.  We were all about traditions in our family, meaning we did the same things over and over every year for the holidays.  That proved to be really challenging for me as a young adult because I found myself being depressed because I was forced to spend Christmas Eve alone or not be able to travel home to visit my family.  At some point I finally came to terms with this fact: sometimes we have to do it alone and it’s OK.  Christmas Eve alone didn’t last very long once my family found out and I’ve since spent the holidays with my aunt and uncle and cousins and am never wanting for company during Christmas. 

Figuratively, seasons of emotional health come and go as well.  When I was in organized therapy, there was always this goal to complete the task.  Be done with weekly, bi-weekly then monthly visits.  I felt like I could check off the box and be done.  Therapy – check, double check, here’s my token t-shirt for the road.  However, I was taken aback when my therapist looked at me and said, “it’s ok for you to come back if you need to.  We call them booster visits in this office.”  I laughed it off because I thought I was better than that.  I had put in my time and I was bustin out of this joint.  Wrong.  Within a year, I was back on the sofa with my shoes off and my journal open sharing some of my struggles and getting my booster dose.  I was and still am eternally grateful for my Jennifer and her scrupulous note taking about my jacked up life and even better emotional roller coaster at that time.  I still really hated my reality even though I had just paid hundreds of dollars to get over the other set of crappy realities in my life.  Once I moved to Ogden, I breathed a sigh of relief because I FINALLY felt happy, I loved my neighborhood and I fit in.  I could rest easier beause my life was going to be EASY now compared to what it was in Salt Lake.

My days of unicorns, rainbows and clicking of red shoes in the ‘hood was numbered and I soon had some struggles set in with work.  Wait, what?  This isn’t supposed to be happening.  I just worked in hell at the last place, that can’t happen again.  But, it sorta did.  Ugh.  I pressed on and I took it as an opportunity to create sunshine in a season that was turning out to be a really crappy situation. 

Now fast forward to the last year.  I talked about the journey it’s been in my last post, but I have really felt the seasons of life pass before me in ways that I loathe and love.  I’ve had some life goals in my heart forever that I’ve been able to accomplish in the last couple of months. Along with that I’ve cried some big tears over mistakes and stupidity that appears to be a common denominator with me.  It’s dumb.  I fell APART last week because my lady plumbing appointment, which was grossly overdue, did not go as I had hoped.  I mean, how glamorous can anything with a paper gown and stirrups be?  But, I’ve had super chill appointments in the past and this one threw me off guard.  I lost my marbles in the bathroom and my boss found me.  Oops.  New employee is a sniveling, imperfect mess.  We talked long enough for me to stop sobbing and I tried to recount what had happened.  What finally came out of my mouth was this, “let’s back up this train and remember that I have just been through one of THE most stressful years of my life and apparently I didn’t lose weight in stress this time around.”  Le.  Sigh.  My boss offered some really consoling words about my worth and my beauty and I stopped crying and went back to my desk.  Can we all say it together, “DAMN the seasons of life!”  I was really really upset for about 4 days because my waistline took the biggest hit (besides my pride and my finances) during my unemployment ride.  But, the best part of this is knowing that it is only for but a small moment and I will be OK.  I feel better this week, but holy hell, I was one emotional girl last weekend.  Lame.  I hate it when I’m the girl that drives me the most crazy. 

In conclusion I would like to share a really special video with all of you.  My co-worker’s wife recently embarked on a project that will bring you to tears.  It’s entitled, “1000 words: A Silent Interview on Self Worth” and it takes the viewer on a journey of facial expressions and body language as a group of women and girls are asked questions about their life and the seasons that come and go.  I could hardly believe the power and hurt and emotion that came across as these women displayed their vulnerability.  I have included the video below and I hope you will take the time to watch it with all the women in your life, whether young or old.  The questions that are asked are critical and they remind me that we do NOT give ourselves enough credit, nor do we give others the benefit of the doubt that they might be in a really shitty season of life. 

The moral of the story:  Just like the leaves change and the snow falls from the sky, our lives bring seasons of change that last for a small moment, but still bring beauty and magic to our lives. 

Until next time, my lovelies!

-R