As a child, some of my most vivid memories are of times spent at my grandmother's house. I loved the time I spent with her and she made my brothers and I feel like we were her favorite playmates. She never tired of playing the same old games over and over again, and whenever it was "grown up time", I would have quite a bit of time alone to explore. Her house was like a museum filled with all sorts of odd pieces of history that she'd managed to collect over the years.

One of my favorite things was an old view-finder made of wood. There were old cards with two of every picture of them that you would place into the finder and hold it up to your eyes like glasses. Once in the finder, you could see all sorts of details in the pictures that weren't visible to the naked eye. These pictures were old, like from the 1800's, and I spent hours upon hours looking at old family photos, ancient storefronts, ladies of leisure images of life "in the big cities".

My great-grandmother was an Indian. And so there were Indian artifacts around the house: moccasins, a peace pipe, little purses made of leather and beadwork. I was fascinated by these and tried to reconcile what I saw with the negative and prejudicial comments I heard my father say about Indians. If they were so bad, I wondered, how could they make such beautiful things? And why would you have so much hatred against a people you are related to?

Childhood musings for sure.

And then there were the books. Stories of my father and his ability to literally devour books were legendary. "Here's the set of encyclopedias your father read cover to cover one summer." "Oh, and here's the set of animal books your father loved so much." Or, "You can look at these books behind the glass, but we don't take them out very often. They're old and you need to be a little older before we can let you look at them."

As the years passed and I grew, my fascination with these "forbidden" books increased. And as soon as I was old enough, I was allowed to read them for myself.

I don't remember them being special in any other regard except many of them were by authors that I'd already discovered for myself. To imagine my father as a boy reading the same kinds of books I was astounded me. Was it possible that he was ever any different than he was as my father? When did he lose his sense of humor? His patience? His belief that others could be as great as he was?

At a garage sale this weekend, I came across some of the books I'd treasured as a child. How odd that so much time had gone by without my thinking of them. Yet the second I saw their covers, I instantly knew I'd seen them before.

I picked them up and flipped through their pages. Their power wasn't in what they were about, but who I was and where I was when I saw them for the first time.

SO many things in my life are referenced by self-injury. If I see a toy I used to play with in a store, one of my first thoughts is, "I wasn't hurting myself yet."

But with these books, I couldn't say that. How clearly I can remember reading those books during those trips and then inevitably getting into trouble while I was there. Being punished. Being made to feel small. Hurting myself over and over again, before praying for death when I went to sleep.

The books represented such a beautiful memory before self-injury crept up and ruined it.

Another one of my most favorite memories of my grandmother's house is spending time with her in the kitchen. The only room in the house that had air conditioning (a window unit) was the living/dining room. That meant that the kitchen door had to stay open with the screen door closed, and all of the cooking time we spent was to the smell of the tractors outside, buzzing bees and the ever-present smell of dirt in the air.

My earliest memories of cooking with my grandmother are before I was in school. I had to have been about 3 or 4 at the time because my next brother was still a baby. I had to stand on one of the kitchen chairs to reach the sink or the stove top. I had been made an apron to wear. And I spent my time talking to my grandmother about my imaginary child, Bruce. A son I had given birth to but hated with a passion. He would never behave. He embarrassed me and I found myself doing nothing but spanking him. (My mom will tell you she often walked in on me "spanking" my bed with a belt because Bruce wouldn't behave. How interesting that I used to be spanked with a belt too. I guess the fruit never falls far the tree.) EVERYONE in the family knew about Bruce because I talked about him a lot. Even as a small child I knew what it was like to be disappointed in another "person" and want to beat them into submission.

But it was the smells that I treasured most from my grandmother's house. Even now, most of the holiday smells I come across instantly remind me of her.

I was 9 the last time I saw my grandmother. Once my parents got divorced they wanted nothing to do my brothers or I. So when I think of her house, I am always small, always full of dreams and eagerly anticipating of the next time I'd get to see her.

There has been so much loss in my life that I cannot understand. I don't think about it very often, and then something random like books at a garage sale will bring them all back.

If I close my eyes and think about it hard enough, I can be back there in her house. I can feel the carpet between my toes. I can see the furniture and feel the texture of it beneath my fingertips. When I think of time travel, this is what I think about. Because in those focused moments, I am there.

My grandmother is nearing 80. I thought for sure once I was older she would find a way to contact me and assure me that she has as many positive memories of me as I do of her.

But that never happened.

All I have left of her are memories and a bunch of old books from a garage sale.

I deserve more.

tags: abandonment, childhood memories, confidence, family, loss, self-esteem, self-injury

In college, there were a group of us that were close friends. The neat thing was that we were all couples, and with only one exception, ended up marrying the person in the group we'd dated throughout college.

After college, one of my dearest friends and his wife moved near my husband and I and our friendship continued over pizza and rental movies on Friday nights after their kids had gone to bed.

Through the years, this friend and I grew closer, and after we'd both divorced, we talked about what our lives "might" have been like had we married each other and not the people we had.

This was a revealing conversation, and in the end, we decided that what we thought might be, was probably better than what was. We could have never been married. He had two kids and I'd sworn long ago I'd never have any. He had a job that required moving from here to there, my job required that I stayed in one place. We were great friends, but at the end of the day, as much as we hated it, that was probably all we could be.

When I filed for divorce, I called my friend, crying, mourning the loss of a marriage I thought would last forever. I thought he would mourn with me, but instead, he said, "Vanessa, this is a new chance to re-invent yourself, to do all the things you've wanted to do without abandon. The end of one chapter marks the beginning of another."

I've never forgotten his words.

Shortly thereafter he re-married and his life took him to a new place. We don't talk much anymore and believe it or not, I'm okay with that.

If all things happen for a reason, and I think they do, then I believe the reason he and I were friends in the first place is because life had some difficult hands for us to play and the wisdom we shared with each other during those times meant the difference between standing still and moving on.

As a single person, I think of the road not taken from time time. Perhaps under different circumstances we would have been more than friends. Perhaps not.

I think there are benchmarks in life that you think about from time to time. The choice you didn't make and how that might have changed the present.

I believe that had my friend done what I thought he was going to do when I called him those many months before, I would have wallowed in a decision I knew was right but feared. His confidence that my life was starting all over again meant the world to me. It changed my outlook, my attitude, my desire to do all that I could with the time I'd been given.

It's never too late to say thank you. One day I may get a chance to tell my friend what a profound impact he had on my life in that conversation, but for now, I share it here.

Just because a road wasn't taken doesn't mean you're on the wrong path. My footsteps are solid on the road I'm on. My friend is part of the reason why.

tags: confidence, decision-making, friendships, memories, moving on, relationships

I work with someone who is the most beautiful woman I've ever met. In ten years I have never seen her have a bad hair day, a blemish, or look like she got ready in a hurry. She loves her job and her life and it shows.

Every time I see her, I think, "wow, she looks so happy."

I wonder what people say when they see me? Most of the time I feel half put together, tired and overwhelmed but eager to start the day.

It wasn't always that way.

And I wonder when things changed.

And I wonder what I need to do to get that sense of joy back into my life.

I want other people to see me and know that I am content, happy and ready to take on the world.

I want my kids to see me each day and know how glad I am to see them and how anxious I am to help them learn something new.

But if I don't sleep well, or are worrying about something, it shows.

I think I've figured out the problem: I've given so much to other people that there hasn't been much left for me.

It's hard to do for yourself when you've been told your whole life how selfish you are. I've never felt selfish and believe I give more of myself, my energy and my talent to others than most people I know.

But what about me?

As summer looms ahead, my focus is changing. This summer will be about me.

I've signed up to be a volunteer at the hospital in my area. I'm excited to go and help brighten the days of others. When I'm doing for others, I'm not worried about me. I need that.

This summer will be a chance for me to write down all of the ideas that I've been storing in my head. I finally feel like I am ready to get another book underway and I know that this process will allow me to free myself of other, painful parts of my past.

This summer will be about re-newing friendships. I've done a horrible job this year of reaching out to the people in my life. For some reason I've chosen solitude over companionship, and I see now what a void I created.

This summer will be about running and feeding the ducks and taking care of my body better. I feel the best when I can exercise on a regular basis and I'm ready for a chance to get back into the groove.

And finally, this summer will be about nurturing my spirit. I am actively seeking out opportunities to "fill my cup" and I know I will be better for it.

I hope that when school begins again people will look at me and and say how happy and healthy I look.

I want my outside to match my inside.

Finally, I am strong enough to make that happen. Amazing!

tags: attitude, confidence, mental health, optimism, outlook, physical health, self-esteem, spirituality

One of the things that makes me an effective teacher is that my students know what I want from them. Before they are given a project or a written assignment, I give them examples or an outline of what I'm looking for. When the work comes in, we both feel good about it most of the time. I know what to expect when I grade, and the kids know whether or not what they are turning in matches my expectations.

There are few surprises.

In real life, most things aren't outlined as well. We are left to "interpret" what other people want from us and wonder if what we've produced meets, beats or falls short of their expectations.

As a perfectionist, I want to know what "perfect" looks like before I ever get started so I can go beyond that. As a student, if I knew what was required for an "A", I would make a point to raise the bar a little higher and take the assignment to a new level. Why? As teacher's pet, I believed it was expected. If I didn't surpass my teacher's expectations, I feared I would no longer be their favorite and I needed to be.

As a teen, when I started working in the "real" world, I put a lot of pressure on myself to read my bosses' minds. If they asked me to work from 8-4, I made sure I was there early, skipped lunch and offered to stay late. I wanted to prove I was reliable, consistent and the best employee they'd ever had.

Why?

This over-achieving never got me a raise or promotion really. But it showed others I worked with what they were up against. If there was a quota, deadline or contest, I was going to do whatever it took to beat it.

I had to be the best at all costs because I believed that's what was expected of me.

Part of this stems from the messages I was given as a child by my parents. I can remember so clearly working on school projects, feeling I'd done my best, and being told, "you can do better than that! Here, let me help you." And before I knew it, what I was thought was good enough was stripped away and together, one of my parent's and I would start all over again.

In college, none of my professors told me what they wanted or was looking for. This was up to me to figure out and interpret. I cannot tell you the amount of time I spent trying to put myself in their shoes and decide what I would want if I were them. I would go to the ends of the earth to make my work stand out.

And it did.

But there was a price and my body suffered for it. Always second-guessing my decisions, my approach, my angle. What would they think?

I worried constantly about not being good enough...about falling short of my professors expectations, or wanting their respect and not knowing how best to earn it. How can you show someone you want to be like them without kissing their butt?

I wish people were more direct in their expectations. I wish that instead of hoping I read minds, people would say, "it would be nice if..." or, "I am looking for XYZ in this proposal", etc.

I never want my students to feel like they are floundering...that they are flying blind and left to their own devices when completing something for me.

But as their teacher, I feel like I live in the dark. Nothing feels worse than someone telling you, "give me what you have" and praying it's want they want and reflective of your efforts.

tags: confidence, decision making, effort, expectations, obligation, pressure, self-injury

I was speaking to a friend of mine this morning whose mother is rapidly falling into poor health and has been given only a short time to live. We were talking about faith and purpose.

Why is it that we are shown suffering in the world if we can't "fix" it? I think helplessness is one of the most difficult things to deal with in the world. Perhaps this is why so many people choose apathy over action. Maybe they feel like whatever they do won't be enough so they choose to do nothing.

I was raised to believe that one person could make a difference. That even if I could not fix the problem, maybe I could be of help in other ways: emotional comfort, friendship, support, physical assistance with things like buying groceries, watching children, running errands. I learned this behavior from my mother. She too is a "fixer". And as a child, I watched her "fix" situations in many different ways: making cookies, sewing quilts, visiting people in the hospital, being a room mother throughout my elementary years, etc.

But now that I am the adult, rarely does this feel like it is enough.

As a child, I can remember clearly asking God to take me away. I didn't believe I deserved to be a part of my family because my parent's deserved a better and more obedient child. As a teenager, I actively questioned God for some sort of clue about why I was struggling so much. I couldn't see a purpose for my pain and questioned what good could come out of something so difficult. As an adult, I continued to feel like I was walking in the darkness, and begged for a sense of purpose. I wanted a sign, something to show me that there was a reason for things to be as they were.

The answers and signs I sought were nothing as I imagined they would be.

My friend is facing one of the greatest losses of her life. She is working to find a balance between appreciating the time she has left and dealing with the reality that the time is rapidly going by.

"I feel really lucky", she said, "to have this awareness, this time. Most people think they have forever to say what they want to say, but I know I don't. I have this time to help my mother prepare for a new chapter in her life. We are sharing this experience together and it takes my breath away."

When I look back on my life, I can clearly see things now in their significance. Things that at the time seemed totally random and unconnected were actually bricks in the road I currently walk on.

I have to continue working on my perspective. There is no way I could have seen how my past experiences would benefit so many others now. This should give me faith that my current struggles too will help me in the future. The events of the present are the bricks that my road will be built upon.

Like my friend, I am learning to be strong in the face of uncertainty. It's true that I cannot fix all of the situations in my life. But there may be opportunities for me to make aspects of the situations better for others.

I take comfort in the idea that all things have a purpose even if I can't see it at the time. Today as I face new challenges, I will work on keeping my perspective in check.

tags: confidence, faith, perspective, struggles

It's been almost two years since I finished my last book. I've got a file of "starts" and random scenes that I imagine incorporating in the months ahead, but so far, it remains a file of ideas, character sketches and wishes.

For someone who has never had a child, I cannot say for sure, but I imagine that writing a book is similar in many ways to bearing one.

Like a child, a book begins as an idea. One small thought that has the potential to become so much more.

Over time, this idea "gestates" and with a great deal of mental nourishment, evolves into something tangible, developed, mature.

When I finished my last book, I went through a grieving process. I really did. Things I had dared to risk putting down on paper were finally there, and others had read them, critiqued them, put their stamp of approval on them.

I put so much time and energy into writing the book, "growing it", that once it was sold and ready for distribution, I felt empty, spent. My early mornings were no longer spent typing feverishly. Instead, I was once again able to sleep through the night; a luxury I hadn't had in months.

Like any new mother, I waited for people's comments about my "baby". No one wants to hear they have an ugly baby. I didn't. I wanted the world to see my creation and all of the effort I'd expelled on its behalf and appreciate it for what it was.

But that was many months ago, and I find myself longing for another "baby".

Thus the file I mentioned earlier.

In many ways, I have come full circle. What started as an idea, small and without shape a couple of years ago grew into something larger than I ever imagined; touching lives all over the world.

But I have more to say, more ideas to express, more dreams to make come true.

I feel now like I'm back at square one. I have an idea that won't let me go; festering in my mind it has started, like the other one did, as a "what if" in the corner of my mind.

I am looking to the summer months with great anticipation. I think this will be a summer of great productivity. At the end of it all, I hope to have a new "bun in the oven", something equally profound and relevant.

As with all endeavors, there is the possibility of failure and that scares me.

What if this new book isn't as good as the last? What if people don't like it? What if my "great idea" isn't so great after all?

Here is where faith comes in. No one is pressuring me to write another book, although many people have asked me for one. The world will not stop if I just leave things as they are.

But I will stop.

Writing is something I have done since I was in the 5th grade. It defines me. It is part of who I am. If there is an idea calling to be written down, I am a slave to that inclination; creativity, my master.

I cannot say yet what this new book will look like any more than I could have told you two years ago what the last one did. It was written one word at a time, just as this new one will be. I hope that I have learned enough and grown enough over the last two years to raise the bar a little, push myself more.

Right now, it's a bunch of post-it notes and typed miscellaneous pages in a file folder. Months from now, it may be my greatest creation.

tags: book, confidence, courage, creativity, discipline, goals, memory, writing

Last week I received a call from my bank informing me that an unidentified person was trying to access my accounts and as a precaution, all of my assets were frozen. My debit card was invalid and I wouldn't be sent another one for several days. "In the meantime," the voice called, "just try to use the cash you have on hand."

What cash?

For the next several days I monitored every mile I drove and every soft drink I enjoyed. Whatever I had at home or in the gas tank was all I would have access to until my new card arrived.

Had I been desperate, I could have gone to the bank and made a withdrawal, but my schedule just didn't allow for it. My only option was to tough it out.

I'm so busy with school that I rarely use money during the week. I try to do all of my grocery shopping and gas fill up on the weekend, but what if I hadn't? I had placed so much trust in my debit card that I had created this false sense of security that it would always be there when I needed it.

Not this week.

Someone, somewhere, was trying to "be me". My first thought when I got the call was, who would possibly want to be me? Shouldn't they try to find someone who has more money?

But it brought to mind a larger question.

SO many times I feel inadequate and have often wondered if God didn't make a mistake. My faith tells me He didn't, but people in my life surely do. In times of emotional turmoil, when my vision isn't as clear as it should be, I have to wonder who in the world would want to be me. If I think my life is a mess, others probably do too.

But in times of serenity, I can step back and look at myself and my life with a different perspective. I may not be as far as I would like to be sometimes, but I'm further down the road than I was and that is admirable. I may not have as much money as others have, but I get by. My family may not communicate or get along the way I'd like, but I have one. All in all, I have much to be thankful for. It may not be perfect, but I appreciate it.

This last week I have learned several lessons. One, I should have some cash on hand no matter what. To assume my debit card will always be available is huge mistake. Two, even though sometimes I cannot stand myself, others may envy what I have and try to take it from me. And finally, I shouldn't have to have someone else try to steal my identity before I can claim it for my own. Like it or not, I am who I am and accepting that would ease my life in countless ways.

My new debit card finally arrived. It sounds like a little thing, but it taught me a lot this week. I carry it with me and use it wisely as I remind myself who it belongs to and who she really is. No matter how small I may feel at times, I exist.

The name on my debit card tells me so.

tags: confidence, faith, identity, integrity, self-esteem, strength

According to a study this last week, all blue-eyed persons came from one ancestor thousands of years ago. It is estimated that prior to 10,000 years ago, every person on the planet had brown eyes. And then there's the genetic mutation that led to blue eyes, and now, more than 20-40% of all Europeans have blue eyes. (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22934464/)

Being a blue-eyed person, I was intrigued by this story.

But then there's the case of people like one of my brothers who have two different colored eyes.

How do you explain that?

Eyes are fascinating. They are supposed to be the "window to the soul" and why most noteably, a person's character is often connected to their eyes.

In a trial setting, people will say, "Did you see his eyes? Cold and heartless. Just a like a killer's would be."

I've never met a killer and cannot say for sure what his/her eyes would look like, but I imagine that given the right set of circumstances in my past, my eyes too have appeared cold and spiritless from time to time.

When meeting a person for the first time, eyes are sometimes what we remember the most. With the invention of colored contact lenses, a person can mask their true eye color.

I've never wanted to do that.

Blue matches most consistently my mind set. The happier I am, the more blue my eyes become.

The sadder I am, the more gray they become.

In this instance alone, it seems my mind and body are in sync with each other.

I've always known I was "different" and this study proves it. My self-injury may not be the result of a genetic mutation, but my eyes are!

tags: confidence, differences, eye color, genetics, identity, mutation, self-esteem

Even though the idea that each of us has the ability to chose our own fates, having someone say, "the choice is yours" is an invitation to being slapped.

If all decisions were easy, there wouldn't be a need for such a trite saying. In reality, most decisions are complicated and the consequences must be weighed carefully.

I've been in the process of making some very difficult decisions and still being "on the fence" is causing others who know me to get frustrated.

I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, and am trying to do my best to explore many different scenarios in my mind before I make my final move. The consequences will be permanent. This decision isn't one I can go back and retract later. Therefore, it behooves me to take my time and weigh my decision carefully.

"Just follow your heart", a friend of mine said. "I think in your heart you already know what you need to do. Now it's just a matter of doing it."

That may be, but to really act on my inclinations is going to take more courage and assurance that I'm doing the right thing, than I have at the moment.

An inability to commit, one way or the other, is complicating my life. I fear this will be one more example of my trying to please everyone and failing miserably.

If I try to please myself, others will be hurt. But if I do what will please others, my quality of life is compromised.

How easy it is to say make a decision and move forward.

How painful it is to live with the consequences.

tags: approval from others, confidence, decisions, future, happiness, self-esteem

I associate the subject of fear with Halloween. Part of what makes this times of year so thrilling, is that each of us has an opportunity to confront our "fears" in a safe and fool-proof environment.

I am not a fan of haunted houses, only because they represent some of my worst fears: clowns, things that go "bump" in the night, elements of surprise and the ever-present, unknown.

However, some friends of mine are connisseurs of haunted houses so to speak. Last year I was suckered into going with them through some of the most challenging haunts Dallas has to offer. More than once, I thought my heart was going to stop. But in the end, I made it through, and once I saw daylight again, wanted to raise my fist to the heavens and shout triumphantly, "I did it!"

I thought because I had dodged the bullet last year, that this year I would be off the hook.

Oh no.

And so I find myself once again digging deep within my soul to find the courage to walk back into the "lions den". I don't know what I will face there, but know that with enough support and inner assurances that everything I see if fake, I can make it.

But I wonder what life would be like if fear wasn't an issue.

What if we weren't troubled by the unknown? What if the darkness held no surprises we weren't confident enough to face and overcome? How might our choices be different if we weren't afraid of the impending consequences?

I think about how many decisions I have made in my life out of fear. Too many. Fear of an unstable job market kept me at a job I didn't enjoy for many years when I was fresh out of college. Where might my life have taken me had I taken a risk and actively sought something else? I think of how many foods I have missed trying or meals I denied myself because of my fear of being fat. Fear of being alone kept me in a relationship that I knew was withering on the vine for years before I finally decided that being alone was better than making myself and someone else miserable. Fear of inadequacy has propelled me into accepting way too many "extra" tasks over the years in an effort to prove my "worth". Fear of failure has prevented me from trying new sports or activities for as long as I can remember. And on. And on. And on.

I wonder how many women would leave abusive situations if there was no fear that they, their children and pets would be taken care of?

I wonder how many women wouldn't seek out plastic surgery if they weren't afraid of what society thought of them?

I wonder how many people wouldn't be in financial distress if they weren't concerned with "keeping up with the Jones'". And on and on it goes.

I can't imagine a life without fear. I expect, most people can't.

So much of our media output is fear driven: toy recalls, adverse drug effects, criminal activity, contagions, an unstable real estate market, a rising unemployment rate, terrorism, etc.

It's no wonder there are more people on anti-depressants now than at any other time in recorded history!!

Fear serves a purpose. This innate sense alerts us to danger and acts as an internal regulator against poor or hasty judgments.

But if given a chance, fear can ruin our lives.

I cannot tell you how many times I have allowed fear to act as a barrier to my happiness. Had I been more courageous, I would have stepped out boldly in faith and seen that, in most cases, my fears were either unfounded, or much worse than the actual reality of the situation.

It is Halloween once again and I find myself confronting my fears. This time of the year represents a re-birth of sorts for me. I have the chance to re-evaluate my life and the decisions that I am making and the motivations behind them. If they are fear driven, then it is up to me to step back and assess how accurate and impactful that fear may be.

I never want to reach a point in my life where I have regrets because of the road not taken. If finances, health or opportunity prevents me from taking that road, that is a different story. But to refuse to step out just because I don't know where the road may lead something I just can't accept.

Now, if I could only get past the whole clown thing...

tags: confidence, decisions, fear, goals, judgement, overcoming obstacles

It is amazing to me how things are sent to me when I need them the most. This is a video link that was sent by a friend of mine who wanted to share a little ray of hope with me today. I now pass it on to you:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=96urFHxeYUE

This is a short video about the postcard project. Individuals were asked to send their deepest secrets, anonymously, to an address. Thousands of people responded. The end result of this project has been published in several books.

What touched me so much about this video was the brutal honesty shared on these postcards. These postcards affirm that I am not the only one with dark thoughts, regrets or doubts in my life. To know that others have had to make equally hard decisions or to go through struggles as I have, helps me to feel an odd kinship with people I know I will never meet.

I have said it before, but it bears repeating. No matter what you are going through, you are not alone. Someone, somewhere can relate to your pain. This fact may not take the pain away, but hopefully it diminishes it a little bit.

Everyone has secrets that they are afraid to share or admit to themselves. This video illustrates the freedom that can come from sharing these secrets, even if its with a faceless stranger.

tags: confidence, empowerment, freedom, secrets, support