I Know You’re Barely Listening

I recently told a friend that I start each day with this: Another day, another opportunity to make it great in my history book.

I’m drinking the Kool-aid of positivity. This is not to say I’m choosing ignorance, but that I re-right myself when I get unbalanced. I’m learning my worth, and recognizing that that isn’t selfish. To further speak to that, if it isn’t positive and necessary it doesn’t belong in my life. I am unapologetically working on me for me.

Last Friday I walked through my house turning out lights and locking doors. As I turned from the last door to walk to my bed I paused long enough to see the path of progress in this old house. Head down and barrel through has been my approach, but that brief moment reached out to me. I remembered sitting on the floor of her empty double parlor just after closing. A hideous, gilded faux painting technique applied all over the 14 foot tall, cracked plaster walls and ceiling. A giant family tree mural complete with eyeballs in the knots of the tree climbing up the front staircase. Ivy woven within the windows and creeping into the master bedroom, floors too fragile for my 18 year old son to stand on without fear of falling through.  “What have I done?”  Me, all by myself, I am now responsible for two cars, two dogs, three children and this giant 1853 house which sat empty for two years. Usually everything that needs attention screams at me as I walk through her halls, but in that brief moment I recognized progress. I recognized progress in her appearance and progress in me. I stood there with shoulders back and a fixed gaze that wasn’t downward. I hear confidence in my voice when speaking with colleagues. I didn’t realize I let him do the talking for both of us until it was up to me only. No longer do I question every decision I make. I am the matriarch of my family. I feel the weight of responsibility, but today I do not feel the burden. This house and me, we are repairing each other.

Be relentless in hope, perseverance, and prayer.

There is more to life than a forty hour work week and making your utility payment no matter how much you love your job. Don’t ever fall into the trap of existing. There was a time when I did. I had it all, the American dream,  for a very long time. It was a wonderful life and neither of us could fully appreciate it until it was gone. I don’t know how to impart this wisdom. Everyone will nod in agreement but few, if any, truly get it and act on it. You can exist even through a good life and that, my friends, is tragic.

You can practice the drills and perfect the skills all day long. You can understand the game and know the plays inside and out, but unless you choose to be aggressive and be more aggressive your skills are wasted.

I have discovered every time I push my envelope I reveal something else that is broken. I am commanding the courage to grow strong in my broken places. Today I am intentional in living. Buy the concert tickets. Life is too damn short. What is my worth? I am the big door prize.


  1. So many emotions, thoughts, screams, and sighs through my mind as I read this. All I can manage at this point is, “yes”.
    Love you friend, thank you. 💙


  2. Sweet, sweet friend… YOU are the voice I heard when I debated whether or not to take Cailey to the Twenty One Pilots concert in Louisville… heck, when I considered pitching the idea of getting the tickets!! YOU are the voice I heard when I found myself in WAAAAAAAY over my head in the middle of that second race in France this past September that was much shorter, but kicked my ass harder, than the Marathon in Paris in 2015. YOU are the voice I hear every time I think I am too old, too slow, too asthmatic. I hear you whispering “GO FOR IT!!!” Thank YOU for being that friend who, human as you are… no pedestals I promise, inspires me with hope that I can change and be better if I work at it and lean on God. I love you, to Pluto and back. ❤


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