Posts Tagged With: hopeful

feeling hopeful at the end of the second month

I’m beginning to feel more at home in my own skin.
In my own home.

The first year of teaching is often called survival year.
The first year of anything could probably be called survival year.
This is the end of the second month.
End. Of. The. Second. Month.
Of a survival year.
During a global pandemic.

All the changes came so hard and fast. And came during the strangest possible time.
Pandemic kept us cooped up for safety. And just when that started to feel unbearable, three more people and three dogs joined this household.
Initially it was exciting and new.
Then it was all about getting settled.
Then simple logistics of cohabitating.
How do we make this work? Two small families creating one big family…how can we be both?

Expectations are being ironed out.
Anybody else hear Hamilton in their head?

“I’m past patiently waitin’. I’m passionately mashin’ every expectation. Every action’s an act of creation.”

Just me? OK…
Anyway, we’re beginning to managing expectations. We’re learning how to navigate each other’s personal language. We’re asking what did that mean when you/she/he said that? We’re figuring out how to cohabitate successfully.

I’m used to being alone the majority of my time.
Now I’m never alone.
My daughter is used to being in charge of her own environment.
Now her environment is not her own.
YBW continues his routine of going to work each day.
Now he supports more people.
Husband N is becoming more and more anxious about finding a job.
YBW and I agree he needs gainful employment, we want him to make the best possible choice instead of taking any job because it’s a job.
Baby K alternates between being so delightful it nearly kills us, and being a tiny terrorist demon bent on destruction. (as a toddler do)

And doesn’t even include the chaos of construction in the house.
YBW and I have no access to our own bathroom. And trying to make due with the bare minimum in the hall bathroom is taking it’s toll on me.
I know I’m feeling the stress.
I am acutely aware everybody experiences me feeling the stress.
I do my best to make sure to explain myself and/or apologize if I’m irritable or querulous. (more than normal)

It’s simply too much all at once and my adaption rate is lagging.
To combat this, I am actively carving out time for myself.
I’m reading again. That simple act sparked a change in me. Shifted me from the back of my brain back to the front. My brain moved out of survival mode and into all the good stuff.
I’m so much better off for it. (so is everyone else)
I’m engaged in a mindful way, not simply navigating fight or flight.
I will work as hard as I can to remain here in this healthy brain space.

I will learn to balance my needs with my wants when they’re at odds.
I want to spend every possible moment with Baby K.
I need some quiet time for myself.
Every time I think I’m on it, I fall. Honestly, she’s hard to resist…
But then I remember we’re at the end of the second month.
End. Of. The. Second. Month.

And I offer myself empathy and understanding.
Which, if I’m being honest, I never do.
My personal expectations are residual from my childhood, keep my head down and do the hard work and don’t complain about it. I received no empathy or understanding. I was expected to do what I was told without question.
I end up expecting myself to manage all ‘the things’ and be resigned to do so without complaint.
When triggered, we all go to the place we ‘know’.
So, if I offer myself some grace, it can be a place where I can stop and breathe. I can bask in that grace and encourage understanding for myself. I can stop the triggers, and in doing so I can find balance.
I can manage my own expectations.
I can take the time I need.
I can take the time I want.
I can feel strong and grateful instead of anxious and overwhelmed.

I feel indescribable love and joy having my daughter and her family here.
Now I’m working on making it comfortable.
For me.
For my husband.
For Thing 1 and Husband N.
For Baby K.
Though, let’s be honest, she’s in high cotton as the tiny princess in this multigenerational household.

At the end of the second month, I feel tired. But more than that, I feel hopeful.

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Monday thoughts

My brain feels like it is chock full of mush. Something between the texture of cream of wheat and raw pizza dough.
It could be because that storm is headed this way.
It could be because I still don’t feel rested.

These are my random thoughts today:

We’re starting to get the hang of life around here. All these humans and canines in one place. We’re finding our way at becoming members of one household.
Baby K alternates from ‘most adorable baby on the planet’ to ‘face slapping and scratching demon baby’ in a way that is perplexing but makes a kind of sense. She is trying to get nine-hundred-seventy-three-thousand teeth all at once, but damn! Of course then she’s all lovey and snuggly and sings songs with you and you forget she was demonish.
Never a dull moment in life with a toddler.

August is here, and I’d normally be gearing up for going back to school. Only that’s not a thing this year. So disappointing.
I’ve contracted with a family to essentially tutor their daughter as they navigate online school. At least I’ll be able to work a little. I like the idea of working with kids to facilitate their learning. I’m hoping to schedule with (up to) five kids scheduled twice a week.

I have this concept that time is on my side when it comes to design plans for the new house and preparing this house for sale. In reality, it probably isn’t.
We’re about to schedule the ‘low voltage’ appointment to decide where all the extra normal and fancy electric stuff will be. Within another sixty days, we’ll do the appointment I’m most enthusiastic about, deciding things for the kitchen and bathrooms.
The house is scheduled for summer 2021 delivery.
In this house, we need new flooring on the first and second floors, and some rooms painted. We have to ‘unpersonalize’ by removing all our family photos etc. Our bathroom must be updated, and possibly the bathroom YBW’s sons use(d). Thing 1’s family can’t move until Husband N has a job and they can purchase their own home. Thing G is supposed to be moving to his mother’s ‘by the end of the calendar year’. Sooner than later would be good at this point because construction can’t take place conveniently with five adults and a baby sharing two bathrooms.

My brain isn’t working the way I’d like it to. I’m having so much more aphasia of late. Some migraine aura but no pain. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m not really doing things to promote brain health, or because I’m so damn tired.
I know I have to find balance in figuring how to make time for myself while engaging my fam. I’m working on it.
I think naps may become part of my days until I finally feel rested.

It occurs to me these thoughts are so very Monday.
Even though I feel off kilter, I am filled with love and gratitude. I am hopeful.
When I begin to feel better, that hope, gratitude, and love will fuel me living my intention and nothing can stop me!

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accentuate the positive (and weird)

Y’all, my husband is a precious man.
I mean a truly precious man.
When he asked about my day and I told him I was feeling a way (mood) he began suggesting things he could do to help. From providing me with things to keep me occupied, (things he knew I didn’t really want to do) to coming up with things he could do to be helpful.
When I told him I appreciate him trying to help make it better, but I didn’t need him to fix it. He told me knew that, but he wants to help fix it because he loves me. And I honestly couldn’t argue with that.

We talked about me going to Thing 1’s. He inquired about girlie hotel weekend with Thing 2. She’s on the way regardless of which direction I’m heading.
This man is over here like, I can’t make it better for you, but if being with one or both of your girls will, I can make that happen.

He’s been very clear during the pandemic about how he understands his life is much more normal than most of the rest of us. He goes to work every day every other week, so those weeks feel normal. He gets out. He sees people. He gets do do the work he loves doing.
And I know how lucky we are!
We aren’t worried about how to pay the mortgage, or feed ourselves, or whether or not there’s enough loo paper.
We don’t have little kids at home who need to stay safe and continue to be educated.
We don’t have elderly parents to worry about.
Our kids are safe and healthy.

I’m quick to get frustrated.
And my husband often bears the brunt of that. I mean, sometimes he’s part of the situation, sometimes he’s just in the line of fire. But I hope he really understands how precious he is to me.
We had a conversation over the weekend in which I shared my concern that he never hears the good stuff. That he only hears negativity and criticism. I suggested that predated me. I’m not saying that I can’t be critical, because I can.
I’m hopeful he’s listening more for the good stuff.

My feels for this man are deep and wide.
We were meant to find each other in this life, but only when we were truly ready to accept the other with an open heart.
I waited my whole life for YBW.
He was worth the wait.
He told me “I think I’m falling in love with you.” the first time we were in the same physical space after dating over the phone and email for a couple of months. The smartest thing I ever did was decide to trust him.
His love and his kindness are without measure.
His desire to do all he can for the people he loves is bigger than he is.
His sense of humor is twisted and kind of gross, yet he continues to amuse me.
He’s creepy and weird but it somehow compliments my own creepy weirdness.

He has loved me though the last ten years with a kind and playful heart.
I am grateful for his willingness to fix my problems even when I don’t need him to.
Him simply being him eased my anxious heart and helped me feel more calm and settled.
I am grateful to feel safe in his love.

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I’m a mood

It’s Wednesday and I’m trying to create a plan for my day…
Only I’ve literally done all the ‘things’.
Nothing left to sort or organize. Nothing to prep. Nothing to engage me creatively.
Other than laundry and food prep, I have no tasks or projects to keep me occupied. And truth be told, I don’t really care about food right now.
I’m reading, but even that’s not enough. I find myself finishing a chapter or two and looking around for something else to do.
Writing is tricky as I’m not sure what to say that doesn’t sound whiny AF.

Monday my big event was going over Michaels for a curbside pick up. Driving with the windows down and the beautiful sunny breeze was excellent. I almost just kept driving. Only I didn’t put on shoes before I left since I knew I wouldn’t have to get out of my car and it felt a bit ridiculous to be out and about without shoes, what if something happened and I had to walk?

Tuesday I stripped and remade the bed, laundered and folded sheets and towels. I skipped laundry day Friday because I had an appointment with the acupuncturist. So I also did clothes instead of just linens.
Even laundry didn’t help me perk up. Though it is nice to have everything clean.

I’m in a mood.
No, I am a mood.

I’m not entirely sad.
I’m not entirely angry.
I’m sure as fuck not content.

I’m tired. But not the kind of tired a good night’s rest alleviates. I’m the kind of tired that seeps into your bones and fills the very marrow.
And tired isn’t quite the right word either.

I’m searching for something I can’t quite put my finger on…
Something to keep my brain and body occupied in a positive way.

Perhaps I should go down to Thing 1’s and help her pack…of course making that trip twice in two months is over the top…at least it would give me something to do. And I could see that delightful fat baby!
That drive though…
Perhaps a quickie trip to see Thing 2? We could do a girlie hotel weekend! Are hotels even open?

I keep thinking inspiration will arrive via roundhouse kick to my soul…
So far, so nothing.

I’ve sworn off social media for a while. I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t stand how people claim to be woke then say bullshit like all lives matter.
Of-fucking-course all lives matter, but the only people dying in the streets are black people. So yes! Black lives are what matter right now.
I will never understand what it’s like to be a black person or other person of color in America, but by God, I am paying attention!

I’m grouchy.
I’m antsy.
I’m chock full of nervous energy with nothing productive to pour it into.
I am frustrated.
I am tired.

But above all, I am hopeful.
I keep looking for the silver lining. For the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. For the muses to show up and dazzle me.
Alas…here I sit. Writing about being a mood.
I appreciate your patience.

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the choices we make

The other day LA wrote a post in which she said “I want you to think about how you really feel about the situation.” The ‘situation’ being the world in which we currently live.

You know, I didn’t realize how much I actually felt about this situation because I’ve become somewhat immune to it. But upon further thought, this is what I think and how I feel about where we are right now.

I miss going to school. I miss students and faculty. I miss everything about it!
Schools here are beginning to discuss what August will look like. There is talk in our county of further distance learning.
I honestly don’t know how I feel about it. On the one hand, ‘getting back to normal’ sounds wonderful. Being in the classrooms, teaching and learning together. On the other, how safe are we going to be with a thousand kids from age 4 to 12 in tight space?

I truly believe I’m helping by remaining at home.
That doesn’t mean I like it.
Here in America, there’s a great uproar about civil liberties. It’s mostly people who want to go about and do the things. They don’t care that they could get or make others sick. They want to do what they want to do when they want to do it and don’t feel like they should be told any differently.
I have real issue with this. This is toddler behavior. And I’m speaking from a brain development point of view. Also as someone who’s spent most of her adult life around toddlers.

And let me assure you, I understand the financial impact. Two of our four kids work in the service industry. Thing 2 is a server in a restaurant. She was fortunate to qualify for unemployment for a while, but now that the state in which she lives is opening back up, she had to go back to work regardless of her safety or the safety of others.
Thing G is a cashier at the Dollar Tree. And though his hours have dropped dramatically, he’s still going to work. He’s at risk, he’s putting others at risk.
I understand the economy is struggling, but people are dying. I cannot fathom how to put a dollar amount on human life.

If we don’t choose to accept that our actions impact others we’re doomed.
I mean, I’d love to go get a pedicure, or have browse Home Goods, or go out to dinner. But I’m hopeful that by staying in, I’m helping keep us all safe.
And if it turns out I’m wrong, so be it. It wasn’t that hard, and it’s not worth the shoulda coulda woulda drama.

I am aware that my choices impact everything and everyone around me. That’s enough for me to pay attention. To do what I believe is the right thing. I can see the bigger picture. I am part of one human family.
Some people don’t look at life that way. And that too is OK. We each have the right to our own choices.
It comes down to individuals making choices that impact others without thought. Without empathy.
We’re all in this together, but there are individuals who value their own desires over the greater good.
That’s your right.
But your right shouldn’t impede mine.

This pandemic has negatively impacted my country more by furthering the divide than by the death rate number.
It makes me sad.
It makes me angry.
I’m tired of the conservatives and liberals alike behaving like monkeys, throwing poo and screeching just to hear themselves.

There must be a better way.
The way it is is so deeply entrenched that to change it would take a straight up revolution.
Is that what’s best for any of us?

There must be a way to exercise our freedoms without negatively impacting the freedoms of others. Perhaps speaking and acting with kindness and empathy instead of finger pointing and name calling…?
The goal is for everyone to have the right to make their choice without fear or judgement. Without risk to self or others. The trick is each of us having the willingness to try.

I’m going to borrow LA’s words to ask what y’all think.

“Not what your friend thinks.
Not what the media tells you to think.
Not what you’re ‘supposed’ to think.
What do YOU think?”

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Paul knew what was up


1 Corinthians 16:14
The general consensus is Paul wrote this letter to the Corinthians between 54-58 in the common era. This verse is from the conclusion of the letter.
I feel like Paul knew what was up when it comes to this particular verse. He’s ending his letter with, well, some good advice really.

Be alert. Stand firm in the faith. Be strong. And do everything in love.

Almost as though he’s presenting ideas for possible rules to live by.

Do everything in love.

Love is my intention.
I live my life by love.
I mean even when I’m crabby and kind of evil…I actually live each day of my life by do(ing) everything in love. (Is it weird that I wonder if Paul would dig it?)

Lately I’ve wondered if I’m not being mindful about doing things in love for myself. That is, living in love for me, treating myself with the same love I share with others.
Only, after considering this for a while, I’ve come to understand that by doing everything in love, I am treating myself with the same love, grace, and gratitude I do for everyone else.
I think I just haven’t been paying enough attention. And while that’s OK on occasion, I must remember to be present and recognize living my intention begins with me.
Love is in the simple every day things.
It’s with the children at school. With my family. With my friends. It’s even in the way I drive my buggy around the grocery store.
Love actually is all around me.
Every day. In every thing I do. And that love gives me hope. As far as I can tell, hope and love go hand in hand.
(Seriously, though, Paul wrote about that in the same damn letter, right!?)

I’m grateful for Paul’s advice. I truly take it to heart. I live my life by it.
I do everything in love.
Y’all, isn’t that the most beautifully hopeful way to be?

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hopeful and organized beginnings

This papercrumbs post spoke to me this morning.
On this the tenth day of the new year I’m still feeling a bit off kilter. Of course the holidays were hectic and with the mad weather, getting into the back to school routine was shot all to hell. So it makes a kind of sense to me that I’m still in that ‘waiting for the new to begin’ feeling to kick in.

I’ve completely reorganized the kitchen cabinets, drawers, pantry, and laundry closet. I reorganized the linen closet. I feel so peaceful now that these things are finished. I’m serious y’all. I feel peacefully content down deep in my soul.
This organization is one small part in the beauty of beginning again. Perhaps it makes it simpler for me to begin again when I have the comfort of everything being orderly? Perhaps I just can’t handle perceived chaos?
Whatever the case may be, I do know this. I feel more ready to begin again since accomplishing those tasks. Even with the chaos of snow days, early dismissals, and delayed openings, I feel more able to get back into the swing of things at school too.

It occurs to me as I write this what’s beautiful about beginning again and again is that it feels hopeful. Hope that however tiny, each new beginning can bring adventure, or comfort, or a new way of learning, or something I may not have even though of yet!
When I feel hopeful, I’m inclined to begin again.
Sometimes a beginning blows up in your face. But with hope, you take what you needed from that beginning and decide to begin again a different way. Sometimes a beginning is more than you could have hoped for, and you have exactly what you want or need. You needn’t begin again, but you want to, to see what’s next.

To begin again and again, as many times as you want is really a gift. To begin after disaster is scary. To begin after perfection is also scary. Being scared is OK. Being scared is natural. But, it’s important to remember you always have hope in your pocket. To me the saddest thing is choosing not to begin because you’re scared. You don’t have to be brave to begin.
Just begin.
Bravery will come to you.
Hope will remind you that it’s in your pocket.
Begin.
You might fail. That’s OK too. Keep the important bits you needed and begin again.

In my life, I had many beginnings. I had some pretty epic failures. I have learned so much. I have been scared. I forgot hope was in my pocket. Or I found hope in the pocket of something when I wasn’t even looking.
I began again, and began again, and began again as many times as I wanted or needed. But mostly with prep work. Mostly organized. I do not function well in perceived chaos. I need to feel like I have a handle on the beginning.
Of course this isn’t always a perfect scenario, sometimes I must begin without being organized. That oftentimes leads to some sort of new mini beginning.
But that’s OK too.
I believe in the importance of beginnings.
I believe in hope.

In an excellent book about beginnings, Dr Seuss wrote:

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…”

and

“Out there things can happen, and frequently do, to people as brainy and footsy as you. And when things start to happen, don’t worry, don’t stew. Just go right along, you’ll start happening too!”

Each night promises a new morning. An opportunity to begin again. And again. And again. As many or as few times as you like.
Organize yourself.
Hold on to your hope.
You’ve got this!

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happy new year (occasionally, I’m a conformist)

I’m seeing all these end of year and happy new year things on social media, in the blogs I read, in news articles, etc. And you know what? It is really irritating me!

I understand it conceptually, but to be completely honest, I’m not really feeling it. I mean, sure, I’m more than willing to put 2017 in my rear-view mirror. But as I look at 2018 looming, I’m kind of…well, apathetic maybe? I’m not entirely sure that’s the right word…but that’s where I’ll settle for the moment.

I suspect part of my feeling (whatever we’re going to call it) is because this winter break has not been restful. Thing 2 and Boyfriend J were here, and we went at a full tilt boogie from nearly the moment they arrived. While the Nutcracker was blissful, and Christmas with three fourths of our family was fun, I sometimes struggle with Thing 2 and her wild mood swings. I struggle with the occasional drama with the boys mother. I sometimes struggle with so many people in this house at one time. I sometimes struggle with my inability to just take a big ass breath and not let other people affect me.

I was so excited about my most favorite of holidays and honestly, I was kind of left feeling relieved when the boys went back to their mother’s and Thing 2 and boyfriend J went back to SC and there was no one here but YBW and me. This makes me sad. Really and truly sad. But I’m being real, and I’m being honest. Doesn’t matter how much you love your kids, sometimes an empty nest is a beautiful thing.

Conceptually the idea of being surrounded by three of our four kids on Christmas fills me with childlike joy. The reality of it is that I’ve got to cook more, keep the peace more, and as it was the first time Boyfriend J was here, turns out I didn’t really get to spend that much time with Thing 2.
I was ready for a break from school. To kind of be filled with the Christmas spirit and recharge myself. But I’m more tired now than I was the last day of school December 21.
Advent happens for a reason, y’all. I sometimes wonder if the anticipation and excitement leading up to Christmas aren’t the real gift.

Nora and Dale invited us for dinner tonight. I’m not remotely feeling it. I have no desire to leave the warmth of the house to brave single digit wind chills to have dinner with friends.
Here’s the ridiculous part, I’ll have fun. I’ll be better off emotionally spending time with my sweet husband and our friends than if I stayed put in this house in my jammies.
But I don’t want to! (Yeah, I’m whining…what’s it to you?)

My (undefined) feelings about 2018 are most likely due to the fact that I’m tired. And let’s be real, who’s ready to tackle anything when they’re not at the top of their game?

Here’s what I do know.
2017 was the year I stopped living with chronic pain. With the help of three ‘alternative’ healthcare providers I’m off all prescription meds, pain free, and with a brain that is the proper shape and size.
That right there is the best possible way to begin 2018!

I’ll slip into 2018 tired yet hopeful.
Hopeful I’ll accomplish what I set out to do.
Hopeful that our kids are healthy, content, and whole.
Hopeful that we’ll have loads of snow days this winter and I’ll be able to rest then.
Spring will bring birthdays starting in March. June will bring Thing G’s high school graduation.

Y’all, I may be grouchy and tired, but I’m smiling as I write this.
As it turns out, I too am writing about saying goodbye to 2017 and welcoming 2018. How very conformist of me.
It’s cool, sometimes you gotta do what everybody else does to prove to yourself you’re a regular girl.
This regular girl wishes all y’all a non-conformist new year!

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every moment is a blessing

I spent time with my former co-teacher today. She’s going through a particularly vile divorce. It breaks my heart for her and her little daughter. I can’t really do anything to help, all I can do is love them.
But spending time with her today made me appreciate that I’m me and not anyone else. That may seem like a ridiculous thing to say, but I cannnot mean it any more.

I’ve been through seriously dreadful times in my life. I’ve been through moments of great wonder. Everything I’ve experienced in my life, every single moment, the good, the bad, the indifferent, has shaped me into who I am right now. Honestly I’m grateful I’ve had all this opportunity to throw so much paint at my life’s great big canvas.

I’ve obviously experienced a great deal of joy, especially recently.
Even the undiagnosed brain swelling is teaching me to remain present by listening carefully to what my body is telling me. Something I’ve not really done before. It’s easy to ignore your body when you’re more focused on everyone else.

I don’t know if my feeling hopeful has me feeling so appreciative of being me or if I’m just glad my troubles have been mine and not the troubles of anyone else. I don’t think it really matters.

We all have moments we would like to hand over to another. Any other. But when it comes right down to it there is always something better or worse being experienced by any other person at those very same moments. I remember this with great humility. My worst moments could be another’s best moments or my best moments could be meaningless to another.

I am grateful for every single one of my moments. I could never be the woman I am if I hadn’t experienced the moments of my life. It may have taken forty four years, but I rather like the woman I am!

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Hope. (an essay on redhaired girl)

The new year has me thinking.
Thinking about hope.
Which reminds me of ‘An Essay on Man’. Only I’m thinking of it as ‘an essay on redhaired girl’ because I feel hopeful. I don’t know why, but I do feel it with every fiber of my being.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never Is, but always To be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
– Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man, Epistle I, 1733

In feeling hopeful, I’m considering practical ways that my hope can translate to practicalities in my life, and the lives of the ones I love.

I’m feeling hopeful about my health. That my brain will finally find a way to heal itself. That I can put this struggle to be well behind me. Even though the swelling is no longer increasing because I’m responding well to the meds, my brain is still swollen. I’ve kind of decided this is the new way of being. That may sound a bit defeatist, but that’s not how I mean it. It may simply be acceptance.
I trust that I can have acceptance and hope together.

I’m feeling hopeful for my children.
Thing 1 and fiance N have had a bit of a rough patch. N was hurt on the job and has been out of work for almost a year. They’ve been living with his mother, which has been hard for all of them. He had surgery on his knee and has a clean bill of health from the doctors. This was what they were waiting for. Working with the VA, he’s in a program that helps find a home and new employment. He has a few job leads and they’re moving this week into their new home. The program will also assist in education for a career change, he’s very eager for that.
Thing 1 has a lead on a job working at a horse stable. How wonderful for her to earn a living doing what she loves!
They’re talking paint colors and she’s asking for my help finding things she needs. YBW and I are gifting them a new set of cookware. She’s so excited!
They’re finally getting their life together back in gear.
One thing I love about where they’re living is that it has not just a major state university, but several smaller colleges. I’m hoping this will entice her to go back and finish school.

I’m feeling hopeful for Thing 2. She’s in a living situation that isn’t as positive as it could be and I worry how it impacts her psyche. She’s being the “mom” of so many “lost” young adults and it seems to be sucking the life from her. Interestingly enough, she’s the youngest of all these friends.
She’s finished being stuck and tentatively starting to move forward. Her fear and anxiety are her worst enemies. I’m hopeful that her determination will overtake them and she’ll be stepping into the life she chooses to create for herself.
I have concerns that she isn’t comfortable about going to school. She doesn’t know what she wants to study, she doesn’t want to waste time and money. I don’t care what she goes to school for. Even trade school would be fine with me, a certificate to do whatever is enough that she’ll be able to take good care of herself.
I feel hopeful that with love and support she’ll be able to break the cycle of spinning her wheels. I’m hopeful that she will be able to start working towards creating a new life for herself, even though she’s not sure what she wants. Taking the first steps will get her moving forward and the rest will come as she goes.

I’m hopeful for this life I’m making with YBW. Being married feels a bit different than not being married, but the life we lead is essentially the same. I feel hopeful that we’re heading in the right direction.
We have three “grown” kids and one that’s quickly growing. We need to begin to decide what our life will be like without kids at home. How do we want to live? Maybe even where do we want to live?
I’m hopeful that we can begin planning for our future while we’re working to successfully live in our present.

I long for everyone I love to feel as hopeful as I feel.
I want those of you who read these words to know that I feel hopeful for you.
My heart is filled with love and hope. I wish the same for everyone.

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