Sometimes you cannot help what the universe throws at you, just how you respond. I am choosing to live this life with class and grace…and muscles.
Author: A Graceful Catastrophe
I am a mom whose life just ceased to exist in the way I always thought it would, thanks to a catastrophe that spun my world out of control. I am now trying to make the landing as gracefully as possible.
You all have been the most incredible and supportive followers a girl going through a difficult time could’ve ever hoped for. I appreciate each and every one of you for what you provided for me post catastrophe. You just have no clue what writing this blog did for me and how I was able to reflect and grow since March 2019.
I have grown incredibly throughout this time and have moved on to a different type of blogging – travel and photography blogging! I’m not quite yet doing much travel but get out and take photographs when I can. If you love pretty pictures and sweet stories, I’d love it if you followed me on that website https://www.craigsimpressions.com/ and on Insta @craigsimpressions.
I’ve written a blog about these two pictures, how for me, editing the same picture can change based on your mood and different mindsets, and how that’s precisely the outlet I need because it allows me to have certain creative liberties while also acknowledging the emotional atmosphere I’m living in in that moment.
I’ve come to notice that one picture has “cooler” tones while the other is distinctly “warmer.” My emotions ebbed and flowed and I followed along. You know why? Because we are always allowed to sway and perhaps even step off our current path completely – if the detour is safe, warm, and inviting. This new blog touches on experiencing a different kind of path altering Day 1 last November 16. Intrigued?
Ahh, traveling… When once upon a time, we were allowed to take these soul changing journeys.
Since we can’t go anywhere for now, come along on a photographic journey with me at Craig’s Impressions and read about the moment that rocked me to my core…to the instant that I woke up and realized who exactly I am.
Have you had these soul re-defining moments? Do you still struggle to try to prove to others, or to yourself, who you are?
While I still have my moments, they are thankfully few and far between. I am confident and secure in who I am and while I can still be shaken by threatening and abusive words, it doesn’t take much to remember who I really am.
Remember that you are enough. That only you define your self worth and write the narrative of your life. And it is not your responsibility how others choose to see you, only how you choose to see yourself.
Focus on the beauty that abounds and surrounds, and, more importantly, that lives within you. Have a phenomenal day and I hope you feel the love that I am sending your way.
I’ve started a photography blog and would be honored if my readers here would check it out.
All my photography is for sale in whatever format you’d like…and your support, as always, would be greatly appreciated. Even if it’s a simple like, comment, or even just sharing it with others.
Do you ever have moments that cause you to just stop, dead in your tracks, goose bumps covering your body as your blood runs cold, and you ask yourself, “What in the hell am I doing?”
Goodness, I hope that isn’t just me.
That literally just happened and I was suddenly overwhelmed with a need to write.
The last few months have once again given me an opportunity to learn how to let go of any false sense of control that I thought I had.
It’s quite interesting, what March 17th has represented for two years in a row now. Last year, on the evening of March 17th, I received information that thoroughly rocked my personal world and threw me off the path I was on. In hindsight, I am incredibly grateful for that shove. This year, on March 17th, quarantine began for me. It was my last morning at the gym, the last week I worked a full week, and the beginning of another push off the path that I thought I was happy to be traveling on, though this time it was professionally that I was knocked off kilter.
I suppose the universe always knows better and guides us towards our truest destiny, regardless of what we think our path should be. Trust the process, right?
But that’s so hard! Because, inherently, we just want to believe we control our destinies. That we can fight the inevitable. But eventually, what is supposed to be will be. The energies align how they must and we are at their mercy.
The sooner we can grasp that, and understand that we really have no control, the happier and more free we can feel.
Though, let me back up, because I’m about to contradict myself. We do have control over one incredibly significant thing – our own mindset.
Last week, my boyfriend asked me if I’d forgiven my ex yet, for what transpired over the last year of our marriage. I actually hadn’t thought about it – had I formally forgiven him? I understand that forgiveness is for oneself, otherwise the toxicity of holding on to that pain and hurt consumes you and hinders your ability to experience true, uncompromised happiness.
Logically, I understand that. Emotionally, however, my first thought was, “Has he ever really apologized to me for what occurred?” I don’t remember receiving a sincere and genuine apology. So, I kept thinking…the pause extending into the arena of discomfort for my boyfriend, who began to wonder if perhaps he shouldn’t have asked the question. But that wasn’t why I hesitated in responding. I wanted to think through my thoughts and feelings surrounding the question. I wanted to be thorough in my space before speaking it aloud.
The thing is, I suppose I had forgiven him.
There are some interesting similarities between my boyfriend and my ex husband. Through many, many discussions with my boyfriend, who is essentially an outsider, I was able to obtain closure with my ex. I was able to forgive him.
I used to fully believe that I had control over my life. I could make choices and would then experience the outcome that I’d wanted.
After both of these St. Patrick’s days, I’ve learned that I can only control so much. Honestly, I’m sick of trying to plan and achieve my desired outcome, fighting to make things happen – or not happen. It’s so much more fulfilling and freeing to simply let go. Everything occurs that is supposed to anyway, so why fight so hard?
My boyfriend and my ex met a couple weeks ago. We’d planned for him to arrive at my house at a certain time so we could go together to my ex’s home and there’d be plenty of time for a decent chat. I was insanely nervous and wanted everything to go smoothly. I wanted my ex to like this man, who’d surely become a significant role model in my daughter’s life. And then, after a number of factors, my boyfriend found himself running terribly late. Unbeknownst to him, this is one of my ex’s triggers. He absolutely abhors tardiness. He was furious and texting me all sorts of irritated comments. Control. He was controlling the situation (or so he thought) and then, my boyfriend’s appearance occurred beyond his control. Late, as a matter of fact.
When we finally arrived, he lectured my boyfriend as I sat there, uncomfortable, sitting in between the man I now love and the man I once loved. These meetings are not for the faint of heart. Ultimately, they found a common ground – in me. I’ll always have love for my ex-husband, as he is a significant part of not only my history, but also my present and my future, thanks to my daughter. And my ex will always have love for me and will always feel the need to protect me, as I am the mother of his child. My boyfriend loves me and has that same desire to protect me (perhaps that is ingrained in men? The desire to protect their people?). Regardless, these two men found a common thread, which pretty quickly, united them.
They began chatting about me, both eager to work together to protect me, laughing about bonding over going on an adventure together to seek out those that have hurt me long before. Also, my boyfriend made it clear he was not in my daughter’s life to replace him and be the new daddy, rather more to just add a layer of love and support for her. He was there, to stand alongside my ex-husband, to make sure no harm comes to either myself or my daughter. They drank their favorite drink (yes, it’s the same) and came to a common ground.
This would not have been able to happen if any of us tried to control the situation. It unfolded naturally and rather pleasantly, overall. It was also inevitable that my boyfriend would become a part of my daughter’s life, as he is now a significant part of mine, so my ex’s willingness to meet him made it all flow easily.
We all know that life can change in mere seconds and everything we hoped for, planned for, and/or worked for can all shatter in a blink. And, we all know that we can recover. We can experience something so catastrophic that the ability to breathe becomes the only focus because even that is far too difficult to accomplish without concentration. And then, ever so slowly and over time, you discover your strength and just how resilient you are. You survive, then adapt, and finally, thrive.
But in order to thrive, truly and wholly, you must forgive. I’ve forgiven myself, for being a pretty terrible wife and playing my part in the catastrophic decisions my ex made. And I’ve forgiven my ex for making them.
Hurt people hurt people. And man, does my ex hurt.
I do not want to hurt anyone. Ever again. So, my pain must be processed. True and abundant forgiveness must be given. There is no longer any toxicity within, I harbor no pain from anything along my path that I have encountered. My wounds have healed and scars have formed. My pain brought me to my present and it’s now a pretty incredible place to live. My bucket is patched, I’m filled with self-love, compassion, understanding, and am thrilled to say, pure happiness.
I no longer have any desire to control anything or anyone and have finally mastered the enlightened acceptance that life just is. I will always work hard, of course, and I’m a dreamer, so my eyes will always be wide with wonder. But as roadblocks come up, as March 17ths continue to come along throughout the year, though I may have a short cry, I’ll never linger in despair. “Nothing is as bad as it seems or as good as it feels.”
It just is.
And to think we have any control over anything is not only the most foolish notion of all, it inhibits our ability to pursue the one thing we all deserve – true happiness.
So, apparently I make a pretty incredible cinnamon roll.
I discovered this secret after quarantine gifted me almost a complete loss of income. “Gifted me,” you ask?
Why, yes. I am a private math tutor and my working hours are typically after school and weekends. Because of that, my daughter was seeing more of her babysitters than she was of me. My time was consumed with growing my business. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do! It’s just that I was also missing my daughter…so much. On March 17, we went on lockdown. Shortly thereafter, I lost almost all of my clients. Which means, I lost the vast majority of my income.
Thank goodness I’d saved for several significant vacations my daughter and I were going to take this summer. Because I had something to fall back on. For a while, at least.
And then things got serious. And I got nervous. I was overwhelmed with fear – how was I going to survive without any income??
As a stress relief, I started to bake. I’ve always loved to create in the kitchen and there’s no feeling quite like the one that comes over me when someone compliments my cooking.
One day I made cinnamon rolls from scratch, along with the frosting. My friend in Texas had made them and sent me the recipe. I had nothing else to do, so I decided to also make them.
They were SO good! And the recipe had made SO many! I decided to go to social media and made this, what I thought was sarcastic, post:
People love cinnamon rolls!
As it turns out, I stumbled upon some pretty interesting information: people really, really love cinnamon rolls!
I started to get orders for cinnamon rolls like crazy! In those first several days, I didn’t leave my kitchen. I was making cinnamon rolls from the time I opened my eyes until I collapsed into bed at 2 am.
And so began, the cinnamon roll life.
Now, I’ve learned how to manage the orders and lump them on the same day. I make cinnamon rolls once a week now and I’ve even begun cooking dinners! On the weeks that I have my daughter, and it’s a “cinnamon roll day,” she breathes in deeply when she hugs me and says, “Mmm! You smell like cinnamon rolls!”
I love the example that’s being set for her. This virus, and the quarantine that followed, threw every single person in the world for a loop. Most of us have this illusion that we’re in control.
We’re not. Not even a little bit. We can plan and prepare for almost anything and there will still be some “opportunity” (that’s what I call difficult moments now) that presents itself. When we are given this opportunity, we can either choose to succumb to the stress and whine and complain, curl up in a ball and freeze, wondering how in the world you’re going to make it (which is what I did for a hot second)…OR you can embrace it and do whatever it takes to not merely survive, but thrive.
I’m a “thriver.” I am not a survivor. Last year, when catastrophe struck on a personal level, it was all I could do to simply survive. I learned an abundance in those initial 8 months and during the most wonderful solo trip to Greece, I was able to reinvent, or perhaps just rediscover, who exactly I was.
And I am a thriver.
Whatever is thrown at me, I will make the lemonade from those sour lemons. And it’s going to taste damn delicious.
Catastrophe continues to teach me who I am. Through each difficult pass in this journey, I am able to unfurl another layer and delve deeper into the essence that makes me, well, me. And, at least currently, the me that I am smells like cinnamon rolls.
I don’t quite think there is anything better, or more beautiful, than the chance to really see what you’re made of, down to your core. This virus has given me a souvenir that I will add to my collection as yet another reminder that I am strong, capable, and enough.
What souvenirs from this historical moment are you taking into the future with you?
It’s supposed to be a lucky day. St. Patrick’s Day. The luck of the Irish, right? Well, perhaps, in hindsight, today continues to be lucky…despite last year’s events and this year’s pandemic shutting everything down. When viewed properly, March 17th is indeed a lucky day. It’s all about perspective…
There are distinct moments in our lives where we are shoved off our path with such great force that we’ve lost the old path completely and find ourselves battered and bruised in unknown territory. It hurts. It’s scary. And you’re absolutely lost.
But that exact moment, that figurative violent kick from the universe, was exactly what you needed to wake up and learn lessons you refused to learn the easy way. You weren’t entirely and intentionally doing anything to grow, so the beautiful universe then decided to intervene.
I flew off my path at 6:08 pm on March 17, 2019 and face planted elsewhere, landing in unknown and very painful territory. I spent the majority of the last 365 days rediscovering not only who I am, but deciding who I want to be.
This past week has been a lot harder than I anticipated. I love the path I’m currently walking. I love the people I am walking it with. I love myself.I love.
So why have these days been so hard?
It hit me on Sunday. The insecurities that overwhelm you when you’ve been cheated on are abundant. I…
Oof. I just had to walk away. This is surprisingly turning out to be one of the hardest blogs I’ve written. The feelings and thoughts filling my very being right now are so painful and I was not expecting this time to be so challenging. These emotions have caught me completely off guard.
It’s like, everything I’ve reflected on and had thought was nicely processed and behind me is right in front of my face again. It’s like I’m her again. The me I was a year ago. The one who was inadequate in all aspects of her life. Everything is rushing back to the surface and I feel buried in all that shit all over again.
Growth is work. Constant work. Constant positive self-talk, to drown out the voice that seems to always be there, ready to lie to you. And I’m trying so hard to shut that voice up. I thought I had. Ugh, it had been silent for months.
But today…today is hard. I feel inadequate.
At least today, I know that feeling is a lie.
Because I’m not only adequate. I far exceed that. I’m not just enough – I am more than enough. And today, well, today is weird. But, on most days, it doesn’t matter if others don’t see that. Because, quite simply, I do.
So that’s the key. I have to fill my head with positive self-talk. And surround myself with people who lift me up…who remind me that I am strong and amazing…who tell me they’re grateful I’m in their lives. There’s no doubt that my ex’s negative words became the voice in my head, filling my being with lies for years upon years. And there’s also no doubt that my community has gotten me to where I am today. They never hesitate to fill me with unconditional love and encourage me with their uplifting words.
My community has supported me for the full 365 days that have past, seemingly, in a flash. They never once judged me, ridiculed me, or left my side for even a second. They chose to lift me up when I fell and I had so many shoulders to cry on – which was necessary because there was a bit of a flood for a while. They never condemned me for how I chose to process the pain. They believed in me. Not only that, but they believed in love for me when I was sure it didn’t – couldn’t – exist. It is also because of my community that I was able to be vulnerable and dream of love again…because I felt their love so deeply that I knew it surely must exist in reality.
It isn’t easy to come out on the other side from a catastrophe. It takes careful diligence, intention, and far too many difficult moments of seeing who you are at your core. And it truly takes a village.
But it pays off.
So now I’m taking a moment to pause. As I close my eyes, I see myself standing in the middle of this beautiful, blossoming path, so fragrant with brand new, blooming life that I can no longer smell the shit that covered me just days, weeks, and months ago. And as I open my eyes and look around, I see my people who have willingly chosen to accompany me on this journey.
This new community is filled with not only my tried and true, been-there-for-every-step-of-all-my-journeys soulmates, but also people who have come into my life that I never fathomed could ever exist. These significant souls keep pushing me to grow, to dig deeper in order to discover the true roots of my pain, so that I can continue to properly heal my past wounds. And as I take this symbolic meandering down my new path, I can give myself a little pat on the back, pause to smile, and realize how far I’ve really come.
It was this past Tuesday, March 10, that I realized the date. And the week that followed has been a roller coaster. I was incredibly on edge and the people closest to me felt that chaotic energy and, thankfully, dealt with it with grace. I purposely pushed buttons over the weekend, as the emotions that were coming out by then were anger and insecurity. And then I started to write this past Sunday afternoon, when the anger had finally left and was replaced completely by intense self-doubt and vulnerability.
And I continued to write, well into Tuesday, March 17, but now in yet another significantly different place.
When I had to walk away, when I had a bit of a breakdown while writing…that began to heal me. When I wrote on Monday, I felt uplifted. I finally saw my baggage. I had been holding something so heavy all week but I didn’t know what it was. Just that it was an incredible burden. It was weighing me down and turning me into my former self – though I was fighting it hard.
But then, after a lengthy chat with a soul that truly gets me, I was able to stand in front of that figurative mirror, my dear old friend from the past year, that I hadn’t stood before in months. And I saw what that weight was. I saw the roots of those feelings of inadequacy.
And what I saw surprised me.
My ex did some work to bring me down and led me to believe I wasn’t enough. Years of it. Well into the wee hours of this morning, it hit me. I realized that what was really happening was that he was projecting onto me the pains from his own childhood, the feelings of never being enough for his own father. Growing up, no matter what he did, he couldn’t get his dad’s approval or attention. I can’t even imagine how inadequate that makes a young boy feel and how heavy that makes a little boy’s heart. The pain that my ex has lived with, of never feeling like he was enough…that’s heartbreaking. And he didn’t know how to process that pain, so he projected it onto me, causing his pain to be mine.
Ultimately, he cheated, I think, because I devalued him. Just like his dad had. I unknowingly and unintentionally triggered the memories of that same old pain from childhood because I wasn’t being nurtured how I needed to be. It was a vicious cycle. He didn’t give me what I needed, so I didn’t give him what he needed. I didn’t behave with understanding or compassion.
I see now, though, that I wasn’t getting what I needed from him, not because he didn’t want to give it to me, but because he was just too broken to do so. I took his pain personally and then internalized it all, because, frankly, I didn’t know any better. I didn’t understand because I had never really read the whole story. Looking at him today, I know now that he loved me, although that was something I’d questioned for the last 6 years of our marriage, causing more hurt and resentment. He just had no clue how to show it because he couldn’t overcome the hurt in his heart that’d been simmering there for decades.
Cheaters are victims, too. They cheat because they’re trying to cover their pain, ignoring it by finding solace, even for just a few moments, in somebody – anybody – who will give them the attention they’ve been seeking since childhood.
One year later, I understand. He never intended to intentionally hurt me. I was just the collateral damage to his trauma.
So I see it – and feel it – a bit more clearly now. I am not insignificant or inadequate. And I am not a victim.
I think I can finally move forward in grace, as I now have an understanding of what occurred like never before. Perspective is beautiful.
365 days later. What. A. Year!
Today, my heart swells with compassion for my ex. And I’m also thrilled to have been catapulted onto this path I am walking today, filled with these once-strangers who see me, push me, and help me to grow, and who I am now lucky enough to call my family.
As we navigate this new season all of us are entering, with our country, no, our global community, at a virtual standstill, I think it’s important that we embrace these hard-earned lessons. None of us fully understands another’s story because we’re all reading it through our own filters. If we take a moment to step outside of ourselves, to remove our personal filter, to change our perspectives, we can then begin to live with true compassion.
From the beginning I’ve wanted to live through this catastrophe with grace. I can see the bigger picture now. We all have our hurts. Therefore, it only makes sense that we all give grace, live with love in our hearts, assume best intent in others, and treat everyone with kindness and true tenderness. Life is hard. It’s going to be a touch harder now that everything is shut down and social distancing is a thing. As humans, we are naturally social beings. So, give love in whatever capacity you can. Be gracious. And if someone hurts you, try to approach the situation with mercy and understanding. Hurt people hurt people. Try not to add to their hurt.
I wish you all an open heart so you can feel the peace, love, and luck on this very odd St. Patrick’s Day.
Looking back at the last year, I think I handled myself mostly with grace during this catastrophe. There were some questionable moments, sure. Like the time that I bragged to people who were friends at the time about knowing the bartenders at the local bar so well that they gave me significant discounts on my tab at the end of the night – every night. The bartenders became my friends. They knew my story. They checked up on me and supported me – with lots of booze.
Surely that wasn’t the best way to handle those first several months…but it was the only way I knew how to cope with that catastrophe. I’d often drink, because the goal was to forget what was happening in my real life. I drank (frequently in excess) because real life was much harder than any words I ever wrote in any of these blogs. Some of the things that occurred are just too difficult to share in such a public forum. Just understand, I didn’t want to exist in that life that was handed to me in those moments.
And then, one day, shortly after my ex finally moved out, my perspective began to shift. I was lucky enough to have had the support from an incredible group of strong women who both called me out and showered me with unconditional love. I began to realize that what had happened in my life was a gift. A gift of potential happiness. While I wasn’t yet experiencing true happiness, I at least began to believe I’d be happy again someday.
The universe, our energy, God, destiny…whatever you want to call it, it’s very real to me. I believe in the clichés that everything happens for a reason and that nobody is in our lives by accident.
The following is my proof.
In early July, I randomly followed a Greek photographer on Instagram. Goodness, his pictures were phenomenally exceptional. By that point, 4 months post catastrophe, I’d developed a “screw it” attitude and decided to comment on some of his pictures, even though he had thousands of followers. To my great surprise, he commented back, thanking me for the compliment.
What?! So, because I decided I’d already lost anything significant in my life and there wasn’t much else I could lose, I decided to send him a direct message through Instagram. What was the worst that was going to happen? He wouldn’t respond. Meh. I was okay with a non-response.
So, at 2:20 in the afternoon, on July 12, 2019, I wrote to Billy. I had nothing to lose.
“Hi, there! Seriously, your pictures paint a picture of places I feel drawn to… They’re all in Greece? That’s where you live?”
Exactly 40 minutes later, and to my complete and utter surprise, he responded.
“Ahh thanks so much! Some of them yes! I post mostly from Greece and Italy. I live in Greece, yup!”
At 3:31, I wrote:
“You make me what to get there ASAP. I’ve been itching to go on a trip – Greece just moved to the top of the list.”
(By the way, I’d “been itching to go on a trip” because I wanted to run away. While I’d never leave my daughter for any real stretch of time, I didn’t want to live that life for another second and just needed time away from the disaster that was currently my world.)
In true Billy form, his response was genuine:
“That’s awesome! Let me know if you need any kind of info. *smiley face*”
We went on chatting that first day, on again and off again, for another 90 minutes.
And then talked again the next day and practically every single day until I’d not only made my decision, but I purchased my tickets.
On July 16, I’d decided I was going. To Greece. To meet a perfect stranger, albeit a talented one, that I’d met randomly on social media. Kids, I don’t recommend you do this at home. *eyeroll*
On July 23, at 8:41 am, I wrote to Billy and shared a screenshot. I’d purchased my tickets to Greece.
11 days. In the span of eleven days, I’d connected with a stranger with an incredible talent -through social media – who’d become by friend after hours and hours of chatting. We’d had such an immediately strong connection that I decided to book a photography workshop with him and his business partner (whom I hadn’t even chatted with yet at this point) and was going to be flying halfway around the world and trusting he wasn’t going to scam or hurt me.
That’s the state of mind I was in. I’d been so deeply hurt that nothing would ever cut to my soul in such a manner ever again. And you know what happens when you’ve realized that? Freedom.
I was free.
Though some would say that my newfound sense of freedom led me to make some incredibly careless decisions. But sometimes, you just have to put yourself out there to see what happens. And this rash, bold decision was one I truly would’ve regretted not making.
But…I was still very much broken. Shattered. Unrecognizable for all the wrong reasons. I had no sense of self-worth. I would do almost anything for validation that I was somebody worthy of breathing in the air around me. It didn’t matter who was making me feel like I was someone or why they thought I was special.
I was looking for anything and anyone to fill me up. I craved for someone to see me in the way I was incapable of seeing myself. If “they” showed me approval, then maybe I wasn’t as worthless as I’d thought I was. As I referenced in this blog I wrote while in Greece, I was looking for others to fill my bucket, yet I never felt fulfilled. My figurative bucket was riddled with holes and no matter what I received from outsiders, it never filled me up because I’d never taken the time to patch the holes for myself.
Well, that all was going to change so quickly that it now feels like I blinked and became a whole new woman.
I left for Greece on November 14. One of my closest girlfriends didn’t think I was actually going to go through with it. I had so much anxiety leading up to the trip that I couldn’t pack – I didn’t even finish packing until the morning of the day I flew out. I was an absolute mess. I could barely breathe and cried, with the tears flowing more readily the closer the trip became. And my friend? She didn’t exhale until she knew I was safely at the airport. She kept telling herself, if she actually makes it to the airport, she’s fine, she’ll really go. She just didn’t think I’d make it. I almost didn’t.
Once I was at the airport, I sat down for a drink. And had the most incredible interaction with random strangers at the bar (this story is in the same blog referenced earlier). I had a pretty decent and very public ugly cry. And finally exhaled.
During my flights to my connections in Detroit and then Amsterdam, I started the healing process. I decided to make word art from all the positive words people used to describe me and words I wanted to use to describe myself. I also made word art from all the humiliating and derogatory words my ex had texted me. I only went back about 2 months. That was enough. As I wrote down such ugliness in such a beautiful fashion, I felt myself begin to release the tension and constant pain I’d been holding on to.
Over time, and with so much repetition, I couldn’t help but eventually believe my ex. I was nothing. And I feared everything. These words became my truth.
Thankfully, I had several other people feeding me much different words. I didn’t believe them yet. But I desperately wanted to.
This was only the beginning.
What my trip to Greece did for me is something I’m not sure I’ll ever fully be able to describe with words. The sheer magnitude of this experience renders me speechless. And, when I really try to talk about it, I often cry. It was just so powerful.
Solo travel, especially for a woman, and especially a woman who’d been in a toxic and abusive relationship, is so empowering. To have put all my confidence into two strangers was exhilarating. To actively chase a dream that I’d never had the opportunity to pursue before was magical. This was much more than a leap of faith. It was a plunge into something so great that it was transformative. Who I was on November 14 was not the woman that came back on November 24. I could feel it to my core. Those shattered pieces that I’d actively chosen to ignore for 8 months began to piece back together into an incredible masterpiece.
As it turns out, Billy and Chris, my Greek photography teachers, are absolute geniuses. They have an ability to awaken something inside of you that you always hoped existed but never had the opportunity to explore. If you have even the tiniest desire to explore photography – and the world – do so with the Atlas Roamers. They are incredibly wise and talented and just about the two best people you could ever hope to meet. They are not only my friends, they’ve become my family.
When you spend so much uninterrupted time with the same people, in such an intimate setting (a small car was where we spent hours each day, traveling from one divinely beautiful destination to another, and then more hours in the hotel rooms, where they taught me to edit my photos), where so much blind trust is given, you can’t help but create a bond that is quite unlike any other. These two are forever my brothers and I owe them more than any amount of money could purchase.
It was while I was with them that I fell in love with myself. It was on this wild adventure that I learned I was capable, strong, and enough and no longer had anything to prove to myself anymore. This experience was so dynamic that the only thing I can say about it is to go explore the world for yourself and see how it changes you. There is nothing quite like having to put yourself in such a uniquely vulnerable state that you can’t help but grow from it.
It is because of this solo vacay that my very energy changed. I felt like I was radiating pure joy from every pore in my body. I cried to my mom on video chat on my last day in Athens. She thought it was because I was leaving the next day. But, I was finally able to get out that this experience had been life changing for me.
And not only did every fiber in my body experience a drastic transformation, I’d discovered I was actually a pretty decent photographer.
I own the rights to this picture.
I own the rights to this one, too.
I have such a passion for photography, that I’ve started a new business, Craig’s Impressions, LLC (so if you’d like any prints of my work, I’d be happy to chat with you about it! Feel free to contact me at craigsimpressions@gmail.com).
This new passion project is another leap of faith and here’s the fascinating thing about this: I actually think I can do it! Just a few short months ago, I questioned my self-worth. I allowed others to treat me poorly because I didn’t think I was worth anything better. I excused their shitty behavior, apologizing to them for making them act that way, thinking it was because of something I did. Or perhaps they would’ve reacted differently had I not done x, y, or z.
Their rude, insulting, degrading behavior was my fault. I didn’t think I was capable of much and needed so much outward assurance to get to a point where I’d half believe it. I was faking my way through life, smiling, looking quite self-assured, all while the internal dialogue was something I would’ve smacked any friend for if I’d heard her talking to herself like that. I was living an impostor’s life.
That is, until I faced every fear, felt every negative and derogatory word ever spoken to me, honored that they were the lies, and finally started to release their power over me. And then ended up having the time of my life.
All of this happened in a span of just a few days. My entire internal world began to shake and collapse in all the best ways the second I stepped foot into the Denver airport.
So, this blog is now transitioning from processing my ex’s infidelity to my travels and newly found passion in photography – and the incredible journey that my path is now taking me on. The world I currently live in is so vastly different than the one from before 6:08 pm on March 17, 2019.
And I couldn’t be more grateful for that moment in time, for that stranger, for my ex, and for the roller coaster that this last year has been. Every single chance encounter, each and every decision – responsible or otherwise – has led me to this very second. And it is here, and now, that I am filled with a deep and wonderous love for myself. My bucket is whole and patched up, allowing it to finally be filled. And I am happy.
I do hope you stick around and follow my newest adventures in life! I’m thinking my next blog will be about my recent trip to Ireland and I cannot wait to share the adventures – and photography – from that whirlwind vacation. Until next time…
You know how some books have multiple parts? And, in between the chapters, when a new part is starting, there is a whole page, mostly blank, dedicated to that new beginning? And it says something like, Part 4 (or whatever) in big, bold font. But, then you have to actually turn the page to get to the new chapter?
That’s what I feel like right now. Today, actually. I’m in the “part page” of this incredible narrative that is my life. I know my previous chapter has fully ended. I have turned that page. And I thought the next page was taking me to a new chapter, but…it just doesn’t quite feel like it’s begun yet.
I feel a bit like I’m in limbo.
This new chapter does feel as though it is just about to begin. I have new endeavors beginning to blossom and wisps that were once merely ideas beginning to take shape. Possibly the proverbial “tomorrow” will bring it all more properly into focus.
Until then, I am trying hard to focus on today. On taking it all one day at a time. To be okay with just breathing in this moment. It’s so incredibly laughable, really. I’m literally sitting here, shaking my head at myself and chuckling. Just less than a year ago, I couldn’t even dream about thinking even one hour into the future. I was desperately treading water. Thrashing about, actually – and losing – as the waves crashed down upon me over and over, promising to drown me with the next one.
I had to concentrate wholly and completely on my breath…on this very moment. From one inhale…and then exhale, to the next breath in. While in survival mode, there was no opportunity to dream. All I saw in my future was a great, black abyss. My future couldn’t exist. And surely dreams were nothing I’d ever fathom of having again.
And then, one day, those great waves slowly settled from tsunami to rain storm to a gentle, rolling sea. The tides had turned. Life was filled with peace once again. And joy.
Which turned me back into a dreamer. I dreamed with enthusiasm once again. Freely. Well, for a while. But quite recently, it’s begun to feel wrong to dream without bound. Careless, even. Now, just before my dreams explode into the full color, high-def movie they once easily did, they seem to have a cloud shading them.
My dreams now come hesitantly. I begin to let my mind wander, hopeful about the future, lost in all the beauty that could be…and then I turn the corner and run smack into a wall filled with caution signs. I tell myself to slow down, to guard my heart, to proceed with great care. Because, as I’ve learned in previous chapters, there is significant pain as those dreams inevitably come to a very realistic end.
How can I turn the page into my newest chapter when the very fibers of my being are screaming at me to be wary?
For some time, I had to tell myself, deliberately and with tremendous focus, to fear less. I was quite scared of the world around me and fully believed I was incapable of facing all that was out there in this vast and wondrous world. With that intention, of purposefully fearing less, I became fearless. I stopped worrying what was around the corner because I knew, no matter what it was, that I could – and would – conquer it. I stopped behaving in a way where I had to prove to myself that I was enough because I just became enough. I knew I was capable. I knew I had the strength to conquer any challenge. I knew if I were defeated, it’d only be but for a moment, because I would rise again, more tenacious and determined than ever before.
I still know these things are true. I do not fear the pain when reality crumples up my dreams and spits them out.
I have started to understand, however, that to chase my dreams with such an open heart is rather foolish. I have prior knowledge that should not be dismissed. Previous chapters of this life have taught me some incredibly hard lessons. And I am finding that I cannot – should not – dream as I once did. Or live with such a pure and open heart anymore. It feels childish to do so.
And that is beyond frustrating to me. Because I’ve always been a free spirit. I don’t exactly want to live a guarded life. It’s just that right now, I feel that I’m supposed to.
Maybe this is why I felt compelled to write once again. Why I feel “in between” and unsettled. My story cannot continue to progress now because of these walls. They weren’t there before…I mean, I’d become fearless. But slowly but surely, these bricks are being cautiously laid, piled one on top of the other, cemented into place with the wisdom from my past that I’d been deliberately ignoring.
Which is another reason to focus, once again, on this breath. While I am no longer drowning, and the waves are no longer crashing violently upon me, I have the understanding that the only thing that is real is this very moment.
And don’t get me wrong, this moment is a lovely one, filled with opportunity. I am happy. I also have this great desire to take care of myself, to be cautiously optimistic, to dream…but to also see the clouds that hover ever ominously over those dreams.
There is always a storm I could get caught in, so why not just be ready and carry the umbrella?
Not terribly long ago, I thought that living at a distance from your self, walled behind protection from your true feelings, was living a disingenuous life. Living a lie. Now, though, I don’t quite agree with myself anymore. Perhaps that security is more wise than I used to think. Just like I wouldn’t drive without the safety of a seat belt, I think one can still live a fully authentic life and be guarded. The seat belt doesn’t prevent you from reaching your destination, it just provides an extra safety net to ensure you get there without great harm. It isn’t so much fearing the inevitable fall into the painful existence that accompanies shattered dreams, but being aware the fall could come and, therefore, preparing the landing a bit so you don’t get so hurt.
People all around me live carefully and have their guards properly in place. Perhaps it’s time I ought to, as well.
I felt the need to be quiet… I just noticed that I haven’t written in almost a month.
And this is the first month where the 17th came and went. Completely unnoticed. It was Friday. I just had to look at my personal calendar to see what I did that day. I dropped my car off at the shop. I worked with my hockey team. And I ended the day watching You with my boyfriend.
It never occurred to me what the date was. I used to keep count of how many days it’d been. It drove at least one friend of mine completely bonkers that I did that. As it turns out, it took me somewhere between 9 and 10 months for that date to bare absolutely zero significance. The 17th is now just another day.
For months and months and months, I didn’t understand my world. My thoughts were a jumbled disaster in my mind. I had to write in order to make some sense of what was going on inside my head as the life that I once knew ceased to exist and came crumbling down in what felt like an utter catastrophe. I can’t begin to explain the urge that came over me, willing me to write. Or the peace that fell upon me once I was able to get it out.
Word by word, sentence by sentence, blog by blog, I processed my internal world. Until one day, I realized my thoughts were not written in scribbles. I finally had clarity. And so, I became silent.
My internal world feels at peace. I feel a beautiful sense of incredible peace. It settled upon me like a silky cloak, unnoticed, yet luxurious and delightfully received. My reward after months of reflection, tears, and so much personal work.
For the past month, I have found further peace in editing pictures from my trip to Greece (some favorites are pictured below). It feels as though I have an endless supply of memories to paint and that is exactly where I’ve been wanting to spend the time I normally would’ve set aside for writing.
Over the past couple months, I’ve also been gifted with a different kind of perspective. Two lives running parallel with enough distance for me to listen.
And, thankfully, I was able to remain open and truly listen. Which served only to deepen this sweet, internal peace that began to blossom in Greece.
I picture myself as a lotus flower. I’ve risen. Above that beautiful, sparkling water line.
And I’ve finally bloomed.
Today, as I sit here writing this, I feel as though I’m the best version of myself that has ever existed. I know what I want. I know what it takes to attain it. And maintain it. And this is only the beginning. For tomorrow, the goal is to be just a bit better than I was today. I have so much yet to learn and experience and you know what? That excites me.
I dream again. I no longer live one breath at a time.
And, on most days, I’m fearless.
Because there’s something significant that occurs when you’ve been completely shattered. I never would’ve taken my own life, but I’m not going to lie… There were plenty of days, especially at the beginning, where I sped to over 100 on the highway and pictured myself steering straight into something solid. But only for a second. For so long, I just wanted it to end. I didn’t want my life to end. Just “it.” The drama. The confusing loss of some in my community. The bleak, empty feeling that I knew for certain was never going to go away.
When you hit that low, and then rise above, feeling happier and more authentic than ever in the whole of your life, you realize complete vulnerability is beautiful. And oh, so marvelously freeing! Because you fully understand that you are capable of withstanding damn near any potential future pain that will try to invade your peace. And because of that, you can’t imagine living any other way than all in and out loud.
As life twists and turns, I’m sure I’ll have another time where I’ll feel this desperate compulsion to write to understand. Or, like I did at the beginning, to write to remember and understand. For now, though, I feel no such need. But I do have somewhere around 1250 pictures to go through and edit. Which has quickly become one of my most favorite things to do. And goodness, there are so many other dreams to chase!
My world is calm, once again. The storm has, for now at least, passed.
I have bloomed and feel every bit of the sun’s warmth upon me. Even on the cloudy days.
I am happy.
And filled with peace.
And I surely wouldn’t be here today without the support from you, my community. You have been my sunshine. You never let me stay down for long. As much as my time is now intentionally filled elsewhere, there’s no doubt I will see you here again every now and then. I am genuinely grateful for your love and support and can only hope you will be filled with the same unconditional love so many of you have shown me.
May your days be also filled with true bliss and absolute peace. I have so much love for you all.
When I saw the sign that said, “Ouray KOA,” I grinned and cheered. Like, for real. There was actual fist pumping happening in my car. I’d done it!! I made my first solo drive…my first drive through the mountains. And it was snowy at times, and visibility wasn’t great, and other times the roads were dry and it was smooth sailing. And I did it.
Then, 3.4 miles from my hotel, I was overcome by emotion. I couldn’t believe I’d done it.
I know I’ve come a long way in the days since March 17th. My growth has truly been exponential . It started off slow, and rocky, and…okay, okay, it was non-existent. My first several months afterwards I didn’t want to experience my reality. I wanted to ignore it. And I did just about anything I could to escape it.
When you ignore your reality, you can’t exactly grow.
And that’s absolutely okay. I was in survival mode. That was all I could hang on to – just take one more breath, girl. You can do this. One breath at a time.
And then, one magical day, I was ready.
And I took off.
Today, I’m a new me. Someone who sits alone at a bar in a strange city and happily eats her food, smiling to herself every now and then, not giving a care in the world.
I’m someone who drives through the snowy mountains because there’s a city she’s waited to go to for years and years and she’s done waiting for someone else to bring her here.
I’m done waiting. Period. If I want it, I will figure out a way to do it. Because I’m alive and breathing and that’s all the reason I need.
I’m also still learning. Sure, I’ve come a long way. I believe it never ends, though. There are always ways I can improve. Things I can nurture and refine. I’m finding the balance between pushing myself and simply marinating in the moment. I haven’t quite figured that out yet. I tend to live by the rule it’s either all or it’s nothing. Do it right the first time or don’t do it at all. I’m all in. Or I’m out. And I’m learning that perhaps there’s a better, more delicate space to land…perhaps.
In Greece, I learned a lesson that just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. My whole purpose of going to Greece, though, was to prove to myself that I can. So, I did. And then I thought I was good. I had countless epiphanies over there. My very energy changed. I didn’t have anything left to prove to myself.
Or so I thought.
So, let me back up a minute. Give you some context. Yesterday I left for a road trip through the mountains…with my front wheel drive Mini Cooper…through a minor snowstorm. I decided to embark on yet another solo journey, this magnificent road trip, because I’ve realized I still have more I want to prove to myself. I still have fears that require facing. Insecurities. Doubts.
I absolutely hate doubting myself.
So, I booked this trip. And, after much fret and worry, finally took off. Goodness, I’m less than 24 hours into this trip and I’m already grateful I didn’t back out.
As I looked out on the scenery during the drive, I noticed all the variety of shades of white that exist in nature. It was just white on white on white. In front of me, all around me, surrounding me. Just white. It was stunning.
I drank it in. Really experienced where I was. And I was in no hurry whatsoever. I took detours to take pictures. I saw bighorn sheep!!
Don’t miss out on the beauty that surrounds you because you’re afraid to open your eyes.
I took so many deep breaths. Just so I could exhale. I needed to exhale the voices in my head. The ones that told me I was incapable. And then I spent some time talking to myself, rather than wasting time listening to those voices.This time, the incapability was of driving in the snow. I’ve been told many times that I can’t drive in the snow, or that I shouldn’t drive in the snow. And, I have also had many circumstances where I’ve proven to myself that maybe I shouldn’t ever drive in the snow. I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s been told to me and then reinforced. I can’t do it.
Which is exactly why I’m here today, having driven not only through the snow, but through snow covered roads, with limited visibility at times, over winding s-curved mountain passes.
Face my fear. I’m all in. I know no other way.
So, this is why, 3.4 miles away from my hotel, I lost it. The tears simply struck and didn’t let up for several minutes. It was the release I needed. Another fear conquered. Another lesson learned. I can do scary things. And survive.
And then reflect and realize there was nothing scary about it after all.
So, here, now, I encourage you. Do something that scares you. Something you’ve avoided because you keep listening to the voices in your head rather than talking to yourself. Create your new narrative.It isn’t as scary as you’re making it out to be.
A Graceful Catastrophe 