The Rest Bead

I’m keeping this one short and sweet in the midst of the holiday craziness, but wanted to wish everyone a happy holiday season filled with love and joy. This has been an incredibly difficult year and I can’t think of a better time for all of us to slow down and rest. Whether that means watching hours of Netflix in your PJs or spending 5 minutes alone in your car (if you know, you know), I hope you are able to recharge over the next couple weeks. I firmly believe that one of the best things we can do for ourselves and for those around us, is to rest and recharge. Be gentle with yourselves and find little things you can do for YOU.

I also wanted to congratulate our Instagram giveaway winner, Christi Bragg!! Thanks so much fo everyone for entering and for supporting me and the incredible Intentional Ten brand. If one of your goals for the New Year is to live more intentionally, I encourage you to check out the Intentional Living Challenge, where you will join Christina in one month of journaling, mindfulness, and more! Learn more here.

One more thing, for those of you who are looking for last-minute gifts, I’m linking to my most recent newsletter highlighting some of my favorite North Carolina small businesses! We’re so lucky to have such an amazing community of unique shops, especially this time of year. They need our support now more than ever! View the newsletter by hitting the button below and have a happy and safe holiday season!!

The Love Bead

“But not just romantic love; familial love, platonic love. A person needs it all, unconditionally….”

Impeccably stated and so incredibly true. These words, written by Katherine Turner, author of Finding Annie set to debut this April, open our eyes to how fragile we all are. Behind our tough exteriors, we are all in need of love, from all of our relationships in life.

As we are deep into the month of love, I wanted to highlight a beautiful, imperfectly perfect love story I read in January. Once again, yes, I have already read a book this year. I am just as shocked as you. Katherine and I connected over my memoir, Beads, and what an amazing connection it was and and continues to be. There are people in life I believe you are meant to meet, and she is certainly one of them. When she asked me to give her book a read, I said yes with absolutely no hesitation.

I read Finding Annie in three days. It resonated with me in countless ways; its writing style, its character development, its raw thoughts and emotions. I couldn’t stop reading, my husband amazed that I was forgoing our favorite TV shows in order to read.

Annie is a woman with a complex past, full of abuse, neglect, abandonment, and disappointment. Suffering from PTSD, she feels unworthy of love and is inundated with anxiety and depression. A character I relate to all too well. While some could view her as “damaged goods”, she has such a beautiful nature about her. She holds a calming presence, despite her ever-swirling panicked thoughts and fears. I was drawn to her immediately. Her strength, her vulnerability, her innocence. I felt like I knew her after only the first few chapters.

Finding Annie instantly immerses you into Annie’s life, her mind, her deep thoughts and scary feelings. Having suffered from anxiety and depression myself, I was able to feel and understand exactly how Annie was feeling. However, even if one has never suffered from either of these conditions, Katherine does an impeccable job of portraying the inner workings of anxiety. The constant destructive thoughts, the nervousness in unfamiliar situations, the physical component, the desire to withdraw, the self-doubt. Annie experiences all of this and in turn, I did, too.

Despite Annie’s fears and anxiety-ridden moments, she finds herself in an intense love triangle. And this is truly one of the book’s most meaningful messages: everyone is deserving of love, regardless of their past, their mental health state, their day to day struggles. Annie desperately tries to alienate herself and diminish her self-worth time and time again.

But love wins time and time again. And not just any love. The deepest love. The type of love that isn’t perfect by any means but is untouchable. A love so genuine, you feel it as the reader. I won’t give away how the love triangle becomes a love duo, but let’s just say you will be rooting for this duo throughout.

              “Then that’s all that matters, love. We’ll figure out the rest, I promise. It’s you and me, always.”

The obstacles Annie overcomes in her life are astounding. She is a survivor who is continuously working to get to the other side of childhood trauma, sexual abuse, rape, and a physical encounter with a demon of her past. You will ride along with her through the ups and the downs and everything in between. And by the end, you will be wanting more. It’s as if my favorite TV show just aired its initial season finale. Thankfully, this is the first book of several in what Katherine titles, the “Life Imperfect” series. I now impatiently wait for the second “season”.

The love bead is sacred. My hope is that every single person has it, as we are all deserving of it. Love is love. No race, gender, age, religion, mental state, political stance, or anything else dictates who and how we love. So go hug your loved ones near and call your loved ones far. Embrace differences and cherish similarities. And love with your whole heart.

“Finding Annie” is now available for pre-order on Amazon and Barnes and Noble . You can learn more about Katherine through her blog on her website, kturnerwrites.com.

P.S. No candy/baked goods/ice cream month is far more difficult than no alcohol month. I will be having a giant bowl of ice cream topped with cookies, cake, pie, fudge, 4 different types of candy bars, and chocolate sprinkles on March 1.

The Mental Health Bead

True statement: I have struggled with my mental health for much of my life. And I hate to use the word “struggled” because I find that it puts a negative connotation on it. But it is also fitting because parts of my life really have been a struggle because of it. The term “mental health” encompasses many things. I want to dive into my personal experiences with it, those of anxiety and depression.

People are sometimes very surprised to hear that yes, I am one of the 40 million adults in the United States affected by anxiety (1) and one of the 322 million people worldwide living with depression (2). I’ve heard everything from, “But you are so happy and you laugh, so how can you be depressed?” to “You have a great husband, great kids, a great house, what more could you want?” Nice, huh?

Yes, technically those statements are correct. I am happy and I do laugh. Sadly, that is sometimes a front, and all I actually want to do is go lay in bed. I do have a great husband, great kids, a great house. Sadly, those things sometimes don’t matter when all I can think about is how helpless I feel.

“BE KIND ALWAYS, FOR EVERYONE YOU MEET IS FIGHTING A BATTLE YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT”

I don’t think this concept is practiced enough. Behind someone’s tough exterior could lie one that is broken. Behind someone’s smile could lie tears. Behind someone’s laughter could lie cries.  Behind someone’s bubbly personality could lie one that is deflated. At points in my life, I have been all of these examples. And I did such an incredible job of hiding my battles so that no one would know. After all, actually admitting out loud that you are depressed is not often well received. It makes people uncomfortable.

I would avoid it at all costs because who am I to provoke such discomfort. I would then find myself changing how I acted and felt to please others, which would in turn just make me feel worse, perpetuating the vicious cycle.

For me, depression usually manifests itself in waves. At times, I would dread getting out of bed in the morning, knowing I didn’t have a choice. Or I would go to a bathroom stall in the middle of my workday and just cry. Or I’d spend an entire weekend in bed, in and out of sleep, riddled with my own mind. I haven’t had one of these waves in quite some time, which I am thankful for. What is important to note, however, is that a wave of depression doesn’t have to be triggered by anything. It can simply just be. There is no fix, there is no reason, there is no way to stop it. I want to squash the common misconception that those who have depression can just choose to be happy. Because that’s not the way it works. Not even a little bit.

Anxiety is depression’s pesky little friend. The Anxiety and Depression Association of America states that “nearly one-half of those diagnosed with depression are also diagnosed with an anxiety disorder.” I am one of those half. Lucky me. I would say that over the past few years, I have been plagued with anxiety more so than depression. And I would argue that it is equally if not more so debilitating. Imagine your mind racing through a thousand thoughts all at once, snowballing to worst case scenarios, you feel a pit in your stomach beginning to form, heart rate increasing, you’re sweating from being suddenly incredibly hot.

This is how I would describe one of my particularly bad anxiety attacks. To top it off, you are trying so hard to bring yourself out of it, but you just can’t. It’s scary. It’s frustrating. It’s awful. And it can really come about at any time, from anything. A trigger, trying to fall asleep at night, a social environment, the grocery store. As if life isn’t hard enough.

So, what have I personally done to manage my depression and anxiety? Years of therapy and years of medication. Thankfully, I have become quite skilled at recognizing when a wave of depression or an attack of anxiety hits. I wasn’t always, though. Unfortunately, for so many this is not the case, leaving them to continue suffering without help. This is devastating to me. And while I am in no way telling anyone how to handle their mental health, therapy and medication has made me a better person. It doesn’t all happen overnight. Believe me, I have tried most medications out there before finding what actually worked for me. Same goes for therapists. Just because someone is a therapist does not mean they are the right fit for you. So, if you have to shop around, that is okay.

Then, there is the stigma around mental health – that you’re a crazy person if you have to go see a therapist or take medication. And is depression even real? To which my response is usually, “you do you. I will do me.” Easier said than done, but it does shut people up.  

The mental health bead is such an important one. It most likely is not the most beautiful and perhaps it lives on the end of your necklace, hidden behind your neck near the clasp. And that’s okay. But the more we talk about mental health, the more comfortable it becomes. It’s okay to not be okay. It’s not something to be ashamed of. It doesn’t have to be hidden, but it can be. Just know, you aren’t alone. I’m in this fight with you. And so, I circle back to the quote above, “Be kind always, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.” You just never really know. Take care of yourself. Take care of others.

P.S. Happy end of Sober January. I made it. Happy beginning of “no candy, cake, or ice cream” February. Wish me luck.

(1) “Facts and Statistics.” Anxiety and Depression Association of America, ADAA, 2010-2018, https://adaa.org/about-adaa/press-room/facts-statistics

(2) “Depression.” Anxiety and Depression Association of America, ADAA, 2010-2018, https://adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/depression

The Reflection Bead

Paul TP Wong writes, “Time spent in self-reflection is never wasted – it is an intimate date with yourself.” And this is a lovely quote. But do we actually do this? Do we spend time self-reflecting, having intimate dates with ourselves, even giving ourselves the space in which to achieve this? It’s a great concept in theory but taking time to reflect is an intentional behavior. One that I myself am personally working on. Because for me, it’s true, the time spent in self-reflection has not been wasted. But that’s because I haven’t been taking the time to do it in the first place. Until recently.

I’ve had some epiphanies in these first 21 days of the new decade. Yes, I know, it is STILL January, and we are only 21 days in. I always feel like January is the longest of all months ever. But this year, I must say I am enjoying its length. For the first two weekends, my family had no plans. We are talking no play dates, no birthday parties, no nights out. Zero. So we woke up both Saturday and Sunday mornings with NOTHING to do. I’m going to let that sink in for a minute, because I cannot tell you how rare this is for us...

Ok back on track, absolutely nothing planned, so we pitched it to our 4-year-old to tell us what he wanted to do. Well, he’s already began talking to us about his birthday party plans, which are at the end of May I might add, so we decided to go pick out party decorations! For a party that is over four months away. For a rising five-year-old. Now, the planner side of me was so proud. I’ve taught my boy well. But the child in me was SO excited. And so was he, making it even more exciting.

So we went to the party store and spent about an hour wandering the aisles considering all of our options for themes. Superheroes, Mario, Pokemon, Star Wars, Minions, Toy Story, and on and on. And then it happened. The decision was made. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Woohoo! The thing was, though, that we didn’t rush. We didn’t give any timers or countdowns. We didn’t say no to anything. We didn’t speak the words, “Finally!” We let Tyler take his time, because we had ALL the time. What a beautiful thing.

Might I also add that Danny and I felt energized, ready to tackle our days and have all the fun because…we have stood by our word and stuck to Sober January. And for this, I am so proud of us.

Another absolutely crazy thing that has happened is…wait for it…I have already read a book this year. Like cover to cover, finished in four days. WHAT?! For those that may be new here, I am not a huge reader. It’s one of those “those who can, do. those who can’t, teach” situations. Except replace “can” and “can’t” with “like to” and “don’t”. Basically, I am not a reader, but I love to write. So the fact that I have already read a book this year is huge. I will expand more about my thoughts on this book in a future blog post because it was just that good that it warrants its own post.

But the name of it in the meantime is Finding Annie, written by the brilliant Katherine Turner, set to debut in April.

Now for the reflecting part of the past few weeks. I have found myself really thinking about our days and how we have spent them. Referencing back to Wong’s quote, I have had a few intimate dates with myself. And what I’ve found is that I love this slower-paced life. Why not get everything for a May birthday party. Why not sit down and read a book. Why not wake up feeling great because I didn’t have a few drinks the night before. Why not let our kids decide what we do on the weekends. It has put me in quite a different mindset, for the first time in a while.

The slower pace life brought me back to right after the rape. I stopped. The world kept moving around me, but I came to an abrupt stand still. And that was the silver lining in it all. As traumatic as that time was and still is at times, I stopped. I admired flowers on the side of the highway. I made jewelry for days on end. Priorities shifted, and I slowed down.

My point in all of this, is that my periods of reflection have been nice. And needed. Don’t get me wrong, I love being busy and doing all the things. But the flip side of that, the slower pace, is fabulous. Self-reflection has allowed me to realize that and will hopefully allow me to implement a slower pace when we can. It won’t always be this way. In fact, life is about to ramp back up again with both pleasant and some not so pleasant things. But I will say that self-reflection has put me in a better mental space to face the music. Whether the music is loud or heavy metal or soft or turned off, I am ready for it. The key will be to continue self-reflecting even when the music is deafening.

For me, the reflection bead is a new one on my necklace. It’s made an appearance here and there before but has definitely stayed “unstrung” more often than not. I encourage everyone to find their reflection bead. Like all the other beads, it can come in many different shapes. Self-reflection can look however you want it to. Writing in a journal. Going to therapy. Spending five minutes at the end of the day. Spending five minutes while sitting on the toilet. Whatever it may be, just try it. Take some time just to think. For starters, you can ask yourself, “How am I really doing?”, “What is one thing I can do for me today?”, “Is there anything I can simplify?” And who knows, you may find yourself craving these intimate dates with yourself. Thanks, Wong.

The Fresh Start Bead

Happy 7th day of 2020! Sounds so weird, but it has a lovely ring to it.  As my four-year-old often says, “Howy, Mowy, Guacamowe!” We have made it to a new decade folks. And man does it feel good. To sum up our last two weeks of the year, the words fun, chaotic, overwhelming, whirlwind, and grateful are a few that come to mind.

Christmas is always action-packed for us, complete with a trip to Maryland to visit extended family and several rounds with our local families. It is always wonderful seeing and spending time with everyone, but throw in a sick kiddo, a few days of inconsistent sleep, and our preschool being closed, by the time December 26 rolled around, we were exhausted and ready for a reset.

Anyone else feel the need to become a minimalist right after Christmas? Like straight up wanting to live with a toilet and perhaps a bed. And maybe my computer.  We are those people who fully enjoy October 31 as Halloween, but on November 1st, it’s Christmas. The tree goes up, the décor goes out, and we are ready for Santa. So by December 27, give or take a day, we are ready for it all to go away. This year, we spent about two days purging everything and anything.

Out with the old, in with the new. If we didn’t decorate with it this year, gone. If I hadn’t worn it in a year, gone. If I just flat out didn’t want to look at it anymore, gone. Seven bags for Goodwill and probably 15 bags of trash later, I actually felt lighter. My house looks bare, and I couldn’t be happier about it. Our toy bins are no longer overflowing. I can walk into my closet. Believe it or not, we currently have a completely empty drawer in our kitchen. Whoa.

I found myself thinking more about 2020 than I remember anticipating any other new year, getting excited for a fresh start. Just something about a new decade, I suppose. And with this new decade, I figured I would try something new. In years past, I have gotten in my head with all different types of “New Years Resolutions.” I put this pressure on myself that made January 1st a day for permanent change with no going back. I’m going to cut out sugar. I’m losing 25 pounds. I’m exercising every day. I’m going to meal plan every Sunday. I’m going to wake up 30 minutes before my kids to have some “alone” time. Blah blah blah and the list goes on. And when I found myself slipping up or not doing all of these things at the same time, I felt awful. Like an utter failure. So I would just say screw it and fall back into whatever habits I was doing on December 31.

But this year, I’m approaching resolutions with a different mindset. First off, I’m not going to look at them as “resolutions”. I want to live a healthier lifestyle, and I’m going to accomplish this little by little rather than eliminating or starting everything all at once. For each month of 2020, I am going to do something I wouldn’t normally do.

For instance, this month, I am partaking in “Sober January”. We all have the tendency to overindulge over the holidays, and while I had my fair share of fun, I’d like to change it up and give alcohol a little break. I’ve attempted Sober January before, but have never been successful. Reflecting back, I’ve discovered it’s because I set a bunch of other unrealistic goals that needed to be done all at the same time.

It’s a mental thing for me. Giving myself small goals where the finish line comes after 29-31 days is totally doable.  And my hope is that I will develop some different habits, be more present in the moment because my mind isn’t thinking about 10 other goals, and overall become more intentional in the process.

The fresh start bead can look however you want it to look. Big or small. Colorful or plain. Perfectly round or funky in shape. However yours looks, I hope you feel good about it. There is no pressure. There is no right or wrong. A fresh start doesn’t even have to mean change. It can literally be just the start of a new decade. Either way, I think we can all be happy about having a perfect vision of what this year is going to look like. Get it? Happy 2020 everyone.

My Village Bead

We all know the common saying, “it takes a village to raise a child.” And yes, that is so so true. But I think it takes a village to actually do life. Think about it. If we all had to go through life completely alone, would any of us even be here? Deep and quite sad thought, I know. But in all seriousness, without my village, I absolutely would not be here. And I don’t think many others would be either.

Take a step back from whatever you are doing right this very minute. Clear your mind the best you can. Think about who and what are in your village. If you’ve never thought about it before, consider this an excellent time to. If you have thought about it before, consider this an excellent reminder. Ask yourself these questions:

1.       When you think about your village, do you smile?

2.       Are you happy with who and what is in your village?

3.       Have you told your village lately how grateful you are for them?

A village can be made up of so many different people and things. Regardless of how you answered the questions above, your village is whatever you need it to be. There is no “right” way to go about it. The most important things are that your village supports you, loves you, allows you to feel less alone in this world. And if that is made up of one person or 50, it’s yours. Whatever works for you.

Now, if you found yourself answering “no” to any of the questions above, that is totally okay. Villages can get complicated. For instance, people can be in your village, but they can still be toxic to you. And it’s really up to us as individuals to determine what to do about that toxicity. The complication comes if that toxic person is say a family member or a spouse or a child or a friend you have known for 23 years. And maybe you have never really realized just how much negativity the toxicity is causing in your life. Maybe you have, and you don’t know how to approach the issue. Maybe you have, but you have tried to push it out of your mind. Whatever the case may be, it’s something to think about, and eventually act on if necessary.

Villages transform, just as people do. I have found that in different seasons of my life, people in my village have served different purposes. Some have stayed, some have gone, some have resurfaced. It may be the friend you haven’t spoken with in years suddenly comes back into your life unexpectedly. Or that person you depended on so heavily for so long has drifted in a different life direction. It has taken me a long time to realize that whatever the circumstance may be, it is okay that my village has transformed over the years.

Right now, in this very season of my life, my village is rock solid. I have a marriage that is full of consistent work but also full of so much support and love. Danny has transformed as a village member throughout our 11 years together. He has been my shoulder to cry on, my punching bag when I couldn’t yell at anyone else, my supporter through all of my hardships and major life decisions, and most importantly my friend and co-parent. Since he has no plans on leaving my village, we work through the transformations and the obstacles on a regular basis. And it’s not easy. And it’s not enjoyable at times. But it is worth it because my village wouldn’t be my village without him in it.

I have friendships that are the type of friendships I will have until I am old and gray. These friends have also transformed with me over the years. Those college friends you partied with come into the “real” world with you, start professional lives, and then find significant others, become married couples with you, and many have become parents with me. We aren’t the same people we were 10 and 15 years ago, but they have remained in my village.

I also have those friendships and acquaintances that haven’t been around as long, but they may as well have been. Ever meet someone and literally say, “wow, I feel like I have known you for years!”? I love when that happens. When everything just clicks and it’s effortless in a way. I am all about friendships where there is no judgement, no hassle, and both parties involved have a genuine care for one another.  

I consider myself especially fortunate when it comes to my family. While there lots of moving pieces to it, for the most part, it all functions just the way I need it to. This part of my village has been at my beck and call through periods of my life, supports me with no questions asked, and is always down for a good time. Through the thick and the thin, my family has been there and always will be.  Our immediate families also live close by, adding an extra village bonus.

For all the parts of my village, that are both separate and overlapping, you all make me smile, you all make me so happy, and I am so incredibly grateful for all of you!

However your village bead looks, whether it be small or large, multi-colored or one color, misshapen or perfectly round, my hope is that everyone has one. Life is hard. And without feeling like you’re going through it with others, it can get lonely. And with loneliness comes a slew of other unwanted emotions, at least in my personal experience. Referring back to my questions above, take a moment and reflect on your village. Adjust it if needed and go give giant bear hugs to the rest. It is the holiday season, after all.

The Hobby Bead: Boho Addition

So, I have this hobby. Some might call it an addiction. But I’ll stick with hobby. Confession: I am completely and utterly obsessed with interior design. Stereotypically speaking, I know It’s funny to think that a former accountant has this whole creative side. It’s the right brain in me asserting itself. Though, I will say that the whole notion that some people are more right-brained versus left-brained is apparently a myth. But I digress.

I get these visions in my head. Visions of furniture and where to put it, wall art and how to arrange it, colors and how they would complement it all. I scour Pinterest for hours, bringing my visions to life and pinning hundreds of photos containing the bits and pieces that make up my own creation. I’m sure everyone does this. No? Okay so maybe it is a slight addiction. But hey, at least it’s not heroin, right?

My husband and I have lived in our house for almost seven years. It’s white with black shutters and has an adorable front porch with big white rocking chairs. We (and by we, I mean me and my “addiction”) whipped this house into shape within six months. My visions came and they came fast. Painted walls, new hardwoods, new carpet, custom made couches, Pottery Barn coffee tables, Target lamps, wall décor galore all hung and in its proper space.

You name it, we did it.

My husband did provide his input from time to time, but let’s be honest, he was easily persuaded to my side if we didn’t exactly see eye to eye. And we didn’t have our kiddos yet, so we had this thing called time to do it all. Our house quickly became our home, and I never missed the opportunity to take someone on a house tour so they could admire my interior design skills.  And it was usually followed with a “I can’t believe how quickly you did all of this. You’re insane!” It’s my visions, I’m telling you. 

Within the last year, we made the decision to make our house our forever home. We love our neighborhood, our neighbors, everything we can walk to. And with this decision also came the decision to add an addition, making my décor loving heart quiver with joy. It had been far too long since I designed and decorated a room in our house. So we set out to make this happen in early 2019, meeting with contractors, getting permits, surveys, and all the things.

My visions immediately started going WILD. I was inspired by everything bohemian-themed.  We’re talking succulents, bright throw pillows, crazy patterned rugs, gold fixtures, fringe, the whole nine yards. My husband was thrilled. I told him to just trust me and allow my vision to become reality. I promised him it would look amazing. Don’t worry, I am well aware of how crazed I can get. For months, my “Neflix and chill” morphed into “Netflix, chill and pin bohemian looking rooms on Pinterest.” I told myself I wouldn’t buy anything until the room was actually done. But man oh man, that was tough.

I only slipped up once: a multicolored rug from Wayfair that I KNEW would fit right in. So naturally, I had to have it.

We hired an amazing contractor with an incredibly talented crew. With each day over the course of two months, we grew closer and closer to a finished product. It started with a complete demolition of our existing deck, which was quite exciting. One minute it was there, and about 30 minutes later, it was gone. Then came new support posts, a new floor, new walls, new windows, a new roof. Even more exciting. You know you have peaked as an adult when a wooden wall frame excites you.  

I remember the exact day I asked our contractor if the room was “ready enough” for me to lay down our new rug. It was a Friday in September. September 20th, to be precise. To my lovely surprise, he said YES. I mean, all we had left was to pass the final inspection. A rug couldn’t hurt. I don’t think he realized how much joy his answer brought me. Then, things got a little out of control. And by out of control, I mean me. I blew up the internet and delighted our credit card companies with my flood of purchases.  

Bought a sectional. Bought throw pillows. Bought a plethora of wall art. Bought lamps. Bought a table. Bought two chairs to sit at the table. Bought wicker baskets. Bought an end table. Bought a chest. Bought hanging succulents. Bought an ottoman. Bought a gold tray for the ottoman. ALL within about a week.

Oops.

It was like Christmas in September. With each delivery update email, I did a happy dance. When a package actually arrived, I went bonkers. I ripped it open, built it if I needed to, with the assistance of my one-year-old, and moved it to its proper place. It’s safe to say that by October 1, this boho addition was indeed a boho addition. And it has received so much love since. “The new treehouse” as our four-year-old likes to call it is inviting, cozy, and full of sunlight, making it worth every penny.

The hobby bead is a fun one. It allows me to escape the craziness of the real world and enter into my own creative world. My hope is that everyone has a hobby bead, allowing for this same escape. As we know, life can be incredibly overwhelming, daunting, and difficult at times. But a hobby can be just the thing that brings comfort, joy, and ease to us all. Just maybe try not to be as crazed as yours truly. Or try to be. You’ll always have a friend in me.  

Enjoy some photos of our Bohemian Addition from start to finish!

The Passion Bead

There are all these paths in life. Physical paths, like the one you took to school as a kid. Mental paths, like how you envision your future. Paths you take because others are telling you to. Career paths. Relationship paths. And the list goes on. But what about the path less traveled? In this case, the “road”, as Robert Frost so famously quoted.

He wrote: “Two roads diverged in a wood and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” 

What happens when you take the road less traveled? All sorts of crazy things. I would know.

Never in a million years would I have considered myself a writer. I don’t have an English degree. I never wrote for the school paper or fell in love with a classic literary work. Hell, I have never even been much of a reader.

I did, however, have about 32 journals as a kid and well into young adulthood. Some of them literally contained one entry, while others had every page filled front and back, mostly with the chronological happenings of my days, the typical paths I took through childhood. I treasured these journals, whether blank or full. I brought them to life and made them mine. Always drawn to the stationary aisle in stores, I would stare in awe at all the beautiful blank books propped up on their shelves with their simple or intricate covers. I wanted them all, regardless of my current journal status at that time. Perhaps this is why I hoarded them in surplus.  

As I got older, I journaled less and less. Life just got in the way and journaling became nonexistent. My plethora of masterpieces went into one of those bins you store Christmas decorations in. And that was it. The end of an era.  

I have always been a good kid. Very organized, studious, a rule follower, a planner. I had this path laid out for myself at around the age of 12, give or take: study hard, achieve an absurdly high GPA in high school, go to college, get a high paying job, get married, have some kids, have a successful career, have a happy life. Seemed easy enough, right?  I did a pretty good job sticking to this straight and narrow plan, not allowing myself to stray very far from it.  

I studied my ass off, as school didn’t always come naturally for me. I got accepted into one of the top public universities in the country. Attended business school. Graduated from this university with a very high-paying job offer. And then BOOM. That straight and narrow path encountered one hell of a road- block.  

June 29, 2008.  

A day forever etched in my memory. A day that changed my life forever. A day I met the devil himself. A man, impersonating a cab driver, raped me at knife point in the front seat of his car. I laid there, frozen, thinking that was it for me at 22. I had lived a pretty decent life, right?  Followed my path, had a fun childhood, with all my journals, just graduated from college. It was a good life.  

But I wasn’t done living.  

I survived. And I had been given a second chance. I just didn’t know what I was going to do with it.  

There was a new path in front of me now, a path I knew absolutely nothing about. It was therapy filled, stabilized with medications, numbed with alcohol. I experienced every known emotion on this path, from anger to sadness to guilt.  There were parts of that path that were such a blur I don’t even remember them.

And I tried to grasp on to my previous path, the straight and narrow I once knew. I finished my internship so I could still get the high-paying job offer. I attended graduate school because what else was I supposed to do. I started my job as a tax accountant, again because I didn’t know anything different. That is what I was supposed to do.  

Fast forward to 2017. I was approaching year eight at the accounting firm where I worked and the #MeToo hashtag movement rocked the world. All of a sudden, sexual assault survivors were all over the news. It was miraculous and unbelievable. This empowerment swept the world by storm and more and more people were coming forward with their stories.  What a time to live in.  

Soon after, I threw out this crazy idea to my husband. I said, “what if I join the #MeToo movement and write a book?” My husband immediately responded, “Do it! You could totally do that.” I thought to myself, really? Me, write a book? I’m not a writer. My portfolio consisted of 32 half written journals. And I was a tax accountant for God’s sake. Tax accountants aren’t supposed to write books. I didn’t bring the idea up again. In fact, I talked myself out of the idea completely. It was absurd. Definitely not the path I was supposed to take.    

But, I couldn’t let it go.  

After months of trying to bury the idea, I brought it up to my husband again. We started spit balling ideas back and forth on a car ride. I pulled out my phone and created a new “note” titled “Book”.  My fingers typed at the speed of light with ideas of what the book should be called, different chapter names, how I should begin and end the story, what I wanted the cover to look like. A light turned on in my mind, like a flickering lightbulb that was finally tightened.  I realized that I had to do this. I wanted to do this. That journal-loving adolescent was yearning to come out of hiding. It was going to be emotional and scary and a huge risk and a completely different path, but I had to do it.  

And so I did.  

I sat down on a random Saturday in February 2018, and the first four chapters poured out of my soul. It was raw, violent, honest, but also provided hope and the belief that you can make it to the other side of trauma. I was living proof of it.  

Within the year, I had my second baby, and after intensely battling with the decision, I took a major leap of faith: I left my corporate job. I decided to take the road less traveled. Even though accounting is what I went to school for. Even though it took me seven months and seven million tears to pass my CPA exam. Even though I made decent money. Even though my company had great benefits. Even though I had no idea if this book would ever amount to anything. Even though I had no idea what I was doing or what the future held. But I did it anyway.  

Somewhere between being insanely sleep deprived (as you may recall, our second kiddo was not a fan of sleep) and continuing to write, all of these things started falling into place on this new path. I connected with a local author who then connected me with a fantastic editor. To my extreme excitement, this editor decided to take me on as a client, solidifying my decision to continue writing. A few months later, I found myself deciding between two publishing houses, both of which had picked up my manuscript. And now here we are exactly six weeks from my memoir, Beads’, debut into the world.  

Phew. Talk about a path I never thought I’d take. I wrote a book. And my name is on the front of it. My picture is on the back. And when people now ask what I do, I tell them I’m an author. (What?! I still have to pinch myself.)  

Of the many things I have discovered on this road less traveled, one has really stuck out to me. I found a new bead amidst my new path: my passion. I have an intense passion for writing. And I think it’s always been there; it’s just been buried with my 32 journals for a few years. Although I found this bead in the most insane way, I found it. And it really has made all the difference.  

And so I impart some of my invaluable wisdom. Quit the job. Buy the shoes. Make the move. Take the trip. Chase the dreams. Do what Robert Frost did. Find your passion bead. You won’t be sorry you did.