Regrets & Ridiculousness

I am someone who lives with a lot of regret. 

Literally, I regret a million things. It's weird and unsettling and frankly, very unattractive. 

I regret not trying out for the part of Belle in our sixth grade play of Beauty and the Beast. I remember standing in the doorway of the auditorium the afternoon of auditions and pacing back and forth talking myself out of it.  When I finally did sit down to wait, I waited and waited as everyone around me got up on stage and sang their song until the teacher asked if anyone else wanted to try. And I sat there some more, and said no, not me. Actually I didn't even say that because that actually just happened in my head. In reality I didn't say anything at all. 

I regret moments I should've spoken up when instead I kept my mouth shut. I regret the prom dress I let my parents talk me into because they both hated the one I actually wanted. I regret the many, many, MANY majors I chose in college, and even the many colleges I bopped around at rather than staying in one place and really thinking about my choices. I regret not going into anthropology like I wanted to because it was a random weird choice that fascinated me, because people and where we all come from and what it all means mattered to me. It still does. 

I regret that I'm not doing something more creative with my job, that I'm constantly filled with a sense of what if? what now? what next? That instead of being an outlet for me, it's a source of anxiety-- the travel time, the hours spent working at home after the work day should've ended when I could or should be spending time living life, that for one entire school year I cried almost every day because of the threats I was getting from family members of my students, so much so that I was calling out sick just because I was too filled with uneasiness about how my day would go that I couldn't make myself face it. I regret not moving across the country or making more of an effort to speak Spanish when I was younger or finding something I was passionate about and sticking with it. 

Right now, I'm awake at almost 4 am having regrets over my wedding dress, a week shy of being nine months post wedding. It's ridiculous. I am ridiculous. But here I am in all my regret filled glory, thinking of the wedding dress I said yes to and then immediately asked my mom to cancel roughly ten minutes after she dropped me off at home. Here I am. 4 am. I have to go into school tomorrow to work on my classroom for the first time all summer and I'm up thinking about something so pointless. 

George says I'm always waiting for the next big thing and in part, he's right. 

He's right. 

I am. I'm afraid of living a life full of regret. I'm afraid of waking up sixty years from now and feeling like I didn't make a difference somehow. I'm afraid of looking back at my life and feeling like I should have done more. So much more. I'm afraid of becoming someone who is so blinded by her regret that she doesn't recognize all of the beauty in every moment she gets. 

So yes. I'm someone who lives with a lot of regret. But I'm also someone who recognizes that crazy flaw in myself and how ridiculous I sound  and am working on it. I'm a work in progress. 

with a heart full of hope & a mind full of dreams. 

a valuable life

 "Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void. "

-Kathleen Kelly, You've Got Mail

I've loved writing for as long as I can remember. I can still see myself in my second grade classroom, writing this epic story about a girl on an adventure through the woods and eagerly sitting in the corner waiting, while my peer review partner read my rough draft. I could not wait for her to tell me what she thought, and then just keep going and going and going.

I wanted to be that person, the creative one, the writer-- the person with the power to create something from their imaginations that would transport a reader to another place, another time, allow them to have adventures, new experiences, challenge their every day thoughts and open their mind to something new, something different.

That's what books have always done for me, and in turn the writers themselves.

Anyway, I started this blog years ago at a time when I needed an outlet. Somewhere I could just pour my feelings out onto pages about things I never really felt like anyone was talking about, or at least sharing out loud. For a long time I never even told anyone I had a blog, mostly out of fear of being judged, or even feeling like it was a part of me I wanted to just share anonymously, rather than have people I actually knew get to see a part of me I maybe was not ready to share. Little by little out it came: " I have a blog" became something I actually said to people, shared it, spoke about it.

And then, then it started to get wishy washy. I started following blog trends I saw from other bloggers and lost the point of why I started my own in the first place. I abandoned it. And here I am, haven't written anything meaningful here in my little corner of the world for over a year and barely very much in the months leading up to those post that were few and far between. I am here now again, because I need to be. I need to have more of myself out on a page more than a facebook post can provide me - the good, the bad, and the most random.

If you're still here and maybe still interested in keeping up, then hi, hello! When I started this little blog of mine I was newly turned twenty four, heartbroken, confused about my future, unsure of what lay ahead. So much has happened since then. So, so much. You can go back and read from the beginning if you'd like, or just begin here. If you go back, skip to the really good posts, the ones I poured my heart and soul into, and ignore all the ones filled with random fluff. Not to say just disregard them, just know whatever direction I wanted this space to go in, it wasn't the fluffy post filled kind.

And now..well now I'm thirty one, navigating through my first year of marriage, entering into my fourth year of teaching in my own classroom, taking my thirties one day at a time and all that comes with them. Still asking myself if my life is small, while still being very much valuable. Still a little lost, still filled with many hopes and dreams, still with a need for more-- more joy, more experiences, more fresh air. but here. I am here.

thanks for being here too.

with a heart full of hope & a mind full of dreams.

Wedding things.

Things that make you crazy when you hit your almost two month mark: 

(Okay, things that make you crazy while planning a wedding when you hit the 6,5,4,3, almost 2 month mark...) 

Suddenly, or not so suddenly since I'm me and I always do this...please refer to my prom dress fiasco of 2003... Simultaneously alternating between hating, second guessing, and loving all of the choices you made thus far: 

- your dress

- their dresses

- your shoes

- your venue

- your band

- your guest list

- your honeymoon

- writing our own vows

- your eyebrows (and I'm growing these bad boys out until the final moments)

The only things I haven't flip flopped on right now are my groom, my hair, and my dog. And even she's testing my patience these days. 

With a heart full of hope & a mind full of dreams, 

xo

a story: an (un) expected proposal

A few weeks after we got engaged, my future mother in law asked if I would have ever thought I'd be marrying George one day when we worked together in high school.

If you had asked me ten-ish years ago the answer then would have been...who?

If you had asked me again a year ago, six months into our relationship I would have said yes, absolutely, yes. George and I liked to say to each other throughout our early time together "Well that escalated quickly..." . We went from an awkward first date to falling in love within weeks. We have been planning our life together from the beginning and have been enjoying every moment together, with our pup Mila from the very start.

We exchanged whispered I love you's by our third week of dating and less than three months later we were planning our future together. Truthfully? We set our wedding date months before we were officially "engaged" but that part really didn't matter to us in the grand scheme of things. Since it wasn't a secret that we were doing this, it's not a surprise that I had the day of when he'd propose narrowed down too. I know this all sounds very unromantic...but the knowing that this was a real thing, that we were committed to each other--that saved me from the heartache I had had before, the doubt that maybe I was on my own in my feelings. We were in it together, planning our lives with intent and purpose. And then? Despite all my "knowing" and planning -- I really had no idea he was proposing to me until the second it was happening. And even then I still didn't believe him. I thought he was fake practicing again (don't ask, I'm crazy). And then, there it was happening while I was standing there holding a jar of detergent in my hand, with my belly full of the huge dinner we just had and my hair a disheveled mess from an awful day of work and commuting. And there I was looking down at the love of my life kneeling in front of me, in the living room of the first home we've shared together, holding onto our pup and asking me to spend forever with him, officially. And it was the greatest, unplanned, sweetest moment of my life (to date).

with a heart full of hope &  a mind full of dreams,

xo

a story of how we ended up here.

My boyfriend and I have known of each other for the better part of ten years. We randomly worked together in high school (but he really doesn't remember me at all although he pretends to) and he was the younger brother of a friend who worked there to so basically that's how I knew him. I doubt we ever even exchanged a word. A few years later when I moved back home for the first time I remember being desperate for a job and applying for that same job I had in high school. When I showed up for the interview and asked for the manager, he ended up being the one who I spoke to first. I remember saying "oh hey I know you, you're nicks brother" and him looking at me like I had two heads like "nope I have no idea who you are".

About a year and a half ago we randomly became friendly whenever we saw each other at the bar we both frequented a little too often: me, because I had just moved home again for the second time and had no social life to speak of and my brother worked there, him because it's where he went to unwind after working on the weekends. It wasn't a big thing- just two people who sort of knew each other who'd sit together while we waited for other people to show up- his girlfriend, my friends, whoever.

On New Years Eve of this year (my favorite holiday besides Halloween), I wasn't planning on going out. There's something romantic, magical and superstitious about New Years all at the same time: there's something in the air that just smells like new beginnings. My family does the same routines, rituals really, every year for good luck: eat 12 grapes at midnight, carry pennies in your pocket, wear yellow underwear (weird, I know.), make sure your home is clean, your bed is made and surround yourself with loved ones so the year to come you won't be lonely.

Like I said, I wasn't planning on going out. I was going through this moment where even in a room full of people, I always felt alone. But I went out. I wore a dress I'd never wear in real life, put on some heels and went. And now I can't imagine how different my life would have been if I had stayed home.

When people ask how this happened, the two of us getting together- I like to say we just had a moment. A moment where I just sort of thought to myself in the middle of a conversation..."oh...maybe this could work.." When I left I remember telling him id be there that Friday again if maybe he wanted to be there too. On the way home that night I remember telling my brothers girlfriend "you know...I think I might really try something with him".

That Friday was the biggest blizzard we've had all year. It was a snow day at work for me and I wondered if he'd show up that night. He did. I did. I awkwardly asked him to dinner for the next night.

The next night I thought to myself..."no, this isn't going to work" ...but then it did.

Three weeks later we were official. A week after that we both confessed we were in love. We've been inseparable ever since. Six months later we moved in together. Adopted a puppy. Picked out a ring. Planned our life. That's where we are now, planning our life together. The one we have now and the one we will have in the future- together.


We aren't engaged quite yet: my ring is living at the jewelry store being paid off little by little, but here we are just planning away. Because when you decide you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start right away. We aren't following any rules, or going by the book. We aren't very traditional and are doing things all out of order, but that's okay. We're looking at venues and talking about guest lists and explaining to people that I'll be going back to school in January during weekends and vacations so we want to get things done while I have the time. It's not a secret and at the same time it is. Maybe because I'm holding it close to my heart, but also because I don't want to be judged and have that put a negative cloud over our happiness. It's this wonderful bit of our life that we're building up little by little. Adding details, making lists, sharing with others, not sharing at all.

It's a little bit unorthodox. But it works for us. And we're happy. So very, very happy. And even though some people feel the need to tell me they think it's all very weird, or too soon, or any other opinion they feel like sharing, I know that what we have is an equal relationship, an honest one, where we build each other up and truly care about how the other is feeling. We fight, we disagree, we piss each other off. We laugh, we love, we sit quietly and do nothing. We have adventures, and make memories and say things like " when we do this..." instead of " if we do this.." It all just works.


It's a love I've wished for my whole life. Wished, hoped, looked forward to. It's a love I wish for everyone I love, and even for those I don't. It's a love I didn't expect, and didn't prepare for, and every other single clichéd thing I ever heard of or was told before.


It just is. and it's just lovely.


also, I apologize if this post made you want to puke.


with a heart full of hope & a mind full of dreams,


xo S

a post

It's the eve of my 29th year, drawing my last 28 years as a growing, changing, random person to an end and bringing a whole new year to begin again. 

Every year as my birthday approaches I struggle and scramble to get my friends together, to make plans, to celebrate my life in some way and every year fewer and fewer people are able to make it, and sometimes...well it all doesn't turn out quite as I picture it. We all have our own lives and commitments and whatever so that's all understandable even if a little part of me feels disappointed even when I know it's unavoidable. So this year you know what my plans are?  I'm having dinner with my parents, brother and my boyfriend at one of our favorite restaurants where I'll undoubtably eat too much and then come home to stuff myself with my traditional carvel cake. And tomorrow for my actual birthday? Hopefully brunch and mini golfing with some batting cages thrown in followed by a nap and some more carvel hopefully all while I'm wearing a rediculous floral crown and a dress, because why not? And that's all okay. It's perfect actually. 

And you know what I realized? I scramble to make these plans because I'm afraid of being forgotten about. I'm afraid people I care about will just forget I exist until I'm just an afterthought to them. Nuts right? But I'm sure deep down everyone's had that thought before. Which is why I try to remind my friends I haven't forgotten about them. I send cards saying hi, words of encouragement, little gifts here and there, a random text...whatever. I don't do it for recognition or for something in return...I just want them to know someone is thinking of them. 

So the thought I had now before I started writing this? I'm getting ready to spend my birthday dinner with the people who have always loved me the most and will never forget me. and our newest addition to the group, a blessing in the form of a guy I didn't know how much I was missing until one day I looked at him and wondered how I ever had a life that didn't have him in it. But that's a post for another day :) 

So here's a toast, to you, to me, to another year on the books and so many more wonderful years to come. 

With a heart full of hope & a mind full of dreams 

xo, Sarah

2014

I don't really believe that things will happen when you stop looking for them, get busy making your own life, put a wish under your pillow or something and all those other cliched things people love to tell their single friends mostly because I've heard too many of them and I know I've been too broken for years to really be ready for any of it. What I do believe though is, one day you can just be doing something completely ordinary and look at the person next to you and think to yourself...yes, this could work. and suddenly it doesn't feel like it's only been days or weeks, just a whole lot of moments blurred together where you realize that you're happier than you've been in a long time and the ache you were carrying around inside you seems to almost have never existed. 

with a heart full of hope (and it's shiny & new!) and a mind full of dreams, 

xo

Sarah