Step One: You say, “We need to talk.” She walks, you say, “Sit down, it’s just a talk.” She smiles politely back at you. You stare politely right on through. Some sort of window to your right, as she goes left and you stay right between the lines of fear and blame. Let her know that you know best, ’cause after all, you do know best. Try to slip past her defense without granting innocence. Lay down a list of what is wrong … the things you’ve told herall along … and pray to God she hears you. I pray to God He hears you. As she begins to raise her voice, you lower yours and grant her one last choice: “Drive until you lose the road, or break with the ones you’ve followed.” She will do one of two things: She will admit to everything, or she’ll say she’s just not the same. Then you’ll begin to wonder why you came. You begin to wonder why you came. “Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend somewhere along in the bitterness, and I’d have stayed up with you all night had I known how to save a life.”

(“How To Save A Life” … Words Adapted)

If only I had known all these years that I’ve been belting these words out loud that one day they’d become the inner voice inside my head talking back to me. With that, I can’t believe I’m finally putting this out into the Universe … BUT … here I am doing it anyway. As much as my own past mental health issues are multi-faceted, layered, and complicated, I’m also in my 8th year of recovery from the dragon that was my anorexia/bulimia.

With that, if you, your daughter, or anyone you know is struggling with body dysmorphia or an unhealthy relationship with food of any kind (’cause remember that “Men Have Feelings, Too“), I’d love to sit down and talk with them. After all, no one better understands how to live with and slay a dragon than someone who’s done it herself.

To Catherine (my first and last Love, my soulmate and best friend),

To Catherine (my first and last Love, my soulmate and best friend),

Considering recent events and conclusions I have come to about my life, childhood, parenthood and overall feelings about the people in my life, I have come to some huge conclusions about you and your role in my life. Although we have had a rocky ride at times and we have done some really bad shit to each other I still really would do it all over again. Not just for Gia either. I do love you and I am still in love with you I just got lost along the way because I could not figure out why felt so distant from you and distant everything for that matter including myself if that makes sense. I do love everything about you except for the way we interact/react to each other under difficult circumstances.

After realizing how I really felt about Gia as my child and realizing that no one in my life ever felt that for me it hit me that you were the first and only person in my life that ever truly loved me, chose me as THE top priority in their life and fought to help me get over myself but also fought to protect me from anything and everything harmful or defamatory including myself. Even though you didn’t do it for me you brought my daughter in to this world and promoted that relationship that I didn’t even know that I wanted and needed so bad until now. You made me a parent and it turned out that was the greatest thing that ever happened to me next to falling in love with you and your daughter. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for fostering my relationship with Gia and being there for me even when I was impossible to live with. I don’t deserve a lot of the things you have done and been for me and I will always owe you for everything.

You are an outstanding mother and wife and I realized it is only because of your deep seeded insecurities mostly having to do with your parents and life events that cause you to do the stuff that really upsets and hurts me. I wish we didn’t do bad things to each other but no marriage is perfect and we have to keep trying. I worry more about my own bad choices destroying our relationship than I do yours and I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to hurt, invalidate or upset you. The list of those things goes on and on but I am trying to do and be better for you and for me as well.

I love you and I am in love you I just disconnected myself to protect myself. It wasn’t just you though. I was disconnecting from everything here lately because of my perceived failure at work and at home. When Gia goes to college you are all I’m going to have and that’s a good thing but I was afraid it would leave me alone and that things would get worse between us without Gia there as a buffer. I realize now I need to allow myself to trust and invest in our relationship even more physically and emotionally. Gia going away could become a blessing for us having more time to do things we love together and not stressing out about the juggling back and forth for her between Pete, school and other activities. I love you and I’m in love with you. I want it to stay that way and I want us to get closer as a result of what’s been going on here lately. This is just part of life. Gia is supposed to go have her life and we are supposed to have ours also. I want to have my life with you. You were my first love, my first EVERYTHING and I want you to be the last god willing.

Please forgive me for my doubts about you and about us and let’s move forward and make our marriage better than it has ever been. Ok?

He is moving like a tremendous machine!

It was June 9, 1973. I was only four years old at the time and so far removed from anything to do with horses that it’s almost comical to think that through my daughter I, no, “we” as a family are now in the fledgling stages of this equestrian world. Meanwhile, today Gia and I watched Secretariat for at least the 20th time since we first saw it when she was four. In fact, it was the second movie we ever took her to together back when Williamson and I were still dating and I was slowly letting them get to know each other. This time was special, however, because of the tear jerker of a discussion we had that followed:

Momma, who does he remind you of?

Hmm? There are actually TWO people he reminds me of and I’ve ALWAYS thought it. I’m curious to hear if we think the same.

Well? Who’s the one man we know that no one had faith in? The one that no one believed in. The one that everyone said would be the worst thing that ever happened to us? The one they never saw coming? It’s daddy. He’s OUR Secretariat!

Gia, I’m so proud of you for making that correlation. I feel the same. Except, who ELSE do we still need to have faith in so HE can run HIS race?

BUBBA! That’s so true! But mom, there’s a third person I’m also thinking of.

Who?

YOU! Not a lot of people had much faith in YOU either. You’ve ALSO proven a lot of people wrong!

If there were just one moment in time I could travel back to and personally witness, it would be the Belmont Stakes when that TREMENDOUS machine defied every odd stacked against him and made a mockery of all the people drunk on SHAMpain in the crowd.

If you’ve never seen the movie or read about “The Horse That God Built”, do it! It’s so much more than just a movie about a horse. It’s the story of what can happen when one living creature truly believes in another and how faith can make miracles out of anyone. That’s what made OUR little family what it is today by the way … a miracle of FAITH! I’m so lucky to be surrounded by people I’ll never stop believing in as I watch them run their races with no reins!

… and yet another lightbulb moment! Or rather, should I say, lightening bolt moment? While scrolling social media this morning, I stumbled across this illustration (ownership unknown). Upon closer inspection, I all but jumped out of my skin as I headed frantically to an old box of drawings I’d sketched throughout my late teens and early twenties, which for those of you who didn’t already know, was the beginning of my outward struggle with a debilitating mental illness. As I scrambled through that dusty box, the memories literally flooded me. I couldn’t help but feel that I’d sketched something hauntingly similar to the image I’d just seen on the feed. Then? BAM! There it was at the bottom of the box …

I have given birth to three children in this lifetime. First, there was my Christian, “the other pea in my pod“, to wit it’s no big secret to the handful of people who know us both well that we are actually one in the same. Born into similar worlds of contingent based relationships where our overall human value was merely as good as we could ever be. No deeds, words, behaviors, or actions were ever quite good enough for any consistent or unconditional favor, and both forgiveness and grace had to be earned. We have the same shattered hearts, same missing pieces, and heard virtually the same less than optimal words from our fathers repeatedly, creating the sick, dark, lonely chasms deeply engrained within each of our souls. On the surface? Both Christian and I appeared to have it all and to have been given everything we could have needed for success in our seemingly picture-perfect childhoods and adolescences. If only that were true. It’s not as easy as you would think to get out there and fly with burnt and mangled wings.

Next, there was the little one who passed go, but never collected the $200 before her tiny little feet hit the board. She was both the greatest gift and greatest tragedy of my life, wrapped softly in a yellow blanket and sent straight back Home in angel’s wings. Still, even with an often daily struggle with the hole in my heart that belongs to her, I must admit that there have been days that I’ve thanked God that He took her out of here before the pain and struggle of simply “existing” became her any longer than the few short hours she spent here.

Then, there was my Gia. The pièce de ré·sis·tance light of my life, and the very reason I finally found the courage some ten plus years ago to begin the arduous task of ripping the infamous Venom suit desperately off my sick and worn out mind and body once and for all.

My point being this this:

My two living children have been raised in virtually polar opposite environments. Well, for the most part. As was the case was for me, my son spent what were supposed to be the most innocent and carefree years of his life with a malignant array of “little toy guns” filled with hate, shame, anger, guilt and rage all but spat directly into his once unscarred and trusting heart and cemented permanently into his psyche. My daughter, on the other hand, once and finally removed from the cyclically toxic environment I bore her to, has, for the most part, had two healthy parents in the home in which we’ve dwelled since Zack came into our lives. No hate. No shame. No anger. No guilt. No rage being spewed into the depths of her heart. At least not on our watch! In this home, there are not one, not two, but three human beings who are cherished. Human lives that are treasured. Precious emotions, feelings, vulnerabilities, weaknesses, and differences that are validated, if not celebrated when possible.

With that, although the ultimate damage and survival reports are yet to be determined, it does appear that Gia is faring much better thus far as a result of the healthy words and ideals that are filling her mind by the driving forces in her life. Emotional and verbal assaults from parent to child are the crippling cause of a wide variety of adult mental illnesses and psyches, and from what I can tell you from my own experience watching two different children being raised in two totally different environments? Children do learn what they live! So please, if you are reading this, be careful what you are spewing into your babies’ ears. You only get one shot to fill those precious minds of theirs with hope, optimism and the potential for a lifetime of grace, not just for others, but themselves as well.

AGREEMENT 1:

Be Impeccable With Your Word!

Can you guess what the saddest part of this drawing of mine from 29 years ago is? Looks like I clearly had all this information within me before I even realized it, and what a fool I was not to heed my inner voice LONG before I finally did. Thankfully, because of my daughter AND my son, I finally found the courage to walk away from a childhood filled with “all the words I never needed to hear” and likewise a former marriage filled with the same. In true phoenix style I took hold of my little girl and lifted her out of not only my endless sea of madness and mountains of ashes, but as many future ashes of her own I could possibly foresee. Here’s hoping my Gia will be the first emotionally wealthy person to have grown from the twisted branches she came from only to find an equally healthy man to fill both hers and their children’s ears with only the most beautiful “words”.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to share this, because I honestly didn’t want to make anyone sad. After all, no one likes a Debbie downer, and at first glance, this precious treasure of mine may lead some to think, “OMG, how sad”. Let me to explain …

Our daughter had her friends here for a sleepover recently. Giggles and silliness ensued above our bedroom, which we did not mind in the least. Those sounds of silliness are not only music to our ears but even more so a sign that we must be doing something right! We’ve always said that we want our home to be where our daughter and her friends want to be. (Much like those days so very long ago raising my Christian that I fondly recall very similar sounds of boys camped happily at my home. They were “my boys” too, and some still are to this day, but I digress.) When kids cross our threshold they are welcomed, embraced, esteemed, heard, respected, validated, loved and cared for as if they were our own. For us? It’s the highest of honors: “The house full of silly girls”. But oh how I’ve digressed …

That night it was storming terribly. Pouring rain, crashing thunder, cracks of lightening and even some hail. Williamson and I were settled down in our room watching a movie while the girls upstairs were engaged in some pretty serious shenanigans. One hellacious “BAM” of thunder and lightning and our peaceful movie night quickly turned into a slumber party in our room! There we were surrounded by two cats, a trembling dog, then within seconds of hearing eight little feet trampling down the stairway, four 11-year-olds who jumped onto our bed. “Guess what, you’re stuck with us now people, bwa ha ha ha ha!” Of course, this was to be expected and perfectly okay. Soon, they were all giggling and wouldn’t shut up, so Williamson hit the pause button and we just let them do their thing!

It was all fun and games, until that is, one of the girls who hadn’t been in our bedroom before noticed a tiny dress I have displayed in a curio along with many other keepsakes and trinkets that were either gifts pending a long-awaited arrival or keepsakes given in remembrance of a brief and bittersweet life . You see, it’s “her shelf” – my daughter Gina Marie, the miniscule human who was given to share her time with me for only a matter of hours. Some day when I’m ready I will share her story in greater expanse, but for now what I can say is this …

Amid the giggles the girl noticing the dress immediately jumped out of the bed and ran to the cabinet.

Miss Cat, what is that little dress for and whose little footprints are those?

Ugh. My heart all but seized as I contemplated what to say so that her innocent young mind could understand. But before I could find the words one of the other girls who had already seen the dress and knew all about our Gina interjected:

That’s an exact copy of the dress Gia’s sister was buried in when she died. It’s a doll dress and it’s so tiny because the baby was only ‘this big’ (as she cupped her hands together). She was born and died before Gia, so even though she was itty bitty, technically she was her big sister. Those are all the gifts Miss Cat was given when she was pregnant with her and then after she died and it’s all very special to her. And those footprints? They were the little baby’s. That’s how itty bitty her real little feet were.

As the girls continued talking amongst themselves my husband quickly grabbed my hand for the quick three squeeze “I love you”. He was certain I was crumbling inside, and worried for what may be going on in my mind, but strangely, that was not the case. I was intrigued. As we continued to listen intently to a heavy conversation between the girls, they were soon sharing stories and memories of not only their own births, but those of their siblings as well. Can I just say that my words alone are not enough to express the amount of love and tenderness in that room on an otherwise dreary night? They were connecting. Bonding. Sharing. Feeling. Listening. Caring. It brought such an intense warmth and peace to my body that my skin was almost tingling.

But that wasn’t even the best part of this story. At one point, the girl who had noticed the dress and thus sparked the conversation literally burst into sobbing tears. She had connected what happened with my daughter to a sibling her own mother had evidently lost by miscarriage before she was born, which, as you can imagine, troubled her very deeply. But then, she looked at me and said these unbelievable words:

Miss Cat, I am really, really sorry that happened to you. You must have been so sad. It must have been so hard for you to hold your tiny baby in your arms and watch her just go away.

HER little heart was aching for me … I could see it in her eyes … and Gia, too, was becoming so viscerally emotional that we could all clearly see that she was breaking. One of the girls noticed and gently placed her hand on her back to comfort her, while the other girl was comforting the sobbing one.

Gia, we are so sorry for you too. But your sister is like an angel now and we wouldn’t have you if that horrible thing didn’t happen to your family. Right Miss Cat?

Then, my Gia, my powerful, graceful, and beautiful “Mona Lisa“, spoke these most unbelievable words:

Don’t be sad for my mom you guys, she is the strongest and bravest woman I know. She believes that every single thing, person and moment in this life happens for a reason, even when my sister died, but instead of letting it destroy her, it made her even stronger. My mother trusts God a lot and my sister’s tiny dress and footprints make her smile, not cry, because they’re a reminder that she was here. Right mom?

And with that, I was stunned and speechless in all the best ways possible, because in that moment I realized that through “the dress” not only is my baby’s tiny little life remembered to have existed, but even more so than that, it DID mean something significant to someone other than just myself. To those girls who have seen it, Gina Marie’s “angel dress” is a lesson in faith and “life … no matter how small”, and of course, an example of how grownups can survive after tragedy and loss.

This meme popped up on my feed today and then washed across my soul, because if I’ve learned anything on this blessed and broken road, it’s this: It’s not our outward appearances that make us either ugly or beautiful … IT’S OUR SOULS THAT DO!

Perhaps you’ve already ready my second post, “SUMMER OF 1979: “Under My Scars“, where in a singular moment, a very cruel girl who didn’t even know my name called me a “spic” in front of a gymnasium full of my peers and literally changed the direction of my life and self-esteem forever. You see, I was born in Rhode Island, where the darker, olive toned skins were the norm and my Native American / Italian coloring blended right in with everyone else’s.

“The day of the Spic and Spann” was the day I began to despise myself and the dark brown skin I wore, and dare I remember the countless hours of my youth spent in a bathtub crying secretly to myself while literally trying to erase my beautiful color with my mom’s kitchen pot scrubbers!

Meanwhile, here I am forty years later, and yes, I’ve finally made peace with the reflection I see in the mirror, the one that had gone missing during so many points of my life and during the darkest years of my life disappeared completely. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t find my image or paint the picture of myself I so desperately needed to connect with

Well those days are over and guess what? As it turns out, I’m pretty freaking gorgeous! And no, I’m not being vein, let me just promise you that! I’m talking about who I really am! Inside. Outside. Brown skin. Tired skin. Worn skin. Inked up skin. Thick days. Skinny days. Happy days. Sad days. Grieving days. Angry days. “Damn, guess I screwed THAT up pretty good, but oh well, the world didn’t end, so I’ll just have to forgive myself now and get over it!” kind of days.

The scars under my skin eventually became the catalyst for all of the best parts of who I am … beautifully and wondrously formed … and I couldn’t be any prouder of either my scars or my skin if I tried! They delightfully shroud a fiercely courageous yet delicately empathetic soul that is connected to every point of light I’ve intersected with. I am perfectly imperfect, and so are we ALL “beautiful disasters” in our own right. Beauty truly is in the eye of The Beholder my friends, and any eyes judging our books based solely on their covers do not deserve to read them!

That girl from way back then? Her name was Lisa, and wow did she miss out on getting to know one hell of a super cool chic. I have long since forgiven her for all the years those careless words of hers carved from deepest parts of my psyche, and if I ever see her again, perhaps I should even thank her. In the meantime, that ignorant CUNT of a “mean girl” would have been Jean-Claude Van DAMN lucky to have had the privilege and HONOR of knowing me! Little did she or any of those dumb fucks know that one day I’d grow up to be a living queen, “a divine apostrophe“, and God’s actual favorite daughter.

SKIN

Paint yourself a picture of what you wish you looked like. Maybe then they just might feel an ounce of your pain. Come into focus. Step out of the shadows. It’s a losing battle. There’s no need to be ashamed. ‘Cause they don’t even know you, all they see is scars. They don’t see the angel living in your heart. Let them find the real you buried deep within.  Let them know with all you’ve got that you are not your skin. And when they start to judge you, show them your true colors and do on to others as you’d have done to you. Just rise above this. Kill them with your kindness. Ignorance is blindness. They’re the ones that stand to lose. {Sixx AM}

My Dearest Catherine,

From the moment I met you I knew you were special I just did not know HOW special you were and how special and important you would become to me. I can honestly say that you have shown me the best that life has to offer despite our problems, issues we have had had and things we have done and said. I know it can get even better than it has ever been. I know I don’t verbalize it enough but I really do think overall that you are an incredible wife, friend and mother to OUR kids. You are more thoughtful, forgiving and caring than anyone I have ever met or anything I could aspire to be. I truly envy that about you. You are also a gorgeous woman. Your inner beauty has always been the biggest draw from me and it is the reason that I married you and the reason I love you so much. I know I have not always led you to believe this, but I also love to hear you talk and I do enjoy talking to you. You are the only person in my life I feel that I can truly confide in and not be judged. You know more about me than any other person on this planet and I know that goes both ways. You are a very passionate speaker, and you always do your best and take the extra time/effort to help someone understand your point or feelings. I love that about you, and it is one of your greatest strengths in my opinion so long as you are tactful, and light handed with criticism. Please don’t ever feel that you talk too much or that you are a bad person for speaking your feelings/thoughts so long as you know in your heart that you are coming from a good place and do you best to be constructive which you usually do. I have done, said and thought so many things to/about you that I am not proud of, and I am deeply sorry for. I know that 2017 really can be the best year of our lives, that this year we can really start over and get back to the place where we truly love, honor and cherish each other with no regrets, bitterness or anger in our hearts towards each other or anyone else for that matter. You are the reason for my happiness and confidence. You built me up when no one else would, picked me up when I fell, held me when I cried, celebrated with I thought I had done nothing spectacular, kicked me in the butt when you knew I needed to get over myself and believed in me when I did not even believe in myself. You ARE the light and the love that has filled my soul all along. You are the reason that I am the father, husband and human being I am today. You have taught me more than I ever thought I could learn from a person and challenged me to do things that I never ever thought I could do and more. We met for a reason, and we are together for a reason that was always meant to be. We love each other, feed off each other, mend each other’s wounds and fill in each other’s cracks. We must continue to do so because we will break without each other. We have to stay together even when we don’t think we can and give each other no reason to like the other or be likable to the other. I know we will grow from everything that has happened this past year and that things have gotten better already and will continue to do so even if they get worse for a time. Our pain and suffering is temporary but our love and connection is literally eternal. I am sorry I forget that sometimes. Happy 2017, Baby! I love you and I know you love me. It’s time to truly enjoy life TOGETHER and make this relationship we have better than it ever has been. I Love and adore you Catherine Williamson and I always will. Thank you for being my wife and thank you for being you. With all my heart

~ Zachariah Lucas Williamson

WHEN THE SEASONS CHANGE

There’s a light in you that tears me down to nothing, there’s an angel in your eyes. There’s a hope inside that you can make it better. You see right through my disguise. When it rains it pours, and everybody stumbles. I won’t let them bring you down. I won’t let you down when the seasons change. I won’t go down. I’ll fight through the pain. I’ll be there right by your side. I’ll never let them bring you down when the seasons change. There’s a hope in me that I will die for something. Was the fire in my eyes? All this pain inside – will it be this way forever? I can run but I can’t hide. When it rains it pours, and everybody stumbles. I won’t let them bring me down. I won’t let you down when the seasons change. I won’t go down. I’ll fight through the pain. I’ll be there right by your side. I’ll never let them bring you down when the seasons change. When the seasons change and we’re in for colder weather, look for me on the divide. I won’t let you down when the seasons change. I won’t go down. I’ll fight through the pain. I’ll be there right by your side. I’ll never let them bring you down. I won’t let you down. When the seasons change.

{Five Finger Death Punch}

Last night, I had an epiphany and yet another piece of my puzzle fell into place. I wasn’t as geographically close to her as most of my cousins were, but have always been extremely fond of her. You see, although I was raised Roman Catholic, it was SHE, my maternal grandmother, who first taught me about Jesus and that I could have a personal relationship with Him no matter what “church” I either did or didn’t dwell in, and that “just because you can’t see Him, it doesn’t mean He isn’t there.”

It was SHE who planted that mustard seed of faith in my psyche so many years ago. It was SHE who taught me that it doesn’t really matter what anyone thinks of you, because at the end of the day, it’s between you, yourself, and the Lord to be accountable (although years of self-torture and cowering to “what people would think” occurred before I began to practice this preaching).

It was SHE who taught me that just because a woman is divorced it doesn’t mean God won’t forgive her or that she has to accept the accompanying guilt and shame that society and even her own family may burden her with.

It was SHE who taught me that it’s not the “things” in our lives that matter most, it’s what we learn from our lessons and mistakes, our faith in God, and the people we love, trust and walk beside in our journeys that do.

It was SHE who taught me about living with only my truest convictions … SHE who embodied this feisty, yet powerful cloth of grace from which I’m woven … and SHE who began my greatest punctuation lesson of all!

O-M-SHE!

THAT’S where I got it!

Grandma, my dear angel, for as long as I am lucky enough to be alive here, you will always be that bowl of lumpy Cream Of Wheat I eat on a crisp, cool winter’s morning with my burnt tortillas and hot cup of coffee.

Never shall I part with this “seen better days” Scrabble game of ours that we played together countless of hours. Dare I say that literally cannot wait to have my own grandbabies sitting at that precious game board one day with their “Crazy Grandma Cat” so I can tell them all about YOU, the EPIC legacy YOU left behind, and how it was YOU who made some of the most beautiful brushstrokes across this masterpiece I’ll be working on until that beautiful moment I finally get to cross to The Brighter Side Of Grey and see you again.

Now that I think of it, I just realized that when I started this post, I opened with the exact wrong words. What I should have said was:

Last night I had an epiphany and yet another beautiful TILE fell safely into place in the Scrabble board that is my life!

Here’s hoping you’ll be standing there with my Butterfly, my fallen king, and the many others I’ve lost along the way as the steel magnolia you’ll always be as in my mind, “always bending, but never breaking“, just like the apostrophe you helped me become. It’s okay, Grandma. We’re ready for you to take this game to the next, BEST level of all! It’s unbearable watching you suffer this way, so, to you I sing the Anthem Of The Angels:

White walls surround us. No light will touch your face again. Rain taps the window as we sleep among the dead. Days go on forever, but I have not left your side. We can chase the dark together. If you go then so will I. There is nothing left of you. I can see it in your eyes. Sing the anthem of the angels and say the last goodbye. Cold light above us. Hope fills the heart and fades away. Skin white as winter, as the sky returns to gray. Days go on forever, but I have not left your side. We can chase the dark together, if you go then so will I.

{Breaking Benjamin}

I’ve been treating myself with fresh cut flowers once a week for going on five years, despite the fact that Williamson is an avid flower sender. Meanwhile, I’d been hoping that eventually Gia would notice and finally ask me the question for which I’ve been excited and prepared. But I wanted her to be the one to initiate the conversation so my answer would take root in her psyche forever:

me:

“It’s turning out great, right? My homemade ‘kitchen flowers’ make me so happy every week!”

her:

“It’s really pretty this time, mom. Plus, it’s hydrangeas AND lillies, BOTH our favorites! But I have a question. Daddy always sends you flowers, so, why do you need to buy your own?”

me (heart SWELLING):

“Because daughter, WHY NOT? I decided years ago to stop waiting for the world and people in it to “bring me my happy” and get out there and start bringing it to MYSELF! It’s especially important for moms to treat themselves kindly when they can, because it’s a very hard job and sometimes the things moms do and give tend to go unnoticed or recognized, often unintentionally. Life happens and people get busy – ESPECIALLY most daddies – so, moms have to remember to appreciate and value themselves regardless of who else remembers. You’ll always be able to make and find your OWN joy in life, as long as you’re willing to search for it. So, I want you to promise me that when you grow up you’ll treat YOURSELF to flowers often … because … YOU CAN and you DESERVE IT!”

her:

“Mommy? I am SO gonna do that AND have this same talk with your granddaughters one day! We’ll start trend in our family called ‘get yourself some flowers, girl’!”

me:

“You just made my day, Gia! I’ve been WAITING for you to notice that I buy myself flowers and finally ask me why! Now that you know, I really, REALLY hope that someday when you have a house of your own and I stop by to visit that I’ll see ‘kitchen flowers’ on your counter from YOU to YOU!”

🌸

I … AM … BLESSED!

Now, I want to challenge every woman reading this right now to go get herself some “kitchen flowers” TODAY! Life’s too short NOT to live like the queen you truly are, and bringing yourself flowers is one of the most perfect ways to treat yourself like royalty.