lhard013

[lhard013]

In Training

“He’s in training.”

Oh, if I had a nickel for every time I said this. I’d already have my farm. 3, most likely. One in Virginia, one in Montana, and perhaps an extra smaller one for my summer home in Alaska.

The thing that most people don’t know when I resort to saying this is, he’s been “in training” for three years. Three not-always-so-triumphant years.

And yet, the best three years of my life.

It’s a funny thing – my biggest stressor is also my biggest stress reliever.

But that’s what I signed up for when Noah picked me. I didn’t have a choice in the matter, even though I (don’t) often wonder what I would have done had I known the baggage that was lying just under the surface when this young pup showed up on the ranch, cold and hungry. Always at the ready, I had a bowl and some dogfood handy – there are more strays than people in Middle-of-Nowhere-Texas – so it was not uncommon to see them meandering or running rampant on the roads or across the ranch. But on this particularly cold day in January, something was different.

I had been on the market for a new canine companion. After my previous badass barn mutt Biscuit had passed away a few years earlier, a new companion had been on my mind – but it was never the “right time.” Whatever the hell that means.

My recent move to Texas had proven to be a good one, though not without its challenges. I knew a dog would be in my future at some point, but it had to be the right one. So, I did my research. I took time looking at different shelters. (If you ever want your heart broken over and over, visit shelters in Middle-of-Nowhere-Texas. And don’t waste your money on waterproof mascara.) I knew what I wanted, (a German Shepherd), but I knew all the pieces would have to fall into place for the right dog, considering my situation. He would have to make a good ranch dog – good with livestock, equipment, open land, long days in extreme weather, and people.

I finally found what I was looking for: the saddest looking German Shepherd on the kill list at a shelter over an hour away. I made plans to go visit him, but was told that under shelter rules, I would have to “tag” the dog and essentially buy him sight unseen if I wanted to keep him alive in the next 24 hours. I couldn’t get to the shelter until the next day, so I told them my plan – I’d leave first thing in the morning and come get him, I’ll be there by 6am – but if anyone is closer and can save him prior to that, by all means. Let them. Just get him out of there and please God, let him have a good home.

I held true to my plan. I was up and out the door when I got the message that someone had seen him, wanted him and was able to take him home immediately. I was crushed – but the good kind. He was safe…but I was still without a new best friend, that I was starting to realize was vital for my own mental health.

About an hour later, I got a text from my trainer. “I think I found your dog.” Upon some clarification, I was informed that there was a larger-looking dog running rampant around the ranch – no collar, not fixed. This is typical of Middle-of-Nowhere-Texas, as it’s also not uncommon for owned dogs to roam free. This one looked fairly healthy, albeit cold, clearly hungry, a little skinny and a little skittish.

To this day I couldn’t tell you what it was. But when I saw him from a distance I said without hesitation, “That’s my dog.”

This kid did nothing to prove me wrong.

I whistled to get his attention from a ways away, then put some dogfood in the bowl and shook it and laid it down in front of me. He came up cautiously, but with curiosity. I sat down near the bowl, and began to talk. I have no clue what I said, but before he began eating, homeboy came over, looked at me and simply put his paw in my hand.

Sold.

That tail started wagging upon gobbling up some delicious – likely long-awaited – breakfast, and we located a makeshift leash. It did not take long to figure out this youngin’ had NEVER seen a leash before in his life. No biggie. He was clearly still a puppy – 6-ish months old – and had a lot of growing up to do. No worries there.

The next logical step was to take him to the vet to see if he had a microchip. Sure, that’s just a quick trip.

Except when you’re already a 60-ish pound puppy with zero training who does NOT want to get into a vehicle…you don’t get into the vehicle.

And you’ll fight tooth and nail (with everything but teeth and nails) to stay out of it. This poor kid clearly had an issue with cars. Or rather, as we pieced together later – likely being tossed out of one.

After a 30 minute battle of the species, I surprised him with a spurt of strength in quite literally scooping him up from behind and giving him no option but to jump the rest of the way in. Not the most graceful of ways, but hey – we made it happen. I learned lesson number one: patience should have taken longer than 30 minutes. I don’t remember why I was trying to rush, but this became an ongoing lesson: no matter the circumstances, sometimes you must simply breathe, and take your time.

Upon arrival at the vet’s office, this wonderful –albeit slightly fearful – puppy patient sat carefully on the scale and allowed the techs to check for a chip – of which there was none. My racing heart slowed as I began to realize the significance that now, this really COULD be my dog. The techs asked, “Do you want to put ‘Lost Dog’ signs up in here for him?”

Again, without hesitation and with an odd form of certainty, “No. He has a home.”

Three years later, I understand what love is.

I could bore you (or perhaps hilariously and horrendously enlighten you) on what has transpired over the last three years of being owned by my best friend. I’ll shorten it to a few key points. You’re welcome.

Without getting too deep, but yet first and foremost: love is patient.

I have cried more tears over this animal than I have over any of my horses – and that’s saying something. I’ve lost horses in ways we all hope to never experience, and I’ve seen (and been involved in) accidents that still have their pages dog-eared in my mind. Death and damage is a part of life – but the fear of it, is far worse. And this was something I had never experienced.

Noah came into my life when I needed him the most. He was everything I’d prayed for: good with livestock (except cats), good with equipment, good on the ranch, great with the horses (upon some education), mostly good on open land (deer and coyotes altered this behavior every now and then), and fantastic with extreme weather conditions. Many of these pieces were learned, but much of it came natural to him.

One thing he was not good with – people.

Here’s the kicker – not ALL people. Just SOME people. He picked and chose. He fell in love with some immediately. Others, you’d best not even try to get near him if you want to keep your limbs in tact.

Even better – he loathed children. To this day, not a single child can get near him.

We managed this. Whatever the alter ego of “easy peasy” is, this was it. I can’t tell you how many hours I spent trying to figure him out in those first few months, but rest easy knowing that “hours” truly means “months.” Days on end.

At one point, I moved in with a friend while I was transitioning to a new place. Noah was not allowed inside, so he got a fancy igloo on the porch. I am a born-and-bred “dogs belong inside with the family” gal, but that simply couldn’t be the case here. So again, we managed, and he figured out the igloo (complete with warm fluffy puppy bed) was for him. What he didn’t quite figure out, was how to SHUT. UP.

One night was particularly bad. For anyone who thinks I talk a lot, I dare you to spend a night on a ranch in Middle-of-Nowhere-Texas with an Anatolian Shepherd outside. Seriously. Double Dog Dare Ya.

For about 10 hours straight, he did not bark. He SCREAMED. This “bark” was the most ferocious thing I had ever heard, and it was NON. STOP.

All. Night.

No amount of ignoring, hollering, or bribing shut him up. It goes without saying (but I’ll say it anyway), I got ZERO sleep that night. So the next morning when I finally gave in and got up, I went outside to start my day as per usual. Started my walk to the barn in the early morning light, and in my weary haze, thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when I glanced out across one of the fields.

No tricks. Indeed, there was a solid trail of blood. A little less than half a football field long, starting from the middle of the field and ending at the bottom of the dam just beyond it.

And there it was – the stripped skeleton of what had been a deer the night before.

And all at once, the emotions came over me. I had gotten so mad at this dog for simply trying to tell me there was a problem on this place he now called home. And I’d ignored him and yelled at him.

He didn’t hold this against me. I learned this lesson, and began to use it to my advantage.

I’ll say it again – he did not hold this against me.  Love is patient.

A few months later, it was time to invest in some obedience classes. There was still enough of the “puppy” left to be causing some frustrations, so I “splurged.” It helped immensely with basic obedience, but the underlying issues were still there – he simply could not be around certain people. Emphasis on the “certain.” At first there was a theme – men. Unless it was someone he knew or accepted, he hated men and would not tolerate men approaching me. Then it was certain women. And any and ALL children.

I started taking notes.

That guy smelled like alcohol. That girl was drenched in cigarette smoke. That guy stared at him dead in the eyes. That girl flippantly got in his face. That guy was visibly passive and nervous. The child never did anything except exist, but that was enough to set him off if one was within eye shot.

Love is patient.

I tried. I failed. I tried. I failed. I tried. And I failed.

Don’t let this part fool you – when he’s with those who are accepted into his inner circle, you’ll find the biggest teddy bear dog in the world. Hashtag 100% lapdog.

But I’ll be darned if you are not in that circle.

At one point, I decided it was time to consider my options. Perhaps I really wasn’t the person for him. Other people were telling me that, and this started to permeate in my head. Clearly, I am doing something wrong. Maybe…just maybe…my starry-eyed mind ran away with me and the happily-ever-after-riding-off-into-the-sunset picture in my head simply wasn’t meant to be.

People started telling me, "He should probably just be euthanized."

Hell. This is real life, not Disney.

So, I posted a note on Facebook. In many more words, it essentially said “This dog means the world to me. But he needs more than I can offer him. Perfect homes need only apply.”

I got several responses, from several wonderful people.

Suffice it to say…none were perfect enough.

Love is patient.

                 * * *

Not long after that, I had my first Texas trip to the ER. If you’re smart, you don’t wear flip flops at all on a ranch. If you’re really lacking on smarts for the day, you wear flip flops on a ranch at night.

Lo and behold, copperheads will find you.

And lo and behold, I got found. On the ankle. In the dark. And had a solid limp in about 20 minutes.

But, again – because I was lacking on smarts for the day – I ignored it, thinking it had been a Texas-sized wasp. (Everything’s bigger in Texas, right?) I hadn’t actually SEEN the snake (doctors later confirmed the kind) so I just assumed I’d once again landed myself into a Lindsey-situation. Not uncommon.

10 hours later, and my poor trainer was the one who had to get me off the floor, into the truck, and into the hospital to then get hooked up to machines and drugged up on God knows what.

The thing is, I’d spent the better part of 6 hours passed out on the bathroom floor, in between vomit spells. I’d never thrown up so much in my life, but let me tell ya – girls, if you wanna lose some water weight and about 3 weeks of cheat meals, go find a copperhead!!!

I remember Noah being at my side the entire night. Every time I regained consciousness to throw up again, he was lying on my opposite leg that was sprawled out in some odd fashion to avoid touching the victim leg. Every time.

He never moved.

Upon gaining enough consciousness to call someone, I called my trainer who was (thankfully) next door. He answered, but I couldn’t speak. And after a few brief moments of trying, the call cut out – no service in Middle-of-Nowhere-Texas. Duh.

Again, thankfully, one of us has smarts. So he figured out something was wrong and came over. Alas – my door was locked. No more than perhaps 6 feet away, but light years for someone not entirely coherent, rolling in and out of consciousness and no use of one leg.

I tried sitting up. Passed out again – this time, in the other direction. Directly on top of Noah, who was still at my side.

I later asked my trainer how I got to the door. He said when he opened it, I was just sitting there with Noah right next to me – his whole body against mine. Once some drugs wore off, I remembered bits and pieces – my trainer had knocked and called my name. And Noah had crawled to the door – with me in tow. Deadweight. Close enough so that when we got there and I woke up again, I could reach up to unlock it.

He did not learn this in his obedience classes.

If you ever read further in this particular Corinthians passage, it says, “Love always protects.”

I’m still paying off that hospital bill. But thanks to a particularly unique four-legged gift, who later became my right leg for a week while I regained some balance, I am still here. With both legs in tact.

Love always protects.

* * *

Indulge me for a moment, and allow me to give a bit of insight. While this is a cool story (I hope), I’d be a fool to not include some fun facts.

Noah is an Anatolian Shepherd. If you have never heard of one, look it up. Google will help you with the biography, but I’ll leave it at this: there are all sorts of “support” pages on Facebook: Depression. OCD. Autism. MS. Cancer. Bullying. Domestic Violence.

There is also an Anatolian Shepherd Owner Support page.

And yes, I found this by accident. I stumbled upon it while knee deep in research on the breed, and nearing closer and closer to the end of my rope with the “issues” that seemed to only be getting worse; or at the very least, no better. The better he became at being a ranch dog and my right arm, the worse he became with strangers. I’d already decided post-snake-bite that this was not a dog I could ever give up. It just became a matter of management.

So, I joined the Anatolian Shepherd Owner Support page.

And lo and behold – I wasn’t the only one with these problems. These fears.

The blatant red fear that my dog would cause harm to one person – that one wrong person – who would fight for my dog to be euthanized.

The stories were endless. “My neighbors are afraid of him.” “She snapped at my husband.” “He doesn’t allow anyone he doesn’t know into the house.” “We have to separate him completely if we want to have guests over.”

And those are mild.

Now of course, there were those of the opposite theme – “PERFECT children’s dog.” “Passed his Canine Good Citizen test with flying colors!” “She is now a licensed therapy dog.”

These of course, while wonderful stories, were discouraging.

Where was I going wrong?

I waited a while before posting, as I wanted to feel out the crowd a little bit to make sure it was a legit forum and not just some random trolls ready to take aim and file a lawsuit against a dog that bares its teeth. In fact, it wasn’t – and I was soon met with a mountain of support and love from fellow adults owned by Anatolian Shepherds.

We shared stories and photos. I quickly noticed one common denominator.

Loyalty. Pure, unadulterated loyalty.

These dogs mean business – and that business, while easily taken the wrong way if not understood, is protection. Guardianship. A responsibility to those they love.

This rang true a second time – this time, at a rest stop in Louisiana at 2am not long after the snake bite.

I was kneeled over pouring water for him into his travel bowl just outside of his passenger side door (he rode shotgun with me before he had a growth spurt) and I saw the shadow at the same time I saw his hackles rise. His facial expression and body language did a complete 180, and I did not have to turn around to know that there was someone there who shouldn’t be.

I’ll never forget the way he came out of the shadows just enough to block me and make his teeth and jowls visible. The opportunity was there, but he didn’t take it – the man stumbled backward and was lost into the night. My heart rate had barely had time to rise in the few seconds that this transpired, but it still took me a few deep breaths to register what I’d just witnessed. Forget the potential threat – what my dog, MY dog, had just done was only seen in movies.

Again…he didn’t learn that in obedience class.

Love protects.

A similar situation happened a second time over a year later, on a 5am run. And once again, it was all over in about 10 seconds. Noah was virtually hidden (I can only assume) running on my left side in the shadows of forage, while I was in the light of the sidewalk. A lone vehicle veered onto the (empty) oncoming lane and slammed on the brakes right next to the sidewalk. A man with a hood on (and therefore no facial recognition) exited the car and, as though this had been practiced, Noah executed a perfect whirl to my front, again blocked me, and again demonstrated what the “fear of God” looks like. I need to be fair here in saying that I have only seen this from the side of the joust you want to be on – so I can only assume how it must feel to be on the receiving end.

That said, I believe it’s safe to assume it feels less than desirable – the man promptly did a 180 back into his car, slammed the door and hightailed it down the road. And Noah promptly went from Fear of God, back to happy-tails and trotting along with me down the road.

To this day, he constantly checks behind us on our daily walks.

Love is patient. Love protects.

At this point, you’ve probably figured out that Noah never went anywhere. I deleted my Facebook post about finding him a new home, and we began tackling the world together. Not always successfully, but we continue to try anyway.

Since these very physically threatening moments have happened, some equally mentally and emotionally jarring moments have creeped to the surface as well. We all have bad days, but as each of you reading this likely knows – some bad days are worse than others. Whatever this means to you, I know you understand.

Those days exist. There is no denying it. And again, if I had a nickel for every time this dog has nosed my hands away from my face, pressed his face into mine and tried to get me up when he thought I passed out, barked me out of a nightmare, or simply put a paw on my shoulder when it all just seems like more than I can handle – well.

I might be almost as rich as I already am, simply from the love of a dog. Because, love is kind.

So, yes. Three years to the day he came gallivanting into my heart, he is still in training.

And you know what? So am I.

When won’t I be? Life doesn’t stop to let you catch up. We are ALL constantly learning – hopefully working on becoming better versions of ourselves. This, of course, doesn’t happen across the globe. But just as easily as there are moments that drive you to "It’s 5 o’clock somewhere!", you can bet that there are stories that will never make headlines, never make national news, never make anything really – except, for those brief moments, restore your faith in humanity.

Perhaps in yourself if you find the right dog.

Three years ago today, I found the right dog. I knew it at the time, and as everyone says, “When you know, you know.”  I’ve been asked on a few occasions, would I do it all over again if I knew from the beginning about the amount of baggage that came with him?

I’d like to think I take some time to consider this – adding up each time he has led me to tears, to heartache, to headache, to yell, to drink.

My answer is simply, “yes.” The reason why is irrelevant, but in all truth – you don’t give up on someone you love.

He didn’t on me.

Love is patient.

Love protects.

Love is kind.

Love is an Anatolian Shepherd named Noah who is currently sound asleep on my bed as I type, safe and warm from the bitter January (albeit confused) Texas weather. He takes up the entire bed, and I don’t mind. When I eventually squeeze in with him, he’ll place his paw over my chest and I’ll become a little spoon to a Shepherd. I’ll get a goodnight kiss from a cold nose.

Tomorrow, we begin again. We are both in training, tackling this thing called Life daily. It certainly isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but dancing in the rain has quite a bit more flavor when you’re learning step by step alongside someone who wants to learn these steps with you.

Not for you, or against you – but simply, with you.

Love is so many things. And I am lucky enough to know this, through the heart of a dog who sees me just as I am.

Flawed. Imperfect. In training.

He knows I don’t always see him just as he is. Because I know the incredible dog he is, it’s hard for me sometimes to keep my mind in check when he has a bad moment. Even as those moments become (slowly) fewer and fewer, he does still have them. And what I have finally come to the realization of is this:

He has a past. So do I.

He has memories. So do I.

He recognizes people whom he simply does not like. So do I.

He recognizes people with whom he immediately feels a rapport. So do I.

He has moments where he simply just needs the reminder that I am there, and it’s ok. So do I…and he has been this reminder for me, from day one.

In three years, without fail, he has never ceased to remind me that he is there.

And three years ago and beyond, I had no clue that I needed this.

Over the course of our time together, I am proud to say that I now do have a really, really good dog. In fact, a recent trainer came to me with words that will resonate with me on those days that aren’t so good: “You know, I meet dogs all the time. You fall in love with all of them, some you don’t want to see go and some you can’t wait to see leave. He is incredible. And he is an incredible dog for you. He’ll always be a one-person dog, and that’s ok. He’ll always need time and patience. But as long as he’s with you, that is one happy dog.”

I have all the time in the world for him. I'LL always need time and patience. But as long as I have him, I'm a happy human. Because…that’s love.

And love is patient.

Love protects.

Love is kind.

And love is always in training.

[lhard013]

A Smile is a Frown Turned Round and Round

I’ve had a lot to smile about lately. I’ve had quite a bit to frown about too…in unfortunate honesty, probably more so. BUT, because it’s my life, things happen for a reason.

Sidenote: things happen for a reason for EVERYBODY. But a little tidbit about me: my life overflows with happenings for reasons. Literally.

That said, a lot of my smiles as of late have been a repercussion of things about which one would normally frown. (And I did, for a while.) But with every good thing that has occurred since some intense frowning incidents, it’s been almost difficult NOT to smile. It’s a weird concept. I wish I could explain it, but it’s like a mathematical equation, and I most definitely cannot explain that.

Let’s start this off with a question. Have you ever had poison in your body? Food poisoning, a wrong dosage of medicine, too much alcohol? You know how your body reacts to those toxins? Yep…vomit. Lots and lots of vomit. For the record, vomit is your stomach screaming, “Duuuuuuude, what the HELL did you put in me?!?!?! And WHY?!?!?!” And then the womanly words come out, “Was it worth it?!? WAS IT?!?!”

Well…I have a confession to make. I’ve had to apologize to my body. I had unfortunately…unknowingly and then knowingly…allowed myself to be filled up with one of the worst possible toxins. A selfish person. A person I cared about implicitly, whom I later discovered didn’t give a damn about me. I learned the hard way of course, as always.

This is a person who had been in my life for well over a decade. A childhood friend. Someone I was thankful to have in my life, and for whom I never questioned being there for. Someone for whom I always answered the phone when she was having a bad day or night, stayed awake into the early morning hours to talk her through whatever was going on, among countless other incidents I won’t get into here. Suffice it to say, I sacrificed many days and nights and lost significant amounts of sleep over this dear “friend,” for whom I would do anything. I did everything in my power to make sure she was alright, and did everything I felt I could so that she could be happy. (Red flag #362, I know.)

And then she made a decision; a conscious decision that she was well aware would end our friendship if I found out. Naturally, I did. Putting the rest of the pieces together, I was sadly able to say to myself, “It doesn’t surprise me.” But as always, there had been that snippet of hope that someone you would do anything for would do the same for you. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case this time. And I was on the receiving end of it. I allowed myself to be backstabbed and walked on. The last time something like this happened, I swore it would be the last time. So the realization of this hit pretty damn hard; mainly because, at one point or another, I had truly believed that I had a friend in her. Thankfully, from experience, I know what a friend is and what a friend isn’t. So I was able to decipher that one pretty quickly and proceed accordingly.

Above all else, I think one thing I will never fully understand is someone’s ability to be filled up with so much greed that they become relentless to their wants; so much so that they don’t give a second thought to those who will feel pain because of their choices. Very real pain.

In my opinion, it takes one pathetic person to pull this off. And by golly, she did.

And I have no shame in saying so.

Why? Well…because despite well over a decade of “friendship,” (I say that with a grain of salt now), I got nothing more than a fake apology. Now, if you know me, you are well aware that as long as you own up to what you’ve done if you’ve screwed up and at least try to talk to me about it, I’ll listen. It may only be for a few seconds, but if you take full advantage of that, I’ll listen. However, mistakes are one thing. Choices are another. And there is a vast difference between owning up/trying to explain yourself, and throwing out an apology you don’t mean.

That said, I know why she didn’t mean it. She got what she wanted, and therefore felt as though she had nothing to apologize for. Fair enough.

But what about the time I wasted listening to your pity parties? The times I spent forcing myself to stay awake so that I could talk to you, lend a shoulder, an ear, an open heart? The times I’ll never get back, when I bailed on someone else so that I could be there for you? The time I almost got myself in a mountain of trouble in an effort to protect YOU? The time I made it possible for you to attend one of the most important and celebrated days of my life, which you ended up ruining when I discovered your selfish, self-absorbed antics?

Those times are long gone. And herein lies what I’ve learned throughout this.

As the above events were occurring, I never once considered it wasted time. You can never waste time on a friend, ever. And in most ways, I still don’t feel as though I wasted my time. But the small part of me that does, is the part of me that knows what a friend is and what a friend isn’t. And it was a statement made by one of those I consider to be a true kindred spirit in my life that put it into perspective for me.

“I’m not surprised at all by what she did. In all honesty, I’ve had to wonder why you, of all people, would be friends with someone like that?”

That hit hard, solely because of the fact that I am very literally one of the luckiest people on the planet when it comes to friends. I am truly surrounded by a group of the most influential, inspiring and motivating people who have ever graced this Earth. (There will most likely be a later blog post about this…hint hint :) ). The reason I know this, is because I have also been surrounded by the polar opposite: shitty, angry, discouraging, selfish, greedy, going-no where, heartless people. The stories I could tell you are endless. And realizing who exactly it was who was holding the knife in my back, was a real kick to the gut to say the least. I backtracked.

But it is solely because of those experiences, because of those horrible and amazing people, that I have become a) the young, confident woman I am today and b) surrounded by top-of-the-line friends, role models and mentors. I wouldn’t change a damn thing.

And it is this fact that led me to honestly consider my dear friend’s statement. All I could say was, “I guess I thought, at some point, I had a friend in her. And maybe I did, at some point. But now, all I’ll ever remember of her is this. The price she paid to get what she wanted, over our friendship. It mattered to me. It doesn’t matter to her. I foolishly thought that it did.”

And you know what? I’m ok with that now. No, I won’t be the one she calls for help. I won’t be the one to pick her up at a moment’s notice to get her mind off things. I won’t be the one to invite her out for a girl’s night. I won’t be the one to put myself out on a limb to be there for her. I won’t be the one to turn my car around at 10pm on the way home from a night class to go get her out of a bad situation. But that’s ok. Why? Because not only would she not do the same for me, I would be left to fend for myself. And to quote good ol’ Johnny Cash, “I won’t miss a friend that I never had.”

In all the places my friends can be found—in front of me to lead me, behind me to catch me, beside me to encourage, inspire and walk my journey with me—she wouldn’t be there.

And Cash is right. I haven’t missed her. You know why? Because I didn’t lose a friend. I “lost” someone who didn’t care to have me in her life. I “lost” someone who not only used me, but another dear friend of mine to get what she wanted…and damaged two lives and relationships in the process. I "lost" someone who had poisoned me, and made my body scream, "Why would you do this to me?!" I “lost” someone who chose her own selfishness over friendship, loyalty and trust, all the while boasting an overwhelming love for the Lord. And that, above all, is just one of the many things that has this world in turmoil. I don’t exactly know where the world would be without religion; but I wonder sometimes, as a Christian, where the world would be if people actually followed through with this respective rulebook.

BUT, because she didn’t, I got a blog post out of it :) It’s the little things…

So, I no longer have that toxin in my body. I ingested it, I let it encompass my life. It did its damage, until I vomited. And now it’s gone. The remnants…the reminders…will always be there, but a reminder is just that—there to maintain perspective til the next time. Unfortunately, people will never stop being cruel. So there will always be a next time. It’s just a mind game of maintaining perspective, and not allowing yourself to give in to the suction of toxic people.

I came home one day, not too long after all this had occurred, after everyone in my family had figured out what had happened. As I walked around the refrigerator, I took a step back, noticing something different. There was a blank space where a picture had once been. An old picture of me and my “friend,” taken over a decade ago, was gone. My mother had taken it down, and I have no doubt it was thrown away. I couldn’t help but think, even if just briefly…that timeless photograph, something I had once cherished, was thrown away just as easily as our friendship. Just as my mother had simply removed the photo and tossed it in the trash, my “friend” had done the same. Memories will always remain, but that chapter of my life is closed. I am thankful for that.

And truth be told, I feel amazing; not just because I have one less selfish person in my life, but because the moment I vomited it all up and realized I hadn’t “given up” anything at all, but rather released myself of the toxin that had engulfed everything in me, I was immediately filled up with all that is truly a blessing in my life…those I call friends. The real ones.

Sometimes, “you’ve got to quit crossing oceans for people who wouldn’t jump puddles for you,” and start sailing with those who will always be present and ready to direct your sails; those who will always be your anchor.

And if you find yourself in a place where you’re not sure who you’re surrounded by, take the time to get a good look. Take the time to consider who is in your life, and whether or not they should be there. Are you being built up? Encouraged? Loved? Defended behind closed doors? Told the truth? Trust me…you deserve those things. If any one of your “friends” does not fit this bill, let them go. They are not worth it. YOU are worth the time it takes to forge the better relationships…the BEST relationships. Anything less, and you will find yourself at toxicity levels beyond your control. And trust me again…detox is NOT fun, nor easy. There is a reason successful people let the losers go. Do yourself a favor…throw up, and move on. Your future self with thank you. And so will your friends. The real ones. Even if they don’t exist yet. 

  Live well.

[lhard013]

Toilet Bowl Knockout

I had the pleasure of experiencing something not so pleasurable for about the third or fourth (maybe fifth?) time yesterday. I got knocked out.

I wish I could make it as glamorous and badass as the previous ones (horse-related incidents...one or two were on the dance floor) but alas…the toilet did me in this time. That being said, the not-so-pleasurable experience was this: my body shutting down, and boldly reminding me that I need to slow down and take a breather every now and then.

Thankfully, I had just returned to my office at work after working the receptionist’s desk over the lunch hour. After realizing I was probably going to get sick, I made my way to the nearest bathroom where I proceeded to gag for just a moment before my body just completely gave up. According to the crash my boss heard, and the mess I woke up to, I had thrown up while passing out, hit my head on the toilet on the way down, and went from passed out to knocked out. Didn’t feel a thing. I woke up between the wall and the toilet, unable to breathe and choking on my own throw up, and after several moments heard someone at the door asking if I was okay. It is a super tiny bathroom (thankfully) so I finally was able to reach up and unlock the door and pull the handle down so she knew it was ok to open it. My boss, and at this point a couple other co-workers, were exposed to the wonderful sight of me on the floor, throw up everywhere (a lot of which was in the toilet, so I give myself props for having somewhat decent aim while passing out) while exclaiming, “Oh my God, she’s white as a sheet.” Thanks. It’s not like I spend EVERY DAY outside in the sun or anything.

Anyway. I felt much better after having some Sprite. I’m pretty sure it was just one of those things that needed to get out of my system and then all is well. They sent me home (I got a ride, as they wouldn’t let me drive) and took a shower as my hair was still dripping with regurgitation (you know, since I’d been laying in it and all.) My post-work plans for the day—ride my horse, Crossfit, and go dancing, back to back to back—were completely thwarted as I laid down to rest at about 2, and woke up at 5:30.

 A little tidbit about me...I HATE taking naps/falling asleep during the day. I never get to sleep at night if I do, which is a feat in itself.

That being said…after meeting up with a friend for a small dinner to catch up, then coming home to watch the remainder of Walk the Line on TV, I went to bed—where I proceeded to sleep for another 10 hours. And here I am, still in my PJs, taking it easy.

I have a lot going on in my life right now. More specifically, in the last week. In exactly 7 days, my already forward-spiraling lifestyle was knocked off course, then strategically placed back into forward-going motion by an opportunity I am most likely not turning down.

I’m going to skip talking about the last 7 days right now. That may come in a later blog.

See that photo I posted of the clouds, with the mountain in the distance? That’s Mount McKinley. I took this photo while en route to Alaska last summer. In simple terms, this trip changed my life in the simplest of ways; it revealed to me that I could breathe. Without stress, without worry, without pain, without satisfaction…I could breathe. This photo reminds me of that.

An avid traveler, a rambler of sorts, I find comfort in the clouds. I’ve always loved to fly, and as someone who gets bored easily, I find great comfort and ease sitting in an aircraft, cockpit or not, just watching the world go by. I think it’s the only place in the world where you can see nothing and everything at the same time.

A lot went into this trip to the Last Frontier. I couldn’t afford it. It was only with the help of truly wonderful friends that I was able to go. And traveling alone, as I normally do, I got to do quite a bit of thinking over the voyage of countless hours. It wasn’t until we crested out of the nothingness of the clouds we flew through that I saw this view…of everything.

And that’s what happened on this journey. I got to see a view I had never seen before.

A lot of pain and heartache, from which I was still healing, preceded this trip. Still being in college and taking a full course load, my life was consumed of stress, anxiety, and a need to get things done in an organized manner…something I am really not good at. I was tired, in every meaning of the word.

Still am.

My body made me very aware of that yesterday. (Couldn’t just give me a hint, could ya? Or did you, and I missed it...)

With the events of the past 7 days in mind, I have no doubt that that was a contribution to my toilet bowl knockout. I also have no doubt that I probably ate something that didn’t agree with me. At any rate, it has led me to remember that it is important to listen to your body. It doesn’t lie. It is also important to remember to breathe. Literally, physically, figuratively, metaphorically, emotionally. Any way you want to put it. Your mind, body and soul need a break every now and then. Probably more than that.

On a chilly random weekday in Homer, Alaska, I sat on a log. On a beach. Facing the ocean with a mountainscape in the distance. I was with a couple friends, but I couldn’t hear them. I just sat.

And that is the first time in my life, that I remember breathing. Without stress, without worry, without pain, without satisfaction. In those fleeting moments, my life stood still and allowed me to catch up to it.

And I just sat, and breathed.

It was the happiest moment of my life. I had a monsoon of life to do when I got home, but that wasn’t on my mind. In those fleeting moments, I got to remember who I was. Sounds cliché, but in all honesty, it is deceptively easy to lose sight of YOU. And it wasn’t until that moment in time when I realized that I had done just that.

I was reminded of this again yesterday.

So, in all that is happening and about to happen, I am taking some time to breathe. After I was knocked off course about a week ago, I turned off my phone (something I virtually never do) and went storm chasing for several hours past the state line under a “severe thunderstorm warning.” There might have been a tornado warning in there too. Needless to say, I eventually didn't need to chase anymore. And at that point, I sat. And I breathed. And I waited. What’s that saying? This too shall pass.

It did.

And four days later, I was presented with an opportunity that not only brought a smile to my face, but reminded me of who I am. I am a lot of things—daughter, sister, friend, enemy, student, equestrian, Christian, photographer, writer, lover, fighter, sinner—but not most importantly, I am an opportunist. I thrive in opportunity. And this particular one will put me back where I love to be, even if briefly...in the sky. Where you can leave everything behind, see nothing for a while and tabula rasa—clean your slate—and then once again, be presented with everything.

Wait for that crest in the clouds. When you see nothing, allow your slate to be cleaned. You really won’t want to miss the view on the other side.

  Live well.

[lhard013]

Want to know more about this photo? Read my first blog post coming up...