This blog has no specific theme. Just like my life. Kind of one big jumbled rollercoaster. It is dedicated to real life. Real, tough, messy, intense life with all it’s ups and downs. While I am dedicated to being transparent, that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit down and type every detail of my life out for the world to see. It means I’m going to be REAL about what is going on here and now. I’m going to share the important and unimportant things alike and I’m going to try my hardest not to sugar coat a thing. For me it is uncomfortable to share simply because it may make some people uncomfortable with my realness. I’m not a super private person. My privacy is more driven by what stones others will cast at me once my vulnerability has been exposed. We are trained up as children to “Grin and bear it!” And while I’m not trying to discredit toughness, I think it is just as damaging to stuff our problems away without fully and promptly dealing with them, as it is to whine and complain day in and day out about all the horrible things in my life. So yes, it is a bit uncomfortable to think about having to be so vulnerable to friends and strangers alike, but how on earth are we to encourage each other, support each other, and truly love one another if we are all focusing more on outward appearance than our actual hardships. I will expound more on my reasons for writing this blog in my initial post, so check it out!

I wanted to include a few verses from my favorite poem here but while trying to narrow down the two lucky winners, I realized the whole poem is amazing and anyone who reads it is a lucky duck. Enjoy!

(Thanks Mom for *making* me memorize this as a kid, it has been an invaluable source of encouragement through every stage of my life. Thanks also to you, brain, for not forgetting this one!)

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
   Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
   And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
   And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
   Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
   Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
   Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
   And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
   Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
   In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
   Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
   Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
   Heart within, and God o’erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
   We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
   Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
   Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
   Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
   With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
   Learn to labor and to wait.

A Psalm of Life

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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