Redifining Beauty?

This August I had the pleasure of having my four year old niece Lexi over for a sleepover. You can learn a lot from a four year old.
While she was getting dressed that morning she says; "I have a cute bum." "I have a cute belly."

"Who told you that?" I asked her.

"I just knowed."

Miss Lexi Lou

When relaying this to my 91 year old Grandmother a few weeks ago, she said; "Well someone must have told her that."

It got me thinking. Maybe someone did tell Lexi she has a cute bum or belly but she owns it. She declares it is true. I think we are born knowing what the best parts of us are. We LEARN what others think are the worst or less desirable parts of us are. Then we own it and declare it as true. We forget we ever knew what the best parts of us are.

It's a fact that babies are drawn to beautiful things. Why do you think they love necklaces and hair so much? They also don't know it's not polite to stare yet, so if you catch a baby staring at you, it's because they think you are beautiful. You know whom thinks I'm beautiful? My nephew Thomas.
 
Down the line we then have to RELEARN what our best parts are. Learn what they are by our definition and not anyone else's. I have been trying to learn this for a few years. The journey started with photos taken by Julia Busato. I wanted to love the body I was in, realizing that my body would never be the same was it was in that moment.

 
 
 
Beautiful right? And can you believe that I thought I was fat then? That's kinda screwed up. I wish I was still that size. At the moment I weigh more than I ever have and I'm not proud of it. But I also know how I got there and not all of it was in my control, depression will kill the love you have for your body, it will make you just not care. It will make you turn to comfort food in excess. It will make you eat to fill holes that are not satisfied by food but you need an instant fix and one cookie turns to 6 and you still feel empty.

Now that I am feeling better and being treated I can take action. I'm seeing a dietician in two weeks and I can't wait. And it's not about weight loss. It's about loving this body that GOD has given me right now. When you love your body, you want to take care of it, put good things in it, move it about to keep your heart healthy. That means drinking half my body weight in oz, taking the stairs at work, at least 150mins of exercise a week, wearing clothes that bring me joy and not just cause they fit, enjoying chips on Friday nights ONLY, lots of fruits and vegetables and allowing myself a cookie or two once in a while without feeling guilty and only eating if I'm hungry. And I bet the weight follows.

In the mean time I have to define the beautiful parts of my body for myself. No one has to tell me I have pretty eyes or sexy legs or a f***ing fantastic rack, I just knowed.

Joy is....

It's been awhile since my depression confession. I'm not sure what has kept me from writing but I think it has to do with the fact that despite the hopeful tone of my last post, life has been hard. These last months have been filled with lots of hard work and lots of change. There has been lots of dark moments entwined with joyful ones. In fact I had one of those today. You see, I've felt so good lately and it really surprised me that I started to cry after getting a call about a play I had auditioned for and did not get. It didn't take me long to realize it wasn't about the play at all but about a lie I have been telling myself since the very first time I was picked last for a team (and every time after) that I am unchooseable. I mean that is the pattern in my life, last picked for teams, not picked for plays, not picked for friendships, and certainly NEVER picked when it comes to men. There is a scene in Grey's Anatomy, season 2, I think, when Meredith and Derrick are stuck in an elevator (it's about halfway thru the season after Addison arrives and Derrick has to pick) and Meredith pleads with him and tells him to pick her. It's a powerful scene and I have often felt like she did. Clearly this is a lie and something I'll be talking about in counselling this week. ;)

That's not what I came to write. I came to write that despite of that, despite bad days or moments, during recovery there can still be lots of JOY and this summer was filled with it. I wrote this list to remind myself of all I do have, because I do have a lot. I want to share that list with you, to give you hope today if you need it.


JOY is a baby shower for an old friend.

JOY is feeling safe and secure in the house where that shower was held.

JOY is kisses from Thomas. He really does give good ones, all over your face.

JOY is singing my heart out at our end of the year choir show, alone and killing it.

JOY is drinks and food afterwards.

JOY is a brand new nephew named Lochlan.

JOY is watching my sister grow as a mom.

JOY is hearing her tell you, that Loch is lucky you are his aunt.

JOY is a really good book club book.

JOY is only really books you want to.

JOY is cuddles with Lochlan.

JOY is picking out a birthday gift for Thomas.

JOY is listening to Hanson.

JOY is thrift shopping for vintage items.

JOY is a very old quilt.

JOY is yoga.

JOY is spending a whole Sat shopping downtown.

JOY is a pool party at the home of a co-worker.

JOY is serving table 1, at the soup kitchen.

JOY is joining H at the piano.

JOY is my bible study family.

JOY is singing with a grand piano.

JOY is exploring antique stores.

JOY is flee markets.

JOY is a shadow named Lexi.

JOY is playing paper dolls.

JOY is conversations with my brother.

JOY is campfires.

JOY is feeling peaceful.

JOY is jumping waves.

JOY is Lexi giggles.

JOY is watching the sunset with my Dad.

JOY is a Backstreet Boy, living room solo dance party.

JOY is garlic spread.

JOY is a needle and thread.

JOY is planning a baby shower.

JOY is a harvest table found by a co-worker.

JOY is 10 dollar chairs to go with.

JOY is exploring the area where I live.

JOY is vintage jewellery.

JOY is a house, full of  sisters and cousins.

JOY is making Grandma a perfect ice cream sundae.

JOY is two little girls playing dolls in my spare room.

JOY is a sleepover with Lexi.

JOY is choosing NOT to go in the haunted house.

JOY is a working sewing machine.

JOY is textiles.

JOY is making pillows out of vintage hankies.

JOY is a really ugly yellow chair.

JOY is spending an afternoon on the farm house porch.

JOY is Zumba.

JOY is a sacred place to write, with like minded souls.

JOY is discovering Nate and Beth.

JOY is really cold swims in Georgian Bay.

JOY is having the best sleep ever.

JOY is lovingly prepared food, enjoyed together.

JOY is home.

JOY is top down days.

JOY is ice cream sundae dishes.

JOY is being certain that I will be okay.

JOY is farmers market flowers.

JOY is drive-in movies.

JOY is finding a second or is it third, church community.

JOY is younger cousins.

JOY is vintage suitcases.

JOY is being certain that true love is meant for me.

JOY is yummy ice cream with a friend and a walk on the beach.

JOY is having Thomas climb into your lap to finish his bottle and Lexi cuddle in.

JOY is homemade strawberry, chocolate, and salted caramel sauce.

JOY is spending the afternoon at the beach with your best friend.

JOY is the candy store.

JOY is pretty dainty rings.

JOY is new (to me) clothes.

JOY is hugs from co-workers.

JOY is gazing at the stars when arriving home really late from work.

JOY is every child I care for in the hospital.

JOY is learning form those children.

JOY is paying someone else to cut the grass.

JOY is cornflowers.

JOY is sunsets seen from Recovery room.

JOY is feeling hopeful.

JOY is healing.   

2014 reflection - a confession

Happy New Year everyone! Now is the time to reflect on the past year.

 

I hesitated  to write this post b/c isn't all babies and adventures - although there is some of that but it is also about my struggle this year. A struggle that I carried with me all year - and maybe before that. A struggle that I didn't have a name for, until two weeks ago when my DR told me I scaled mild to moderate on the depression scale. I also don't want to make this post a pity party, because it is not. You might think WTF, she has a blessed life and I'll admit that I do. It's not about that, it's about a chemical imbalance in my brain that I can not fix on my own. If two of my lovelies Anne Theriault and Melody Ross have taught me anything this year, it is sharing our stories are important. Someone out there might need to read this, so this post is for them.

 

The year started with a kick in the pants from a friend whom told me I wasn't putting myself 'out there' enough when it came to dating. Man, I was mad at him but he was right. So I did what he suggested and the result found me with a really nice guy. A guy that I could see myself falling in love with some day. And while he could see himself maybe falling for me someday, he just wasn't ready and we decided that we'd just be friends for now. I'll admit, I was sorely disappointed. And I discovered, I was still carrying around some pain left over from some long past relationships and I had the opportunity to work thru that at the time.

 

This is when I first noticed something wasn't quite okay. You see I didn't realize how much stress I had, until it was gone and then came back. The guy I had been spending time with made me feel at peace and content and worry free and we had fun together. He was a great hugger, which is a huge stress reliever for me apparently. Even though I didn't share all my stress with him, I felt like I could. I felt the burden of the world lift because I could share it with him if I wanted. I felt safe. So the stress went away. And when he went away, it came back with a vengeance. I felt like I was on high alert all the time, at work, at home, everywhere. I didn't feel relaxed ever, and I never felt peaceful.

 

Over the last couple years I have learned a lot about myself and what I need to do to make myself feel okay, so I worked my way thru The Walk by Brave Girls. My take away from that is; we are all BELOVED and each day I should go out in the world and act as if I'm beloved and treat everyone as if they are beloved too. In doing this, I think, I hope, I have become more gentle with other people - I'll be the first to admit I can be judgy sometimes. It has certainly helped with my interactions with my patients, for which I am grateful. However, that gentleness didn't quite transfer over to myself.

What I bring to the circle

I also participated in #100happydays. Which I'm sure kept me from falling into a black hole. I wrote about it here.

Getting ready for a music video shoot.

Nick Carter....my boy and his guitar.

 

During that time, I went on an amazing adventure to New Orleans. It is a place I have wanted to visit for a long time. I felt good there...I'm pretty sure I was a Southern Belle in another life time. I loved learning the history; creoles, slavery, the civil war, jazz, pirates, voodoo, witch craft and vampires. It was like being in France/Spain but I didn't have to leave the continent.  Occasionally, I wished for a particular male companion but I actually enjoy travelling by myself. My schedule, my agenda. I got to see nearly everything I wanted and more and have made a list of places I want to visit next time. On the way there I stopped in at The Museum of African American History and learned that we are all descended from a single female in ancient Africa; mitochondrial DNA proves it. Making us more the same than we think. I stopped in Nashville and stood on the Opry stage, there are no words for this. I toured the grounds of two very beautiful plantation homes, Laura and Oak Alley. Both very different in appearance and how they treated their slaves. It was a good trip and I felt good when I came home.

Me in New Orleans

Laura

Oak Alley

I finished up my fourth palliative care course and only had one and my placement to go but decided to take the summer off. I had plans, lots of them.

 

Then something bad happened at work. A patient I was looking after, got really sick and there was nothing I nor the DR could do about it and she died. I think this is when hole started to open up. I believe this b/c the same week, my sister had friends visiting from overseas - girls I had met before and absolutely adore and had been excited to see - and all of a sudden, I didn't care if Katie included me in their activities or not. That's kind of messed up, particularly since I love those girls so much.

 

Katie, Charlee, Lily and Lucy at Sauble Beach.

 

 My nephew Thomas was born and it felt anticlimactic. He was born the same day that bad thing happened at work and for awhile they were linked in my mind. I should add here, now I think he is the bees knees and I think he thinks that about me too.

Thomas

I developed a stomach ulcer that would not go away. My migraines became worse, when normally they are better in the summer. I couldn't wait for the summer to be over and I had a fun summer, one of my oldest friends got married and I did lots of fun stuff. I rode a horse for the first time, my Nana turned 80, my Grandma turned 90, there was a family reunion on my Dad's side and I got to become good friends with my cousins James and Alex.

 

The beginning of fall saw me in Montreal for CNTC Arbonne, with a few members of our team. I explored and listened and showed up. I felt like I belonged, like I mattered. I came home inspired, knowing I wasn't quite ready for it all yet but with plans to get me ready. That inspiration didn't last very long. I felt unhappy, I told my Mom I was unhappy. She told me I was okay, that I was doing okay.

 

Best view in Montreal

 

I felt disconnected from everything. Except for one thing; that guy and I were still hanging out a bit and I felt like he tethered me to the earth. Which I realize now is completely unfair. We started to hang out more and I hoped it was going to go somewhere but if I'm honest I knew it might not and when I came home from my amazing trip to North Carolina (you can read about that here) he told me he didn't want to date me anymore.

 

Nags Head Beach

 

 

Big black ugly hole. I admit, I can be melodramatic sometimes (you might want to stay away from me if I have to work nights), I tend to worry but I am usually able to pull myself out of it. I know how to deal with my stress, what I need to do to alleviate it but none of those things were working. Work was stressful, so I applied and got a new job -which I'll have had for 3 months by the time I start it. I was angry. I had worked so hard to find out who I was and it didn't appear to make a difference. I didn't want to do things I didn't want to do -like work or laundry. I didn't want to do anything I loved to do - like yoga or choir or scrapbooking; it's taken me way longer to finish my New Orleans scrapbook than it should have and the only reason I went to choir was b/c Tara picked "Shake it out" by Florence and the Machine. Which I sang for this lyric "And I am done with this graceless heart, tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart. "  This was how I felt...told you I could be melodramatic. I literally had to drag myself to do stuff. And I think I ate my feelings too.  I hated the palliative  care course I was taking and I hated the instructor. But my Mom kept telling me, "at least you are getting out of bed, at least you are still doing stuff. You are coping." But I didn't feel like I was. True, it could have been worse, I could have been staying in bed all day - I know someone whom that is a reality for - but forcing yourself to do things you love? That isn't a life either.

 

So I kept my unhappiness to myself. Who would care anyway? What was the point anyway? I began to scare myself a little.

 

Then one morning, I went into work and one of my co-workers asked me if I was okay. She had noticed that I hadn't greeted her the way I normally do. And I told her I was stressed all the time. I didn't want to be at work and I didn't want to be at home. And I started to cry. The other nurses at the nurses station all hugged be and told me they loved me. My co-worker said; "You need to see your DR." Finally, someone noticed what I had noticed. I wondered if I might be depressed but then reminded myself that I had just broken up with someone I really liked and maybe I was just feeling bad about that (disclaimer - the break up did NOT cause my depression). But if I was really honest, it had been going on long before that. Finally, someone validated what I had been thinking myself. I made an appointment that day - though it was 3 weeks before I could get in and I called EAP for some counselling.

 

While I waited Hannah Marcotti offered a course on sexy selfies, so I did that and found women whom had the same struggles as me.

 

I invited my niece Lexi for a sleep over and crafted with her all weekend.

 

Lexi playing with my vision board words.

 

 

The counselling sessions have helped me identify some of my self destructive behaviour - like isolation and under sharing.  Something I hope to work on this year. My best friend cried the other day when I told her b/c she wished she had known, so she could have been there for me.

 

It has only been two weeks since I saw my DR but already I feel better. I might have had no control over this happening to me but I can take responsibility for how I handle it now. I can't do it alone and that is okay.

 

I spent the last day of the old year with family, most importantly Lexi and Thomas.

 

Thomas and I at Pizza Hut.

Pure delight, Miss Lexi on New Years Eve.

 

 

I write this b/c it is important to know that depression can happen to anyone, even someone with a pretty blessed life - like me, like a few other people I know. It can also take many forms, from mild to severe. If not looked after mild can go right to severe in an instant. It is okay to ask for help, it does not mean you are broken. For some reason depression has a bad rap but it shouldn't. Does it make you think Robin Williams was any less brilliant or less worthy of a good life? It actually makes me love him more. If you think you aren't okay, you probably aren't. Please reach out, please ask for help.

 

My word for last year was trust. I have learned to trust my journey, this is only a small part of it. This year my word is hope. They say "it's always darkest before the dawn" so I am hopeful for a better year.

 

I hope you learned a lot last year and it wasn't too painful. If it was, here's to a better year for you too!

You are beloved.

 

 

I Want

I want warm hands
I want to wear my heart on my sleeve and not feel ashamed that I do
I want to feel the anticipation and thrill of a first kiss and not the sadness of a last one
I want to wake up and watch him sleep...
I want to love with recklessness
I want paint and glue on my hands
I want to feel kindred
I want to smell him and know his scent is meant for me
I want little children kisses and little children hugs
I want to hold hands
I want to reach out and touch
I want to give compliments with confidence
I want hugs
I want to feel alive and awake
I want to sit in the ocean and admire it's beauty
I want my beauty to be defined by me
I want to lay in bed and listen to the rain
I want to love and protect and treasure this skin I am in
I want to sing loudly and joyfully
I want hands on my bare back
I want to be seen, all my perfection and imperfection
I want to be me

In Rememberance

We called him Poppa with the funny shoe. He had nicotine stained fingers, large glasses and he loved to garden.

His attestation papers describe him as having a fair complexion, brown hair and blue eyes, 5 feet 11.

He was 19 when he signed up in 1917 according to his war records. As a rural boy, whom was needed to help his mother and brothers run the farm, it was not expected that he enlist. In fact none of his brothers did until after George signed up. His older brother Lynden followed him into service in 1918.

George Thomas Jenings

He was gassed over there. My Nana says that every winter he had a chest infection. Colds settling into the scars he came home with. He was one of the lucky ones. He came home. His brother Lynden died of Influenza before being able to come home.

He had 4 children, my Nana the youngest, lots of Grandchildren, lots and lots of Great Grandchildren and now Great Great Grandchildren.

Dad, Nana, Me, Poppa Jenings,Patti and Danny.

He loved gadgets. The family farm had a Delco plant (a generator) long before the electric lines were brought out.

He loved to dance with my Great Nana. She would close her eyes and allow George to lead her.

He fancied himself a handy man. Because he was a lefty he always hooked up the hot and cold water backwards. Once he had hot water running in the toilet.

My most vivid memory of him: is of him in the hospital following hip surgery (not his first and also why he had to wear a raised shoe). I was between 6 and 8 and I was with my Uncle Dave -whom was visiting from university- and Poppa Jenings wanted to show Uncle Dave his incision. He lifted the sheet and beckoned Uncle Dave over. I was to stand on my side of the bed, it was not for young ladies to see. I got the impression that my Uncle Dave didn't really want to see it and I felt that the incision was wasted on him. I really wanted to see it. I thought of him the first time I ever had to remove staples from a hip incision.

He spent many winters in Florida. He was my first miracle, he'd had a stroke when away one year and I prayed that he would live and he did, for many years after. He died when he was 96.

In a way he fought so that I could travel all over the world,so that my sister Katie could spend a year in Spain. He fought for peace, he fought for choice. In a way he fought so I could go to nursing school, so I could own my own home, so I could have the choice to have a baby on my own  if I wanted.

Today I remember him. Today I remember them.

Me and Poppa Jenings

The Wave

I have wanted to share my experience at Serendipity but have been struggling to find the words. How do you explain a truly magical wondrous experience to someone who wasn’t there?

I arrived to the Outer Banks after a 15hour drive in the rain and I could immediately feel a change, a change in me, also as if I was arriving to another world.

Nags Head, NC

 

 

There are no words to explain the Outer Banks to someone whom has never been there. No words would do it justice.

 

No words to explain Serendipity either. Beautiful souls gathering together to explore themselves, support each other and eat way too much lovingly prepared food. Loud moments and quiet ones.

One of the amazing beach houses we stayed in.

 

 

I had the honour to get to cry with and laugh with and cheer and sing with and encourage some amazing women.

 

Our prayer banner.

 

I, a non-writer was called to take a writing class and I found out that I have a voice and that my love is huge, intense, magical and amazing. My stories are worth sharing.

I was excited for the new beginnings I was getting to have. The new job waiting for me when I got home. The boy I was falling in love with. The prologue I had just written. (YOU GUYS I WROTE A PROLOGUE!) The new friendships I was making.

I got to spend the day painting, and gluing, and cutting with a good friend. And I got to witness a small part of her new beginning. And it is amazing and a long time coming, she writes about some of it here.

This beautiful soul is Melody Ross!

 

On our last night together I stood in a room full of women that were all still new to me and felt like I belonged. A feeling I don’t get to have very often. I felt seen and I saw and I loved them all anyway.

I left there feeling looked after and so very grateful.

On our first night together and our last night together Michelle and Jen spoke about how re-entry might be difficult and I put it off for as long as I could.

I traveled to nearby Wilmington, via the lost colony of Roanoke.

Where is the colony?

 

I found the spot were Nathan gave Haley the Cracker Jack bracelet.

"Don't say I never gave you anything."

 

I imagined myself on the Rivercourt.

It use to be here.

 

I walked across Lucas’ bridge.

"I don't wanna be anything other than what I've been trying to be lately."

 

I heard ghost stories.

Is that an orb in that cemetery?

 

I caught a wave, then caught another wave.

A tired wet suit and surf board.




Look at those waves!

 

I visited a huge Antebellum mansion.

Bellamy Mansion

 

Gained more freckles.

I love my selfie.

 

On my way home I stumbled across a TAPS memorial, stood on the banks to the James River and cried as the bugle played.

On the banks of the James River.




Pebble beach.

 

I spent a whole day driving, itching to get my hands on a certain boy.

I came home excited about what the world had in store for me.

But my re-entry was not what I expected it to be. I did not arrive home to my guy waiting for me. I still didn’t know when my new job would start (not until the New Year apparently). And not a single Elsa came to my house on Hallowe’en night.

When I did connect with said guy, it did not go how I had hoped. He didn’t want to be with me and it wasn’t my fault. In fact he thought I was amazing and when I said maybe love wasn’t meant for me, he told me he knew for sure that it was, I loved so well and so easily. But he wasn’t ready and it wasn’t fair to me. And he held me while I cried and told me I was safe. He showed me how much love he had to give, quite and gentle and amazing. It occurs to be that my love is not meant for him, his not meant for me.

In order to honour how much I could have loved him I know that I have to let him go but I have spent most of the last week in yoga pants and cozy sweaters, feeling numb or crying at the drop of a hat. Feeling paralyzed. Worrying that there was something wrong with me. This was not how it was suppose to be.

Then my new amazing friend Kate posted this photo on her blog.

(Photo credit the amazing talented Kate Inglis)

 

It’s me sitting in the ocean looking out at the waves, looking like a regular pin-up girl (her words not mine). What you can’t see in this photo is that shortly before it was taken I had gotten knocked over by a huge wave (even Kate didn’t know that when she snapped this pic). It dragged me across the ocean floor but it did not pull me under. It did not even leave me paralyzed. I sat there and admired the beauty of it, the vastness of the ocean. I sat there like I meant to sit there and was not merely knocked over.

I have been knocked over by a huge wave and I have been allowing it to pull me under. I have not been admiring the beauty of it. The new beginning of a swelling wave, I’ve only been able to see the crash of the surf. This allows the man whom is meant for my huge, intense, magical amazing love to enter my life. So I think I’ll just sit a while and admire the view, the ocean is ever changing, you never know which waves will knock you over or which ones will allow you to catch them. The trick is to not get pulled under. Sitting here in the ocean, I get the feeling that anything can happen and I’m ready for it.

 

 (disclaimer: posted with permission of said boy, I am not in the business of hurting people)

 

#100happydays

I haven't been blogging much (though I did write this for The Brave Girl Post about deciding I was worth fighting for) because I have been focused on a photography challenge called 100happydays. The object of the challenge was to take a photo of something that makes you happy and share it everyday for 100 days. Is it possible to be happy everyday for 100 days? The answer is YES! Though sometimes they were moments, more than days.

Even though I am an optimist, have a bubbly personality and smile most of the time, I have the tendency to dwell and worry. So this was a perfect challenge for me. A reminder that there is something to be happy about everyday. A co-worker put it well; "Yes, there is something to be happy about everyday, even if that is only that you woke up breathing today. " That doesn't mean there won't be bad days, I had a number of them while I did this challenge, a couple of them really bad. I found that it was helpful to look towards the happy, even if just for a moment.

Sometimes this challenge was difficult; what do you take a photo of when you have spent 12 hours at work today? Even if something happy happened at work - like, an old man sing show tunes to me after his surgery- I couldn't, because of the nature of confidentiality, post them. And what about after night shifts? Sometimes, even on days off, I had to think about what I was going to post. Apparently, I'm capable of making my own happiness and it is most often small simple things. I'm not as hard to please as I thought. Most of my photos can be placed in 10 categories.

Food
Day 51. May 20th. Yummy Beignets. #100happydays #musicandslavesvaction #livingalifethatsgood — at Cafe Beignet at Music Legends Park

Friends

Day 69. Heidi's Bridal Shower. I love this girl, I have loved her since that day in Live Fit and she asked me to be her partner and introduced me to the Backstreet Boys. She was my very first friend when we moved to KW, so it's not surprising that she has made some amazing girlfriends since we met. In a month she will marry the man she has waited her whole life for, the man we dreamed about when we were teenagers. I am so excited for her and I'm really excited for Paul too. Because I know that Heidi was worth waiting for too. #100happydays #worthwaitingfor

Art
Day 68. Spackle, not just for drywall. #100happydays #BraveGirlArtSchoolWings

Family
Day 94. I got a two hour cuddle with my sweet smelling brand new nephew, Thomas. #100happydays #Ilovethisboy #loveatfirstsight

Books
Day 63. Kate Morton might be my favourite author right now. Her books are lengthy (but under 500 pages, so therefore trust worthy) but can be read quickly, mostly because you can't stop. The ending to this one nearly made me gasp. #100happydays #KateMorton

Throwback Thursday
Day 81. Throw back Thursday. My Nana, my Dad, my Great Poppa, Patti, Danny and me. After a long day at work this photo makes me smile. I clearly dressed myself. And apparently as a little girl I was always cold, some things never change. #100happydays #tbt

My garden
Day 61. It is amazing how much can change in two short weeks. Before I left for holidays, my lilac trees looked like sticks, now they are in full bloom. #100happydays #lovespringflowers

Tea
Day 24. White tea and a good book is how I relax after a day shift. #100happydays #TedDekker #relax #newteamugs

History
Day 53. May 22nd. Old school syringes Can you imagine using these? #100happydays #musicandslavesvacation

Music
Day 39. Yesterday's photo. A boy and his guitar. If you have known me a long time, you know that I will forever be on Team Nick. When he pulled out his guitar to play Incomplete, I almost started to cry. He has had some demons to face and it was amazing to see him happy and healthy! So proud of this Brave Dude. Plus guys and guitars are hot. #100happydays #teamnick #KTBSPA

This challenge also helped my photography skills, as I learned to look at items from different perspectives and use different settings. I also learned how to take a selfie. 

I was surprised by the feedback I received. My Aunt Shirley told me how much she loved my positive outlook. Other friends told me how much they enjoyed seeing what I would post each day. I did this for me, not realizing the impact it would have on others. 100happydays is a game changer. Do it for yourself, but I bet you'll brighten someone else's day too.
Ciao!