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Author, Historian, Storyteller

Life is Too Short

Depression, Happiness, LifeOne comment so far

Life is too short for maybes and what-ifs. It is too short for tomorrows and some days. For mincing of words and holding of tongues.

Life is too short to let work rule your life. It is too short to put off happiness. To wait just one more day to follow your dreams.

Life is too short to spend it with people who aren’t as amazing as you are. It is too short to spend it with those who suck your energy and time. Those who kick you when you’re down.

Life is too short to obsess over every ounce, every blemish. It is too short to fixate on things that are out of your control. To hide because you don’t like the way that you look.

Life is too short for complaints and whining. It is too short for worrying about what other people say. For focusing on anything but the positive.

Life is too short.

Shawshank

Sometimes We Have to Be Reminded

Happiness, Life, PermissionOne comment so far

Sometimes we have to be reminded that not all ailments can be seen from the outside. That the people with the biggest smiles are often the ones who are hurting the most. Sometimes we have to be reminded that if we are the ones hurting the most, we do not have to bear that pain alone. That we are not a burden. Sometimes we have to be reminded that someone shares our story. That someone has walked in our shoes and knows the weight of our soul. Sometimes we have to be reminded that sharing our traumas does not necessarily mean a transfer of pain. That the sharing can create a lightness for all involved.

Sometimes we have to be reminded that we are not alone. That we have people by our side to catch us if we fall. Sometimes we have to be reminded that the people by our side are not always the ones we think. That love and support can come from unlikely places. Sometimes we have to be reminded that we do not support the world’s weight. That we can stop and take a break without guilt. Sometimes we have to be reminded that taking care of ourselves first is smart, not selfish. That it’s okay to do something that benefits only us. Sometimes we have to be reminded that saying no to one thing is like saying yes to everything. That just because a ball is thrown our way, does not mean that we have to play catch.

Sometimes we have to be reminded that a smile goes a lot farther than a frown. That just because we are surrounded by miserable people, does not mean that we have to be miserable too. Sometimes we have to be reminded that misery loves company. That miserable people, at times, will try to drag us down. Sometimes we have to be reminded that it is our choice if they succeed or fail. That no one but us, gets to determine our happiness. Sometimes we have to be reminded that we get to choose who gets our time and our love. That that time and love should be reciprocated or it is not deserved.

Sometimes we have to be reminded that doing what is best for us, might mean leaving somebody else behind. That we are not in charge of saving everyone. Sometimes we have to be reminded that we can’t save anyone. That they have to save themselves. Sometimes we have to be reminded that showing someone the tools to save themselves is the most precious gift we can give. That confidence is not born from handouts and unearned victories. Sometimes we have to be reminded that life is full of little victories. That each and every one deserves a celebration. Sometimes we have to be reminded that life is full of ups and downs but we only get the one. That that one life is better lived focusing on the ups and surrounding ourselves by those who will celebrate with us.

Sometimes we have to be reminded.

reminder

Happy Days

Happiness, Life, Live and LearnOne comment so far

I recently came across the hashtag #100HappyDays and was intrigued. So I investigated. I enjoy a good motivational article or program, so I figured, let’s see what this one is all about. Turns out that it’s this initiative for people to sign up, and every day for 100 days you’re supposed to take a picture of something that makes you happy and then post it on social media tagged with #100HappyDays, or some other personal variation that you come up with if you don’t want it easily searchable by the masses. What a fantastic idea! Focus on the positive. Even on a bad day, you have to come up with something that makes you happy. They had me hook, line and sinker. I signed up. May 1st I was going to start my 100 days of happy. I didn’t make it. In fact I don’t even think I made it three weeks before I gave up completely. On the Happy website it stated that the #1 reason that people quit was because they claimed that they didn’t have the time. This was not my reason for quitting. It also was not because I had a lack of happy things to photograph and post. I quit, because I realized that it had become work. I had plenty of things that were making me happy, the trouble came from the fact that I wasn’t interrupting my happiness to document them. I enjoyed the things that made me happy and then I moved on with my day. Which meant that at the end of the day I was stuck manufacturing some photo for the project. I had actually begun to plan out my photos in advance. Staged happiness. Which seemed a little counter intuitive. I realized that I didn’t need the reminder that there is something to be happy for every day, because I was happy every day. In reality #100HappyDays was a success for me, just not in the way that they would measure success. It helped me to realize that my life is full of everyday things that make me happy, so anything above and beyond is icing on the cake. I realized that my furry babies give me endless amounts of happiness. The endless funny things that they do. The way Bubba will “talk” to you if you’re not giving him the attention he thinks he deserves. The way Zoey will crawl into my arms in the middle of the night because she needs a snuggle. They make me happy.

Puggle Sandwich

Puggle Sandwich

I realized that my friends give me endless amounts of happiness. Whether we’re being goofy or serious, doing something planned or impromptu, their presence is comforting. They make me happy. Mush I realized that crossing things off my to-do list, fresh produce, a glass of wine, a good book, a cool shower on a hot day, watching water lap up on the shore, good theater, finding something on sale, and abandoning all of my plans getting a pizza and staying in to watch a movie all make me happy. I realized that it wasn’t complicated, it wasn’t some grand mystical thing that is always out of reach. Happiness is easy. It’s a choice to focus on the good things instead of letting yourself get bogged down by the bad. I realized that I don’t need 100 pictures to remind myself to be happy. I am happy.

If it’s Good Enough for Me . . .

, , Depression, Happiness, Life, Live and LearnView all 2 comments

I recently made the decision to put my dogs on Prozac. They’ve always been high-strung, especially Zoey who has had separation anxiety since she was a puppy. Because of this I have a very set routine for when I leave and when I come home.  I’ve done thunder shirts, calming phermones, blanket over the crate, blanket that I slept with in the crate. You name it, I’ve tried it and kept the things that worked to maintain our precarious balance of momma being able to leave without the puggles freaking out.

However, back in December, for no specific reason that my roommate or I can come up with, they started to howl and cry every morning when I would leave for work. For a while my roommate would come out tell them to knock it off, give them a treat and they would settle. But after a while that didn’t work, and on days when she wasn’t home they would cry for hours annoying all of our neighbors. Sorry! I took them to the vet, clean bill of health. I tried to identify something that was causing the upset, no luck. I tried all of my old tricks and read a bunch of new articles that gave advice to do all of the things that I was already doing. I tried everything that I could think of to avoid putting them on medication, but nothing worked. They were miserable and strung out and so was I.

Election Over

Then one day it occurred to me. Why was I okay medicating myself so that I felt better and could function normally, but I was hesitating to do the same thing for my dogs? Before this realization if you would have asked me about the stigma of anti-depressants I would have told you that I’ve gotten over it. After all, I now openly admit and talk about the fact that I take them and that I have no shame about that. That wasn’t always the case. For a very long time I felt ashamed about taking them or admitting that I have clinical depression. Because of that I wasted years feeling horrible because I felt like I was less of a person if I succumbed to my depression and took meds to lift my mood. I had this asinine belief that I was strong enough to do it by myself. That I was fine.  That somehow having clinical depression made me weak and I had to fight against that. Talk about expending your energy in the wrong direction!

It wasn’t until I looked at my depression from a different angle that I was able to get over this belief.  If I was diagnosed as diabetic, I would try everything in my power to control my blood sugar through diet changes, exercise, etc. However, after trying that, if my doctor told me that it wasn’t enough and that I needed insulin, I would take the insulin. I wouldn’t need to think twice about it, and it wouldn’t make me feel like I was weak or less of a person. It would mean that I had a disease and thankfully there were drugs out there that could help me function normally. So why would I treat a diabetes diagnosis different than a depression diagnosis? They’re both diseases that have meds to help diminish the effects and symptoms so that your body can function normally, so what’s the difference?

That’s when it occurred to me, that a stigma was keeping me from feeling good. The stigma against mental illness and all that that entails was preventing me from living my life to the fullest. How stupid is that? So I got over myself, said screw what anybody else thinks, I’m going to feel good and be happy. Four tries later my doctor and I landed on the right cocktail of meds and I no longer spend my free time curled up in bed hiding from life. It has made a HUGE difference – both my happiness and my productivity. Being depressed is really time consuming! I’ve come to accept that I will probably be on meds for the rest of my life, and I’m okay with that. It’s what is best for me.

So if it’s good enough for me, why did I hesitate with my dogs? The incredulous look that I got from one of my neighbors when I told her about my choice reminded me why. She acted like I was giving up on them and committing them to a looney bin because I didn’t want to deal with them anymore. There it was, the mental illness stigma rearing it’s ugly head, and if she reacted that way about giving prozac to dogs, I can’t imagine what she would have said about me taking meds! Needless to say I ignored her and made the same choice for my dogs as I did for myself, and good lord I wish I would have made that choice a long time ago! My dogs are still their crazy, hyper lovable selves, but the nervous energy is gone. They can actually lay down and fall asleep without waking up and freaking out about every noise they hear. They can meet and say hi to other dogs without getting really anxious. I can leave the house without them acting like the world is coming to an end. It’s amazing, and the best part is that they seem to be happier. So stigma be damned, we’re all a bunch of nuts in my house  and I’ve got the meds to prove it!

10 Things My Puggles Have Taught Me

Happiness, Life, LoveLeave a comment

1. Take time for snuggles.

Puppy Z on Jo's Lap 4

2. A cold wet nose first thing in the morning is more effective than any alarm clock.

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3. Patience is a virtue.

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4. Where there is a will, there is a way.

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5. One should always put their best face forward.

Photo by Lori Fusaro

Photo by Lori Fusaro

6. Chores are more fun when you have help.

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7. If all else fails take a nap.

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8. Sometimes you have to get away from it all.

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9. Take advantage of every opportunity that comes your way.

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10. Best friends are priceless.

Puppies Heart Tails

Odd Man Out

Happiness, LifeLeave a comment

For the better part of my life I have felt like I didn’t fit in.  Like I was on the outside looking in.  Even in my family I was the odd man out – mom had black hair, dad had black hair, sister had black hair, I was practically blonde.  On vacations people would always comment to my sister that it was so nice of her to bring her friend on vacation.  To which she would always reply, “She’s not my friend, she’s my sister!”  Kids are cute. I didn’t fit in at school either.  I was a very serious, introspective kid.  It was hard for me to cut loose and just have fun.  Carefree was rarely a part of my vocabulary.  But I had a couple of good friends, and thirteen excruciatingly long years later I graduated and was off to college.

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Where I also didn’t fit in.  I was at the number one party school, and I didn’t really like to party.  Awkward!  I auditioned and was accepted into the BFA program where I would intensively study acting for three years with the same group of people . . . whom I didn’t fit in with.  It was an ongoing theme in my life and I had come to accept my place on the outskirts.  People tolerated my presence, and for their tolerance I made sure that I never over stayed my welcome.  I accepted that they didn’t necessarily want me around, but weren’t going to complain about it while I was there.  Here also I made a couple of close friends, and four rather quick years later (I kept myself so busy with productions the time flew) I graduated.

Enter the real world, and I found that I kept finding myself feeling the same way.  Different day, different scenario, same shit.  Until one day I realized that through out everything there was only one constant – me. Through all of these varied experiences and drastically different people the only thing that had stayed the same was my opinion of myself.  I felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere and therefore everywhere I went I didn’t fit in.  It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. A really crappy prophecy.

So I decided that since I had tried changing everything else, the only thing left to change was myself.  Which is harder than it sounds, let me tell ya!  But slowly, over many years I convinced myself that people did want me around.  And they wanted me around for me.  It also helped that I started to be able to recognize the people that didn’t actually want me around and I accepted that and moved on to find other people.  Problem solved, right?  Wrong.

I was out the other night with friends, and for whatever reason the next thing I knew my head was filled with all of those old thoughts.  They’re talking with each other not me, therefore they must not want me around.  We’re doing pictures and everyone has their arms around each other except me, so clearly they don’t want me around.  I was tacked on to the experience instead of being a part of the experience and I felt like crap. It was horrible!

And then I realized, that once more I was getting in the way of my own happiness.  I know for a fact that these friends like having me around, they’ve told me.  One of them expressed that exact feeling while we were out that night. And perhaps they were talking amongst themselves because I was reading my menu and not paying attention.  Perhaps nobody put their arm around me for the picture because I was hesitating on the outskirts like I wasn’t going to be in the picture and then tacked myself on last minute.  Maybe, just maybe, everybody else was wondering what was up with me and why I was being so sullen. Maybe I didn’t fit in, because I didn’t let myself.

Where did that come from?  Why did I all of a sudden transport myself back to the old Kat who hated her self? I don’t even know what caused the flashback, but there it was. I find it truly amazing how our bodies and our minds will hold on to things like that and all it takes is one trigger to open the door and transport you back.  Weird!  Too bad you can’t flip back to your present self as quickly.  Therefore for the foreseeable future I will be reminding myself on a regular basis that I’m pretty cool and people want me around – ala Stuart Smalley cause that makes me giggle.  So if you see me muttering to myself, never fear.  I’m no crazier than usual!

If you Buy a Homeless Guy a Cup of Coffee . . .

Happiness, Life, Live and LearnView all 2 comments

While walking into the grocery store the other night, there was a rather straggly looking homeless guy by the door begging for spare change.  I mumbled that I didn’t have any and avoided looking at him while I quickly ducked into the store.  This is what I generally do when I encounter people begging for money, I avoid looking at them.  Not because I’m disgusted or offended by them or anything like that; it’s because I know that I’m not going to give them any money and that makes me feel guilty.  So I don’t look.

I went into the store, leaving him by the door and started my grocery shopping.  But my mind lingered with him.  I wasn’t going to give him money, but I was in a grocery store.  I could get him some food.  Then, as is my natural propensity, I began to over think things.  What if I got something that he didn’t like?  What if I got something that he was allergic to? Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, until I happened upon a display of items that were all 50% off and I got engrossed in that.  Poof!  The homeless guy vanished from my thoughts, and I was absorbed by all of the things that I could get that I didn’t really need, but were 50% off, so it would be silly for me not to get them.  You can laugh, but you’ve done it too!  The next thing I know my basket, which was missing the four things that I had actually walked in to get, was over-brimming with my on-sale prizes.  So I got the four things on my list and staggered up to the check-out lane and gratefully dropped my basket onto the conveyor.

When I got to the checker, and he emptied out my basket I looked with pleasure at all of my great finds.  I was quite pleased with myself.  Until I looked over and saw at the end of the conveyor belt, the homeless guy clutching two dollars in his hand with a cup of coffee in front of him.  All of a sudden my “great finds” felt frivolous and ridiculous.  Did I really need a new water bottle?  I felt guilty.  All of those voices in my head that always said, “Don’t give money to homeless people, they’re just going to use it for alcohol and drugs” was quieted.  Someone had given this man money, and he had chosen to spend it on a warm cup of coffee – my particular drug of choice.

To make matters worse, the man in line between the two of us, was clearly offended by the fact that there was a homeless man in line.  He didn’t do anything to hide his disgust, and in fact wound up raising such a fuss and being such an ass that he started a fist fight with another customer (but that’s a completely different story).  Everybody present knew that this asinine display was caused because of the very presence of the homeless man.  He knew it too and I could see the hurt and confusion etched on his face.  I personally wanted to punch the asshole in the face for making someone else feel like that.  I don’t care if he’s homeless, he didn’t deserve to be treated like that. He deserved just as much respect as anybody else present.

So I did something that I’ve never done before.  I leaned in, and quietly told the cashier to charge me for the coffee.  To his credit the cashier did so discreetly, without saying a word.  However, his demeanor toward me changed immediately.  He had been providing me with good customer service, but all of a sudden he was treating me like I was a VIP – was there anything I couldn’t find that I needed help finding?  Would I like help out to my car?  Would I like a cart to help get my groceries to my car?  He was at my service for whatever I needed.  I thanked him, told him that I was perfectly content, grabbed my groceries and left.  As I was leaving, I heard him tell the homeless man that his coffee had been paid for.  He had to repeat this and finally said that I had paid for it, and that the store wasn’t giving it to him for free.

By this time I was out of the store and feeling pretty good about myself.  Kind of a warm glow, that in some small way I had been able to tell this man that not everyone was offended by his presence.  That some people do care.  As I was loading my groceries into my car he came out and looked around the parking lot.  When he saw me, he made no move to come toward me, but nodded his head at me. I nodded my acknowledgement and got in my car as he went back to his perch by the door, cup of coffee in hand.

Driving home I felt good about myself.  I still feel good about it, which doesn’t really seem fair.  It kind of feels like cheating, that doing something nice for someone else (expecting nothing in return), should make me feel so good.  That two dollar cup of coffee turns out to have been worth a lot more than that stupid water bottle that hasn’t moved from its spot on my kitchen counter since that night.

I learned something from that night.  If you buy a homeless guy a cup of coffee, you’ll want to do it again.

Love Coffee by Ahmed Rabea

Love Coffee by Ahmed Rabea

 

Saying No to One Thing . . .

Happiness, Live and Learn, PermissionLeave a comment

Someone once said that, “Saying no to one thing, is like saying yes to everything else.”  I remember hearing this when I was in college, but for the life of me I can’t remember where or from whom, but it stuck with me.  Mostly because it was catchy and I had no idea what it meant.  This was a time in my life that I said yes to everything.  I was fresh out of high school, could function on caffeine and four hours of sleep a night, and was terrified that if I turned down even one opportunity I would ruin my chances of being successful.  Because of this belief, I found myself over committed to multiple projects at all times – most of which I didn’t really care that much about, but gave 110% anyway.  An average day would start at 7 or 8 in the morning and wouldn’t end until 2 or 3 the next morning.  I honestly have no idea how I did it, and would sign away the rights to my first-born child to have that kind of energy and stamina again.

However, when I look back at that time, I realize that I was never truly happy.  I was busy, but not necessarily happy.  My inability to say no meant that I wound up committed to a lot of things that I didn’t necessarily want to be doing.  Which caused a lot of frustration because it meant that I didn’t have free time to commit to doing those things that I wanted to do.  Mostly because I had no free time: every hour of every day had already been sold at auction to the lowest bidder.

While I would like to say, that I have figured this out and no longer have this problem at all, I would be lying through my teeth.  I still tend to over commit myself.  However, I have gotten much better at choosing my projects, and learning when to say no and where to set my boundaries.

Say No!

I have one project, that I commit a certain amount of time to every week.  However, for months now, the person in charge has been trying to get more time out of me.  One night I relented and stayed late, and found that my time was completely wasted, with absolutely no acknowledgement that it had been a complete waste of my time.  It was at that point that I decided that that was not going to happen again.  Unless there was an emergency, I wasn’t going to stay late.  The next time I was asked, I said no.  I said no the next time, and the time after that. I let it be known what my boundary is, regardless of the expectations of others.

I have gotten a lot of resistance because of this.  At first from everyone, but slowly someone came over to my side, my way of thinking.  He encouraged me to stick to my guns and lamented that he never had.  He now feels like his time is taken for granted and often wasted, but he’s been letting it go on for so many years that there’s nothing he can do about it now.  So he cheers me on when I stand my ground and refuse to stay late.  It makes dealing with the bristling and the guilt trips easier.

Then last week a funny thing happened.  I was supposed to leave in an hour, when the guy in charge showed up and wanted to get a bunch of things done.  I immediately braced myself for the fight that was surely going to come about me wanting to leave on time.  Especially since that night it wasn’t just about principals, I actually had dinner plans with friends that I didn’t want to be late to.  But the fight never came.  He asked me to do on last thing before I left, and then wished me a good night.  I didn’t even have to bring up the fact that I had plans.  He knew what time I was going to be leaving, and he respected that.

The giddy happiness that bubbled up inside of me as I made my way to my car plastered itself all over my face in a huge smile.  For the first time, that quote made sense.  “Saying no to one thing, is like saying yes to everything else.”  Because I had stood my ground, and said no to something that made me feel used, I had gained the freedom and the confidence to say yes to whatever I wanted.  There was no bitterness, no animosity, just the euphoria that comes from knowing you made the right choice.

Decide what is best for you, set your boundaries, and then say no when someone tries to move your line.  It’s truly liberating.

Too Much of a Good Thing

Happiness, Life, Live and Learn, PermissionLeave a comment

I recently drank the Pinterest Kool-aid and opened up an account.  I am officially on the Pinterest bandwagon.  Now I had been avoiding doing this ever since it came out for a number of reasons.  First and foremost because I was fairly certain that the moment I started I would lose HOURS of time on there . . . and I was absolutely correct.  I am a collector.  I LOVE collecting things.  As a child I had a troll collection.  I’m sure at one point I knew the exact count, but all I can remember now is that there were more than 200 of them.  Now I collect elephants; figurines, stuffed toys, pictures, etc.  I try really hard to limit myself, and they’re still everywhere.  I like to think that they blend in pretty well, but if you look . . . EVERYWHERE.

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I am also very organized.  I once saw a throw pillow that had “A Place for Everything and Everything in its Place” in needlepoint on the front.  I wanted to make fun of it with my friends, but I couldn’t because secretly, deep down inside, I totally had a place where it could go.  So a website where you can collect things that you like, and organize them into categories speaks to my very soul.  And now that I’ve joined, it is everything that I ever hoped it would be.

Then a funny thing happened.  I have a board called “Beautiful Pics” where I pin mostly landscape photos that I think are beautiful.  Well the other day, I had pinned about ten pictures on there of sunsets when I came upon another one that was pretty, but not breathtaking, and my inner voice actually said, “You should skip that one.  After all, it’s not as good as the rest and you’ve already pinned too many today anyway.”

What?!?!?  When did that happen?  When did I start to internally limit myself?  As if there is such a thing as too much beauty.  The Pinterest police will come banging on my door because I have pinned too much and that is more beauty than one person has the right to collect.  Yes, there is such a thing as having too much of some things.  Ice cream for example.  If you eat too much ice cream, you’re gonna get sick and you’ll have to buy a whole new wardrobe.  So yes, by all means, limit the amount of ice cream you eat.  But there is no such thing as too many sunset pictures.  There is no such thing as too many pictures of adorable puppies – yes, that’s one of my boards too!

I feel like this is a societal thing.  We’re taught that too much of a good thing is bad.  Not just physical things, but emotions as well.  We’re taught to “play it close to the vest” and that we shouldn’t “wear our hearts on our sleeves.”  And quite frankly I call bunk!  Why should we hold back?  We should be telling the people that we love, not only that we love them, but also why we love them.  We should be telling them this early and often!

One of my best friends does this.  She regularly tells me how much I mean to her.  She regularly points out little things that I do that make her happy and I try to do the same.  Guess what?  Neither of us is hurt by this practice, nor does it ever get old.   Instead, we’ve become confidants and never tire of the other’s company.  No subject is too private, no topic too sacred to discuss.  It’s amazing, and I wish that all of my relationships could be this way . . . which I guess they can.  All I have to do is start telling people what they mean to me.  Not in the hopes of reciprocation, but because they should know that my life is better with them around.  So dear reader, thank you for making it this far: it means the world to me that you take the time out of your busy day to read my ramblings.  I hope that they brighten your day!

Love Is

Happiness, Love, WritingLeave a comment

Last year I got to watch my best friend get married to a truly great guy, and because she loves me and wants me to be happy she didn’t make me buy a hideous bridesmaid dress.  So thank you for that!  She did, however, ask me to do a reading for the ceremony.  I immediately said of course and when I asked her what she wanted me to read – I was expecting a psalm or a poem, etc – she instead asked me to write something . . . and she didn’t want to read it or hear it until her wedding day . . . no pressure or anything!  Ack!  At any rate, I came up with this and wanted to post it today to say happy one-year anniversary to Jolene and Tim.  All my love to you both and I still think you made a beautiful choice!

 

Love Is

There are many occasions in life to symbolize when a girl becomes a woman, and a boy becomes a man.  Some are manufactured, some earned and some merely attained through the passing of the years.  I think it is best to leave symbols to literature and find our definitions through the living of life.  Therefore I believe that a woman and a man are truly born of a realization.  A realization and acceptance that love is not the thing of fairy tales.  There are no knights in shining armor, problems aren’t solved in the span of a catchy song, and while you may get to ride off into the sunset, the story continues the next day.

No, love is not the thing of fairytales.  It is much more powerful than that.  It is more akin to the love that the poets speak of: a fire that can warm and enthrall the senses, or rage and burn through the night as a torrent of emotions engulfing all within its wake. It can be a fiend that slowly, imperceptibly fades away, leaving naught but its smoky ashes.  These fires can be left to rage and fade, skip and jump where they will, or they can be harnessed and used to sustain you through to the end of your days.

Love is hard, because it is work.  It is work that has to be done each day, because love is not unconditional. Love is a choice.  A choice to recognize that even if your fire is raging, your partner’s may be flagging and need encouragement and a gentle stirring of their faltering embers so that they may burn brightly by your side instead of being snuffed out and engulfed by your heat. A choice to carry someone else’s voice in the back of your mind; to not always pick the option that is best for you and you alone. It is a choice to always say you’re sorry, because over time the little things can hurt just as much as the big.  It is a choice to open oneself up, bare one’s soul and risk the whips and scorns of judgment from another human being; to make mistakes and risk carrying the scars of those mistakes with you for the rest of your days.

But it is also a choice to be seen and accepted for who you truly are.  To know someone so well that when they look into your eyes they see to the very depth of your soul.  It is a choice to share the good times, weather the bad, and when there are no words left to hold each other tight.  It is the burning cinders that keep you warm at the end of a long, cold night.

Love is compromise.  It is sacrifice, acceptance, forgiveness and joy.  But above all, it is a choice, a beautiful choice. So may you stand together as Woman and Man and choose love, everyday, for the rest of your lives.