[Personal Post #3] Dear Sister, You Are Possible

Dear Sister, as you are aware, I am a far better writer than speaker. So this will be my words to you on the eve of your graduation. I have a feeling of happiness mixed with apprehension. I am so incredibly proud of you, but I am stuck worrying how I will live without you after having you at my side for eighteen years. 

You worked so incredibly hard to be where you are now. There hasn't been a moment where you decided you weren't good enough to succeed. You succeeded all because of you. Of your work ethic, your tenacity, your blatant bravery. It was, in a poetic sense, a slap in the face to all who doubted you. A ferocious one at that. 

I simply want to tell you that you, yes you, are possible. 

I know you may be feeling a sense of doubt. You must be nervous. There is a whole world out there waiting for you! I want to tell you that it is okay to be nervous. It is okay to be scared. It is okay to feel that sense of doubt.

You are possible. 

I have seen you grow from infant to an incredible young adult with a good head on her shoulders and a sense of direction any "proper" adult would be envious of. Another has seen you grown. And I know you must miss him even more than you normally do.

That's okay, too. 

Missing someone to our core is the essence of love. I cannot speak the words he would speak to you today, or tomorrow, even the next day. What I can say is that our brother adored you and believed in you so fully. He would be, and is, so incredibly proud of his baby. I won't ever be half the older sibling he was to you, but know that I am so incredibly proud, too.

You managed to complete a year of schooling on top of a full time job when many of us fell apart. You may have fallen apart too, but it never stopped you. You kept fighting. I have no words to properly depict how you managed this year. A full time job, full time schooling, a massive loss, massive health scares. You threw that anxiety right back into the face of life, and carried on. 

You are more than possible. 

I will miss you terribly when it is time for you to go. I will miss our time together. I will miss you, my best friend. But I know you will be getting out there and experiencing so much. Learning so much and taking in knowledge to apply to your life that I could never give you. 

You aren't just possible, you are. A possibility is a perhaps. You are, my sister, far more than a perhaps. You are a security on this growing extension of yourself and your mind. I do not doubt for a moment that you will take advantage of this change in your life and again prove all doubters wrong, and sometimes prove yourself wrong. Because sometimes we think we are less than, and that's okay too. Take it from someone who doubts themselves daily. Proving yourself wrong is one of the greatest feelings. 

You will be brilliant in all you do. And tomorrow, when I see you walk that stage to take your diploma, my heart will burst with pride. I will be flooded with affections for you. I will remember helping our mom teaching you how to walk and apply it to how far you have gone, and how much further you will go. 

All because you are you. 

Congratulations, my baby sister. May the world, as confusing and scary as it can be, take you in and remind you that your worth is much greater than you will ever believe, and that you will be a change to this world that is so greatly needed.

Know we all love you. 

Congratulations. You made it. You survived. 

- Spencer

[Interview Thursday #4] Zee, The Bright Young Thing

Now, I will start this with saying my adoration for this person may be leaning towards biased. With that being said, I am also brutally honest. Which is why Zee and I function so well together. She saved the day in terms of interview needs, so it is only fair I do this beautiful soul justice. 

"Uhm... Trees inspire me. I know that sounds really stupid." We

jump right into it, and I ask what inspires the British eighteen year old. She seems embarrassed at first admitting what is simple, yet understandable, then continues, "Trees and the sky and clouds. Just those things.".  

None of this surprises me. There is a lightness about Zee that is made

evidently clear when you speak with her. Physically, you feel lighter. More engaged in conversation. Comfortable. As if this conversation isn't just a temporary tactic of exchanging words for the sake of talking, but rather that there is depth here. There are things to be learned here. 

She does fall into the gray areas of life. Though, as she explains, the beginnings aren't always pretty. "I was in year four, so I would have been eight or nine. I just remember being at school, which I hated. I would get psychosomatic illnesses just from stress. I never really wanted to be there. I noticed it first then, when I tried to hang out with people I really liked, but they would always shut me out. And that is when I starting catching on that there wasn't something normal about me."

"Looking back now, I have a different perspective obviously. I can look back at it and think 'yeah, that was sad', but also realized it was a defining point in my life. I was becoming who I really am. And if what I really am is different from anyone else, I think that's fine. I am fine where I am now. If anything, I consider it a good thing. And I like who I am."

When I first began speaking with Zee, I assumed she was older than she is. I thought, was fully convinced in fact, that she was at least twenty-one years old. There aren't many eighteen year olds who carry themselves so well. Who can explain the complexities of themselves with an amount of ease.

"Not being in the same kind of environment most eighteen year olds are in, not growing up like everyone else in the sense that I barely went to school. I then dropped out of school half way through my second year of secondary school. I just turned thirteen, because of bullying and stress and anxiety. And having grown up with having being such an outcast, you know, it's bad enough being one in school, but living in the same place and having people knowing I didn't go to school."

 "It made me more empathetic to other people. I went through all the social exclusion, with no help, no one there for me. It made me grow up faster than others."

 Zee has a way with working her own mind around her situations. Finding a way to put words to thoughts. It is obvious that she grew up quickly. But like many who feel their childhoods were rushed, or skipped, I wondered if it was a conscious decision and not forced.

"I was pretty rushed into it. I never really got a proper teenage experience. I wanted to be with my friends, and I wanted to be in school, that carefree-ness. But battling depression and anxiety so young, it forced me to grow up. It forced me to deal with these situations where I didn't know what the hell was going on."

Zee is very introspective. I do not fully agree that this was simply learned (of course, learning helps) but that she has always been this way. It is a rarity to speak to someone who is fluid in their experiences, struggles, and their ability to realize their own internal improvements and how they effect the changes in her current standing in day to day life. 

"Everyone struggles with this question," I say, probably a bit too sure of myself. "So you may, too. I am sure of it.". The question of naming things one is proud of is one that brings me to either a long span of silence, or a shorter one. Silence none the less.

As with a lot of things, I assumed rather than look at the type of person Zee is.

"My tenacity," she answers quickly, "My ability to keep trudging through life even when I don't want to."

"I always think back, and I am proud of myself for that."


Tenacity is a word I would use to describe her. She is, without a single doubt, a person who willingly continues, even when life seems to become unmanageable. It was one of the first traits I noticed about Zee myself. Her bad days are, yes, bad. But she will wake up the next day ready to take it head on again, even if she is unsure of the final result.

"Oh boy," I am met with when asked what she loves about herself. "I love my hair, I like my sense of humor... Two more, okay. I like that, generally, I am a good person. Oh, I like my tattoos!"

I do think, in the society that young people live in, we become aware of not only outside fears, but fears that take place internally. We learn that sometimes our thoughts can be a frightening common place in the middle of the night, or a rather random part of the day. When it comes to a person like Zee, though, I felt it was a good question to ask. 

"I fear that my OCD will stop me from living my life the way I want to. I fear that with any progress I make with my mental health, I am going to let myself fall back into the same patterns I keep finding myself in. That my impassivity will lead me to make really stupid decisions. That my anxiety won't let me escape." 

I believe it is a common ground, especially with mental illness, that one thinks we will be our own cause to our own downfalls. It can be all consuming and constant, like a pulse you can't tame. Being honest about these fears is what brings forward our ability to take these fears apart and construct things, find things, that we love. And to love them wholly. And well. For comfort.

"I think it is true, I threw myself into photography pretty soon after all my mental health issues really set in."

As you could all probably assume, I am a curious person. Curious about people and their individual experiences. This means, with this platform, I am given the ability to be nosy. To indulge that part of myself that wants to know everything about everyone. I love learning of others childhoods. The memory that comes to mind when they first think of the word it's self. Zee is no exception to the rule. 

"I think it was going to my great aunts house, I was with my dad and my brother, and I was pretty young. Maybe ten. And we went on a picnic in this giant forest area by her house. I remember just walking through the trees, and looking up, and seeing the light coming down through the trees. It was just so beautiful. I just felt really... at peace with everything going on, even the things I couldn't understand. I just felt really, really happy."

 "It was just beautiful."

I think Zee could be given the most simplistic topic, and go deeper than the typical person. She would be able to deconstruct the idea of a paint color for a room, any room, and get to the root of why it was chosen in the first place. What memories are brought forth, why it's comforting, or why it is appealing. But she would do it in such a way that would leave one thinking further into their choices, themselves as a whole. And that is a talent I rarely find among peers. Especially in this age group. 

"I feel totally comfortable being in the gray area. I'm glad I am in the gray area, I don't think I'd ever survive being in the black and white. It makes me think of last year. I went to see Darren Brown. He said to the audience "If there is anyone here who feels like they're not like everyone else, like an outcast, then don't worry. Because people who think they're cool, they grow up to be boring people. All the individuals, who fall into the gray zone, they grow up to be the more interesting, and create changes to the world."

I ask Zee, admitting I am a "little scared" with my next question. What is love to you?

"Love to me is being comfortable. Just not having any of the

anxiety of being with that person. Just feeling totally comfortable. Which is what I have with you. I just want people to know!" Which leads to a giggling match of sorts. What can I say? We are only human.

Q: You can give one piece of advice to others that fall into the gray areas of life, what would that advice be?

A: Don't let other people make you think that it is not okay to be different. It is. It's just being who you are, if who you are in this gray area, don't let anyone think that isn't okay. Basically what they are saying is "It's not a good thing to be you", when it is! It's totally okay to have mental illness, to have physical illness. Don't ever think you have to change yourself and be what society wants you to be, because that will just harm you. Just let yourself be okay being you. Because it's a good place to be.

Yes, yes, you can all say I am biased here in what I am about to say. Though with Zee's current teachings, It's just fine for me to be this way. Interviewing a stranger is one thing. Interviewing a partner is a whole new experience I've never had. Though through this process I have learned so much more. Not only about her, but about how life can be seen. She is an intellegent, willing participant in understanding ones self and putting that forth in her live. Turning a thought into action. She is a point of enlightenment in what can be a messy life. Turning what society deems as negative, into positives. We may be ill, yes, but that does not mute our voices or lessen our dreams or intentions. 

I hope the world could fight as she does. I hope all of can out outside today, look up at the trees, and let the light flood us. Cleanse us of current stresses and pain and give us a minutes clarity. Most of all take from Zee that even in our darkest moments, we are fighters. And we will be okay.

She is truly a Bright Young Thing. And I couldn't be more thankful for her. 

- Spencer

[Review #2] The Pillow Fort!

Now if you know me in "real life", you will know that sometimes I struggle deeply with being positive and seeing the positives of myself. My self worth was about nil earlier this year, and it left me isolated, terrified, and feeling quite broken physically. I worked very hard to build a new support system for myself, and some how stumbled about The Pillow Fort. 

A magazine as well as community and blog that centers around positivity and chronic illness. All of this was built by the amazing Elizabeth Goddard, a young woman who suffers with chronic illness herself. 





The Group (Pillow Fighters Club)

You may be thinking "How in the world can you be positive about being sick". Prepare to have your mind opened. 

 The sub title is "Making Chronic illness Suck less." And it most certainly does!

The pillow fort group on Facebook has a simple set of rules that create a safe, comforting, and empowering environment.

"The rule, only positivity allowed!"

Okay, I may have lied about there being a set. But this simple rule alone creates a space where young, chronically ill people can build support systems, friendships, and better yet, learn more about themselves and learn to love and value themselves again in the face of illness. 

Now, don't be scared off. The Pillow Fort makes it very clear that the group doesn't just support you on good days, but the bad, achy, lonely days as well. Everyone works hard to create an environment in which we are all encouraged to thrive. Bad and good days included.

The Magazine 

The magazine offers insights from young chronically ill people,
 usually on a loose theme each month. Each story, each advice article, is filled with love and meaning and the want to help those around them learn the same things they learned through their own struggles. As ill young people, it is very difficult to find representation for us, material targeted at as, etc. So to have a magazine (that also advertises health and positive business/blogs) be created by, edited by, and written by ill young people themselves is truly an individualistic gem of solidarity and creativity in it's self. 

Not only that, but Lizzy coordinates stocking products from individual young people who are ill in the shop, further progressing the movement of small business as well as accessible home business for many people who find it difficult working in a "typical" setting. 


My Thoughts  

I find this place, the group, the magazine, a second home where I can relax and focus on my well being as well as aid those who are also on the same road. The quality of the magazine is easily comparable to ones you'd find at any book store with bright colors, beautiful photography, and meaningful words shared from one young person to another. The Facebook group is ran by the Pillow Patrol, and is a safe haven to many. Not on this, but the group is open to anyone of any religion, gender/gender expression, diagnosed, undiagnosed, and includes mental illness. Which is huge!

I suggest anyone with any chronic illness give the magazine and group a try. It truly does wonders for ones self esteem when they are struggling with their self image after illness. I feel brighter than I ever have knowing I am a member of this group. I am forever changed and thankful.

 Links!

(the blank is a link to the website! It will redirect to FB but it is safe!)

- Spencer

[Personal Post #2] I Am Right Because I Am Wrong

Like many people my age I have struggled with ideas of being "right". Good. Worthy. How these connect to my physical and mental being, and then what to do with them. It is a difficult journey. Being told at sixteen to have your life sorted out by the time that you are eighteen, be well, be vibrant, get a job, get married, get old. If you are a human on this planet, which I am assuming you are as you found my silly little blog, you know life is never so gracefully linear. 

age 16

I have spent twenty-three years believing I was simply "wrong". Then again, such a thought it is hard to avoid when you are riddled with mental illness, and later on, physical illness. I did not believe I was worth much at all. At seventeen my friends had their lives sorted out (or they were brilliant actors) while I struggled with the idea of picking one line of study to follow through for 4+ years. I did not offer the shine of a promising student, but rather of a person with no direction at all. Instead of being told that this was okay, I was constantly tossed and pushed into positions that made me uncomfortable and feel "less than". I have felt less than more often then I have felt of any worth at all. 

And this wasn't my fault. Not all of it, at least. I was never told being "wrong" can be good. 

I may not have had a path, no. But not having a path lead me to

age 16

forge one for myself. It has given me the time and space to further my self education, self analysis, and most importantly, self love. I remember at sixteen I wanted to be a photographer. At seventeen I wanted to be a nurse. At eighteen I wanted to study art. At nineteen I dabbled in the idea of becoming a special education teacher. At twenty, I had no idea what to be. What I wanted to be. 

I am not sharing this as a pity story, no. Rather a story that embraces sense of self and love for ones own indecisiveness. We are constantly told that "Not Knowing" is a dangerous path. That we will find constant unhappiness. Because we are wrong in a world that is meant to be filled with people that fall into the grouping of "right". Automatically instilling that these people should be those we look up to for guidance and never ask questions. This is dangerous, as then we must question if we ever are truly being ourselves. Being true to the person we know we are, even if we don't show it yet. 

I am right because I am wrong. 

age 20

In all my wrongness, I found my path. It wasn't easy, granted. I took my time, though. In that time I used accessible and free education to my hearts content, studying maps to medical ethics all the way to writing for scientific papers. I became engaged not just with the material, but with who I am as a person. From all of these classes I learned I am curious. I take interest in protecting others and caring for them to the fullest extent. And well, it also solidified my love for maps and geography. 

Suddenly I found myself in class and training to become a crisis counselor and advocate for victims of abuse and assault. I blog and interview people because I want so badly to learn more about the people I inhabit this earth with, and I want others to know about them, and it is truly a fulfilling practice. I feel at home here. My calling didn't call out for me, I found it with patience and self identification of my own needs. No one lead me here. Not a teacher, a friend. I did. All because I was so wrong for so many years. 

age 23

I still may be wrong. Though in my wrongness I found my rightfulness. I had to become my own compass. More importantly, I became my own role model. Something that is rarely shared to our younger generations. Love yourself. Listen to yourself. Follow what feels right to you, even if it seems wrong to those who simply don't understand. 

I am right because I am wrong. I am happy because I was wrong for so long, that now I know what being sure of myself feels like. What it means. The weight it bears. 

And I am happy here. 

- Spencer

[Interview Thursday #3] Emily, The Human Symphony

"I am incompetent with technology", Is one of the first things Emily says to me as we start our call, and our mutual confusion as to where the actual headphone jack is on her computer. At least, with most things together, we get a laugh out of it. 

Emily is twenty years old, and currently lives in Florida. She works at a plus size women's clothing store, and also sings in a community choir. 

"Sometimes yes, and sometimes no," Is her answer when I ask how she feels about her accomplishments. "I have a job, and I am making some money, but not much, and I am glad for doing that. And I am still stuck with my parents. And I can't do much beyond go to work and go to school." Emily is an education major, which through out our friendship, I didn't know, but could easily expect. She is a kind soul and is constantly pushing (gently) her friends to see the positives in themselves while also validating their struggles. 

When I ask a interview participant to name four things they love about themselves, I am usually met with a wall of silence. It is a difficult question to answer, to look inside oneself and work through the opposite of what society informs us to do. How to measure our self worth. It takes time to come from the heart (and the head), but eventually, speaking does begin again.

"I like my eyes and my hands. I don't know why, but I think I have really nice hands. And I am proud of my eyes, it's the only thing I've always been proud of." 

She says in a rush of words, and I know some part of her is struggling to put forth words for things we're not usually told or asked to embrace. The physical, with this question, always comes first. It isn't a bad thing, no. I love to see those I am interviewing move through the motions and get to the core of themselves.

And, Emily gets there flawlessly.  

"That's really bad that I can't think of anything," She says in a rush, some anxiety stains her words, but continues, "I am fairly trustworthy and I am that person people will come to saying 'hey I need to tell you something' even if they don't need advice. They know I won't spread things around, and I am proud of that."


One thing I have always found intriguing about Emily is her talent for music. And her quite clear passion for it. "I finally like the way I sound, not speaking, but I have been singing for ten years in choir so I finally like the way I sound. I am confident in my singing."

Emily has been singing with local choirs for ten years, and has recently been placed on the board for the one she participates in now. You can tell there is a passion, a love, simply by the way she speaks. She enunciates like a singer, her words are always crisp and clear. And once she speaks of this topic, it's almost like a child explaining their day at school. Losing breaths and air trying to force all the words out at once. 

"I grew up around music. It's something my parents were always playing, country,  Do-whoop, and shop music. Mostly old country from the forties and fifties. I was always humming along and singing to music. When I figured out choirs aren't just for church, my teacher in fifth grade suggested that I join the choir at our school. I auditioned for the honor choir, and got in. And then I just kept auditioning for choirs. In high school, choir wise, it was amazing. And now I am with my current choir and I want to be with them forever."

Now I can continue asking what forces of nature a person feels they are, and hoping for an answer that is longer than two words. But, with Emily, it just doesn't fit. I do not believe she is a force of nature, but rather feeds nature with her being and her music. Creating a melody where nature can follow and ease into a softer reality. So I ask, what musical piece would you be?

"God... there was one song that we sang in Junior year of high school. It was a song based on two poems by Sarah Teasdale. I cried every time I heard it. Just the poetry and melody of it all. It was beautiful."

"Why do you feel like that would be you as a piece of music?"


"I think it is what I would want to be If I were a piece of music."


As I listen to the song, I can see why that would be. I do not believe Emily is striving to be this music, but rather, very much is. There is a rare handful of people in this life who are able to portray a physical being of poetic expression, and I believe she encompasses this easily. 

Through out speaking to her, there was nothing lacking in her compassion and passion. She shines more brightly than I think she is aware of. Learning of her childhood, hearing her laugh, I imagine this woman is a rarity among us all. And this person, well, she is going to be a teacher. And for that, we should be thankful. 


And... the famous last question.

Q: You can give one piece of advice to others that fall into the gray areas of life, what would that advice be?

A: Accept and embrace the oddities of yourself, and what makes you different. Not focusing on the black and white, it's always been big for me to try and do that.

Emily is a woman who loves music, her cat Doc (fabulously pictured on your right), learning, and indulging in fandom culture. She is someone who will openly, at times, struggle with self acceptance, but rather than denying herself happiness, she triumphs over social norms and continues her own journey through music and self discovery. If Emily was a "thing", she would be the most soothing yet powerful piece of orchestrated music. And that is quite a feat in it's own. 

I feel, after speaking to Emily at great length, that there is a power within her that she is unaware of. Life does challenge her, and she takes it in such stride with so much grace. 

Emily doesn't have to strive to be that beautiful, melodic piece of music. Rather, she already is. And those who know her are already hearing it. 


- Spencer

[Personal Post #2]: Grief is an Oddity

I want to start this post by explaining that being an oddity does not mean said thing is bad. With that out of the way, grief is an oddity. Yes, it is normal after the loss of a loved one/job/ect, but not a single soul feels grief the same way. Hence, an oddity in the human experience. 

Grief is not something we can continually categorize or add check boxes to, and even worse, give a time line. It is must more complicated than that. Some may grieve a month, another a life time. Neither are wrong, neither are right. It simply just is. I think once we accept the idea that grief is a state, not a "thing" to be cured, we can slowly focus on self discovery, self understanding, and most importantly, self care. 

I lost my brother in the summer of 2012. I was in a therapists office a day later, hearing what I have heard again and again. "He's in a better place.", "Follow the steps of grieving". It was all fine and good until it began messing with my head. Was I in the anger stage? I never bargained, does that means I am not doing this right? I felt like I was grieving incorrectly. The damage that inflicted was deep and endless, and I am still recovering from my own self doubt within my grief. 

Then I accepted "this is odd. This is new.". I wasn't hurting like my Mom or Dad or Sister. I was hurting as me. This is a knotted, endless, complicated mess of loss and pain and comfort that one has to twist themselves out of one by one. One string snapping at a time echoing for you to hear, reminding you "It's okay. It's okay."

Grief is not a time line. There will be days where the sun is shinning and we are able to smile about a memory of who we lost swinging on old, rusted swings with a toothy grin and bony knees. There will be days where everything hurts and the only thought you can conjure is what their last moments must have been like. And yes, that thought will follow you around like a shadow. Seeping into your skin and haunting your mind. Those, friends, are the days we can fight or give in.

Because, sometimes, the bravest things we can do is accept the pain. 

Accept the chest aches. Bravery does not mean putting on a smiling face, sometimes it means screaming at the tops of your lungs that someone very important is gone and everyone in hearing distance should know about it.

I promise. That's okay. 

Grief does not need to be silent suffering. It does not need to be free of poetic descriptions of loss, those help. Grief does not need to be quiet or hidden. Your grief is your own, and sometimes wearing it as an armor is the best thing we can do for ourselves. 

I still feel pain each and everyday. I will slip up and go to tell my brother something, only to remember he is gone. You may do that too. You're not alone. Our minds keep them alive in our realities even if physically they are now missing from our homes, our work, our schools. This grief will be with me for the rest of my life. The moment I accepted that I don't need to be "fixed" or "corrected" or "treated" for how I experience my grief, I feel so much more. I feel human again.

Grief is an oddity that will remain as such for years and years. Oddities aren't the damaged or broken, they are the fascinating, complicated middle between all that is Black and White. If we are to embrace all of our being, do not neglected the grief. You are not failing if grief has become a permanent facet of you and your personality.

You're human.

And you know what, maybe that is the best thing we can be.

As for me, I will carry my grief like a stone. My brother was my best friend for 22 years, that doesn't end at the moment of death. If anything at all, it intensifies. Grows so large your body makes more room in your chest where their name resides and beats against your ribs. There will be days where I cry, and that's okay. There will be days where I smile and remember, and that's okay. Those days I feel nothing, yeah, those are okay too. 

There is no time line when it comes to missing someone. All there are is memories on the reel of film resting comfortably right between your brain and bone. What a gift that truly is.

- Spencer

[Special (early) Interview #2]: My Mom, The Accidental Hero

Now, I would be lying if I said conducting this interview would be a difficult exchange of words. But when you have spent 23 years of your life under the same roof with someone, it's almost too easy. With that being said, I'd rather have an hour long conversation with my Mom than have none at all. Her insight, humor, and poise is one to be admired and even envied at times. And sometimes I am (un)lucky enough to catch her crude jokes, though she wont admit to making them.

"You seriously don't know my birthday?" She asks, amused, and I agree easily. "I don't even remember my own birthday." Is all I say as I scribble her response down. Things like this are easy between us. She accepts my flaws (such as my inability to remember numbers) as "quirks" or "what makes me different". And thank goodness for it, I have a lot of  "quirks".

Her birthday, however, February 21st, (she gave me the wrong year). Her name is Patti. She was born in New York, and has lived here her whole life. She grew up with her Mother, Father, and two Sisters. 

After some initial difficulty, she began to open up. My Mom likes talking, she is Italian after all. Though with personal questions, it can take a bit of gentle prying.

Though, When I ask her to look at herself through someone elses eyes and describe her personality,  she answers quickly. Something I wasn't expecting. "Loving, caring, fun. Because I am." And truly, she really is.

I, as her child, wanted to know many things. I also wanted her to see her own worth within her own thoughts and words. I asked, "What are you proud of?" her first response is "I know every line of Criminal Minds, Seasons 1-8." After a mutual laugh of un-surprise, she answers;

"I'm most proud of my kids."

This answer does not shock me, as through out our shared lives she has made major sacrifices in order to give us, her children, a fulfilling life filled with wisdom and insight and most of all, humor. Even when things seemed to have hit rock bottom. Which they have. Many times. But she never forgets to embrace her children and remind us how proud she is. How special we all are individually. 

"How long did you want to be a mother?" I ask. "I guess since I was three. I have always wanted to be a mother, always. A nurse and a mommy."

I have always wondered if it was harder than she first anticipated before having the three of us, so curiosity got the better of me.

"No, it was easier. Easier than I thought I would be." She says with a comfortable confidence, as if this was meant to be what she was doing

"The only thing I would change about raising the three of you is making sure your brother was still here."



In August of 2012, my family lost my brother and my best friend. He passed early in the morning, and the wounds are still clearly seen on the four of us who survived. But with a mother, I do not understand that pain. She is open with her grief. Her pain. Letting the world know, as it should know, that they lost a fighter that day. That he will not be forgotten. She will not let the world forget. And I admire her for it.

"The biggest obstacle I have faced... Peter."  Did you feel brave, I ask, truly wanting to know. She replies,

"Some days I do. Most days I don't."

Now I will explain something here as this is such a personal topic. My Mom is brave. Not some days, all days. When all was lost she carried on with a grace she will not accept but a grace that has to be seen to be understood. She did not waver in fear, no. She embraced my sister and I in a time of horror and kept us going. Made sure my sister got a 3.4 GPA and that I would find my calling, direction. And we both have.

"I'm most proud of my kids, first of all. My jobs. I loved my jobs. I feel proud of my accomplishments. My whole life revolves around you guys." There is a moment of hesitation before she speaks. 

"Maybe I wasn't the best one to do this (interview). But I am very proud of being an excellent mother."

"The work you did, do you think most people could do your job?" I ask knowing the intensity of the work she did. 
"No. You need a lot of patience. A lot of patience."

My Mom worked with the cognitive disabled community. When I say I have never seen someone love their jobs so purely, I mean it. She spoiled each and everyone she supported. Their pictures grace our fridge filled with old family portraits. She has mourned individual deaths that took place even after she left her job over two years ago. She put her heart and soul into her work, into advocating and protecting those kids from harm and mistreatment. And many, many people are thankful for that.

Now, to lighten the mood. I asked the question many people who follow my social media want to know. "So, when did you get into loving cows?"

"Oh god, I was little. Ten or Twelve. I really, really got into it when I was twenty-one. They are so fucking cute. They have gorgeous eyes. I will always stop the car for cows." This answer doesn't surprise me. Our house is filled nearly to the brim of cow memorabilia. From collectible statues, to salt shakers, kitchen signs, milk bottles, sun catchers, mugs, framed and hung paintings, slippers, stickers, tins, sound makers.... It's one of my favorite things about her. Her collections. How she displays them without giving a single damn of what someone may say, because she knows how happy it makes her. She reminds me to smile about the simple things. Through, yes, cows.

"I look up to my mother," She shares after another question is created off the top of my head, "She doesn't give me the answers, she makes me figure out the answers. She doesn't tell me what to do, but supports me in what I do. She came from sixteen, living with a baby and an abusive person, and look at where she is now. That's pure strength. That's why when you said 'do you think I am brave' it through me off, I don't think I'm brave. I think I'm strong because I wake up every morning."

"Abso-fucking-loutely", she answers when asked "Do you feel you did a good job raising us?"

"I am a god damn good mother. I am an awesome mother. I love to take care of people. I wanted you all to learn to be kind, always. To always say 'I love you'. Never hit first. Be independent, do not think you need to depend on anyone. I never wanted you to be judgmental, people are people. Race, disability, anything. I wanted you all to accept everyone. People are people."

"If you were to be a force of nature?"
 "Uhm... The ocean or fire."
 "Why both?"

 "Because I've risen out of the ashes so many times I would be fire."

I didn't ask her the typical questions I will ask in future interviews. This one is special, and having her as my Mom I can say that we should follow someone like this by example. Her life was never simple, there were times filled with major pain and loss. But she continuously rises again, and again. She built a home where all three of her children were embraced for their differences, their abilities. She fostered room for growth and self discovery, never wavering in her love and support. She has raised two ill children, and stood by our sides, always offering a hand to hold. 

If there is one person I can even begin to fathom being like as I grow, it would be her.  I want to be able to love something as much as she loves being a mother, her children. This life has been a battle field even on it's good days, and she has risen bravely to each and every occasion. 

She became The Accidental Hero in all of this. Saving more lives than she knows, healing wounds pitched so deeply within others. All while rising again and again. 

I am so incredibly lucky to have been raised by such a force of nature. There hasn't been a day in my almost twenty-four years where I haven't felt loved by her, or haven't felt admiration for her. 

Mom, I love you. Thank you for being my hero.

- Spencer

Review Tuesday: 365londontown Photography

Artist Bio

• Name: Meg
• Age: 27
• Location: Missouri 
• Camera: Sony A - 37

Meg, photographer and artist of 365londontown, takes photos of just about anything. Actors, to monuments, all the way to nature. After looking through her online shops and galleries, I can say easily and full of truth that she is truly talented, with a perfect eye for a great shot. Capturing not only what is happening at the time, but keeps mindful of the color schemes, composition, and mood.

(2013, London)

Meg practiced photography in high school, but her passion for photography fired up again in 2013 while she was a student studying in London. And she hasn't slowed down yet. She photographs many outings as the present. 

 Looking at her photos, I can say they are not taken on a whim. They are taken with so much in mind. I can tell that she wants the outcome to me something whimsical, something new. It shines brightly through each and every photo. As I browse through her works, I am simply awe struck by her ability to capture movement. The way she can isolate different parts of the human anatomy yet still encapsulate movement is a talent many wish they had, but are unable to obtain.

I find a sense of a near familiarity in each photo. As though I experienced what she has captured for myself. With her, even. It leaves me feeling a sense of obscure comfort and reassurance, that out in the world, there is beauty to be seen. Captured. Loved. And with that reminder, I can fully stand behind meg and her quest to grow within herself and her photography.

I wholeheartedly recommend looking into both her blog, and her shops to where her photography prints can be purchased. If you're looking for something new and fresh in the world of DSLR photography, this girl is your best bet. Give her a chance, and you will easily be blown away. Or even comforted.  

Meg of 365londontown Photography can be found on the following networks!

(her Redbubble store!)

- Spencer

My Life Now [Saturday Personal Post]

Yesterday was a rather alarming, loud, and absurd wake up call for myself. For many reasons, and to keep this as far from feeling as webMD as possible, I am chronically ill. I have been diagnosed with Adult Onset Stills Disease, which is a rare form of arthritis. I also have FME. This "journey", we will call it, began last summer with a pesky rash and some worrying fevers. 

Since then, my life has changed drastically. I realize, and sometimes with a heavy heart, that I am not a typical twenty-something. It is very difficult for me to hold a job. It is very difficult for me to socialize. I have seen myself diminish a bit in light and optimism, and that was quite possibly the most heart wrenching.

Living, as it's own sense of being, has become difficult in it's own terms. 

Usually, when it comes to my illnesses, I keep myself together. I carry on knowing that I am strong, I am a fighter, I am a creative person with a voice who is willing to share it as loudly as they can. But when you have an illness that can bring on many senses of isolation, it can also barter negative thinking and quite a grand dose of self loathing. I was stuck like a broken record. Constantly reminding myself of what I lost. My former life, many friends, etc. The mental list at the time seemed like endless scrolls painting themselves across my skull. It weighed me down significantly. I grieved quite deeply, fully. All that time I spent growing as a person was beginning to vanish before me. 


All because I was simply thinking the wrong thing.

"My life then" or "My life before".

I would fight to be that person I was, over and over, until muscles were sore and my face was weighed heavily down by all the masks I tried to wear at once to keep up the persona of who I was before. It became an exhausting act that I put on day to day, down to each and every millisecond. I don't think many realize that we have to mourn our former selves, our former lives, before we can begin carrying on. It just happened to take me quite a very long year. It took me a year to state the most important thing I could have possibly said in all that suffering,

"My life now".

My life now is filled with love and care from family and friends who aided in building me quite the intricate support system. My life now threw me into discovering literature I never before fathomed or questioned. It granted me the chance to dive head first into self education with accessible teaching sources. Things may be a little slower, yes, but now that I am slower I notice so much more. I see how the trees move together when the wind is barely a whisper. I feel the shade granted by a singular cloud on a sunny day. I am now very much able to freeze my own time and indulge in watching conversations of others, love others share with each other. Reunions, accomplishments, love.

Love.

My life now is a symphony of discovery I am now getting my hands right into. Yes, some days I cry. Some days I am filled with fear and dread, but then I remember all I have gained compared to what I had previously lost. 

My life now is a quite, constant humming of thought and emotion I cannot possibly begin to explain with the ease and gentleness of how it is felt. I will face storms, yes. But I have face many. I will face fear, yes. But I have conquered so much. I have become my own force of nature, even if that force can barely move a leaf. The point is, it did move. And I moved it.

My Life Now is a gift of discovery and re-learning how to love all of me. Even the damaged parts. 

And for now, it is a life I can accept. 

- Spencer