There's this process that I follow when I REALLY want something: I write it down, and post it on my bathroom mirror. This way, I see it everyday.
There was a job I wanted...I mean I REALLY wanted it. So I applied.
Ya'll know how the job search goes. You send in the resume, fill out the application and then wait to see if somebody calls you back.
This job, however, was different. Not only did I write down the affirmation that I was going to get the job, I printed out the job description and slid it under the mirror clip along.
A few weeks went by, and I got an interview. But despite the fact that I usually interview fairly well, I felt like I bombed it.
I tried to stay positive, but as the weeks went by without a response from the hiring manager, I started to have doubts to the tune of:
But then one day (a few days after my dramatic moment of trashing my affirmation), my phone rang. On the other end was the hiring manager of that same job--they asked me to come in for a second round interview in a week's time. I accepted the invitation, but still tried to contain my excitement. I didn't want to get my hopes up. Besides, I had begun to believe I was unqualified (imposter syndrome is real, ya'll).
Later on that same day, while washing my hands, I looked up in the space where the affirmation and job description had once been. I saw something out of the corner of my eye that caught my attention. I leaned in a bit closer, and immediately let out a scream. It was a tiny piece of paper--no bigger than the size of my fingernail--that had gotten stuck in the mirror clip when I became discouraged and ripped down the affirmation for the job!
Now before you start shouting, a cutting up with your Hammond B3 organ in the background, let me finish...
There will be times when you forget the faith you had. You may even throw in the towel and go about your merry way thinking all is lost, and you should just get used to settling for what you need versus what you want.
But when you TRULY believe something, and begin to speak it, something powerful happens. I believe God speaks. Some say the "universe" responds; others may call it an alignment of the stars. Nevertheless, all things begin to work together to the point that even when only a shred of your dream is left, that shred--that sliver, if you will--becomes powerful enough to move mountains.
Now go ahead and shout, ya'll...cause somebody knows they are still here because a sliver of faith and hope got them through.
Remember this as you move forward, and do [what appeared to be] the impossible.
"..."Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." ---Matthew 17:20
....and P.S....I got the job.
#ImposterSyndrome #PineappleSugar #Faith #Hope #MustardSeedFaith #TheBibleSays
As a mother, sometimes sacrifice looks like "gaps" on a resume; it may also look like a return to work after only a few weeks of postpartum healing.
At other times, it may look like a step off of the corporate ladder" and significant pay cut rationalized only by your desire to spend more time with family. There is also the chance that your sacrifice, mom, means taking the job with forty percent travel because it means more income, and better benefits for your tribe.
There may be moments when sacrifice equals falling asleep snuggled next to your young one when your plan was to finish the report due at noon the next day. The days when the spreadsheet and presentation must be finished by midnight (in the timezone that is one hour ahead of yours) may also come for you; the time that you actually have for long talks, and warm hugs may be few and far between.
Whatever sacrifices you are making now, dear mother friend, take heart.
Tears are par for the course. Don't try to stop them.
Your tired days and worn-out nights may seem endless. But take heart!
One day every experience will come rushing together as if everything was working in your favor the entire time.
The secret is being at peace enough to see those pieces fit together; if we allow frustration to guide our life's steps, then we run the risk of missing our ultimate purpose.
Never forget the plan, but don't let doubt settle in when things don't go according to it.
You've got this.
#NeverAlone #PineappleSugar #MothersDay #RealitiesOfMotherhood
My family has no idea I ever considered suicide.
There were moments when the pain of living without my mom made life seem like it had taken a turn towards "wrong" and there was no going back to "right."
After she died, we (my family) prayed, and moved on.
That's just the way many of us did it back then.
This meant I was accidentally hushed from talking about death at such a young age; no one really wanted to think about THEIR mom (or dad) dying. For most kids, that type of thought was nowhere are their reality radar.
So I just dealt, first with her illness, and then ultimately, with her death. For the most part, I did so alone. In those alone moments, sadness, fear, and anger crept in, and my own death started to become something I was both afraid of, and something that I considered to be easier than living.
My unprocessed emotions and feelings lead to a life of seeking validation, sometimes in spaces that I had no business being in. Why?
Because those are the spaces that listened to me, that "validated" me, that "loved" me.
But the grief in those inauthentic spaces never left. In fact, over the years, my grief magnified.
Ultimately, it took more than the thoughts and prayers of others to get me to a safe space where my healing could take place.
It took self-acknowledgement and work.
I wrote Pineapple Sugar as a book to help start a much-needed conversation around terminal illness, and what that means for the children who see a family member come to the end of life.
But even that story is somewhat "pretty," if I do say so myself.
It is written with the necessary supports-in-place for the child going through the grieving process.
The capacity for challenging conversations between the dying, the bereaved, and other family members, is present in Safiri's story in places that I did not know such luxuries.
I crafted the book this way not because such is the norm, but because I have found that many times, people approach "messy" topics that no one wants to discuss (like death, grief and loss) too delicately or not at all because we have been taught that these are not "normal" conversations--that these are things we should avoid discussing.
But young people are dying; they are surviving tragedy,and then dying from the aftermath.
As humans, we've got to figure this out.
What about the families that have never really understood what it means to seek help?
What about the child who needs to talk about the death of loved ones, but doesn't know where to start?
What about the young people who consider suicide as their best option for "getting over" grief?
Sydney Aiello's passing touched me in a way that makes me as a speaker-turned-author feel convicted, so to speak, and want to do more.
I'm an educator, mother, student, musician and I wife--all things that pull at my time.
But children are dying, and I've got to do more.
And so do you.
Help me start the conversation. Write the book, song, poem, blog, essay, etc. to which the grieving may possibly connect.
Craft the "just thinking of you, I'm here if you want to talk" note for that child you may feel needs support after a major life event.
Share your experience with the parent trying to support a grieving child; inform them about resources that are available to them. Let them know that they are not alone.
The time is NOW for us to use our gifts to help the hurting, and the families that try their best to support them.
Let's all do our part to let everyone know that they are not alone.
#SydneyAiello #GriefConversations #PineappleSugar #ItsOnUs #NotAlone