My parents met ballroom dancing. Dance has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I may not have always been a dancer but there’s definitely some dance involved in gymnastics. My dad installed a dance floor into our basement family room, so I grew up dancing with my dad. At first I would stand on his feet, he would move and the world would just float away. Then as I grew older I would wear some of my moms dancing heels and of course a flowy dress, we would move all the furniture out of the way and dance 💃. When i went to college dad and I actually did a ballroom dancing recreational class together. It was probably a pretty funny sight, as he was the oldest member of the group and I was the youngest member of the group and we happen to be father and daughter. I am not trying to brag here but it was definitely below my dad’s level of dance education and of course as a “follow” I felt pretty confident in my dad leading so I’d like to think that it was below my education as well. In fact we were the example couple a few times, but it was so much fun. I have a very big place for Dance in my life and in my heart. I love to dance it out when I’m really stressed, (my grad school roomie and I used to have dance parties often). I love to dance it out at weddings, I have been known to get into a dance off a time or two. Of course, I love to watch dance movies! As an anniversary gift my wonderful hubby got us dance lessons with the same company my parents met through, Fred Astaire dance. Hubby didn’t know it was the same company, it just happened to be close to us. Obviously my parents danced in Minnesota and we are in Colorado but still it felt like a whole new connection that I had been missing. Hubby and I have been dancing for almost a year now and while we may not be pros we just became bronze level dancers. At this level you have the opportunity to do competitions and buy a cool jacket. So, I bought one. if you know me, you know I love sweatshirts and track jackets but also because it’s such a huge accomplishment and one that I feel like I’m following my dad and mom‘s footsteps… Literally haha. So now I have Dad‘s jacket from Fred Astaire and I have my jacket from there. Hey dad, #twinsies 😘.

Yesterday was a good day…until I had this suffocating moment when I “realized” that I would not see my dad again on this side of death. We were driving home from the grocery store…. I went through the rest of my evening like a wounded animal, still pushing through but the wound was oozing. Then, as phones do, mine reminded me of the toddler girl…18 month old which is very close to Kylies age… Who fell to her death on a cruise ship. Knife in wound and twisted.

I was so incredibly triggered I couldn’t fall asleep without my friend Dr X (Xanax). Even today I still feel the wound is oozing so I did a little Journaling….

My therapist gave me a sheet with a picture of an iceberg. Called the anger iceberg. And just like an iceberg there’s only a little bit on the top and there’s a whole lot of shit underneath the water. What’s underneath the water is all the emotions that contribute or lead to anger. I made a list of all of the emotions I’m feeling.

• Scared to lose another person, scared to fully feel emotions related to grief.
• Overwhelmed with this house, cleaning schedule, materialism, finances.
• Frustrated with my body and the constant exhaustion I feel.
• Trapped sometimes that Kylie isn’t easier to go places with (whether that’s me or her).
• unsure of the future.
• Lonely, I don’t have friends I can/want to share the shitty emotions with because I know how heavy it is for me. Also because I am missing my “people” aka my parents.
• Annoyed that I stress myself out so much about everything.
• Envious that so many people have no idea what its like to lose all the people I’ve lost.
• Insecure in my body.

Scared, grief, overwhelmed, frustrated, exhaustion, trapped, unsure, lonely, annoyed, envious, insecure… Are just a few of the things that are on the anger iceberg….

Sitting in “my” car (still feels like dad’s car sometimes) at a stop light…I started to think about him driving around town. Sometimes it’s nice to imagine him doing ordinary stuff…it makes him feel alive again, but the image slips away quickly.

I remember how this happened with mom. I started to lose memories of her as the reality of her death set in. Now I typically can’t conjure an image of her in my memory but the emotional responses from being around her are still incredibly vivid. Feelings like “everything is right in the world” and the feeling of comfort and deep warmth come to mind most often.

When mom was still alive I used to wake up early so I could sit in the bathroom while she showered for the morning. My favorite part was sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket with my long night shirt draped over the heat register so the heat would blast up my shirt onto my bare back. Honestly, most mornings, no one spoke. We wanted to share the peaceful quality time before starting our hectic days.

That is my most vivid memory of my mom. The best part is that I can (and almost daily do) sit in my bathroom, turn the shower on high to create a steam room and close the curtain, it’s almost as if she is in the room with me again.

Memories of mom have had almost 14 years of slipping away which is almost equal to the number of years she was in my life, 16. Dad, however, was alive for almost 29 of my years on this planet and he has only been gone less than 2. His memories though some feel (safely) trapped in MN there are plenty here in CO. Each day feels like I’m trying to sift through his memories and trap the important ones. My mind is torn, as a mother of an almost 1.5 year old we are constantly making new memories ourselves…but my brain has limited storage. Unfortunately the memories of my daughter do not overlap with memories of dad. In order to stay sane and present I must prune those memories of dad until I find that one that I can hold dearly until the day I see him again. Only time will tell what that memory will be.

My therapist asked me “what would you tell your 16 year old self?”. My problem with the idea of something to tell my 16-year-old self feels like I’m implying that I regret things I’ve done in my life. Which I do not. Here we go anyways.

1. Worrying is not going to do anything for your life except maybe inhibit some of the best times of your life. Plus you may worry that your dad‘s gonna die…well, hate to break it to you but that’s a given and he will die when you least expect it.

2. Don’t live in the water. (Hahaha apparently my phone dictation changed something I said to this, which I whole heartedly agree with)

3. Start practicing some self-love. Life is already tough enough you don’t need to make it worse by being hard on yourself. You are doing the best you can with what you have. That doesn’t mean you won’t make mistakes and it doesn’t mean you won’t be embarrassed of them but it will mean you’ll love yourself through it and you’ll set up a foundation that will help you for the rest of your life.

4. People are going to be mean all your life don’t let them get to you. Even if they may speak the truth there’s no reason they should talk to you like that. Respect yourself and demand that respect for yourself.

5. Embrace the term “fuck it” it’ll help you much later down the road.

6. While it’s true that you cannot run from your problems, sometimes when you face a big problem running away (temporarily) may just be the thing you need to gather your thoughts…take a moment. You don’t owe anyone anything. Allow yourself time to gather yourself and make sure it’s what you want/what you need.

7. You may think you know but you have no fucking clue what you truly want in this world.

8. Learn to balance responsibility and irresponsibility. Have a little fun, let your hair down, you don’t need to act like you’re 35 when you’re 16 you’ll be 35 someday and you’ll wish you were 16.

9. Just fucking cry already. If you hold it in it’s going to get so much worse. This will hurt for a very long time and despite what they say it doesn’t get better…I think it just changes. Yeah I might not cry every single day but there are still days when it hurts just as much as the first day mom died.

10. Embrace your strength and independence. It is a beautiful fucking characteristic and while it might be hard when you live with your parents its a beautiful thing when you’re out in the world. You just need to find that balance.

11. Life will change you, embrace that. Find the beauty in the changes and don’t get caught up in the minutia or the judgments of other people.

12. It’s true you will be too much for some people but that’s not a bad thing. they’re missing out because the people who are truly meant to be in your life won’t ever think you’re too much.

13. Ugh, dont get sucked into the social media fad.

Tattoos have become a large part of my grieving process. Before my mom died I never thought about getting a tattoo, not for any reason other than I just didn’t think about it. When mom died I really struggled to make sure that I knew she was not in the material things she left behind. I had a pair of pearl earrings and diamond earrings that I inherited when she passed away and I really dreaded going through another grieving process if/when I lost them. After mom died I started to dream up a tattoo. A tattoo to remind me of mom, her life, and her part in our family. Mom died when I was 16 so I had to get permission from dad… He did not like that. I believe his exact words were “absolutely not, you can remember your mother some other way.” So I dropped it.

Fast forward six years I was 22, still dreaming about the tattoo and decided my dad really didn’t have a say in the matter. I wanted something to remember mom, something that unless a drastic event occurred I wouldn’t lose. So I told dad “I love you and I respect you but you have no say in this. I’m sorry, I hope you can understand my decision to remember mom this way.” He responded with “I knew this was going to happen eventually. I still don’t approve but I’m not going to stop you.” At the time I didn’t realize the importance of that tattoo in my actual grieving process.

When dad died I was looking through his computer. In a folder labeled “cait” I found a document that he had started to put together that included scripture regarding tattoos and why they were not something God approved. So obviously, He never got on board.

When dad died I felt so numb I didn’t know what to do with it and at the time it felt a little bit like a rash decision but I got a tattoo. I wanted so badly to feel physical pain and hoped that it would wake me from my stupor, so earlier this January I got a tattoo. I can’t really say that it’s in memory of dad because I’m pretty sure he would roll over in his grave if I said that, so instead, its in memory of my family. The family that raised me, made me and loved me beyond comparison. I don’t know why I have not shared my tattoo yet on social media but I think to some degree it’s so special in my grieving process that I just wasn’t ready to share it with anybody else who might not understand.

I wanted to share this because I know there are people grieving and I know how hard the process is. The worst and the best part is that grieving is so different for everyone. Healing can come in many different forms, maybe you’ve found things to help but maybe you haven’t. Keep your mind open as the things that help you heal may not be what you expected, or they may be exactly what you thought. My tattoos have not “cured” my grief, they are just small steps in the process but still incredibly important.

First tattoo: Mom was an avid gardener, so there was always flowers and plants around. Tiger lilies are my favorite flower. Psalm 23 was her favorite chapter in the Bible. Don’t ask me to quote it I knew at one point but mom brain has no extra room. And the three swirls that come off the flower represent my dad, my mom, and myself.

Second tattoo: Of course its harry potter themed with blue and purple Because those are all of our birthstones gather. And the word “always” (which includes the deathly hallows) Because I will always be a flemino, I will always be a daughter, they will always be my parents, and I will always be loved.

As a stay at home mom I never thought that daycare was an option for me. I mean that’s the whole reason I stayed home, right? it was to avoid paying daycare and working because that’s almost calling it even anyways. For my brief little stint back in the working world I started taking Kylie to a drop in day care, it.was.wonderful. Obviously I brought her there while I was working as I needed somebody to watch her. When I stopped working, i realized that even though I’m a stay at home mom, even though I chose to do this, I deserve a little me time. That’s not always going to happen on weekends because there are things that me and the hubby want to get done, we want to spend time as a family, and of course he also deserves a break, etc. On the flipside Kylie deserves a little socializing time because she doesn’t get that at home when it’s just me. Whenever I ask Kylie if she wants to go to daycare, she smiles and says “yeah” and runs towards the door. She’s happy to see the staff and the staff love her, and she’s always worn out after which is great for mama as that means a nice long nap time (and a very happy kylie). After I got over the fact that as a stay at home mom I could even take Kylie to daycare it still took me a while to realize it was OK to bring her there even if I didn’t have errands to run or even if I wasn’t going to “be productive.” It was OK to bring her there even if I was just going to come home and relax….because if I wanted to relax, that’s not fair to Kylie as she wants to keep moving so bringing her to day care really is a win-win for both of us. To wrap it all up looking back over the past month or so i’ve noticed that because I’m willing to take her to drop in day care I am a lot calmer of a mom, I’m more patient and I truly enjoy spending my time with kylie. Ive found a comfortable boundary. Not to say you can’t be a great mama if you don’t take your kid to drop in day care because thats just not the truth. Every mama/family is so different that you just have to find what works for you! As for me this has seriously been a miracle and I’m going to go enjoy my donut 🍩, kid-free, while I watch my show.

Losing dad is still so incredibly painful that there are no possible combination of words to give you a good enough description, or to even come close. While I want so terribly much to celebrate all the dad’s out there and especially my own hubby (who is an amazing fucking father to our daughter) my dad is not here and that fact is so blinding. While I want to say something cheery and happy on social media about how wonderful this day is, my anger is so thick that I really had to restrain myself from posting something. Every other word would have been “fuck” and the plot would have been “for those of you who still have your dad please don’t take him for granted”. Which I once had someone respond “we get it, your mom died” when I said a similar statement about not taking mom’s for granted. Well, that’s fine but I don’t think you do get it and you won’t until you lose something you love dearly. On top of all these angry, Anxty and altogether sad feelings I feel even worse that I can’t just be incredibly joyful for my awesome hubby. He knows how I feel on this day and we have discussed and of course he is understanding but I can’t help but feel like he got the short end of the stick. I mean how selfish of my dad to die before I had a child and inevitably make father’s day a mournful instead of a joyful day. (Yes that was a glimpse of my dark humor). Side note: I get that there are families that are not as loving or close as mine so I understand if you also feel angry at this holiday because you feel like you were robbed when your dad wasn’t around or wasn’t a great influence.

I guess to wrap it up, happy father’s day to my wonderful dad, i would not be who I am today without all your good, bad and ugly moments but mostly because you and mom chose to love each other and start a family. Thank you for everything you have ever done and will continue to do in my life. I will forever miss our conversations. You may not have understood how important you were to this world but there will forever be a “Gary shaped hole” where you once stood. Love you dad.

To my wonderful husband, it has been a wonderful journey watching you become a father to baby cakes. I could not do this thing called parenthood without you. I love you.

Sooooo, as I have eluded to in previous posts I don’t deal with my emotions as they come up, I typically shove them deep down and allow them to build up until I’ve essentially dropped a mentos in a Diet Coke. Talking to a good friend today about all this shit on my mind and how I’m feeling overwhelmed, I came up with a metaphor, that per her suggestion I write about in a blog post.

Life is kind of like signing up for a tough mudder race. You know that life will be tough, maybe not in the beginning but you learn it quickly. However, these obstacles, in life, are unknown. You know it’s a long race, you know it will require much…if not all of your strength. These obstacles are unique for each person but you have a general idea, you could get electrocuted, your body could go into shock from the ice cold water, you FOR SURE will be covered in mud but sometimes that mud will be shallow and sometimes it will be deep AF. But for sure you will shed some tears, blood, maybe even a toe nail or two. Maybe you lose a contact lens… who knows, all you know is that it will be tough as hell. You also know that there are tons of people who are cheering you on from the sidelines, people cheering alongside you in the race, and mentors who have previously survived an obstacle and can guide you. Then there are sometimes when you need to be carried because it is not possible to continue on your own strength. I have never done a tough mudder, because honestly life has kicked my ass enough I don’t need to pay just to get a tshirt and put myself through hell again, BUT I know some people love them. That’s awesome. If you need a cheerleader or volunteer to help at a race like these, here I am but no thank you to participating. According to pictures it seems like people really enjoy themselves doing this and that’s the kicker… life will always be tough but it doesn’t mean we can’t find the happiness or joy. Doesn’t matter who you are, your race pathway will always have obstacles BUT we are all in this together (for those of you who just started singing high school musical…thank you. I love you). AND let’s be honest we all love a good “free” tshirt!!

I am currently in an obstacle that has varying depths of mud, some days I’m drowning in it and relying on my friends and family to carry me. Other days it feels like I’m running up the steps in rocky with my soundtrack to life playing and I feel like a million bucks. Then there are those in between days where the mud is just high enough to touch my knees making it difficult to walk and I feel like “blah” (best descriptor I can come up with, just sitting in the middle).

All this to say, wherever you are at in your tough mudder, (as Ellen Degeneres would say) “be kind to one another”. Life is hard enough without us turning on our fellow participants.

About a month ago I decided to re-enter the PT (physical therapy) career world. The job I got was as a mobile outpatient PT…Let’s back up a little to January or February of 2018, that’s really where this story begins. Of course, Dad dies January 1, 2018. Big shocker, wasn’t prepared for this (no one ever is), was also 8 months pregnant. I became a PT because I essentially wanted to “save” dad. He went through many “rehabilitations” and as I watched the PTs help him I fell in love with the profession. I thought it was so cool to get to know your patient, encourage them at a time when they felt incredibly low, be on your feet all day (I couldn’t sit all day), and of course bring each patient to a better level of functioning. Let’s return to January or February 2018, where I sat and contemplated lots (that’s what you do on bed rest for 1.5 months). I felt like I had failed. I wasn’t able to save Dad and quite frankly, he was the only patient who ever mattered to me. BAM. I lost my passion for PT.

Of course, at the time I wasn’t working due to the bed rest prison I was on, so I decided not to make a life altering decision such as quitting PT forever at this time. So I sat on it…until this job came up. There were many little things that led to this final decision but the biggest is that my priorities have shifted. I am so incredibly grateful for what PT has given me, I moved to CO for PT, I met lots of great friends because of PT, I met my hubby and we created our beautiful little family…all because of PT. In my short career as a PT I questioned myself a lot (side note: Im super hard on myself too, so that really doesn’t help) and I didn’t like how that felt. As a mother I feel much more confident and most of the time I feel I can be understanding to what is currently happening developmentally with my daughter. Let’s be clear, I do question my choices sometimes, I make mistakes and I get frustrated quite frequently BUT I love it…and that’s all the difference to me. I also feel much more confident saying “fuck your opinion” when it comes to someone questioning my mothering than I ever did with PT. Yes, I do still get self conscious but mama bear knows what’s best for her cub. PT was great and I thought I loved it, but nothing compares to being a mother in my book.

This is not to say that I will never ever be a PT again. You just never know where life will lead you, but for now PT is not my career choice. My wonderfully supportive hubby said to me that “it’s okay, priorities shift and people change.” For now, I’m going to fully embrace mama bearhood and soak up ever happy, joyful, disgusting, angry, and fiesty moment of life with my 15 month old mini me. pray for me 😛

I wrote this last week and have debated posting it because as open as I am grief can be extremely difficult to talk about. But here it is.

I love to sing. When I’m happy, when I’m sad, when I’m mad, you name it. Quite honestly I could list all the songs that are my specific jam for each emotion. These songs literally make up the soundtrack of my life, I thoroughly wish life was a musical and these are about as close to that as I can get. For instance when I feel pretty damn good about my life and I have the “zero fucks” attitude I LOVE to dance and sing to “bet on it” from high school musical 2 (Zac Efron running around a golf course). But usually I love to crank the music because I want to be surrounded by the lyrics and quite frankly I want to sing at the top of my lungs without my own self doubt getting involved. (Self doubt, She can be a real bitch). One of my favorite songs to do this with is gravity, by the beautiful Sara Bareillis, it has a moment towards the end when she holds a beautiful note for what seems like forever. I could live in that forever. While it’s not necessarily a happy song, its a song that embodies truth to me. Almost Everytime I listen, I start to cry. I cry because the lyrics are beautiful, the melody is powerful and the meaning speaks to my heart (or at least my interpretation of the meaning). When I can’t put words to my emotions, songs seem to have a way with words which I never expected. I don’t feel like the lyrics need any added description so instead I’ll pay the lyrics here and then at the bottom there are two links to the two songs I’ve talked about.

🎶🎵Gravity🎵🎶

Something always brings me back to you

It never takes too long

No matter what I say or do

I’ll still feel you here ’till the moment I’m gone

You hold me without touch

You keep me without chains

I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love

And not feel your reign

Set me free, leave me be

I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity

Here I am, and I stand

So tall, just the way I’m supposed to be

But you’re on to me and all over me

Oh, you loved me ’cause I’m fragile

When I thought that I was strong

But you touch me for a little while

And all my fragile strength is gone

Set me free, leave me be

I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity

Here I am, and I stand

So tall, just the way I’m supposed to be

But you’re on to me and all over me

I live here on my knees as I try to make you see

That you’re everything I think I need here on the ground

But you’re neither friend nor foe though I can’t seem to let you go

The one thing that I still know is that you’re keeping me down

You’re keeping me down, eh ooh

You’re on to me, on to me, and all over

Something always brings me back to you

It never takes too long

Bet on It

https://g.co/kgs/UQUFSh

Gravity

https://g.co/kgs/o6d9TF