My mind is almost always going a mile a minute – pondering, reflecting, planning. Is this okay? or What will happen if _____? or What do I think about ____? Here are a few things I’ve been saying to myself this week. See if you notice a theme.
1. It’s okay to stay home from the gym this week; you’re sick!
2. It’s okay to leave work to go to the doctor. They can survive without you for one afternoon.
3. Yes, you and Jonathan are doing a good job managing Jonah’s screen time.
4. You’re not a bad mom for having a babysitter two Saturday nights in a row.
5. You’re not a bad mom for taking a few minutes for yourself between getting home from work and picking up Jonah from Nonni’s.
6. It’s okay that you haven’t written a blog post in a while.
7. You will have a job next year. (More to come about this, perhaps.)
8. You and Jonathan and doing a good job with the dogs. They are loved, happy and healthy.
9. It’s time to find some friends here. But the thought of that is pretty exhausting!
10. You can’t do much about the fact that the world seems to be going to hell right now. Do what you can and focus on the positive.
When I was younger, I had a very distinct vision of what my life would be like by the time I was 30. In this mental picture, I saw myself being a woman who juggled multiple challenging demands with ease: successful, fulfilling career, loving marriage, a couple of wonderful children, free time to pursue personal interests, etc. And me, easily navigating it all. Kicking butt and taking names, basically; having achieved that most elusive of things: work-life balance.
I am now 29. And while I wouldn’t say that I am kicking butt and taking names or some type of #bossbabe, for the first in my life I feel like I am getting close to having and successfully balancing all of the great things in my life that I described above.
Now, I know that the concepts of “having it all” and “work-life balance” are gendered in ways that are problematic. Men don’t frequently get asked how they balance work and family, or if it’s hard to find time to work and parent and spend time with their spouse and maintain a home. Only women get asked those questions, and judged on the basis of them. But the fact remains that work-life balance is an issue that many women do struggle with, so I wanted to explore how it’s working for me these days while acknowledging the problems that exist with it.
A few important things have changed since we moved to Atlanta that help make my work-life balance more possible: 1) support from my family that has resulted in a little breathing room financially and logistically, 2) a much happier work situation, 3) the fact that my school district actually pays teachers a living wage and 4) that I’ve been really trying to nurture my personal passions.
Living two doors down from my family has been amazing. Our normal weekday routine now involves my mom taking care of Jonah, as I’ve mentioned. And more than that, just the fact that there is always at least one backup person to help in case of an emergency feels very reassuring, especially to me, who tends to prepare for the worst-case scenario in all situations. I can breathe easier now.
As to work, I read a quote posted by some random person on Facebook the other day which said “It’s a lucky man or woman who gets up in the morning, puts both feet on the floor, knows what they’re about to do, and thinks it still matters.” (I just looked this up and it turns out it’s a Joe Biden quote.) This is where I am about teaching. I know that what I do matters, and I’m happy to go to my school every day. It’s what I want to spend my days doing.
On the practical side, I feel better-treated than I ever have as a teacher. There are several responsibilities that our current school system helps its teachers with, such as lesson planning, so that makes life a little easier and less stressful than previous teaching jobs.
More importantly, for the first time I feel like my colleagues and I are being paid close to what we are worth. To illustrate: I am making $10,000 more than I would were I to be teaching now in North Carolina, with the same years of experience, same degrees, etc. I am making $20,000 more than I did last year at my non-school system job. THOUSAND. Not hundred.
All educators deserve to make this, and more. Making enough money allows a person to do a few things for themselves. My family can now afford a gym membership and some housecleaning help without feeling like we won’t make it to the end of the month, which is where we were in 2015-2016. Money being extremely tight led to me being both less healthy and more stressed, because there was always work that needed to be done at home once I got home from my day job, and because I knew I wasn’t taking care of myself.
It’s hard to practice self-care when you literally can’t afford any non-essentials, and when you can barely afford the essentials. To employers: want your employees to be happy at work and have a good work-life balance? Pay them a freaking decent amount of money.
Because I feel less stress in other areas of my life, I’ve had the freedom and space to devote to people and things that I love. When I am spending time with Jonah and Jonathan, I can be all there, not worrying about when I will have time to clean the house or do those hours of lessons plans or if we can afford to go to a museum.
It’s kind of a snowball effect: just like stress in one area tends to build up and spill over into other areas of your life, peace can be the same. Remove a tremendous stresser in one area, and everything else gets calmer and more peaceful. Serenity spreads.
I’m also devoting more time to my personal passions. Readers of this blog have probably noticed that I am writing more regularly than I used to, because I actually have time to do it. I am also getting to go to yoga and Pilates at the gym weekly, which I love but couldn’t afford in the past.
I know that I am tremendously lucky, and I am so thankful for how my family has been blessed over the last year. Is everything perfect now? Of course not. But I’m feeling better physically and emotionally than I have in a long time, maybe since Jonah was born and Jonathan and I took on the responsibilities of parenthood. I feel…balanced.
To sum up: in my experience the answer to the work-life balance question is the following: get outside help from family (or friends) if you can, do a job you find fulfilling and find an employer who will pay you what you’re worth, take care of yourself physically, and take time to nurture your inner life and do the things that you find meaningful.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve really come to enjoy this time of year, where people are thinking and planning and dreaming of a new year and what it will bring. Last year, I wrote about how rough 2015 was for my family and about seven reasons why 2016 would be better. And 2016 did turn out to be great for us, though not for the country as a whole. I’m curious about what’s next.
At the end of 2015, I chose a single word that embodied all of the goals and aspirations I had for the upcoming year, how I hoped to be in the new year. I stole this idea from someone else, and I think it’s a great way to focus one’s new year’s goal-setting. My word for 2016 was joy.
My 2017 word of the year is…engage. As I think about my goals (I hate the word resolutions) for the new year, all of them have to do with being present, involved, engaged in my life and the broader world. I feel like many of these are introvert’s goals, the tension between being engaged in external activities and staying in our comfort zone always being a bit real for us. I often feel a tension in my life between action and inaction, in ways big and small: between reading on the couch versus taking the dogs for a walk, between planning to go to a women’s event at church and then backing out at the last minute, etc. This year, I hope to choose action more often than not.
So engage it is. Here are my goals for the new year:
I will make time for writing, even when life is busy.
I will get involved with our new church (will write more about this soon) and make some friends.
I will live a healthier lifestyle. (Obligatory weight loss #newyearnewme goal. But for real, though!)
I will donate more money than I did in 2016, to church and to causes benefiting human rights, children, animals and the environment.
I will take the initiative to make plans with new friends. This is hard.
I will stay informed about what is happening in this country, and I will make sure others are, too. This relates to the upcoming Trump presidency. In 2016, my writing enabled me to make a few people aware of how Trump’s victory was being experienced by those most vulnerable to his upcoming presidency. I will make sure that these people, and others, keep paying attention.
What are your goals for 2017? And what’s your word of the year?
I’m sitting here at Barnes and Noble, drinking an iced coffee and eating a pumpkin muffin. Today it’s raining all day, but it feels like fall, and that is something to be celebrated. Jonathan encouraged me to steal a couple of hours away this afternoon (sweet man!). I should be working on guided reading lesson plans, which is purportedly what I came here to do, but instead I want to return to my long-neglected blog.
I haven’t been writing for a couple of reasons: 1) I forgot how much creativity good teaching requires. I also forgot how tired I am by the end of the day. After Jonah is asleep and I have time to myself I haven’t been able to muster the energy or creativity to write anything. 2) I have been deliberating on what to write publicly about my job. More on that below.
We’ve been in Atlanta as a family for a little over a month now. For the most part, the transition has been a dream. For example:
We absolutely love our new home. We are settled in and about 97% of the way unpacked. The house is such a blessing for our family and so much more than we could ever have afforded or expected to have on our own without family support.
Jonah has transitioned amazingly well to my mom watching him during the week. He didn’t seem to really be phased by the change. He absolutely loves his Nonni and looks forward to going to her house. At the same time, he talks often (every day or two) about all of the family we left behind in NC. When Jonathan’s parents visited over Labor Day, Jonah picked back up with them as though we had never been apart. I like to think that his heart is big enough to hold love for the multitude of people who inhabit his world.
Jonathan quickly and easily got a job working from home that he will likely be able to continue once he starts school in the spring.
We think we have found a new church home here.
I’m loving my job. If you remember, during my job search I got a very, very strong sense that this job was the one that was right for me, though the others seemed to make more sense practically. I haven’t been disappointed.
As I mentioned above, I’ve made the decision that the wisest course of action is not to talk about my job in detail on the blog. This may seem like CYA (cover your …), but my school system tends to get a fair amount of attention, and I’m just trying to be smart. Here are the important points:
I feel more effective than I ever have as an ESL teacher. The time away from the classroom in an administrative role made me a better teacher.
I feel respected. I’m not a novice teacher anymore. It’s nice to have people come to me for help instead of it always being the other way around.
I like working with almost all older students. Upper elementary, baby!
Many days I am home at 3:30. That is something I never would have predicted when we decided to move to Atlanta.
6. I feel a great sense of balance in my life since we moved. Jonathan and I are getting more date nights out and quality time together than we have since Jonah was born. Being home earlier in the afternoon means more time with Jonah. Even though I’m now commuting 25 minutes to work, I’m actually spending less time in the car than I did this previous year between taking Jonah to and from daycare, going to and from tutoring, my in-laws house, etc.
This will have to be all for now. Thanks to everyone who hung around and waited for a new post from me! I promise it won’t be this long until the next time I write. In the meantime…enjoy fall!
I saw a funny Buzzfeed video a while ago about the different kinds of moms you meet.
Apparently there are five different types: the PTA mom, the hipster mom, the crunchy mom, the parenting expert and the hot mess mom. (Not sure where I fit here…maybe a bit of parenting expert, crunchy and hot mess, all rolled into one?)
I would like to respectfully submit one more: the Pinterest mom.
We all know the Pinterest mom. She does homemade crafts with her children on the regular. She takes family photos on holidays with all offspring in coordinating outfits. She makes her children’s Halloween costumes and does Elf on a Shelf. She thoroughly documents each moment of her children’s lives with baby books, scrapbooks and photo albums. She throws elaborate, themed birthday parties for toddlers with a professional photographer present. She always remembers to squeeze every last ounce of special out of her children’s special days.
Well, this is not me. At all.
I am not great at this aspect of modern parenting. I typically don’t think to take a family photo on holidays until about 10 pm when Jonah has been asleep for hours. The idea of doing a craft with my toddler fills me with dread. I would theoretically like to create a scrapbook for my son but I doubt I would ever actually follow through with it. I forgot to get Jonah an Easter basket until everyone else’s photos appeared on Facebook.
I don’t know exactly why I’m so bad at all of this. Maybe it’s the combination of having a busy life plus a general lack of craftiness/artistic ability that just makes me generally bad at all things Pinterest-y.
I often feel some guilt and anxiety over this, and I haven’t been able to get on Pinterest much since Jonah was born because of it. Not doing the things that most of my contemporaries seem to do with their children makes me feel like somewhat of a failure as a parent. Did a fun day really happen if I forgot to document it? Is Easter still special for my 15-month old if I forgot to get him a gift? Do I still have a beautiful family if we don’t have many photos all together? WILL JONAH BE UPSET AS AN ADULT TO NOT HAVE A BABY BOOK???!!!
I’m trying to remember that these things look good, but they don’t really matter that much in the grand scheme of things. They’re extra.
Instead, I’m trying to focus on the ways I am really knocking it out of the park as a parent. Jonah loves being read to, and books are his favorite toys, because we have read to him every day from birth. He is extremely friendly and social. His vocabulary is exploding. He isn’t a picky eater and regularly eats lots of different kinds of foods, such as Thai, Mexican, Vietnamese and Chinese. He is obviously intelligent. He is such a happy, loving little guy. I like to think that means we’re doing a lot of things right.
And honestly, I think focusing on the positive is the answer to so many of our issues around insecurity and anxiety as mothers. Cut yourself some slack, mama…you’re doing fine.
And for all the Pinterest moms…I salute you and your crafty ways! Want to come make/plan/organize some of that stuff for me?
What about you? Do you love Pinterest or does it stress you out?
Yesterday was Jonathan’s and my sixth anniversary. Six years is hard to believe! (What’s even harder to believe is that we will have been together for TEN years in November.) We were such little babies when we got married. Check out these kiddos:
Jonathan and I got married when we were 21 (him) and 22 (me), two weeks after we graduated from college. I wish I could link to a post I wrote that is running on YourTango in a few weeks, about marriage advice for other young brides, as it has a lot of the thoughts that are running through my head about marriage these days. Here are some other thoughts I’m having around our anniversary:
Anyone who says their marriage is always easy is a freaking liar. So…
You have to be willing to ride out the crap, say you’re sorry and try again to somehow talk to each other. And…
Marrying young can sometimes make it harder, because you both have growing up to do. But…
Over the years my marriage has taken on this easy rhythm and comfort level that is really wonderful, and that wouldn’t be there if we were just now getting married. For example…
We have learned what works for us and what doesn’t. Like the whole “Don’t go to bed angry” thing? Not good advice for the Loves, because we both need our space and usually feel completely better in the morning. We finally learned that. Ultimately…
We are a team. We are willing to entertain each other’s seemingly crazy ideas, like renting out our house and buying another (him) or seeking to adopt from foster care (me). I feel confident that no matter what happens, Jonathan is always in my corner.
So there you have it; this is where we are after six years. In my posts, I try to portray a real picture of what my marriage is really like, because I know when I read status after status saying things like “My husband deep-cleaned the whole house, mowed the yard, potty-trained the toddler in one day and brought me breakfast in bed, I’m so lucky!” it makes me wonder if something is wrong with me/my marriage because I struggle to get Jonathan to pick up his dirty underwear from the bathroom floor. (A lesson I’ve learned about that? Pick your battles.) I’m not saying those people are lying, but that that is just not everyday life for most couples, and acting like it is is a bit deceptive.
This is my marriage, real and unfiltered, and still beautiful.
The following post may be ill-advised. I’m going to write about a dream that Jonathan and I are developing for our family. We haven’t completely decided on it yet, and it has been more or less a secret. Not for much longer.
Writing about something is one of the main ways that I process it. This topic being one of the main things I have been thinking about recently, the time has come to write about it. Here goes.
Jonathan and I are thinking and praying about adopting a child from foster care.
This idea developed in the way that a lot of plans do in our marriage. Jonathan mentioned something, I agreed, and I got to work on researching the details and the best way to carry it out. I’m obviously the planner in our family. (I kid you not, this seems to almost always be how we make major decisions. This is how we came to rent a house, get a dog, buy a house, get another dog, have a baby, and buy another house).
We have talked about adopting since before we were married, and I’ve read about adoption issues in the past, but we hadn’t discussed it recently. About a month ago, Jonathan mentioned in passing that we could adopt for Baby #2 rather than get pregnant again. “Why have another biological child when we could give a home to a child that’s already here and needs one?”
And so I began to research again. I decided pretty quickly that international adoption and domestic infant adoption weren’t for us, partly because of the expense, and partly because of the potential for ethical issues in these types of adoptions. (Especially international adoption).
Foster care adoption is not without its own ethical issues, but to me it feels the closest to finding parents for a child who needs one rather than finding a child for parents who need one. I’ve been reading a lot, and I’ve learned a lot, especially from blogs written by and for adult adoptees. (Like these here, here and here). I’ve read some things that almost scared me off. That’s right: I’ve learned that adoption isn’t cut-and-dry, all positive happily-ever-afters. (I plan to write a post about all the things I’ve learned about adoption, and problems with the way many Christians discuss adoption, another time.)
But still I return to the idea: more than anyone else in modern society, infants and children in foster care need homes. They are truly the “least of these.” The statistics for those who age out without a family are horrifying.
Do you ever feel like God puts an idea in your head, and then keeps pointing you to it to make sure you don’t forget about it? Rarely have I felt as strongly like God was telling me to do something as I have with this. Ever since we first began talking about it, something related to foster care or adoption has come to my attention at least once a day, without me seeking it out. One of many examples: I pulled up one of my favorite blogs earlier this evening and this post was staring at me from the front page. Alright, I get it, God.
So, yeah. This is what has been going on with us. I’m a little scared of it. I’m not sure exactly where it will take us, or when. We may decide now isn’t the time. We may decide to wait until our biological kids are grown and then to foster/adopt older children or teenagers. Who knows? What I do know is that God’s heart is here. And it’s where mine is, too.
It’s the kind of thing you don’t like to admit in a mixed group for fear of offending someone. It sounds like gloating–like someone talking about how they can eat anything they want and not gain weight. But it’s true.
Jonah has been easy from the very beginning. I only threw up once during my pregnancy. Once I got past the first trimester I felt pretty energetic. My blood pressure unexpectedly went up at around 36 weeks, but even with preeclampsia I pretty much felt fine. Even though my labor had to be induced, it only lasted about 10 hours, and I had an amazingly positive experience. I only had to push for 45 minutes.
Jonah latched easily and nursed well from the beginning. None of us got much sleep for the first month or so, but after he started sleeping through the night at about six weeks I began to think maybe I could handle this parenting thing after all.
Jonah has turned into a real extrovert who is generally entertained whenever he’s around lots of people. He is happy at daycare during the day, happy with grandma on his days with her, and happy with us at home at night (unless he hasn’t napped–then not so much). In general, he has always been an unusually pleasant baby who seemed to not cry much and to be soothed easily when he did get upset.
As he’s become a toddler, these characteristics continue–so far. For the most part, he eats what we put in front of him. He goes to bed with a minimum amount of struggle. Even though we are starting to get into the tantrum stage, he is still remarkably sanguine most of the time. Being around Jonah is fun. (Notwithstanding the things that are just hard about toddler life.)
Though I think we were just lucky that Jonah was born a good-humored little guy, Jonathan and I have been very intentional about doing certain things in our parenting to help keep it this way. We plan our days around his sleep schedule. We don’t expect him to sit still and quiet for long periods of time in public–it’s not gonna happen anyway, and it would only end in tears for everyone involved. Jonah and I spend a lot of time outside. But I would not say that we have done anything extraordinary, or that we have some secret to share for raising a happy child that other parents don’t know.
It sounds awful to say that having an easy baby isn’t what I expected, but it’s true. I expected parenting to be harder than it’s been so far. You don’t hear a lot about easy babies–instead, you hear the horror stories, about babies with colic who cry for hours, about babies who refuse to sleep through the night well past 12 months old, etc. I’m not sure if this is because parents with difficult babies talk about it more as a way to commiserate, but I know that, so far, parenting has been easier than I was led to believe it would be.
While it’s good to be prepared for the difficulties that may lie ahead, I think all of the negative stories do a disservice to expectant parents. Expecting to not sleep and to not be able to go anywhere for months on end is not the best way to approach a major life change. If I could give any advice to moms-to-be, it would be this: There will certainly be hard moments, but consider the possibility that life with a baby may not be as hard as you fear.
When people meet Jonah they typically have one of two responses:
It’ll change when he turns 2.
Just wait till the next one!
In a way I know we are due, if things work like that. We’ll see on both counts!
Last week I discovered honeysuckle growing deep in our backyard. If you’re wondering how I could possibly be unaware of something growing in my own backyard, then you a) haven’t seen our yard, and b) probably have a very different attitude toward yard maintenance than Jonathan and I do. In our defense, our backyard is large, partially wooded and rather unkempt. I actually love it when I’m not stressing about what the neighbors think. It’s very private and quiet, and it feels like we are hiking in the woods rather than in the center of the city.
Jonah and I have been spending lots of time outside as the weather has gotten warmer, which led me to the honeysuckle discovery last week. I brought it up to Jonah’s nose to let him smell it, and showed him how to pull out the middle stem to eat the honey from inside. He was a fan and kept handing me blooms like the sweet boy he is.
When I was 16, I wrote my first ever piece of writing that was just for fun and not for any kind of school assignment. The essay was called “Honeysuckle,”and I posted it on the still-existing fanfiction.net (ha). I wish that I could find a copy. I remember that this piece was about May, about driving around my hometown in a big white truck with a boy I liked, about not knowing what would happen next but being young and full of possibilities and living in the present.
Most people have probably heard about how of all senses, smells have the most profound connection to memories and emotions. I have a deep, visceral reaction every time I smell honeysuckle. It takes me back, to school letting out and the feeling of a full summer ahead of me with few responsibilities, to watching my brother’s baseball games on summer evenings, to being allowed to go out at night with friends for the first time, to summertime community theatre musicals, to kissing in cars in out-of-the-way spots with high school boyfriends, to returning home to Jackson after my car accident, to high school graduation and the beginning of college. To my wedding.
Honeysuckle means home. It’s where I’ve been, and it’s where I’m going. Smelling it takes me back to the best moments of my childhood and young adulthood. Life is beautiful like that.
I was in a serious car accident 11 days after my 18th birthday in 2006. I suffered a brain injury, and had to spend six weeks in rehabilitation. I’m fine now.
I’ve been trying to figure out how to write about this for a while now, so I figured I would start with the facts.
On the one hand, my accident has absolutely nothing to do with my life now. It almost feels like it happened to another person. On the other hand, it has everything to do with my life now.
Because of my accident, a few things happened:
1) I got a brief taste of what it was like to live as somebody else.
2) It helped me be myself more fully, or it turned me into myself.
3) I decided that there was no way I could continue to live in the town where I had grown up. I had to get out, as soon as I could.
After my accident, I was unconscious and/or unresponsive in the hospital for 10 days. The doctors told my family that in addition to a broken collarbone, tailbone and pelvis, I had a moderate brain injury but that they couldn’t be sure of the damage until I woke up. When I did, the injury was downgraded to mild, but I still had to spend the next month in rehab (not the drug kind) to relearn some physical and mental skills.
In rehab in Atlanta, I met people with the saddest stories you could imagine. There was my roommate in the inpatient facility who had been a beautiful, popular college freshman until she was thrown from a car that her friend was driving. She had lost the ability to walk, eat on her own, or communicate except by grunts. There was another girl close to my age who had escaped Hurricane Katrina only to have a serious brain injury a few months later. There was a man who had been shot in the head and whose injury left him with aphasia, making him unable to speak.
This was my first encounter with people who were truly, truly different from me. Their injuries were much more serious than mine, and most of them had a long road ahead of them to–at best–a partial recovery. We didn’t really belong in the same facility–as in, I didn’t belong. It was here that I understood the true meaning of empathy for the first time: not really while it was happening, as I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to articulate this to myself at the time, but afterwards.
The accident also affected my personality in subtle ways. When I came back home after the accident, I acted older. More serious. Probably less fun. More patient, but less willing to waste time doing things that I didn’t enjoy. Less tolerant of large, loud crowds of people. Are these characteristics, most of which I have today, a result of the effects of the accident on my brain, a result of experiencing a trauma, a natural consequence of growing up, or a little of all three? I’m not sure, but I know that when I came back from the accident I was different. My best friends stayed in my life, but because I was not the same as before, I lost touch with the girls I had been friends with from school, because they were the same. And that’s okay.
Finally, my accident made me 100 percent certain that as soon as I could get out of my hometown, I was gone.
Jackson, Tennessee, though not really that small compared to many other small towns, is the kind of place where everyone pretty much knows everyone else. My father was a professor at a local college, a columnist in the local newspaper, and had been one of the pastors at our former church for a long time. My siblings and I had gone to multiple schools and participated in different community activities. So our family knew a lot of people in town.
After my accident, news spread quickly in the way that it only does in a small town. My dad wrote about it in one of his columns in the paper. All of our family friends showed up at the hospital, prayed, sent flowers and gifts, gave money, and were generally amazing. I’m thankful for the outpouring of support to this day.
But the result of so many people knowing about the accident is that my life came to be defined by it. Not by people who knew me personally, but by friends-of-friends and old classmates and acquaintances and random people in the grocery store. Because of my accident, I didn’t go away to college like I had planned. Instead I went to the local college, and this of course meant that it was even harder to get away from what had happened.
The first couple of years after my accident, people I didn’t know would routinely try to talk to me about it. Two memorable examples: While waiting for my food in my college dining hall, an elementary school acquaintance asked me if I had any “effects” (as in mentally) from the accident. A few months later, a woman I had never met before messaged me on Facebook and asked me to reach out to a family at her church whose daughter had just been in a car accident.
What I know is that people’s response to my accident show some of the best things about living in a town where everyone knows everyone else. In a small town, you are known. You are cared for. But what I also know is that because of the accident, I needed to live someplace where I could choose to be anonymous. Let’s be real–I was always moving away from Jackson. I had always wanted to live somewhere bigger and with more things to do. But the accident gave me a very important reason to want to get out.
I was back in Jackson last year for two weddings. One stranger at each of these weddings brought up the accident to me. “Weren’t you the girl..?” Remember that this is ten years after it happened. Yes, I said, and smiled.
So this is the story. I don’t talk about it much. I doubt most people who know me now have ever heard me mention it, and you probably won’t. It’s not that important, but in a way, it is.
I have a scar from the accident on my left temple, where broken glass had to be removed. Though I always cover the scar up with makeup, in a weird way I’m proud of it, too. It shows where I’ve been. I earned it.