I am someone who has never posted a blog before now.
I am regretful this is my first blog post because I believe that blogging (even the word makes me cringe a little) sooner, would have opened up the small chance to for me to connect with other girls who needed advice, who needed comfort, who needed someone cheering them on.
I am blogging now, because a few years later, I still want to share my story. And I want to be there for these girls, and any body else now.
I am spontaneous and sporadic, so I assume my posts will be as well.
I am adventurous, I am driven, I am always challenging myself to strive for more, and I am constantly trying to be paitent and gentle to myself as I fall short time and time again.
I am American. But it means more to say I am from Utah. It means even more, if you know Utah, to say I am from Salt Lake City, Utah, because it is the coolest and closest to normal area in my absolutely beautiful and wonderful home state of several crazy conservatives and mind blowing natural landscapes.
I am always trying to put away a bit of my earnings for the next plane ticket to somewhere I have never been.
I am a birthmom. But this is not all my story is. I am a daughter, a sister, a lover, a friend, a graduate, a traveler, a climber, a skier, a ceramicist, a reader, an observer, an environmentalist, a person who actively works at being happy everyday, regardless of my many blessings.
My life has been marked by my experience as a birthmom in the beautiful story of an adoption. It seems like a rare thing to be able to pick one event in life that rapidly transformed the person you are at a young age. And yet. Really I always stayed the same. This enormous trial took the life I had away from me. For nine months, I watched my peers live that life from a distance, a long distance. And even though I felt my life had been robbed from me (yes from my own choices, but still, robbed!) somehow I was living and seeing and loving more than I ever had before.
Today, I am living in New Zealand. Chasing dreams, getting doors slammed in my face in the form of unreturned emails and phone calls, and living pay check to pay check. But, I get to wake up to beautiful sunrises over Lake Wakatipu from my bedroom window on Queenstown Hill. I get to laugh everyday with the person I love most in the world, and we spend our days off exploring the mountains and climbing crags, because we can’t really afford much else right now.
I am a person, and I have a story. Just like you. Everyone has a story. We add to it everyday. And yet for some reason, so many of us are afraid to tell our stories to others. We fear that we don’t have any reason, any right to. We fear we may be judged, or laughed at, or told we are wrong. We fear we may say too much. That fear constantly smothers our chances of sharing our wisdom with others who may need it. We all have different lives, encounter different people, travel to different places, and battle different trials. We all have learned different lessons that we can share with eachother. I do not share my story now as much as I used to. My flat mates, work mates, newer friends, most of them do not know where I really came from. What I really know about life the way I have lived it… What I know about pushing something of enormous size weighing almost 7lbs out of a vagina. (Not to mention the consequential fear of queefing in every yoga class you enter for the rest of your life) So I am here to share it. I am sharing my thoughts, my stories, my encounters, my opions, my pieces of my soul on this crappy free blog website and yes. Maybe no one will ever see this post. Maybe no one will ever see any of my posts. But I do feel better knowing that it is out there… amongst a bizillion other lame ego-centric blog posts. And because its out there. It has the smallest ability to maybe touch someone in some small way.
For now, Thats as much as you need to know about who I am.