Fears are educated into us, and can, if we wish, be educated out

The title was a quote I found relevant to my current framework of viewing the world. When did I become a fearful person letting fears dictate the very fiber of that which is Alexis Zoe? When did I stop venturing out in the world and doing things that make my heart flutter with happiness and my soul long for more? When did I lose my confidence in the very nature of my being? These questions rush through my mind as I attempt to comprehend why I have become suffocated by fear. Late nights like this lead me to asking myself and questioning why the fear has arrived into my life and how I could possibly stop it. I have created a barrier so large that is holding me back from becoming what I would ultimately like to become. When I look at the wall I have placed in front of my body I see something that looks as though it could not be destroyed by even the heaviest machinery. Deep breaths. I can tackle this fear. I can begin to relive life and rebuild a foundation that was once unshakable. I am the master of my life and I am the only one with power strong enough to destroy this wall I have placed in front of me. 

When I stare at my computer screen attempting to do work these late nights I remember the nights I spent all night soaking as much knowledge I could fit into this cranium. The pleasure and passion I had for literature and learning had filled my heart with something so powerful. My confidence in my intelligence these days has wavered. Oh dear what am I saying, my confidence in most everything has shifted about two steps back. When my mom got sick I promised myself I would not change. I would be the strong girl I always was, working, not letting things worry me. I didn't care much about the bad relationships, the working 40+ hours, the hard work in school, and the attempt to still lead a normal young life. I was passionate. I was certain that all of my work and all of the suffering I spent during these years would pay off in the end. I would become a better person. When I think of the re framing of my life after the death of a parent I realize my life has forever shifted in a way that need not be negative. 

I'm honestly breaking down writing this. Some nights I wish the tears would cease to come and that the thoughts of my mother would turn into happy ones. I just envision her death in my mind, as if it keeps hitting rewind and replaying in my mind. Yesterday I read something that gave me hope in my future. It gave me hope for helping others that have had to deal with the trauma I have had to face. When women lost a husband after the initial trauma and a few years of recovering from death they found humor in the situation. They began to remember the happy moments, and even complain about things that annoyed them about their husbands while alive laughing together. Instead of being hurt and pained by the loss of their loved ones, they cherished the memories that they had with that person. I look forward to the days that I can cherish my mother, and get these images out of my mind. 

I don't want pain and fear to run my life. I want to break free of those chains and grow stronger. I know what I enjoy and what I need to do to make myself happy and I intend on doing just that. I need to do it not just for myself, but for the people I love. I have finally met someone that I feel comfortable with and that I can see a future with. Our future gives me hope in these pleasant memories of my mother, and the opportunity to build new ones that I can cherish. The thought of losing another person I love makes me sick to my stomach, and this fear has completely taken over my life. I have changed and altered, but I don't want to be this way anymore. The fear will cause loss, not help prevent it and I need to begin to accept that idea. 

There is happiness after the sadness. There is hope even during the hopeless bleak moments. There is courage after fear. I'm slowly chizzling away at this wall in front of me with the intention of breaking free so that I can be free to do what I want. I want to be a better girlfriend, sister, daughter, and aunt. I want to wash away the sadness and tears that I waste so many precious moments of life allowing to overtake me. I'm ready to live my life again and it may not happen overnight, but I know each day I spend with the love of my life and living my dreams I get closer and closer to achieving it. Growing up quickly has been a blessing in disguise, because I feel as though I am more prepared for life then I would be. I have so much to be happy about and I'm ready to start actually recognizing that and being happy about things. Tomorrow will be a new beginning and I have the control to change this. Good riddance fear, I'm ready to start being Lexy again :D. I'm ready to play games, enjoy my school work, take nice long runs, do arts and crafts, and cherish the moments I'm alive and well. I have my boyfriend, brother, and dad to thank for always supporting me even during my emotional roller coasters. 

<3 

Alexis Zoe

Reasons why I love Nebraska

Before I moved to Nebraska I had preconceived ideas of how the state would actually be. I envisioned a desolate place with people who spoke as though they were poorly educated. Overalls, cowboy hats, and of course a piece of wheat sticking out of their mouths. Any city girl assumes places that are not highly populated like Chicago are nothing but desolate farm lands, especially a state such as Nebraska. After living here officially for one year I can say that Nebraska is a place I have enjoyed calling home. When I got to Lincoln I fell in love with the small town feel, cobblestone downtown, and limited amount of traffic. People here do not honk at you if you fail to go exactly at the green light, they smile, and actually ask how you are doing. People here seem happier than my big city, but that does not mean that I don't miss my home. Everyday I miss Chicago, but I have moved to a place much more slow paced and overall just better quality of life. Not to mention everything is 5 times cheaper than in Chicago.

When I was outside swimming briefly and tanning I realized just how much I've enjoyed my time in Nebraska. A child asked me if I was swimming and if I'd like to go. I was about ready to go back to my apartment, when it struck me just how polite and friendly people are. Not once in Chicago (unless I was related) has a child actually spoke to a stranger. It's just something we socialize children not to do in the city. I felt happy that he had asked me, but also I felt as though there is this aura of trust people have for one another in Nebraska. I realize how my socialization and lived experiences have taught me not to trust, and be weary of all people. There is an innocence almost about this town that I failed to see in Chicago.

Nebraska is a place of beauty. Sure it's the flat lands. Sure most of Nebraska is comprised of farms, but it is a place that has it's own beauty. I enjoy nature more than I do skyscrapers. Whenever I felt inspired it was typically in a small town or out somewhere away from all the buildings. It is clean and beautiful here. Being outside in Nebraska actually makes me feel as though my body has been cleansed and restored. I had always imagined myself to be more of a small town girl, but it wasn't until I surrounded myself in it that I realized how much happier I have been in a city like this.

Last night my boyfriend and I were watching an anime called Escaflowne that I absolutely adore when the girl said if you believe it, it will come true. Today, Brandon said you create the stress in your life. I have been overly stressing and I realize how obnoxious and silly it has been. Taking a day to do something I love and just spend time with myself made me realize that the stress has been created and manipulated by myself. I do acknowledge that I have reasons to be stressed from the passing of my mother, to the financial issues. However, many of these things have been beyond my control and I just have to believe that things are getting better. I am in love and living with my best friend in the entire world. I have never felt so stable or sure of anyone in my entire life and that is something to be grateful for. I do have mistrust, and I fear the worst based on lived experiences, but he is the reason I have overcome some of those. He is the reason that I don't feel compelled to push myself beyond limits when working out, and I'm starting to see myself more and more as beautiful and not this hideous beast I've made myself out to be in the past. Nebraska is accepting of all walks of people, and for once I feel pretty going out with no make up, in my comic book shirts, and being my overweight self. I do believe in health and working out, but I have not been running 5-8 miles a day like I once did. Overall, I feel better.

I have failed to acknowledge and accept that things in life are never certain. My mothers death taught me fundamental pieces of who I am, but even though her death was sudden and uncertain to us I still have not accepted that we can't predict the future. We are not capable of protecting ourselves from anything in life so why worry? Why attempt to predict things we are unable to predict? I'm still working on being the Lexy that was the most positive, but I'm slowly getting there. I am done letting the past define my future. I'm ready to move on and see how the future treats me. There are always going to be good and bad days in life, but what's important is getting to where you want to be in the end. I don't know where I'd be if I hadn't met my best friend, but I am so grateful to have him in my life. Thank you Brandon for getting me through this past year and always supporting me even in my dark moments. Thanks to my brother and dad for always believing in me, even when I failed to believe in myself. Thanks to my best friends who have put up with so much from me, but have always remained my friends for these long years. I love you all and most of all I love you Nebraska!

<3 always
Alexis Zoe

With great power comes great responsibility

This phrase says it all. A single phrase with so much potential to explain such a complex life that I lead. Forgive my writing for over the past couple of years it has slowly deteriorated to something I hardly recognize anymore. Most of my life I spent using my writing as a way to vent the feelings, emotions, and thoughts I was unable to explain. The complexities of my mind perplexed me in a way I deemed incongruousness with most of peoples thought processes. My mind was indeed that which could not be properly picked apart by anyone, not even myself. I find that we are often astonished and perplexed by our own minds. The academy gave me a place to ask some of the questions that had troubled me so. My mind was at least able to question like I once had as a child. What is the purpose of life? Why do we always attempt to change the bad into good, why not allow the bad to expel? Most importantly, why on earth are we incapable of communicating and getting along with one another on a daily basis? I found my answer in a text book, but I have the experiences to back up the research. We humans are unable to communicate properly with one another, because it is the misunderstandings that drive us to communicate in the first place. We must and will not accept not being heard by others.

My question to myself is what happened to this thirst for knowledge? What happened to the inability to motivate myself to write? What has come of me. The complex creature that once aimed to emancipate the earth of troubles and worry has transformed into the worrisome, fearful, and passive tiny girl in the room. Afraid to take the next step. Afraid to speak her mind, cowering in her own mind and frameworks altering, shifting, changing. It's amazing one a single year can do to transform a person. It is simply incredible seeing a girl who was so sure of herself shift into something that is unable to make out anymore. I am not the same Alexis I was last year. I am not the hopelessly optimist dreamer. I am not the fighter, healer, helper, or girl who just wants to ensure that everyone is okay. Why? I am not okay. I have lost a fundamental piece of my heart and it has in fact influenced my mind, writing, and abilities.

This past year I have not baked cookies on holidays and distributed them to people that I love and care for. I have become a bit more selfish than I once was. I no longer volunteer, take days to do things I enjoy. These days I spend my time online or in my office. I rarely allow myself time to do what I enjoy and feel happy about. I have made excuses for gaining my weight back and skipping days of running and eating healthy. "Oh I'll do it tomorrow", "oh I just want a break", "I'll cheat this one day" has become a constant part of my vocabulary. I worked so hard to lose the weight I had and I slowly allow it to creep back on me. If this was past Lexy it would have troubled me so much I would have done something about it, but now I allow it to continue. Motivation is troublesome for me, but I refuse to not get my work done. I continue to press on, but I know I am capable of much more work. I remember that research and writing is not always meant to enlighten and be full of hope, but it is meant to break your heart. My trauma can teach others, and I need to constantly remind myself of that. I am now a mentor for a countless amount of people, and my mom would want me to be. Some days I feel like screaming and pounding against walls. Why me? I tried so hard mom. I worked so hard to make you proud, to lead a good life, to be an example only to lose all I had. Only to find myself at square one back in miserable hell again. Why me? Why did I not only lose my mother, and the powerhouse female figure in my life, but I have lost my best friend my father. I rarely hear from my father anymore, and I have no one to get a coffee with. The days of long complex conversations in Starbucks having Barista begin to contribute is over. Do I view this as an ending? Or do I view this as a renewal to my new life. To the life I am starting again, to the rebuilding of my heart and the fibers of my being. To transform back slowly to the girl who didn't have excuses. To the girl who strive for greatness to not only impress her friends and family, but show the world what can be done regardless of age, class, and gender.

The best gift one can give themselves is accepting that things change, you change, and life is not predictable. To truly live a good and happy life you have to view everything as a new beginning, another chapter in the story. The story doesn't end until you are no longer here to keep writing the story. You leave behind your story for those who live to tell it. I will never stop telling the story of my mother, but that doesn't mean that my own story isn't influenced by it. I want to be the Lexy I once was and show my mother that her story is not forgotten. Her support, love, and soul will never leave my heart and will forever stay with me. I want to workout, I enjoy the pain in a weird sick way. I enjoy being healthy and fit, and I need to stop making excuses. Writing is my passion in life. I have spent most of my life writing, reading, and engaging in knowledge and this is not a time to give up on that which I love. Adventure still is in my blood and my thirst for it is endless. I know what I must do to be happy, and I'm on the right track.

I'm with someone that I love and for once in my life feel safe with and trust. I hold back because of the fear, anger, and pain. This is another issue in my complex mind and it needs to stop. I am happy, and I'm taking each day as it is. The time of excuses needs to stop and I'm beginning to realize this after feeling blinded for most of the year. I'm finally learning and growing as a person again, and though I feel as though I should feel guilt because my mom isn't here to see it. I can't. I can't throw my young life away and I'm ready to start living again. Spiderman has taught me a lot about life, but in order to have power or keep doing what I am I need to take on the responsibility of it. I am fully capable and have come too far in life to step down and discontinue all that I have already achieved. Life is what you make of it, and to me life is too precious to throw away.

I swear blogs will be more frequent then they have been, even if I feel as though my writing abilities are not quite up to par. This blog wasn't intended for an audience it was meant to be a place for self betterment and I'm ready to continue living and growing. Don't keep the past in your mind. Don't stress over the future, because if you're too worried about what has already happened and what might happen you can't focus on what's right in front of you. The present is what makes the future and what helps you move on from the past.

The trees are filled with memories

Of the feelings never told. It has been a while since I last blogged, and there are many reasons behind that. Lately I have been experiencing a slew of emotions that I can't quite comprehend. At one point in my life I was filled with a burst of happiness. A happiness that glowed so brightly the entire world could see it shining through. Overall, I believe that for those two years I was the best person I had ever been. I was finally being healthy, taking care of myself, and of course stimulating myself mentally. There was a pact that I had with myself to do all of the things that I loved and cherished the most. This included taking long bicycle rides on good ol' Shamrock, going out and exploring, and dreaming everything in vintage. I absolutely adored looking and dressing adorable everyday. I feel as though I need to sell or donate most of what I have and just start over. Just allocate a certain amount of my funds and spend a lexy day. A day to just revive the once glowing happy girl that I knew.

I believe that we all craft our lives the way in which we see fit. We can find beauty and choose to do what we adore. My biggest problem is I am constantly attempting to please others, that I forget what makes me the happiest. This causes my heart grief and I have realized I need to begin to stop being selfless and be selfish at times. I miss getting coffee and sitting all day reading articles and dabbling in knowledge. These days I feel exhausted for a reason, I am going through many emotions most of which continue to drag down my fragile little heart. 

This summer I believe that I need to make a list of all I would like to accomplish. One of the main things I hope to achieve is getting ahead of the game rather than falling behind. It is so easy in life to allow yourself to fall behind and then later blame the work or struggles with completing tasks on the tasks themselves. When we do this we are actually avoiding doing the work and making it even more challenging to get ahead. I intend on going back to enjoying my work and embracing that sense of accomplishment that I have from working hard. I also want to explore and discover more of Nebraska. Maybe even take a weekend trip with my wonderful boyfriend to Colorado and just enjoy being alive. Sometimes it takes little trips or little things to be reminded how beautiful the world truly is. 

A final thing that has slipped in the present is my writing. I can see the slow decline in my writing abilities as I continue to put off writing for my enjoyment and updating my blogs frequently. This is again much like putting off work, I have allowed the things I once enjoyed so to become chores. It seems as though everything has become a chore to me these days and it has pushed me over the edge. My mother would not want me to live my life this way and I do no intend to fall back into the state I once was in, when I was in high school. I am making a newfound pact from here on out that I must continue to progress in my life and search for that happiness I once achieved. Life is a learning process and we aren't always going to be comfortable or happy with our lives. What is important is to remember the times you were at your best and work to get back there. Do things that are enjoyable because life is short. 

<3 Alexis Zoe

The day a part of me died

The crisp blue lake glistening in the sunlight. People were out at the dog park walking dogs, the city was full of happiness. I stared out the enormous windows of Northwestern Memorial Hospital secretly hating the people below. They were all going about their lives, enjoying the beautiful day as my mom lay suffering and dying. They all smiled as I felt my heart being torn apart by arch nemesis, cancer. I could never understand why my mother feared her disease so, until I saw her during her final days. It wasn't until I had to hear her shout in pain for me to help her, until I watched her cry in pain and embarrassment, until I had to watch her unable to speak anymore. I had wished and hoped I could hear her yell my name again in pain. Was that selfish? According to one of my old co-workers I was being selfish wanting to keep her alive in pain, but why would I want to willingly let her die?

So I stared out the window, hating. Wishing somehow this was just one of my elaborate nightmares again. Trying to convince myself that this wasn't the end of the road for mom. That I was in some sick twisted Silent Hill game and I was going to get out of the town. I had to continue to hold back the tears around my mother and needed to get out of that room for a minute. I couldn't bare watching my mom suffering anymore, she had already suffered five years. Being out of the room wasn't much better. I felt guilty leaving her, but I just could not take it anymore. I hadn't slept much that entire half of the year. I worked 2 jobs (one of which was physical labor overnight) and was a full time master student. I was attempting to write and be productive while attempting to convince myself my mom's brain cancer was just a little set back. When she cried about being ugly having a port in her head and being bald again I told her she was beautiful. She knew she wasn't to others though, when you love someone they could never be ugly to you. My friends were a little put back when they saw my mom after her brain surgery and it was then I realized I was living a life that most people can't fathom. 

So the guilt continued as I stared out the window, crying, shivering, wishing I was less helpless. Wishing my entire life wasn't full of such helplessness. Maybe I wasn't the strong optimist I built myself up to be. Maybe just maybe I was convincing myself of something to keep me from turning insane over the years. As I entered again to see my mom lying there I felt pain trickling through me. This was reality I couldn't run and pretend anymore. I couldn't give myself hope, because there was no hope left. The pain did not just revolve around my own pain, but I also felt tremendous pain for my dad who would now have to be a widow. The most pain I felt was for my brother. I promised my mom before she died by her bedside that I would care for him. That I would look after him and call him like my mom died, but how could I live up to her? How could I ever give him the love of his mother? I couldn't. I was leaving for Nebraska. I always claimed to be selfless and in the biggest time of distress for my family I was being selfish and leaving. I made my mom cry in fear of me leaving and her losing her "best nurse". The guilt and pain was eating away at my insides. 

Those people down there, out those windows. I wondered if they knew the pain I knew. I wondered if they even knew what was important in life. So many people care so much about themselves. Was I one of those people? Would I ever recover from this? During the final prayer the Rabbi gave my mother took her final breath. She squeezed my brothers hand and looked at him one last time as I held her other hand. My mom said goodbye to us, but she didn't know how to. She asked people before she died how to say goodbye, not how will it feel to die. My mom was the most incredible woman I had ever met. She made everyone laugh and happy all the time. We were her life and she never wanted us to leave when most parent's can't wait to get the kids out of the house. 

On her last breath I fell. I was not able to hold my own body up anymore I just collapsed on her and held her. Her body grew cold and I didn't ever want to let go. The Rabbi went to get someone, but I didn't want him to get anyone. I just wanted to hold her. I just wanted to tell her I loved her as many times as I could. I did not want to accept she was gone. When we had to actually leave the hospital I almost didn't want to. She was still here we had to take her home. Her friends from the hospital came in and said they were sorry and how much of an impact she had on them. The doorman cried for my mother, a woman he had gotten to know over the past five years. So many people had loved her. As we walked downstairs and got outside we felt what a beautiful day it was. Chicago had been gloomy and horrid the past few days. We had gotten outside after being trapped in a hospital for 3 days on a cancer ward full of dying, suffering people. We had not bathed or eaten, but when we got outside we took in the fresh air. It was beautiful on the day my mom died and I like to think that was because g-d was happy to have her come to him. We felt as though we were in some sick dream walking to the car. My body felt lifeless as I trudged down the block to the parking garage. I don't even remember getting home or what we did that day. 

Her wake, funeral, the rest was all a giant blur. The psychologist told us that in order to know she was dead in our minds we had to see the burial. We had to understand that she was dead, and that we would be delusional and have trouble remembering. Delusional? Confused? I thought I heard my moms voice when she died. I waited for her to call me. I listened to voicemails to pretend that she was still here. I was delusional, but could you play me? I remember being asked when I'd go back to work, when I wanted to go out for a drink, when I was going to finish my thesis. All things that did not seem important to me anymore. All things I wanted to to get away from. I chose to go to Nebraska and my friend there gave me the best time I could have had after my mom's death. It helped me forget for a second the pain. The torture I had just witnessed, and even though I was able to be there with my mom I'm not sure it was healthy for me to see so much suffering. My mom had seen the same suffering, but in her 40's. She had us, a husband, stability, a life. I was 22, had no children to keep me occupied, no husband let alone boyfriend, and no stability.  

How could I get married without having my mom by my side? I asked my sister to help me plan my wedding someday, because my mom wouldn't be there. She agreed and hugged me. I remembered how my mom had asked her friends if she should buy me something for my baby shower someday, because she wouldn't be there. We all told her not to talk like that, and with my sisters baby shower I felt pain. I was so happy for my sister and seeing all the people there. I even got to play an important role of taking notes on who got her what, but I couldn't help but wish that my mom could be at my shower someday. Who would be the happiest person to see my baby now? No one, my mom would have been the greatest grandmother in the entire world. I am expected to move on with my life, but all those pivotal times in a girls life where mom is meant to play a major role she won't be there. I will be alone. 

Alone. Always alone. Now more alone then ever without her. Without her constant reminders on how beautiful I am. Without her telling me what an incredible writer/actress I was. I have lost motivation to write blogs recently, and write for myself. My expression is shown through writing. It is how I cope with all of life's situations and make sense of my overactive brain activity. It was my pleasure in life, and when my mom died I realized no one would read my blogs. No one would talk about specific sections that they enjoyed. Why write? Why express myself when no one wanted to hear my expression? Why attempt to make sense of the bad, when I learned that often you can't make sense of it? There is no hope in some situations, no matter what you do. Death is inevitable we can all be certain that we will experience it someday, but why me why now? I had already had a difficult life, losing our house we grew up in, having to work so much, struggling to write about the very disease which was now killing my mother. How was I going to live a full life and be happy now?

Mom, I can't write anymore about my feelings or myself I want to write to you again. My heart is broken, and people will never understand my pain. Losing you was the hardest thing in my life, and I know you don't think that I would miss you but I do. Everyday I miss you in some way. Some days are better than others, but there are times I just wish I could call you so you could make me smile again. When I have stress there isn't anyone there to help me like you did. No one cares as much as you did period. You taught me how to be selfless. You didn't have to suffer and fight like you did, but I know you did it so spare us this pain for a few years if you could. How did you do it mom? How were you so strong? I could never be as strong as you and you said you weren't sure what was worse, having to be the living who lives without the dead, or having to be dead. Mom, living is worse. We have to live everyday without your constant support and comfort. We have to accept we will never hug you again or kiss you. We have to re-live this pain every year on april 4th knowing that was the day you left us. Mom I love you I just want to break down in your arms right now, but I have to break down alone. I have to write this blog hoping that maybe you are reading it somewhere. That my writing has more purpose than just me venting to myself about you. I love you mom, and I miss you everyday. Rest in peace :(

You know I dreamed about you for 29 years before I saw you

I missed you for 29 years.

It's been practically 29 years since I last felt compelled to write anything. To be honest, I feel as though I have lost my writing capabilities. I once was able to move and create such hope in my blogs, but lately I'm afraid I have lost my motivation and inspiration for personal reflection. Most of my time now is spent inside my head, rather than feeling a need to externalize. The externalization process looks much like tears dripping endlessly, a broken faucet beyond repair. Perhaps I am beyond repair.

When I was about 13 years old I decided that my life would be committed to helping others feel better. It began when I went online to search for those who felt alone, lost, and as helpless as I did during my years of adolescence. In an attempt to convince myself that many had to deal with the issues that I was and that I was not alone I began to move into inspiration and stories of hope. I actually convinced myself that the bad was a positive thing, when in reality the bad is not always a positive thing. When I felt sorry for any bad in my life I began to write, motivate, and teach people how amazing the darkness actually was. I began to embrace it and my life became just that, dark. Much like the tunnel in Silent Hill 4 I was surrounded by darkness and at the very end was a glimmer of light which represented by hope.

Hope, the term is used in a variety of contexts typically encircled by some sort of traumatic or horrid event. At times hope can represent just that, we have high hopes for the future, for the unknown. We want to believe that our identities are embedded in this notion of hope. Hope, however is a falsified and does not project reality. It is a way of coping with reality, accepting that there is nothing you can do to combat the negative. The only thing that you are capable of is thinking about the way you wish things would be. Some things are irreversible. My mother's death is irreversible, and that was when I began accepting that there is no hope, and that hope can not make things better.

What can make things better then? If hope is just this false concept that instills fake projections of our future what can replace it to make things better? My answer to this is reality. Reality may seem bleak and sad, but it's what is actually happening. It is the truth. The sooner you accept the truth and reality for it is the sooner you can move on and accept that things are happening the way they are. The sooner you can find ways to making you happy instead of holding onto something that will most likely never happen. My mom was a realist and I lived in the clouds. I could never understand why she seemed so negative and not hopeful, but now that she is gone I have begun to see that we can create a place that builds our hopes up so much, that when things do hit the fan the fall is greater. I have fallen from a pedestal higher than the heavens back down to Earth and I am learning that reality isn't so bad. Being upset, or accepting that you have been dealt a bad hand is not something that should be frowned down upon, because it is real.

Life is not always going to be perfect. People will upset you and do things to hurt you. You will be disappointed at least once a week in something that you find distasteful. There are no guarantees or happy endings unless you go out there and you make a happy ending for yourself. There will be bumps in the road and you may feel as though you will never get there, but those are a normal part of becoming who you are meant to be. Hope doesn't have to drive your motivation to get there, but the sheer fact that you desire this happiness for yourself. That is how you will get there. I'm working on getting there after my large fall. I was living on a cloud where I viewed everything as beautiful and simple, but things are not this way. Living is hard and we are truly amazing creatures for surviving so well and finding joy in so many things.



Sincerely,
Alexis Zoe

The world of a life-long student

I don't know whether watching endless amounts of the notebook clips to sappy love songs has compelled me to write this blog at 1:23 A.M. when I have to be up by 6 A.M. to teach tomorrow, or if it is the vast amount of work that has led me to pure insanity which has ultimately led me to use my writing as my venting tool. All I know is it's fall and I am happy.These days I seem to rely on people rather than my own self reflection to heal though I suppose this is part of the natural grieving process. Perhaps years of relying solely on my writing to cure my internal pains and troubles has led me to melt down weekly. At times I wonder if I am being abnormal, but then I remember what my two sessions with a therapist were like. As I entered the room I found myself analyzing her.

"The whole purpose of seeing someone is so that you can vent. Do not analyze yourself Alexis. Quit. It." I found my mind battling with itself to sit still and be quiet for once in it's overactive life.

The therapist sat analyzing what I communicated to her. This was all too familiar to me, the process of analysis.

"You are extremely hard on yourself. Do you realize that most people who have went through all you have would not be getting out of bed right now? You continue to survive you are the true definition of what that means. You have spent the last year of your life working two jobs, going full time for your M.A., writing a thesis, and watching your mom pass away in pain. You are a survivor." The therapist said encouraging me.

Like I hadn't gotten the comment too hard on yourself. As if I had no idea the struggles I faced, yet I failed to see how most people would fall down and not get back up. I simply refuse to ever be knocked down, but some days I feel knocked down. My mother was my everything. I suppose I stopped writing blogs because my mother was my main target audience. Every blog I wrote she'd smile and tell me what a wonderful writer I was. My mother saying this spoke volumes, because she was my greatest critic. What perhaps makes my experience that much more difficult is my interest area in research. I find that I have become one of the participants in the countless studies I have read. I have become a part of the patterns, and though I attempt to refuse my new identity role I can't escape it.

I will never have my mother at my wedding, thus my wedding has become meaningless to me. I fit typical gender roles as a child, always dreaming of prince charming. At seven I was convinced I would someday marry my hot, blonde, neighbor who's sisters babysat us. When he'd come over I'd put on my best dress up cloths, plastic high heels, and beg my mother to permit me to wear make up. Needless to say I was a knock out to this much older and mature male who I deemed my future husband. As I grew up I found myself searching consistently for prince charming only to be left heartbroken, abandoned, and dealing with my mother's death alone. My aspirations for prince charming diminished with failed relationships, reading journal articles, and coming to understand that there was no such thing as prince charming. That love songs and movies were fantasies to feed the mind with false hope.

The more I think about love, life, loss, and happiness I find that it is ultimately up to you to define these things to what you hold true. I may never have prince charming, but that isn't what is important. What do I desire? I believe that death of someone so amazing and dear to my heart has taught me what I really do want out of life. I want my own personal success, but I also want someone who is just as proud of me as my mother was. No one will ever love me or think as highly of me as my own mother, but I know that out there someone will be proud of me. Watching the notebook clips made me come to a new realization. I don't want extravagant. I don't want to be spoiled. I want someone to enjoy the simple things in life with. I want to watch sunsets, go to pumpkin patches, take long drives, have little flowers picked from outside laying on my bed in the morning after a night of cuddling and conversing about life, and I want to feel happy just doing whatever. It isn't about what you have, it is about who you have. I was blessed enough to have someone who loved me with everything they were for 22 years of my life. I still have several people alive who care about me and who consistently sacrifice for me. My dad works his butt off to show us that he will provide and do anything he can. I have a brother who is the strongest kid I know who reminds me so much of my mom's kind heart. I have the love of so many people and for that I'm eternally grateful.

Life isn't intended to be perfect. We are imperfect and we all must suffer turmoil at some point in our lives. I just want to remind everyone of my love for them and that you don't have to have a picture perfect life for it to be wonderful. I live with a smile on my face and constantly fighting past the struggles, because that is what my mom would do and did. She fought a battle for 5 years, hardly ever complaining with courage and I hope to model her so that I can keep her memory alive and let the world see what a tremendous mentor and best friend I had. With tears in my eyes I finish this blog and hope to remind you all to take a moment to step back and take a deep breath of fresh air and remember how beautiful the simple things are.

<3
Alexis Zoe