in the midst of metamorphosis

Trust. This one word stirs up a whirlwind of emotions within me. What is trust, really? I know the definition but what does it mean to me? I was part of a trust experiment a few years ago in which we were supposed to tell others, “I trust you with my cat. I trust you with my wallet. I trust you with my spouse.” I couldn’t do it. I walked out rather than say those words. It would have been a lie, would have been fake. I refuse to be less than my truth, so my defense mechanism is to just walk  run away. (I am working on that. slowly.) On my way out the door though, I realized just how deep my roots of distrust run. I mean, I love our cat but he is a real jerk and I still  couldn’t trust another to care for him! I have trust issues. I admit that. We, as a society, seem to throw that phrase around as our get out of jail free card.  Can you trust me? No, I have trust issues. We justify our lack of trust by pointing out who and when and how our trust has been betrayed an...

*October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month I could rummage through the memories, pinpointing exact moments, specific events or words, that, undoubtedly, led this younger me to fall prey to an abusive man.  ...and I have. I could lay blame at the feet of circumstances or people in my life, shrugging off the cover of responsibility, and live under the banner of victim. ...and I have. I could absolve it all, each contributor to the broken me, and allow guilt and condemnation to weigh me down, into darkness, where I justify him, where I excuse him, and live under the banner of unworthy. ...and I have. I have, at one time or another, processed through all of these, trying desperately to find answers, to find reasons, to find healing. And, I just can't. Not anymore. It happened. There may be a hundred reasons. There may only be one. But, life happens. I'm tired of putting my newfound freedom on hold while I travel back in time to fix what can...

Over two years ago, I wrote a post honoring my grandma F., who left this life 20+ years ago. You can read it  here to understand the picture of my latest tattoo. This is an update to that original post. You know how the little things are always appreciated more later in life? That is how I feel about relationships. I had so many in my earlier years, before I really knew what they meant, what those people meant, and now I can only wonder. Wonder if they understood that I was young, that I hadn't lived completely yet, that I couldn't wholly grasp the importance of life and love and what it meant to embrace fully those by my side. My grandma is one of those that I wish that I could spend time with again, time spent looking at her with these new eyes, listening with these wiser ears, talking with her about life from this place that I dwell in now. Growing up, I never, ever felt any judgment or condemnation from her, even though I was living a life outside of her understanding...

The area reverberated with gunshots. Shell casings littered the floor. In the far corner, I felt trapped. Too many people lined the narrow room, preventing my escape. I wanted out. I needed out. I couldn't breathe. Uncontrollable fear was pushing its way to the surface. The room was cold. I was sweating. Tears were threatening to fall but I knew that that would be the action that would cause the dam to break. The tiny shred of control that I had would then be lost and chaos would ensue. I knew what was happening. I knew that I was in the grip of a panic attack. I just didn't know why. and at that moment, I didn't care why. I knew that I had to restrain these feelings, compose myself. Long minutes passed by while the rest of my class continued with their target practice. By the time my turn came, I was collected enough to shoot again. I had elected to participate in this gun safety course. I own a gun. I had shot guns before. So, why was this happening now? A...

This will be a series of posts in which I honor people who have made an impact in my life, both in my past and in my present. I am blessed to still have some of these people in my life; others have left this life for their next one; and still others are no longer a part of my close circle, yet still made a difference to me. I want to share them with you. I want to honor them. I want them to know how much I love and respect them. The second one is dedicated to my first spiritual mentor, Kathy O. She is the most dynamic person that I have ever met. She just oozes Love through every one of her pores. And it isn't anything about what she does, it is who she is . I am convinced that even during the lowest times in her life, that she still exudes Love in every way. Her love for all others was beautiful to observe as she walked with me through life as a newlywed and as a new mom, all while walking through these same areas herself. She stretched me to want more, to de...

This will be a series of posts in which I honor people who have made an impact in my life, both in my past and in my present. I am blessed to still have some of these people in my life; others have left this life for their next one; others are no longer a part of my close circle, yet still made a difference to me. I want to share them with you. I want to honor them. I want them to know how much I love and respect them. The first one is dedicated to my childhood babysitter, Pat B. Growing up, both of my parents worked. This meant that my sister and I went to a babysitter when we were younger. We had a few, but the one that we spent the most time with, and that I remember the most, lived right up the road from us. We were actually neighbors, but being in the country, that meant a cornfield separated us. I recall being there when I was in kindergarten until I was old enough to stay by myself, probably around 12 or 13. I love to reminisce about my time there. It was my home away from ...

This will be a series of posts in which I honor my grandparents, both my blood ones and my love ones. All of my grandparents have departed this life for the next one. This is my way of remembering, honoring, and loving them. This second one is dedicated to my pappy and mamaw C. We relocated to this area when I was four years old. We moved into a large, older farmhouse that was really two houses in one. They lived on one side and we were on the other, separated by one unlocked door that required only a simple knock and maybe a shout-out in order to step across into the other's home. We lived there until I was sixteen. Those twelve years are full of so many beautiful memories. I grew up there, and though they were not blood related, they did their part as grandparents, helping me on my path to maturity. ************************************************************************************* I remember .....butchering day. We never ventured outside until w...

*In 1967, the year that interracial marriage was legalized everywhere in the United States, 72% of Americans were opposed to it, and 48% felt that it should be prosecuted as a criminal act. *In 1991, the percentage of people opposed to interracial marriage (finally) became the minority. ................................................................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................................................................... Growing up multiracial in this white part of the world was difficult, to say the least. My parents married only one year after it was legal for them to do so. My dad is white, of German and Swiss descent, and my mom is black, with a heritage that has traced our roots back to Africa, and also includes Native American and white. I was born into an era where the majority of peo...

This will be a series of posts in which I honor my grandparents, both my blood ones and my love ones. All of my grandparents have departed from this life for the next one.. This is my way of remembering, honoring, and loving them. This first one is dedicated to my grandma F - my dad's mom. ************************************************************************************ I remember .....the candy tins. They were full of butter mints, jujyfruits, orange slices, licorice, butterscotches, gum drops, jelly beans, circus peanuts, tootsie rolls, good & plenty, candy corn, root beer barrels, caramel creams, and so many more. They sat in the same room, in the same place. There were at least six of them, maybe more, and they always held something different, something delicious. After greeting grandma, it was the next place we headed. I don't recall eating a lot of candy at home, but at grandma's, it was allowed, even encouraged. She had diabetes, so I don't think that...

The first time. It was not what I expected. I mean, if anyone really has an expectation of what it might be like. I was aware that the day would come. I was naive, but I also saw the signs. It was a progression of events. Events leading up to that time. The first time. So many feelings, so many emotions rushing through me. Disbelief. Mistrust. Sadness. Anger. Defeat. Brokenness. Had that really just happened? Did the man I love just hit me?  The first time. It was just the first of many more times. Always with the same results. I apologized. I changed. I took responsibility. He felt justified. The first time. Today's Sherri would love to go back to that day and tell that Sherri, "You are smart, and beautiful, and worthy. You deserve to be treated as such. You cannot save him. You can only save yourself. Believe in yourself. Love yourself. Walk away now . This will not be the only time, this will just be  the first time ." *****************************...