Easter!

Easter! It came and went and I forgot to post pictures of our fun adventures.

First, we dyed eggs. Lots of fun on a Tuesday night while Drew was at softball. The boys were very interested in what happens when you dye an egg that didn't fair so well in the boiling process and is already cracked.

Then of course, the easter bunny came. He hid eggs, which the boys had a great time finding. They would giggle with joy each time they found one. Then they found their baskets, which led to more giggles and excitement. To top it off the day was gorgeous: 74 and sunny. We even had easter dinner on the back deck!

Then, possibly the best part of the day, was that we found a church that suits us well. We visited for the first time on Easter, so we had no idea what to expect, but have been back since then and really like it. As it turns out, we've found our home for faith in a super liberal Episcopalian church. I'm thankful that we've found this place, it seems to help us all see this season as a turning point.

and so, even if its late, happy Easter. Celebrate new adventures, new life, new reflection on happiness. Whatever it may be for you.

Read with me,mama

Collin is not quite yet 5 and we've been working on lots of things to prepare for kindergarten. Focusing on one thing at a time, developing more (and more) patience, solving problems with words and multiple attempts. I think its fair to say that he's working diligently on these things and they'll come along before fall, just the way they should, and some days I get a little worried, and perseverate on the things he doesn't have quite down yet, but today is not one of those days.

Today is a day to celebrate how much of a rockstar he is at beginning reading.

Both of our boys love love love books. Love them so much they are willing to spend lots of their independent time choosing to look at books. Drew and I are voracious readers too, and it probably doesn't help any that I study early language and literacy development. Collin doesn't seem to mind though. He's always been very interested in how to read, and its was so very easy for him to learn all the letters and sounds. So awhile ago, probably soon after he turned 3 we started to work on pre-reading skills using a pretty famous method by Ziggy Engelmann. Its a tried and true method and has a lot of research behind it (surprise). Anyway, I didn't push it at first because he was only just 3, so we were doing one lesson per week, maybe. Now, a whole year later we're at about lesson 70 and he's becoming more and more confident, and more and more successful in reading. He's good at it and does a great job using a mix of sounding it out and identifying common site words. I love watching this skill blossom, and I can't wait until he's reading to me all the time from books he adores.

I'm so proud of our little (big) guy. Check it out for yourself!
(also ignore the "I have to poop" part at the end of the first video!)

I'm not that kind of Nazi.

Things are evening out at our house, finally.
I chock this up to working hard with Ms. Brene Brown's book, Daring Greatly.
I love this book. Its such a good "work on it" guide and I feel like I should highlight every page.
But just last night I was reading about enjoying the present moment and eliminating foreboding joy.

Foreboding joy is that moment when things seem perfectly happy and you instantly start to ruin it by thinking of all the things that could go wrong. Its waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop, and it ruins us! Ruins us! I tell you.

But anyway, tonight I was trying to be in the moment. To have gratitude for my two adorable, spritely and amazing boys. By being in the moment though, I wandered into some heavy territory with Collin.

Here's how our conversation went after dying easter eggs.

C: Momma, when is the easter bunny coming?
Me: Sunday.
C: Sunday when we go to church? (Church is on his mind because we trying new ones right now)
Me: Yep.
C: Can we join the church we went to last week?
Me: Why?
C: It was so fun. I want to go to the school (referring to sunday school).
Me: (Confused look on my face) I don't know Collin. We have to find one that works for all of us in our family.
C: That one works.
Me: Well, thanks for telling me you liked it.

And so we wandered into discussing religion at the ripe age of 4.

It was fun to hear him explore the value of church. He was happy to share all he liked about it, and I decided it best to not share what I didn't like about it He's not yet connected Easter and church, and to be honest, I'm not sure I want him to yet because (1) I think its a bit intense, and (2) I'm not sure I believe it... so there's that whole piece.

Religion is super fascinating to me, but we haven't exactly found a place that meets our "kind" of faith as a home. Drew and I were raised catholic, and I'd say that I'm at least pretty connected to my faith. I believe there is a God and that there are powerful influences in this world. I believe we all have souls and are united by love and compassion. I think the bible is a powerful and useful story that has many fantastic lessons.

It gets much more murky in the Jesus waters though. I think that people perceived miracles, but I don't think any walking on water, or rising from the dead actually happened. It think its very likely that as a messenger Jesus shared his direct connection with God, and that when it was recorded in the Bible, human error impeded its accuracy. I like to think that Jesus was an amazing leader who was a pretty regular guy. I don't think an immaculate conception happened, but I do believe that he had an amazing and powerful connection to God that he used that connection to be loving and compassionate to all people, and to lead with these virtues.

I don't think God created the earth in seven days and I don't think God is the kind of being who curses folks the way the old testament tells it. I don't connect to a hateful God. I don't think he'd spite your children because of your mistakes, or kill entire communities based on one person's actions in old-testament style.

I believe God is grounded and made of love. That he is forgiving and supporting. I believe that he represents the good in this world through may different entities. I believe there isn't one path to him, but many.

So, this got us to where we are now. Church shopping as you will. Talking religion with a four year old.

Catholicism doesn't do it for us any longer. For awhile we stuck it out, even though it seemed like it was heading down the wrong road. We went to a pretty progressive church, so the message inside the church was different than the message on the outside, but at some point we took a step back an realized we couldn't keep saying, "we're not that kind of Catholic" because it felt like we were saying "I'm not that kind of Nazi".

I know that sounds severe, so bear with us. I don't mean to say that if you are Catholic you are a Nazi at all. What I mean is that the discrepancies from the Catholic doctrine to our beliefs were so extreme that I couldn't look past it anymore. There are many amazing people, who happen to be Catholic who believe in the doctrines we don't, and there are many folks still who can exist comfortably in saying "I'm not that kind of Catholic."

I'm sure, back in the 40s there were many Germans who were Nazi's that were compassionate toward Jews. They hid Jews and probably had inner circles that collaborated with goodness in their hearts. They were Nazi's though too. Probably because they thought it was the only way they could live. Probably because they thought they didn't have a choice. But they had to also rebutt what Nazi stood for. They probably said things like "I'm not that kind of Nazi". At the end of the day though, 50 years later, we recognize Nazis a a homogenous group of ill. We don't see them as a continuum of good and evil. Historically, the Nazi movement made harsh decisions that persecuted and led to the death of many people. There were Germans too, who left the country or refused to subscribed to Hitler. Likely risking their lives. But they did it on principle. They would not stand for the message behind Hitler.

So, in the same, but less intense way, we couldn't stand behind Catholicism any longer. We want to be on the accepting side of equality. We were tired of saying "I'm not that kind of Catholic" and the truth is there were not imminent perils that were keeping us Catholic (thank God!)-- I didn't fear for my life. I had every opportunity to leave, and that in some ways made it much more compelling to leave.I do really believe that the Catholic church practices persecution. It breaks my heart that so many good and faith-based people are denied by the Catholic church, that the rules about marriage, divorce, and priests lives are so intensely monitored and enforced. Its so awful to hear of the corruption and abuse that has gone on within the ranks. So much so that we couldn't support it any more.

For awhile, we were so burned out we just didn't go to church and that was okay for us. But a few months ago I began to miss having a home for my faith. I needed a new place. I told Drew he didn't have to join me on the journey if he didn't want to, but he seems to be coming along (at least for now).

After listening to many sermons online and trying to figure out if we are Protestant, Unitarian, or something else entirely I found myself narrowing it down to four liberal church is our neighborhood/ St Paul. I'm still not sure where we'll land, but here's whats in the running:

First up, a Presbyterian Church call House of hope that is Protestant, following the readings in the bible but suggests they be interpreted at the will of the reader. Recognizes there are flaws in the writing and sees the allegorical value. Also has the pomp and circumstance of Catholicism (for better or worse) with pipe organs and German songs. Great pastor though, who speaks to equality, generosity and love (and the only one we've visited so far).

Second up,  an Episcopal church (also very liberal) called St Mary's Episcopal church with Christian roots. Has bible readings but offers them as stories, not as truths necessarily. Here there is a huge contiuum of beliefs from Jesus doesn't have much power, to Jesus is my savior.

Third up, a unitarian church call Unity Church in St Paul. Its universalist, which means if you believe it, there is probably a niche for you here. It supports all types of and styles of faith with open arms.

and Fourth, Centenial Methodist Church here in Roseville. Methodist, liberal, younger crowd and less lecture more mission.

Collin's only been to one of the four so far, so I'm curious what his vote will be as we get through them all, but he certainly liked the first.

I'm not sure where we'll end up, but I do know that calling myself "not that kind of Catholic" won't work any longer, and finding a home for my faith is important so I can at least show the boys one way of being faithful, spiritual and guided by God. 

And so, even in this journey, I turn back to preventing foreboding joy, and trying (working hard!) to enjoy the journey and process, rather than focusing on only finding the right church. Understanding the others along the way also contributes to our satisfaction at the end, so we're enjoying each experience, with out foreboding the joy.

Um. Woops.

I'm pretty sure we never posted our christmas card this year, and since this is the record of all things Hollman for the boys when they are older, you get to see it again, in April.

Sorry.

Put this in the pile of "mom means well, but sometimes she's about 5 months behind the ball".

Yikes.

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Just keep swimming

Literally. The boys are moving along at FOSS swim school. They moved up to “Littles 2” which means they have to start really learning how to swim on their own.

Its fun to watch as the push their little bodies along with sporadic kicks and un-coordinated “scoops”, they aren’t exactly swimming. More like approximating swimming, but its all about the process really. We praise the process, not just the end result.

Here’s some fun videos of their latest swimming. You can hear us cheering them on.
 
They are 3 and nearly 5. Their life is supported by praise.
 But you know, we’ve been watching them now for 7 weeks or so, and all the while there have been lessons right in front of my face that I haven’t been attending to. I too just keep swimming. I too should attend to the process and not place all my value on the end product.

Somewhere though, when we turn into adults, we lose the magic of how that all works though. We shift to an outcomes driven world. I know it well. I wasn’t seeing the trees in the forest until this week when I noticed that being present with them in those lessons offered me a lot too.

This past week, in my biggest vulnerable moment yet, I got the email that said, “thanks for applying, but your application as not selected for further review.” My gut sank as though someone had thrown a fastball right through me. I ached for a minute. I almost cried at work, which NEVER happens. I took a deep breath and closed the email. Then I opened it again. As though if I tried one more time the information in it might change. I cringed. First failure in the academic realm. Ouch. I did not think for one minute about the process. All I saw was a failed outcome. And you know, I should have. Folks keep pointing me that direction. Reminding me that I can choose to see this as a challenge or as an opportunity for growth. I’m coming out of my comfort zone and trying to embrace the later, by emphasizing the process, rather than the product. Because applying did open the door to make a strategic personal plan in my work. To find a successful path for the next five years at least. Its been almost a week now. I’ve calmed down a bit. I’ve got more of a plan in my mind—its coming together and I’ll fill the gaps in the weakest part of my portfolio. It doesn’t mean I’m not a little bit heartbroken. Sometimes I still think of myself in that faculty role.

 I didn’t even realize I wanted it that badly until I couldn’t have it. But I’m trying to remember that making changes in my career to align with my own long term goals and attending to the process rather than the product is important.

I thought initially that this application would be an experiment in vulnerability. But I also thought it was a container. If I got the position the vulnerability would be over, if I didn’t I also thought the vulnerability would be over once I got over it. But the thing is I was wrong, because this is just the beginning of vulnerability because having the career I want means taking risks. That already sounds uncomfortable just writing it, but its true. Soft-funding is that way, and right now, it’s the path I choose to stay on.

So, learning from my beautiful boys, I’m just going to keep swimming. To work to get stronger in my strokes to my goal, just as they’ll become real and proficient swimmers and if all works out, maybe someday in the future we’ll get to spend some time floating.

Pandemonium, Parenting and the Pantry

I knew this day in our parenting would arrive eventually.
Two boys, 18 months apart, just old enough to scheme together effectively.
You can almost see the ideas brewing in their heads.
So far, they haven't tried anything too ridiculous. Mostly just helping each other get things down, or asking the other to ask us for something that the first one knows we'll say no to. You know, that kind of stuff.

That was until today.

It was a fantastic Monday morning. Warm(ish). Say, 40 degrees or something (which is downright tropical here). The sun was shining. My boys climbed into my bed around 6:30 to snuggle and try to convince me they should be able to play and I, studious mom, repeated for the 500th time that we don't get out of bed until its light out, which happens to be 7 am. So they sang and goofed around in my bed until 7 am. Then, as soon as I said go, they scampered off to play with Magna-tiles, Playstix, whatever. I saw them nestled in the play-space and announced that I needed a shower.

Now, mind you dear reader. This is usually when I break out the TV. We don't let them watch TV nearly at all. Like less than 1/2 hour a week. So on the rare day that I forget to take a shower in the evening and need to get one in the morning, I can count on zombie-ness from them for 15 glorious minutes to take a shower (exactly the length of one Daniel Tiger, thank you very much).

Today though, I actually didn't technically need a shower. I took one last night. But the thing is there is something wrong with my head these days. I have some weird issue with my eyes and they are soooo itchy all the time. Also, I frequently weep what I call "acid" tears. I'm not crying, its like my eyes are just draining and then, my lovely eye-lids get all puffy and folded looking. Its not exactly attractive. I can't figure it out and neither can my doctor (which is lame, I know).  Anyway though,we are getting off track. When I woke up today my eyes had been extra weepy/leaky over night and they felt all crusty and gross and they itched like crazy and all I wanted to do was just stand with my face right under the showerhead to let the water pound away the irritation. So it was sort of a bonus shower, or what have you.

Since I figured it would be short, I announced there would be no Daniel Tiger, that they should just keep playing with magna tiles and looking at books. They agreed. Ah, life was grand.

So, I got into the shower, stood there, probably for a bit too long letting the wonderful steamy shower fix my face and skin, enjoyed the lovely alone time and got out. Probably 20 minutes in total start to finish from seeing the boys to seeing the boys again.

Well, let me tell you what their 20 minutes looked like (I can only assume).

First, they played with Magna-tiles and books for 30 seconds. I'd say 30 seconds tops, because the disaster you are about to hear about must have taken the full 20 minutes to accomplish.

Then, one of them decided they were hungry, I'm sure. We have a rule in our house that you don't go in the pantry without an adult. To this rule they said in their little minds "%@# it. She's in the shower. She won't even know" (or whatever kids say to convince themselves to break the rule).
So in the pantry they went. The pantry probably looks like heaven to a 3 and 5 year old. All honeymaid and fruit-leather right in your face. And up on the second shelf is the coveted halloween candy bin (yes, I wrote halloween. Its probably more like valentines day, but whatever, it has (HAD) candy in it).
One of them thought out loud "Candy is the best breakfast! Lets get it down!"
To which Collin's little mind either continued to think, or agreed and promptly opened the stepping stool.
I hate that he can open the stepping stool. Damn fine motor and gross motor skills.
Enter the synergy known as devious brotherhood. I don't know how to explain it except that once one of them figures out the other has done something clever and funny, he starts laughing hysterically, which convinces the first that more of the action is warranted, and so on and so forth. I imagine this was the catalyst for many many broken and open bottles.

So here we are in the pantry. I'm sure that someone was STANDING on the counter and got down the candy box. I'm sure they comenced shoving every sucker or sweet thing they could find in their mouths at that very moment.
I would have just scolded them if I saw this alone. It wouldn't have been too bad.
But then, somewhere in the sugar-induced craziness, Collin, by self-insinuation, decided a food fight would be fun.

What on earth does a 5 year old know about a food fights? Seriously? How does this instinctively come to his mind as the equivalent of fun?

But whatever the case, there they are probably dancing on the counters with suckers in their mouths with no one to yell OH MY GOD GET DOWN YOU ARE GOING TO FALL AND CHOKE ON THAT THING! when one of them sees all the other fun things up there. Bottles of sauces, noodles, cornmeal, flour, loads of things you can OPEN, including TONS (17 bottles in total) of spices.
And so it began.
The great food fight of 2014. Never to be forgotten as long as I live.
During my 20 minute shower, my boys had glorious fun emptying:
2 full bottles of barbeque sauce
1 new bottle of soy sauce (even pulled off that annoying bottle cover!)
1 full bottle of ketchup (the giant size!)
2 FULL big morton salt containers (you know, the ones you use to refill your regular salt?)
6 of those GIANT spice containers from SAM's that you see in restaurants.  One full of F&^*ing peppercorns. Ugh!!! Peppercorns roll everywhere! I'll be finding them for 10 years at least. The others were dried basil, ground cumin, some canadian seasoning for steak, and something else I am forgetting.
Then three other seasoning jars- a season-all and a lawrys salt, both full, because you know, they didn't want to show any brand loyalty.
A whole host of half full spices- the extra smelly ones mostly. Garlic Salt YES. Onion Salt YES. Popcorn Cheesy salt (the bright orange kind!) YES. Garam Masala (to show their love of ethnic foods!) YES. The big bottles too. The nice glass ones from Target pantry.

Seriously.

They also helped themselves to a big tub of almonds (taking handfullls out with their barbeque covered hands), and some crackers to tie everything together.

Now this wouldn't be such a huge deal if they mixed it in a bowl or something. But NO that was clearly not a possibility. I mean, come on, that barbeque sauce is in a squeezy bottle for a reason. And from the second story here (standing on the counter) the trajectory is absolutely perfect to spray that shit EVERYWHERE. EVERY F@#%ing WHERE.
Also, if you pour ALL of those spice jars in a sort of pile on the floor from the second story counter top, it makes a sort of volcano pile that you can watch happen. I'm sure they did something like this. It also makes a lovely paste with all of your said spices that smells like Curry garlic soy HELL.

And so, I came out of my shower. It was really quiet. I said something like "boys where are you" and I heard Collin, from the bathroom downstairs say something like "Owen's making a really bad choice, but I'm washing my feet off in the bathroom, so its okay."

I went down stairs and cried a little bit. I YELLED. I YELLED like an abusive parent yells. It wasn't my proudest moment. I was totally dumbfounded that my boys could do this in 20 MINUTES. I lost my mind. It took everything I had in me to put myself on a little time out and not bruise their backsides so thoroughly that it hurt to sit.

I didn't lay a finger on them though. I took 5 minutes to self-regulate and pull my shit together. I took pictures so Drew could commiserate is solidarity. Someday these pics will be super funny. Today they are only a tiny bit funny.

Here it is, in all its glory. Imagine two boys dancing on the counter feet covered in all this shit, six suckers in each of their mouths and s giant smile on their faces. Ugh. The pictures are all blurry because I was so raging mad I couldn't hold the phone straight.


Just for comparison's sake, here's the pantry typically.

I had serious plans for today. We had lots to do. Those were over. I had to take a vacation day this consumed me so. I started cleaning about 7:40 and we ended around 11 am. It was THAT bad. They had foot prints everywhere. Walls were covered. There was barbeque sauce on the walls UNDERNEATH the cupboards. My curtains looked like someone had murdered a pile of pigs from the smoker. Every shelf had cumin on it, staining everything bright yellow. The bathroom, a nice white counter, where Collin tried to clean his hands and feet was destroyed with yellow stains. I mopped the floors FOUR times. I probably used 50 towels and we are now just finishing all the damn laundry at 11 pm.

Drew, bless his soul saw the text photos and came home. I'm pretty sure he thought I was going to kill our children (okay not really. But maybe duct tape them to the floor was probably a real possibility).
We cleaned and cleaned and cleaned and the kids didn't move two muscles. I made them sit silently and watch the clean up for three hours.
Yes, a three hour time out.
I didn't really plan it that way, but I couldn't take them to the shower until I was done cleaning for fear of tracking more crap through the house, and I sure as shit wasn't going to clean them up first so they could go play while I slaved away.
Maybe again, not my finest moment. Sorry boys. Momma is crazy.
They must have known I had lost it though, because they didn't move for the whole time.

Here's more evidence of their adventure:

(these are about 15 minutes into clean up, so imagine that sort of pile of spices everywhere!, also thats not blood on the curtains! Just soy sauce and BBQ!meh)




 Look almonds and tabasco! Everyone puts those together!

The lovely stepping stool. Every surface looked like that disaster when I started. I had already filled one garbage bag here with various empty containers. I didn't take a picture of the wall on the right, but it appears given my splatter-quality techniques for identification (a-la Dexter), it seems these boys squirted bbq and ketchup onto the floor and then it ricocheted off the floor onto the wall.
It was miserable.

We talked about it a lot later on. When everyone was normal again. I'm pretty sure they won't go in the pantry without an adult again. For the life of me I couldn't figure out how all of the behaviors in the chain of "fun" didn't alert Collin to think this is really BAD. We should stop. I didn't really expect that kind of thinking from Owen, but I did from Collin. I was so disappointed. When I asked him why on Earth he would do this, he really stuck to the "we wanted to have a food fight" thing. It was amazing to me. I couldn't process that answer to save my life. I just kept asking again.
He knew though it wasn't satisfying for me, because even though his answer didn't change, his promises did and so did his level of remorse.

"Momma, I feel really sad that we did that and it made you so angry." "Momma, I promise to be sooo good for the rest of the day." "Momma, how can I make you feel better?"

The boys is good at what we've taught him.

But I totally wasn't ready for any of that. I DID NOT GIVE A F#%. At one point he said something like "I'm hungry" and I said "I DO NOT CARE. you chose to eat all this crap today, so you won't be getting breakfast." He just sat quietly.

He continued to apologize though, which was nice of him. I continued to reject it, which was so CRAPPY of me. It took me leaving the house alone, really really cooling down and transitioning to something else for me really to be okay with it. I was so fired up.

Even though I yelled my face off at him and probably was a huge Ogre, he still wanted to play with me this afternoon, read books, and he wanted to help out. I love him so for his big forgiving heart.

At bedtime I apologized for yelling. I told him I love him like I always do. The same for Owen, who played along in this bit more emotionally, but following in the wings. Owen said, "its okay momma. Next time, don't yell so much. It hurts my ears."

Ugh. Parenting is hard.

My boys, even covered in barbeque sauce, cumin paste, soy and garlic are amazing though.
I'm a lucky momma.

On Being Vulnerable

Hello?
Is there anyone out there?
Seriously, sometimes I wonder who's actually reading this thing.

I'm sort of hoping its no one for this post. But it probably won't be. Murphy's law or whatever.

The past few months in our house have been stressful for us. Lots of changes. Things are sort in shake down mode. The biggest changes though are probably the ones I face independently. Which is weird to address on a public blogosphere-land page. But I'm doing it.

Why might you ask?

Because I'm try hard to be okay with vulnerability.
Vulnerability is tough for me.

I'm pretty type A. I don't like failure. I don't like giving up control. Perfectionist. List maker. Over-achiever. Annoyingly particular. Stubborn like a mule.
Thats me. Right here.

And because of those things there are moments in our life I don't put on the blog. There are days when we are miserable parents and days when the boys are driving me so crazy I think there must be something wrong with one of them, there are days when I burn the crap out of dinner, or create something that belongs as a headliner from craft-fail that looked just so lovely on Pinterest. There are epic fails in money management (oh F&(#!! How on early did that cost THAT much! We are broke AGAIN!), shitty date nights or lack there of, ruined laundry, broken furniture, etc. All of these things happen all the time, but generally I try to observe the "one in one out" and emphasize the positive. All about the positive because I really don't want the boys to dig around in the blog as young adult and see my vivid complaints of our life. Because even though its not all roses, I wouldn't change it for a moment. I love our family, being this wife, this momma, this bit of crazy.

Life is all about being a better you, though (read ME) and I know that I super suck at dealing with being vulnerable. So I'm working on it, courtesy of the great Brene Brown. I super love Brene Brown, but I have to work really hard at it. Daring Greatly is a really big adventure for me.

Anyway, so here's my first go at being vulnerable to the world and writing about something I typically would NEVER write about.

I'm applying for a new job (gasp).
Looking at the sentence looks pretty ridiculously tame on paper. New job? So what?
But here's the thing. In my whole life I've NEVER not gotten the job. Every single job I've applied to I've gotten or been recruited for. So, just a few weeks ago I decided to apply for tenure-track faculty position and this process is the first time that I could be not even in the same ballpark as the type of faculty member this search team wants. I have no way of knowing if I match their wants right now and its terrifying and a GIANT dose of being vulnerable. I'm totally in the waiting game of hearing if they are even interested in my application and its torture. Mostly because I am sitting in a moment where vulnerability means the potential for big life changes.

Tenure track is serious stuff. It means five years at least of busting my ass in ways I didn't know was possible to get tenure. It means publishing like a mad person (which is something I'm not so good at currently, so it also means growing this capacity first) -- you know what they say, publish or perish.
But it also means job security, flexibility post those five years,  amazing retirement and money in the bank. It means getting to work on what I want to work on and am passionate about and it means supporting graduate students to become doctorate level professionals. Its this balance of wanting something badly and not sharing about it for fear of failure which I've always avoided because it meant being vulnerable. Had I not written this post I would never have to explain if I don't get the job. I would never have to spend time perseverating on that failure.

BUT, it also means I wouldn't have the opportunity to be accepting of the support from family and friends if I fail and the experience to help me grow to create a reality in my work that I want-  to do the things that make a difference to me so that the lines between work and happiness blur.

So here's to being vulnerable.
Tiny steps, folks. Tiny steps.