Let's Go On An Adventure

Sometimes dreams do come true...and way faster than you every imagined! When things are meant to be they happen easily and quickly...some might call it destiny. 

I realized when my Mom died that life is short. We only get a limited time here on earth to experience all it has to offer. Sometimes you just have to leap right in and pray that you don't hit your head on the way down. You have to believe that life is an adventure and what comes your way will work out. 

I never used to believe in fate, that things happen when they are meant to happen. But life is funny and a lot of things in my life, paths chosen, experiences taken, have led me to this extremely fulfilling life full of love and adventure.

When you can experience life with someone who makes you laugh, fills your heart with so much love and genuinely makes you a better person...well then I say why not?

Mike and I have worked hard for this life. We designed it this way. Being able to work from home  being our own boss, giving ourselves the freedom to make our own choices. We have taken so many risks in the last 11 years together and each experience, whether good or bad, has brought us some sort of fulfillment.

11 years ago when we were both going through ugly divorces and faced with a 20 year age gap, knowing that we would be up against some people who would try to keep us apart, we fought tooth and nail for our love. 

Often times, we set up obstacles or reasons why we can't do something, instead of figuring out all the reasons that we CAN! Change is scary. Taking a risk is scary. But the result can be so beautiful and so amazing that you will wonder why you were ever afraid!

I'm not saying that I am never afraid. On the contrary, I am always afraid. Fear is a constant in my daily life and I feel that the best way to conquer your fears is to take them head on. Dive right in, and wear a cute helmet if you need too ;) 

Our Florida move is super exciting, but it's also super scary. Packing up, again, and moving to a new place, alone. Just the two of us (and Goldie, of course). But I just know in my heart that this is where we are supposed to be on our path. The beach is calling us and we are listening. My soul is in the ocean and my heart beats to the rhythm of the waves kissing the shore.

In 67 days we will be moving into our new townhouse 5 minutes from the beach. What?!? The townhouse is fully furnished which means we are moving in true Gypsy style...our clothes, a few personal belongings and each other.

What more could we need?

Chase you dreams. Follow your heart. Stare fear in the face. You never know what wonderful adventure awaits!

Life is hard...Love is the answer

A week ago I posted my story. Some people were surprised, some people were even confused. It was a tough blog to write and it kind of put me in a weird place for a few days. Dredging up bad memories is hard. It's hard to not let them seep in and take over. I am my own worst enemy and that's part of the reason that I strive for a life full of positivity.

Later on that day, I received a private message from a woman who poured her heart out to me. She told me that reading my post that day had ignited a fire inside of her. It had given her the strength and courage (that she always had inside of her) to decide to leave her current abusive situation. I sobbed as I read her messages to me. I cried for her. I cried for myself. It was so intense. My writing had inspired someone to step forward, share their story with me, and find the courage to choose a better ending to her life. That's powerful stuff right there.


The thing is, bad stuff happens to everyone. No one is immune to the shit that life has to throw at us. Everyone experiences loss in their lives. Everyone experience challenges, and unwanted changes. People who we love will betray us. We will be hurt in ways we never imagined. Things are happening in the world right now that are so awful, it takes our breath away. Life is tough. We all have times when we need to put on on a brave face and march out into the chaos with our heads held high.

I believe the heart of life is good. I believe in love. I believe that there are more good people in the world than bad. But, we have to work together, to buoy one another up. Encourage each other. Love one another. Be kind. Help others in need. There is enough hurt and hatred already in the world. We can save ourselves and each other with just a little bit of love!

I survived!

I think I have told bits and pieces of my story over the years to people but I don't think that I have actually sat down and poured the whole thing out at once. This won't be an easy story for me to tell but it's an important one.

I came across a hashtag that was trending today #maybehedoesnthityou which is aiming to raise awareness for domestic violence. It's purpose it to share the message that domestic violence isn't just physical, that it comes in many forms. If one person can read my story or any story related to domestic violence and it helps to give them the courage to ask for help, that's HUGE!
So, I felt that it was time to really share my story. From beginning to end, with all the nastiness in between. The purpose of telling my story is not for people to feel sorry for me but to share what happened to me and to prove that you really can come out the other side. To show others who are victims or survivors that life can be better...in fact, it can be pretty freaking amazing!

A lot of people know who this person is already but for the purposes of this story let's just call him "Paul".

I met Paul when I was 16 at my first job. He was my boss and 3 years older than me.  I absolutely despised him. I wish that I would have listened to my gut but I can't dwell on that now.
He was arrogant, rude and nasty. I could NOT stand the guy. One day at work, he expressed his interest in my sister to me. For some reason I will never be able to fathom, I said to him, why ask my sister out, why not ask me?

He called me a couple of days later and asked me to the movies. I said yes. I was 17.

We dated for the next two years. He picked fights with me all the time. He was rude. He said mean things about me, my family and my friends. He was controlling and very jealous. I became very overweight from the stress of it all and once that happened, he had his hooks in me for good. Since I was overweight, he could add fat and ugly and nobody would ever want me, to the list of things that were awful about me. He would tell me stories about "incidences" with previous girlfriends who made him mad and made it sound as if these women were the problem and not him. In my head, I knew the truth, but by this time I was already so broken down that I felt like I had no other options. The thing about abusers is they know just what to say to push your buttons. They know how to manipulate you.

When I was 19, he proposed to me. Again, I said yes....

Looking back now as I tell this story, I don't know why I said yes. Why I didn't run for the hills. Truth is, I was in love with him. I thought in his own strange way, that he loved me too. It's like I am telling a story about someone else. It's very easy to read this and say what the hell was I thinking. I wasn't. He had completely changed who I was and how I felt about myself. I thought no one else would ever love someone like me. Here he was offering to marry me. No one else was coming for me. This was my only chance.

We moved in together. I believed that I could change him. If I loved him enough, he would love me back. If I could "fix" all the bad stuff about myself, he would realize that I was worthy of his love. The fights became more scathing. Now we were completely alone and there was no chance of someone hearing what he said to me. I lost a lot of weight but again, it was never good enough. Nothing I ever did was good enough. If he fell down and hurt himself, it was my fault. It was always my fault. I could be somewhere else and something would happen and I would get blamed. I used to call him every night before I headed home from work to try and gauge his temper. That hard part was that he was very good and tricking me. So I would drive home thinking things were okay and I would walk into the house and all hell would break loose.

I was afraid every day. I never knew what he would say or do.

We got married when I was 21. Nothing changed. If anything, it became worse. I made excuses for him. He was stressed. He'd had a tough day at work. If I could just be more (insert any word here) then he wouldn't be so angry. In my heart I knew that this was not normal and not okay. I would lock myself in the bathroom to hide from him and just cry, all the while, he would be banging on the door, screaming at the top of his lungs. I believed then that he would kill me and this was before he had ever become physical with me.

He once called me in the middle of a spa appointment (which he had bought me as a gift) to come home immediately because he had pink eye and yes, it was my fault. He made me come home from a shopping outing with friends so that I could order him a pizza. He had complete control. He knew that I was afraid of him and would do whatever he required of me.

It became so out of control. I wasn't allowed to see friends. I had to beg him to be able to go to the movies with my Mom. I wasn't allowed to eat at restaurants he liked without him or see a movie he thought he might like to see. I had no access to money. He took away my checkbook and credit cards. I had to beg him for money to buy shampoo. I had book club once every month and every time it rolled around it was a huge deal. I often left book club early because it was just easier that way. Easier to please him and make myself look like a fool in front of my friends.

Again, as I read this I am shaking my head, like, why didn't you just say no. I did say no. So many times. My life was full of fear and saying no was the WORST thing I could say to him. So I said yes, I hung my head and did what he told me to do. It was safer that way.

I don't remember the exact moment he first hit me. It all just sort of runs together at this point.

There was the time I used our truck to help my Dad take some things to the dump. Upon my return, I see Paul standing in the middle of our street, hands gesturing, screaming wildly, neighbors looking on. He was angry that I had taken the truck without asking. He ran up to the truck, yanked open the car door and dragged me out into the street. He was beyond furious! He pulled me into the house and began hitting me. He was smart though, he hit places where I could cover up the bruises.

Another time he almost threw me down the stairs because I forgot to water the plants. I only missed tumbling down the stairs because I stuck my leg out and it hit the banister and that held me there.

One day on the way to the gym he beat me up because I had arrived home from work at the same time I always did but he wanted to go to the gym earlier and he had to wait for me. All I could do was cower over as far as I could into my seat and hope that some of the blows wouldn't reach me.

There are too many stories to tell. Honestly, things like this happened almost everyday. Not always physical but always hurtful. They all started and ended the same. I was to blame. It was me. If it had been a particularly big fight, there would be flowers, and a card. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. You just made me so angry. Even in his apology, it was still my fault.

I never told anyone about the abuse. No one. I kept it a secret. I was embarrassed. I was afraid to leave. My family and friends knew he was a jerk but they never knew exactly what was happening behind closed doors.

Finally, one day, I had enough. I knew that this was not right. I didn't have to live this way. I made the decision to leave. I was scared beyond belief. I knew that it wasn't going to be easy but I knew it was now or never. One day, we WOULD

hit me hard enough to kill me. I deserved more than this. I called my Mom and told her everything and that I was coming to stay for a while. Her exact words were "Thank God! Finally!"

I was going away for the weekend with my book club. Naturally, there was a huge fight, punches were thrown. I took it. I knew that this was the last time he would ever touch me again. I would no longer be a victim. I was taking his power away.

I knew that if I tried to leave when he was home, I most definitely would not make it out alive. If he couldn't have me, no one could. So I waited until I knew he was golfing with his Dad and along with two of my amazing friends, went to the house to grab a few things. I grabbed old family photos, a few changes of clothes and things that meant something to me personally. I knew I couldn't take it all. I knew what I left would probably be trashed or burned. I kissed my dog goodbye and clutched my laundry basket full of belongings. I left him a note on the kitchen table. I told him I was leaving and that I would call him when I was ready to talk. I picked up the flowers and card he had left for me (surprise, surprise) and threw them in the trash. I went to my friends house because I knew he didn't know where she lived and waited, shaking the whole time. I had actually left. Oh my god!

About an hour later, the phone call came. Absolute hysteria. He threatened to kill himself. He said he was coming to find me. I called his dad and told him he needed to turn back around and go back to the house and stay with him. I explained that I left and I wasn't coming back.

I called him back later. Even though I hated him, I didn't want him to kill himself. I told him that I wanted a divorce. He was not happy. He stalked me for about a week at my parents. He waited for me outside the house. I threatened to call the police. I was no longer afraid of him. I had left. I had made it out. He no longer had control over me. I filed for a divorce. It was finally over.

This is where the story gets better. In a random chat room one day I meet Mike. We talk for six months and become best friends. We are both dealing with a nasty divorce and we become each others confidante. In that six months we learn everything there is to know about one another. I can feel myself falling in love with him. We decide to meet on neutral ground. He's in Indiana, I'm in Minnesota. We pick Chicago. As I am coming down the escalator to baggage claim where he is waiting for me, I see him. My heart skips a beat and I know. I know that this is the man I am going to marry. This is that man that will have my heart for all eternity. As we share our first kiss, I know that my life will never be full of anger or hurt again.

That was 11 years ago. Every single day since then has been a day full of love and laughter. I do not live in fear. I live in love. My life is full of happiness. He is mine and I am his. Forever.

My life has been forever changed because of what happened to me but I would do it all over again if I knew it would lead me to this place I am now. I am stronger because of my story. I am braver. I am a survivor. I rose from the mud.

As awful as it all was, it's my story. It's part of who I am. I'm okay with that. Because, deep down I know it wasn't my fault. I am not to blame. He is.

If you are someone who is being abused please seek help. Know that it can get better. It will get better. We only get this one life to live. Do not spend another day in fear. You can do this. I believe in you.

Blame it on my Gypsy Soul

The universe has such an unexpected way of showing you your path. Most times you don't even notice what it's trying to tell you but every once a while, something happens, there's a shift and suddenly that path is clear.

My husband and I just returned from a 2 week vacation to Anna Maria Island, Florida. The first time we went there was in 2009, shortly before my Mom passed away. It was a beautiful place and we both instantly fell in love with the vibe of the island. But we returned from that trip and we had responsibilities and things that needed our attention and we fell back into our regular routine. The second time we went was last year after our Golden Retriever Sandy passed away. It was a last minute trip, we needed to escape somewhere and grieve and the obvious choice for both of us was to return to the Anna Maria area. We spent that time grieving and healing from our loss. It was an incredible time that we desperately needed. Once again, we returned home, but not before we had booked a return trip for the following year for 2 weeks.

So, this year, we returned to the island. As soon as we crossed the bridge onto the island, I felt my whole mood shift, a calm came over me and I felt, for the first time in quite a while, content. We spent the trip relaxing and had many amazing adventures. The thing that I noticed the most, and my husband noticed too, was that I was completely 100% myself. I wasn't worried about anything, I wasn't self conscious, in fact, I was just the opposite. I felt so connected to myself and for the first time in a very long time, I realized my own power.

Growing up as child, the ocean was a huge part of my life. My mother was raised back and forth between England and the island of Cyprus in the Mediterranean and the ocean was in her blood. We spent many vacations visiting my grandparents in Cyprus, swimming in the sea, snorkeling and shell seeking. I also spent a good portion of my childhood growing up in Southern California, so going to the beach on weekends was a regular occurrence. It was place associated with fun, relaxation, family. It became part of my blood too.

For some reason, on this particular trip, I paid attention to what the universe was trying to tell me. You belong here. This is where you feel yourself. This is where you aren't afraid, where you realize your own worth. This is where your peace is. This is where your heart is.

I don't know how to explain to you how I felt inside, all I know is that it felt right. Friends told me they could see it in my photos. My husband told me he could see it in my face and feel it in the air around me. Lucky for me, he felt the same way too.

My husband and I are lucky enough to be able to live wherever we choose. We work from home together and we have no children so we can follow where our adventurous hearts take us.

The gypsy spirit is within us. Ever since the day we met, we have been exploring what the world has to offer us. Sometimes we settle down for a while, but adventures keep calling us. It's time again for us to take notice and once we get a few loose ends tied up here we will hitch up our gypsy wagon and head south. It may be our last stop, it may not, but what I do know is that life is short and we only get a limited time here on this earth so we have to take the road less traveled, the path laid out before us and dive in head first!