Missed Opportunity That Has Me Buggin

It’s the middle of the week, which means the weekend is ALMOST here. Anyone got anything fun going on? I’ll be getting lost in San Fransico and hiking Big Sur with the Hubs. I can’t wait to nerd out at Alcatraz, too!

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For those who were around Monday and saw my balloon face, I’m happy to report my face has gone back to its natural saggy-self, bags under my eyes and everything, but if it’s not one thing it’s another 😉 … I missed an opportunity to inspire the kids I work with every Friday, and it’s eating me up.

Two weeks ago I put an ask out for school supply donations to help KidWorks provide for its after-school programs. Staples immediately gave me three boxes of notebooks and a promise to get back with me for the possibility of more supplies (which reminds me it’s been a week and I should probably follow up).

Because I had donations to drop off, I pulled my car up to the front and began unloading. Some of the kids in my class saw my car and started asking if I was rich, how much did I pay for this car and what do I do for a living.

Had just one asked I might’ve had enough time to respond the way I wanted to, but instead, there were about four little girls oo-ing and awing, demanding an answer. To which I replied, it’s not polite to talk about money and hadn’t you heard what none-ya said? None ya bees-wax. Cue laughter and comments about my jokes being old (wait, when did that happen?! haha).

This may sound like a reasonable response and a good lesson to learn early on, but what I wish I would’ve said was this,”I grew up just like you, so one day if you work hard enough for it, you could drive this kind of car, too.”

Ya know, a real Hallmark moment.

I fell back on what I was told growing up and it bums me out because I missed an opportunity to tell the kids (in so many words) it doesn’t matter what your financial circumstances are now, if you work hard enough and believe in yourself you too can drive around in a bright blue mustang one day.

And that’s what I needed to hear as a kid.

I get it, nobody is perfect and I shouldn’t beat myself up about this one time, so I’m going to keep repeating this until the anxiety of not responding how I wanted subsides, because next time I will have the wherewithal to express the importance of dreaming for better.

Also, their ‘you’re rich!’ statement made me extremely uncomfortable and a little offended. It’s the first time anyone has thought of me as ‘well off’ and I’m still not sure how I feel about it because I didn’t grow up rich, with a silver spoon in my mouth, and nobody gave me anything, I had to fight for it.

Now I’m torn between enjoying the fruits of my hard work and determination, and still being scrappy Shannon who pinches every penny to make sure when the bottom falls out, I can still pull myself up by my bootstraps and carry on.

It’s a strange path to be walking, and incredibly fascinating a comment from a young person can send me back to this place of uncomfortableness between how I grew up and what I’ve become. I never not want to remember my roots.

There’s no need to ignore the friction, the only way I’m going to figure out how to deal with these two worlds is by sitting in the comfortableness. Ignoring will only delay the solution. Right?

If you’re like me and have a tendency to plow through emotions that are tough to swallow, I encourage you to wade around in those uncomfortable waters to see what you come out with on the other end. You might surprise yourself with a simple solution.

Hello From The Other Side

Yes, in my Adele voice.

It’s been awhile.

Helllloooooo again WordPress I haven’t forgotten about you, but I will admit I have forgotten about how to enjoy the parts that make me me.

Sidebar: You ever watch a movie that makes you rethink the way you’ve been operating lately, or in  entirety? I watched one of those kind of movies tonight. Ugh — fine, it was The Intern.

Damn Robert De Niro playing a sweet old man. When did he change from an everyday mobster to a kind older gentleman? Maybe that’s the secret to old age, or movies. Anyways … 

I’ve been through a lot of change in the last three months, and I think inadvertently let the things that make me me, slip.

I haven’t read a good book in ages. I haven’t written about anything that wasn’t expected of me. I began to think I didn’t have a love for words, or communicating with the masses.

After finally moving into my own place (again) and diving deeper into my new (awesome) job, I watched The Intern and immediately felt like I’ve let myself slide.

Another curse to my being. I’m too hard on myself.

I’m tired and transition takes time.

You ever feel all the change that’s happened over time hit you in one moment and it knocks you on your own feet?

Or keep yourself so busy you forget to take a deep breath and remember what’s really important. 

It’s hard to remember life is short and you have to enjoy it.

 

So why am I feeling sappy?

Because of Ben (De Nero).

He’s a widower — married 42 years, was a business man for half his life and is trying to navigate retirement. He sees a flyer for a “senior internship” program and applies because he still wants to learn and despite his perceived loneliness, views life through an optimistic spread of light.

I know, it’s a movie. The point is about how it got my wheels turning.

I hope I can always remind myself I’m never too old to learn.

I’m never too tired to let my passion slip, and I’m never too discombobulated to remember I’m only human.

So, hello from the other side — learning life after landing a career.

Musicians don’t retire, they stop when there’s no more music in them – Louis Armstrong

I still have plenty of music left in me.

 

 

Unemployment Diaries: California Edition Part IX

My follow up interview was at 3:30 Monday afternoon, and I did as much cleaning, exercising and organizing to settle my nerves.

I was meeting the rest of the team at the Marconi Automotive Museum, and to not test the jinx rule, I wouldn’t allow myself to get too excited just yet, and it was hard to keep my emotions level.

But I kept my chant of why not me going in the back of my head.

True to form I showed up early, but not as early as the previous interview. I still had a case of the nerves, and I felt more anxious than I had the Friday before. Probably due to the fact I knew I could possibly get the answer I had been waiting for, for the past 10 weeks since graduation.

I was potentially going to become a productive member of society, and I could almost taste the sweet nectar of victory.

An hour later, after meeting the rest of the Marconi squad, I was pleased with how comfortable I felt during this interview, too. They all seemed like motivated, successful and fun women to work with, and I was hopeful I would be added to their team.

As the interview began to wrap up …..

I WAS OFFERED THE JOB. 

Say hello to the new marketing coordinator for the Marconi Automotive Museum!

It’s a wonderful thing when the universe works in your favor. As my FIL would say, “when it happens, because it doesn’t happen often, it’s like you understand everything completely. The path you took now makes all the sense in the world.”

And it’s true. I think the universe knew I didn’t want to live in Texas for another tornado season. It knew I wasn’t made to be a Texan for life and that California living could be the place for me. But due to my stubbornness it also knew I had to feel like I had given it my best shot before exploring other options seemed plausible.

Why not me. 

I will hopefully never serve another cup of coffee or Thanksgiving dinner as a waitress. I was able to make my phone call home and scream “you’re moving to California, I got the job!” And I was able to jump up and down with my in-laws (still too early to be nerdy with the Marconi squad) singing I got the job, I got the job!

I can’t wait to learn and grow as a communicator and begin this new chapter in life. A special thanks to my husband for pulling the trigger and shipping me to California, because he knew I needed the change and helping push. To my in-laws for housing me and loving me like their own, and to my parents, thank you for the constant support. I am who I am today because of you.

Life is good.

Don’t Stand So Close To Me

How do you begin a blog about not allowing people in without sounding broken or cruel? How do I convey I’m aware I don’t allow people behind my guarded walls, but I’m not entirely committed to changing this character trait? Is it possible to loosen some barriers and feel okay with that vulnerability? Sure.

It’s eerie becoming an adult and recognizing character traits that resemble your parents. My dad could tell a story like no other, be the life of a party, mingle with people from all walks of life, and in particular social settings have seemingly many friends/acquaintances.

In the same ball of fire his personality swirled in, was a man who dedicated his life to providing for his family, loyal to death, didn’t spend free time at the bar socializing with friends and let very little people into his personal bubble. His wife and kids were the only ones who mattered and everything he did was solely based on their/our well-being.

And for many other reasons, he was my number one role model.

As I’ve matured I’ve become aware I have turned into a miniature version of my childhood hero. I have many acquaintances and know a lot of people, in part to moving frequently thus far in life. There are some I put up with and some I generally like to catch-up with, but I wouldn’t say I have a best friend. 

And I don’t let people into my bubble, easily.

I’m not opposed to having a girls night every once in awhile, but I’m cool with a once-in-awhile-one-on-one meet up for dinner and interesting conversation (maybe that’s adulthood?). I don’t feel like I’m missing out by not having friends I’ve known since birth or living close to family and relatives.

Not saying it would be terrible to have family or friend support, but I’m not lost without it either. It’s just not something I’m used to, so as I’ve aged and moved around on my own, it’s not abnormal for me. Though, it is considered strange by others and almost impossible to explain without sounding like a sad puppy dog.

But I’m okay, and I find it to be more of a strength than a weakness. And maybe that’s annoying to some because they don’t get it. 

I admired the dedication my dad gave his family and now that I have a husband and two furry babies of my own, I’m living by example. Aren’t there worse things in the world I could be, than a semi-hermit? I don’t think so.

I’ve learned to weaken the barriers for family. And I think that’s good enough.

 

Subliminal Journalist In The Making

Thanks to Netflix I have been re-watching one of my favorites, That 70s Show. After the Hubs gets home from work and before he leaves for school we watch a few episodes together; squeezing in time for each other before it’s time to say goodbye for the night.

We recently watched an episode where the audience learns ‘Donna’ likes to write and wants to possibly pursue a career in journalism. It got me thinking about how many characters in my favorite TV shows were or wanted to be journalists.

Hmmm, maybe subliminal messaging just turned a new leaf? Where my conspiracy theorists at? Just kidding, #aintnobodygottimeforthat

1. Rory Gilmore – Gilmore Girls

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2. Phoebe Halliwell – Charmed 

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3. Carrie Bradshaw – Sex And The City 

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4. Clark Kent – Superman 

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5. Sabrina Spellman – Sabrina The Teenage Witch 

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6. Robin Scherbatsky – How I Met Your Mother 

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7. Donna Pinciotti

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8. Kermit – Sesame Street

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9. Rebecca Katsopolis – Full House

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10. Harriet M. Welsch – Harriet The Spy

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I’m not sure Harriet counts, officially. But we can categorize her as an investigative reporter in the elementary school department. This movie was one of my all-time favorites growing up. You’d have to ask my Ma how she managed the re-runs.

I’m sure plenty of other kids watched the same television shows growing up and connected with the same characters, and most probably didn’t want to pursue a career in writing. Personally, I can help but feel I might have been drawn to these characters for a reason and if anything, it’s another sign I might need to keep me motivated.

Maybe destiny really is written in the stars.

Post Graduate Problems

Another day another dollar, except when you’re a postgraduate looking desperately for someone, anyone, to hire you. Then, there are no dollars.

My mornings have been spent scouring the Internet and checking emails. In fraught need of different scenery, I sit at a local coffee shop filling out online job applications.

Its patrons are current college students, street sleepers or weathered motorcycle men enjoying the mid morning sun. I fit right in with my messy bun, workout shorts and oversized T-shirt (not Greek related).

Organic fruits are freshly juiced and blended in the background, while hipster coffee is being squeezed through expensive pressers. The air is obscure due to the dark brick walls, thick wooden tables and the only natural blocked because it’s not early enough in the day to beam through the windows.

 As I sip on ‘blended #1’ I contemplate where my life is headed.

“Will I ever find a job?”

“Of course, don’t be so dramatic.”

“What if I’m a waitress forever?”

Don’t be silly, you have a degree!”

“Are my social media pages haunting me?”

“Shannon, your most embarrassing pictures are on MySpace and they were deleted a long time ago.”

The statistics aren’t in my favor; only 27 percent of college graduates land a job in their desired field. The most hope one can have is that a job miraculously falls into your lap, preferably before student loans start its withdrawal from your already suffocating bank account.

“Network. Network. Network.”

It’s all I ever heard the last two years of my undergraduate degree. Professors, public speakers or guest lecturers were all obsessed with networking. I figured it was important and ran in circles making connections throughout the Dallas-Fort Worth area.

If it was an internship, I got it. If it was a meet and greet, I did it. If it was an open event to college students, I signed up. You name it I did, went and tried it.

“It’ll help me get a job. I won’t be a part of the statistic. I’ll have a job with my degree after I graduate,” I’d say with motivation.

The Metroplex is supposedly the number-one hot spot for college graduates, according to Forbes. It’s also in the top ten of places to live in the United States. I currently beg to differ.

It’s been almost two months since I began applying for jobs. The outcome is as dismal as the day before I started to apply. My hard work has resulted in multiple insurance agencies “recruiting” me for “competitive salaries,” which in the biz means, based off commission.

My email inbox has been championed the “thanks, but no thanks” collector of denials and contacts I had “networked” with haven’t responded to any of the polite, yet titillating, email inquiries.

A women my husband works with at a fitness company can’t find a better job than front desk attendant, because her resume proclaims she has a Master’s Degree.

When did accomplishing an academic achievement become detrimental to your resume? This bit of news came as a swift kick in the pants. I just graduated with my Bachelors. I literally can’t even think about graduate school, yet.

I reflect on YouTube sensation Jenna Marbles. A young woman who couldn’t find a job after graduation and became a viral hit through vloging instead.

I hear there’s a woman hawking her degree on EBay for the best offer. College experience included. For a hefty price you can purchase the full college voyage with campus tours, popular hangouts and bars, and full access to drunken texts you regret from the night before.

Am I destined for this same fate?

Maybe.

“Every no is one step closer to the yes.”

This sentiment has almost become as deterring as “be sure to network while in college.” Is this myth only one with years of experience can crack the code and then gain permission to tell hopeful candidates?

I never understood why professionals preached job searching is hard. I planned ahead and full heartily believed I’d have a job offer before or immediately after graduation. Ignorance is truly bliss. Where are all these jobs one speaks of? Can you ask them if they need a strategic communication major?

At least I have my health.

Mayborn Literary Nonfiction Conference 2015

This was my why not me moment.

Somewhere in March I received an email asking how much my words were worth. Intrigued, I actually read one of the zillions of emails sent by the university, daily. It was informing students about a nonfiction conference in Grapevine, Texas. You could submit work and if selected, attend workshops with editors, authors and professionals in the literary world.

These selections would also be in the running for cash prizes. As a broke, almost graduated, ever-since-I-was-young-wannabe-writer and student, I submitted a personal essay, why not me. And I was chosen for selection! I was floored, I finally threw out my insecurities and dove in head first and it paid off!

The conference was this past weekend. I don’t think I have the words to craft a proper gauge on how I felt. You know when Hagrid tells Harry, ur a wizard -arry, and Harry begins to understand he won’t have to spend all his time with the Dursleys? Or, when Harry rides his broom for the first time and finds out his father was also a decorated seeker? Or … well I could keep the Harry Potter metaphors going all night … you get it.

The conference was more than just a learning experience. I felt like a grew as a person who loves words and reading/writing stories. Here are a few of the speakers from the lectures I enjoyed the most:

1. Anne Fadiman speaking about her book The Spirit Catches You and You Fall DownHer keynote speech left me feeling full. She emerged herself into a unfamiliar world of Hmong refugees struggling with new life in California. “I believe in accidents, without them I never would’ve wrote my book.”

Happy accidents, this resonated with me. I need to embrace all the humps because those are what put me in the right places at the right time, like this literary conference. 

2.  Dan Barry and Kassie Bracken speaking about merging the two worlds of journalists and photographers. The importance of collaborating with professionals to tell a compelling story.

“Writing about people of poverty like victims is a mistake. It’s not fair to them as an individual.”

I think it’s easy to feel sorrow for those who aren’t as well off as an “average” human being. But it’s not just about their monthly income, it’s about the story and how people of poverty survive. 

3. The panel discussion with Caleb Hannan, S.I. Rosenbaum and Hanna Rosin. Hannan wrote an article about “Dr. V” and her magic putter. The outcome was tragic as the subject committed suicide during the interviews. His candid testimony led us to believe if you feel like something bad is going to happen, then you need to have an open discussion with your editor and vise-versa.

I personally believed he had balls to talks openly and honest about his mis-steps and answering the questions from his panel-mates. You can read the article here, and the letter from the editor here. And Rosenbaum’s after the fact article here.

4. George Getschow’s lecture about the importance of place in a narrative. “I’m always surprised to read an article that misses the importance of place.” Place is like a secondary character and it needs to be just as important as character development. These are the dimensions of place, as explained by Mr. Getschow:

  1. The History- Research it and find out what makes your place tick.
  2. Economy- How does the place survive. Is it an oil, ranching or low income?
  3. What do people wear? What do they eat? How do they communicate?
  4. Weather- It influences peoples mood for the day and how they dress. Using weather can reveal character.
  5. Gestures- How do people greet each other?
  6. Superstitions- paying attention to local legends or tales?
  7. Sights & Sounds

As I sat in a dimly lit lush ballroom with desserts on top of clean white soft linens, tempting guests to eat their cake before dinner, the winners for the top personal essays and reported narratives were announced. The top three in each category were awarded cash prizes, and the top ten would be published in the literary journal Ten Spurs.

There’s no better way to say this then, I WON! My name is called after the 8-minute mark in the video below and I get on stage after the 9-minute mark. A professor of mine called my name as I walked by to get on stage and I tackled her into a hug. “I didn’t know you submitted a piece! I’m so proud of you!”

There is no better feeling than hitting a home run. Now that I know how it feels I want to do it again, over and over again as many times possible. This was the perfect way to kick me off into the professional world and end my stay with the University of North Texas, Mayborn School of Journalism.

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It’s a cliche to say, “follow your dreams,” but it’s true. Many times I was red-inked, felt like a poor writer and told I’d never make any money as an author. My personal dialogue said the same thing. I finally told the voices the shut-it and jumped off the high dive.

It was a rough road. I felt exposed and unsure if I propelled my story with the correct words. I cried reliving certain slices of my life. In the end it all happened the way it was supposed to, why not me. 

This conference also added readings to my already to tall stack of books. This list is more for me so I won’t forget, but If you’re looking for something new to read, all the better!

Nothing Is Permanent

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My husband and I have had an annual date with our next door neighbors for three Fourth of Julys. We walk down to watch the free firework show from the coliseum and say hello. After, we say enjoy your night and see you next year.

It’s been a fun exchange we look forward to each year.

Yesterday, it was only the man sitting in his lawn chair on his sidewalk fiddling with his phone waiting for the light show to begin.

January 18, 2015, an ambulance and two firetrucks showed up to my neighbors two houses down door. His wife didn’t make it and I didn’t ask for specifics.

“I’m just trying to make it though, as they say life goes on,” he said. You could tell he wanted to talk about her. He missed her.

After an evening of drinking, it was a sobering moment.

After I returned to our garage I asked the Hubs what we were doing in January that we didn’t remember hearing a commotion.

It was a Sunday during football season and we were probably sitting at home watching the championship game. Why didn’t we hear anything?

Life is cruel. You assume when you tell an individual you’ll see them next year it will happen and when it doesn’t, it’s an eerie bone chilling realization that life is too precious to not appreciate its gift.

The few minutes we shared each year for the past two years and three fourth of Julys was one of the little things in life you’re told to appreciate. And I’m glad I didn’t take it for granted.

“It was great to see you, it wouldn’t have been our fourth of July without you.”

“Thanks, be sure to enjoy your evening.”

Until next year…

It’s My Birthday !!

The month of May has always been my favorite. You embrace the warm sun because for most of us everything has been in hibernation and it’s not too hot yet. The flowers, trees, weeds and bugs begin their rebirth and the constant sneezing reminds you of the life that is growing. May is the signal for the beginning of summer and the end of a school year.

It’s my favorite month because it’s also my birthday month.

I am 26-years old today and six days ago I graduated from The University of North Texas with my Bachelor’s degree in Journalism with a focus in Public Relations. I’m the master at strategic communications. It was the perfect way to kick off the weekend before my birthday. I had too much fun if that’s even possible.

My mother flew out from Florida, whom I haven’t seen in over two years. I forgot how much I missed seeing her. We spent mornings sitting outside sipping coffee and talking about family, the future and everything else in between. I forgot how nice it was to have a face-to-face conversation, instead of only hearing a voice on the other end of the phone.

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My in-laws flew out from California as well to see me graduate. The two of them have treated me like a daughter of their own since the moment I met them years ago. I’m lucky. The weekend was already a hit and how could it get any better?

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If walking across the stage was my high for the night I would’ve been satisfied. It doesn’t get any better hearing your name called as a recipient of a degree. I didn’t trip as I walked across the stage to received my diploma, but with so many eyes watching I was bound to do something Shannon like. I lost my graduation cap midway across the stage after I tried to give a hug to a professor. Oops.

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When the ceremony ended and I found my family, my husband had a bigger surprise in store and everyone was in on it.

YES, WE WERE ALL GOING TO THE DAVE MATTHEW’S CONCERT IN DALLAS. No matter what state I’ve lived in Matt and I have always made it to the Dave concert every year. I hadn’t been to a concert with my mom for several years and it was the first Dave experience for in the in-laws. Family booze and good music, that’s all you need in life.

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I am 26-years-old today and six days ago I graduated from college. The first three years of my higher education journey began in Jacksonville, Florida. I was working full-time as a waitress paying my way through junior college, slowly. In those days I thought I would be a elementary school teacher. I wanted to me somebody’s Miss. Honey.

Yesterday I got the best present I could’ve ever received. I was offered a job doing media relations. The best part? I will be PAID to do it, the biggest fear every graduate has — will I ever be paid to do anything? Life for me and my little family has changed so much in the past five years. It’s insane to think about where I’ll be in another five.

The month of May has been a month of growth and learning. I grew a year older today but I’ve jumped mentally and emotionally in age as well. I kept my mantra “why not me” singing in the back of my head and its pushed me into being a better professional. A year ago I wouldn’t of wanted to do half of the social interactions, business meetings or networking opportunities the University presented. The attitude change and confidence boost I gave myself made a worlds difference.

I’m ready to dive into the deep end of adulthood and play with the big kids in careers. This next chapter in life may be the scariest one yet, but no matter how scared shitless I may or may not be I’m ready.

Hello world, I’m ready to kick some professional ass.

Holy Tornado

I like to portray myself as a very strong, brave and stubborn individual, but when it comes to spring in Texas I am the biggest baby in the world. The weather in North Texas is insane, and that’s putting it mildly (unlike its summers). In the winter temperatures drop cool enough to produce snow. In the summer it bakes you like a chocolate chip cookie. Who even knows when fall begins.

The harsh changes in temperatures makes it the perfect breeding grounds for tornadoes. The sky turns into a swampy black color and the clouds droop lower to the ground. The whole experience with a tornado is intense. Last April I went through my first tornado drill, this past Sunday I got to practice again, alone.

I used to sit outside and watch the storms roll in when I lived in Jacksonville, Florida. I would hang out in the garage with my pops and count the number of lightening strikes. It rained everyday in the spring and summer at almost the exact time in the afternoon. I loved it. The thunder and heavy rain could put me to sleep like a baby being rocked.

In Texas I stay huddled under the covers if there is even a slight risk of a storm headed my way. I don’t play with tornadoes. My buddy and meteorologist, Rick Mitchell from NBC5-DFW had told me all week to stay weather aware and I did. My husband was up in Washington State for the weekend and I knew if anything happened I wanted to know about it first. I checked Twitter and kept the news on all day every day.

On Mother’s Day I spent an hour crammed underneath a mattress in my closet with my two pups. The sirens went off as I was digging through old photos. I was sitting on my bedroom floor trying to find the best oldie of my mom to post on Instagram for the holiday. I needed a break from studying and obsessing over the weather.

It’s pretty funny (now) that I spent days paying attention to the weather and nothing severe happened. I took a 15 minutes break to catch my breath and BAM holy tornado. I swear nothing is eerier than sitting around waiting for something to happen while the sirens are going off. It’s the fight or flight response except it gets sawed in half. You have to fight, you can’t run, you just wait.

It took a few seconds for the siren to register as the tornado alarm. I remember thinking, no that has to be an ambulance or firetruck off in the distance. Your brain really does try to protect you from emotional trauma.

A year ago I spent some more quality time with my closet, but last year it had my husband in it with me. I wasn’t upset or afraid. He checked the weather apps while I browsed through Twitter, both trying to get more information on where the tornado/funnel cloud/storm was headed. I wasn’t bawling my eyes out. I was just there and kind of numb.

This year I was alone. After I realized my brain wasn’t playing tricks on me I dashed towards my closet. I had made it a bunker the night before in preparation for Saturday night’s weather that would continue into Sunday.

One dog followed me straight into the closet. She was watching me like we were playing a new game. The other dog went under the bed and I couldn’t convince her to come out by cooing her name or bribing her with treats. I had to get underneath the bed and drag her to the closet. It’s a pretty crappy feeling when you have to drag anything anywhere.

I wrangled all of us into our makeshift bunker within a matter of two minutes. The heart was pounding and my hands were shaking. Have you ever felt so terrified that you thought you were going to puke? I thought haven been through one tornado last year I’d feel some kind of confidence. NOPE. After 15 minutes passed trying to convince my dogs we were going to be okay, I sent out text messages.

“Sirens going off”

My husband had no signal and my mother was at work, but hallelujah my in-laws called me immediately. My mother-in-law asked about school and finals to help distract me from my current situation. My father-in-law searched online for updates on the storm. They couldn’t be in the closet next to me but having them through the phone was more than enough. I wasn’t alone.

It’s funny, I want to be strong, tough and handle things on my own 24/7. My first thoughts after I was situated was MOMMY! Ironic this happened on Mother’s Day, no? I don’t care how old you are, you are never to old to still want your mom and if you’re lucky enough, after you get married you get another one. Thank God for Moms. Happy belated Mother’s Day!

The Denton Tornado

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