Alive Day

I am blessed. I am alive.

Two years ago today I almost wasn't. This video is a brief snapshot of some of the moments I would have missed.

It hasn't all been amazing and challenging moments remain for me as they do for all of us; however, seeing some of the many good moments all lined up together helps me to retrain my focus towards the positive. I am humbled at all the amazing moments God has granted me over the last two years and I want all those who have loved and supported me to know just how much I love them ... I am alive because good people care about me and see me in my struggles and happiness.

Happy Alive Day everyone :) This day is dedicated to all those who are no longer with us due to the tragedy of suicide .... my heart is with you for I too have faced the darkness and pain of wanting to end your life ... if you are depressed, if you are sad, if anxiety cripples your daily life please feel me with you in the struggle ... KEEP BREATHING...

all my love . . .

The beginning .. before the middle or the end.

Wait … wait… wait ….

The word reverberated in my head; getting louder each time I said it. Faces are above me, angry faces – wait … two are speaking, I don't know them, no, not speaking, yelling …

Wait … please … wait …

I can hear one of them now but it's like trying to listen to someone yelling against a fierce wind, the words are faint and you make out only a few at a time – "get" … "car" …

Wait … wait… wait … I say in my head again; then finally I find a word, a word to not just say in my head, "Stop!" I hear it; it sounds funny, low and far away. I try again, "Stop! Stop! Wait … Stop!"

On that last word the wind is gone and in a moment everything is loud – sounds loud, feels loud, looks loud.

"Stop!" I say it again but the faces keep talking, both of them, at the same time. I hear them now.

"No! You stop! Get out of the car, we need you out of the car!" says one.

"How many?! How many did you take? No, we're not gonna stop – you need to get out or we'll take you out!" says the other. 

For the first time I see them, they're cops. I don't understand. I feel angry and afraid, so afraid, "Please… wait … wait wait … please …" I say. Everything is too loud; they are too close.

"No!" says the one who's on my side of the door, as he leans in and unbuckles my seatbelt, "We need you out now!"

Looking for the first time in the cop's direction, I see, up and out the open door, my therapist. He's trying to talk to them, he's saying something, I don't know exactly what it is but then I make out some of the words, "Just take it easy, give her a second."

"We don't have time for that, we need her out now," says the cop at my door. He turns to me, "This is gonna be a lot worse if you don't get out."

Everything is so loud, so fast. I hear him but I feel like I'm watching a movie where the sound dubbing is a little off, delayed. I suddenly feel cold and see that my door is open and I want to close it but he's there in front of the door, leaning in and angry. I hear myself say, "ok, just … one secon - ok." Anything to stop the yelling.

     
     
     This was the beginning of four of the worst days of my life. The question could then be asked – why go back? Why dredge it all up again; leave it alone, look forward. To that I would say that writing about it is looking forward. Writing about it allows it to no longer hide just under the surface, popping up occasionally to terrify me into believing I'm crazy or incompetent. Writing about it, is me choosing to look at it all, to take command of memory and no longer allow memories to take command of me. I've lived most of my life in control, at least on the outside, holding things together for family, for friends, for myself; while on the inside I was and sometimes still am a tsunami.

     A tsunami is a catastrophic ocean wave that causes great destruction when it reaches land. Earthquakes, or volcanic activity, or some other major disturbance under the sea causes it and the devastation it brings is immense. My destruction and devastation was always internal. Large earthquakes in the form of trauma, bullying, pain, disappointment, loneliness, and rejection would come and destroy the good I had tried to build in spite of the bad. Leading up to that day in January almost two years ago now, the tsunami's had gotten worse. It was no longer a large disturbance that started my devastating wave of emotion, it was now having to deal with traffic, or long lines at the grocery store, or a seemingly innocent conversation that somehow struck a nerve; everything led to a large reaction. 

     When tsunamis begin to come weekly, at first you're a little worried, thinking you can get it under control, you can find a safe place to weather the storm. They then begin to come daily, then before you know it, hourly; and not really knowing or understanding how, you are in your car on a snowy and cold January afternoon with two strangers yelling at you as your only thought is…. wait …. wait … please wait …

*part one of a three to five part series. If you haven't read my first post on this: http://mistsofphineas.blogspot.com/2014/01/what-year-ago-was-like-for-me.html*

A Voice.

"She's just discovered her voice"

"Oh. Then, she's gonna be a singer?"

 "Well, she's gonna be something . . . aren't you? Yes, yes you are. . . ."

            Recently, I found myself waiting for a client in the lobby of DCFS. It was after office hours and the normally crowded and loud waiting area had all but cleared out. A young women and a baby were sitting next to one side of the floor to ceiling windows and an older couple, making small talk amongst themselves, was on the other side. My mind was preoccupied. I felt like I couldn't complete a thought in my head before three others would shoot up, clamoring for my attention. I decided to take a couple of breaths and try to clear my head, my heart. At this moment, the young baby, probably no older than seven or eight months, yelled out in glee; the high pitch yell that you know surprises them as much as you. As I looked over at that beautiful baby girl and smiled, I overheard the young women say, "She's just discovered her voice." The older women, who had been conversing with her husband, was also looking at the baby and responded in a light manner, "Oh. Then, she's gonna be a singer?" The young women smiled and looked down at the child as she replied, "Well, she's gonna be something . . . aren't you? Yes, yes you are."

            

            I wasn’t prepared for the reaction I would have. Tears sprang to my eyes and I thought a hundred things at once, yet this time they all made sense. I felt a deep joy as well as a deep sadness; joy for the baby and the bright future she could have and sadness for the many others I see whose lives started out with the same innocence only to have lost their voices or to have their voice's silenced.  I wanted to say to that young woman, "Yes, yes she will be something but don't forget that she already is something. Yes, she just discovered her voice so please don't ever let her lose it, please. Help her see that her voice matters that she matters."

            

            They were then all called back to their different visits and I was left alone in the lobby. I couldn't get the phrase "discovered her voice" out of my head. I began to think about my own voice and if I even knew what it was anymore. Had I allowed my voice to be silenced by life, society, experiences, enemies, well or not so well intentioned friends or family members, or even my own self? I knew that I had. I knew that I had lost who I was because I was so busy trying to make sure everyone else was happy with the person I was becoming. I never have wanted to hurt anyone, I never have wanted to be a disappointment so I pleased others based off what I assumed their expectations were for me. Not to say that with some of those choices and opinions I didn't also please myself, because I did. I mean, I'm not a complete push over – just find the level of "complete push over", scale back down two levels and that's where I'll be. Somewhere in that mess of assumptions, expectations, and rules I allowed to be placed upon me, my voice had been brushed aside, quieted, and finally silenced. Shockingly enough, I was the biggest silencer.

            

             I then began to think about why that was? I meet with people everyday that seem to be beaten down by life and who are struggling in ways that I never knew existed. My heart hurts for them but even more so when I see in them what I've seen in me: they become their worst critic. Their voice becomes one of anger and hate towards themselves and those around them and maybe even before they understand what is happening, misery is the new normal. It was then, in that moment of too many thoughts, that hopelessness crept in - my old familiar friend, who always seems to come when I need him least. Being the bully that he is, he rarely travels alone so along came despair, anger, self-pity, fear, and hate. Normally, I'm no match for when they all seem to crowd in upon me but somehow that moment was different.

            

            I thought about the little baby, I thought about her happiness and the power that came to her in discovering her voice. I began to get angry, and for the first time in a long time the anger was for the negative, self-defeating voice in my head. My true voice, the voice I had allowed to be silenced, the voice who can often speak for others needed to start to speak back to the negative inside myself, to find the power again. I heard myself begin to talk back to the hopelessness. I heard myself tell it to get lost, that it wasn't needed and wasn't true. The very fact that I allowed this innocent situation to teach me something meant my voice was coming back and in that there was hope.

So, I challenge you to do the same. If you know your voice, use it to help another. If your voice has been silenced, unearth it, become aware of who or what is behind the silencing and crush it. If you don't know your voice, find it, because you have one. Terry Tempest Williams has said, "Each of us has one. Each voice is distinct and has something to say. Each voice deserves to be heard. But it requires the act of listening."

I'm listening . . . .

            

What a year ago was like for me . . . .

"One of the greatest lies ever told is that there's no power in vulnerability."

  Dianna Hardy

If ever there was a moment in my life where I have needed power … to push through, to overcome, to keep going, it is now. So, with that in mind, it seems that the sharing of this story – of my story – is rooted in my own selfishness. Feel free to continue reading, to take this journey with me but, by all means, please do not feel compelled.  

One year ago tomorrow, January 12, I found myself somewhere I never thought I would be – the Behavioral Health unit of a local hospital. Now, for those not in the know on the politically correct terminology I just used to describe this fine type of medical unit, I'll help you out – it was a Psych ward. Yup, a legitimate "what the movies always show it as" psych ward – complete with a loud rec room, every 20 minute room checks, awful hospital gowns, and my room consisting of nothing but a bed bolted to the floor.

Now, I'm completely aware of the bias I have, given the situation I found myself in, but I remind myself and anyone else who decided to keep reading, that this is my story, and I will tell it how I viewed it, how it seemed to me. To me, there could be no more horrible place to find myself. Me – the person who had spent most of her life afraid of someone knowing how I really felt – the person who learned to become a great listener to anyone who needed it not only because my years of observance had taught me to love people but also because the fear of having to talk about myself with any depth was more than I could stand – the person who wanted nothing more in my life than to be normal – here I was, in what society had always taught me was practically the least normal place I could be.

How had I allowed myself to get this low? How had I gotten myself here? How do I get out? More importantly, how do I get out with giving away the least information about myself and letting the least amount of people know? I was horrified. I was ashamed. I wanted nothing more than the earth to swallow me whole so I would never again have to face the outside world. In one quick moment, I was changed, altered, different, and thinking about living in any kind of world as this new me was not a thought I wanted to ponder. I was also angry, angrier than I had ever before felt. Who were these ridiculous psychiatrists, nurses, social workers? Coming in and asking me deep personal questions about if I had tried to end my life and if I understood that the amount of pills I took was reckless. I had hardly shared the depth of my pain with myself, which is what got me where I was, let alone sharing with complete strangers who I felt only wanted one thing – to medicate me and throw away the key.

Yes, in looking at it now, it was an attempt to end my life but what it really was to me, and what I want more than anything through the sharing of this story is for this point to be understood - it was a way to end the pain of my life. When I did what I did I wasn't thinking I want my life over, I was thinking – I haven't slept for 3 days, my mind wont shut off, I can't stand for one more second to feel the bottomless pit of agony I was feeling. It was as if my emotions were all controlled by a wide array of faucets and all emotions were turned off except agony, which had been turned on full blast; and in my haste to turn the faucet off, I broke the handle, there was no stopping it. So, I took pills and kept taking them because sleep wasn't coming. I knew physically how I had gotten in the hospital but what I was unable to do was understand it all.

 I had found myself the victim of abuse in my childhood and had kept that incident locked up tight for 15 years. The event was bad enough for my emotional health over that time but it was in the secret keeping that the most damage occurred. This was exactly the kind of thing the doctors wanted me to talk about, however, it was exactly the kind of thing I would never let them hear. I did what I had to do to get out. Now, there are probably many people who have benefitted from the doctors and workers of a facility like this, I was not one of them. It was the worst place for me. I have never felt more alone in all of my existence, and I have never felt more devalued as a human being than I did on that unit. I felt that of the maybe 30 people (doctors, nurses, clinicians, etc.) I met during my four days there, only two treated me like a human being; only two looked at me as a person just like themselves, not a diagnosis or someone with "mental illness". I will forever be grateful for those two people.

I share this not in hopes that pity or sympathy will be felt for me but that the stigma that comes from struggling mentally or emotionally, will be broken. In sharing this story I am no longer allowing myself to cower in the corners of shame, terrified that I will be found a fraud. Guess what? We all have parts of ourselves that are fraudulent and hypocritical, that’s what makes us human.  What I learned from my time with the other patients on that unit is that there aren't "normal" people and people with mental illness but that we are all just people; people who experience life and humanity in very different ways and will face very different challenges as a result.

This past year hasn't been easy for me, just like I know it hasn't been easy for millions of other people. Will I continue to struggle at times? Yes. Will I win triumphantly on some days and lose miserably on others? Yes. So will you. So will the millions of other people on this planet. So, I return to my selfish motives. I write this for me. I write this so that on those days where I have miserably lost, I can read over my own words and find the power I will desperately need, the power I hope I gained in being vulnerable. 

recreating the past . . .



 

     Don't we all have those family pictures that seem to remain in family folklore no matter how much time goes by? Sometimes its because they are humorous, weird, silly or outlandish but other times who knows why they are remembered. The one below with my brothers I seem to think falls in the "who knows" category. None the less, here it is:

 

 

 

 

and here it is more than 12 years later . . . recreated:

 

 

 

Twelve years ago I considered them my best friends. How lucky I am to still be able to say that. Love you, brothers!

 

Mia

My favorite Easter . . .

April 2006 was one of the best Easter's I can remember in a long time. It was the last big holiday before Marcos and I went on our missions and everything changed. I wonder if we thought life would change as much as it has and would we have been able to appreciate it more if we had known? I can remember distinctly feeling a love for my family that day as we talked and laughed and flew kites together. 

Mom and I thought it would be fun to do an Easter egg hunt because we had never really done that in our family. We upped the fun a little by telling our fierce hunters that there was money in those eggs . . .

You can tell by the following pictures that it got intense; but what I really love about it was that we all became children again, and you can definitely tell that by the pictures from that day:) . . .

(best "Ready, Set, Go" picture EVER)

Can it have been a more beautiful day?

Did they really think Mom and I were so obvious as egg hiders?

They weren't against playing a little rough:)

Marcela was one of the best - you can't tell here but her basket was full of eggs

and like everything, it had to end - - - - no idea what happened to Marcos, he was there at the beginning, then vanished . . .

I can't believe we only had little Samu back then:)

and obviously . . . . we are insane.

"Stop fearing death, I want something to live for . . ."

I was in Mr. Egbert's fifth grade class, carefree and happy, when I had an experience that, in hindsight, was a course changing moment. I was bounding down one path of life and even though I didn't recognize it then, I allowed one experience to throw me onto a course of anxiety, pain, self-doubt and self-hatred.

I was late coming in from recess and didn't really notice that the class had quieted as I entered and tried to quickly make my way back to my desk. We sat in "teams" of five so that it could help foster learning but that day it only helped foster cruelty. As I got closer I noticed my team all had their heads down and were hiding smirks and as I got to my desk, I saw it - written diagonally with big letters, in pen, " 1-800- Jenny- Craig!" I looked up a little stunned and they started to laugh and as the laughter spread to the tables all around us, my friend who had written it, looked over at me with what I can describe now as malice mixed with glee, and told me I should make sure my parents got me into Jenny Craig so I could stop how fat and disgusting I was becoming. I didn't even know what to say but was saved by Mr. Egbert coming in and trying to quiet everyone down as we moved into geography. I pushed back the tears that had begun to sting my eyes and willed myself to not cry.

             I will never know what compelled my so called friend to do that to me but it's been interesting as I have run into her over the years, the first thought that enters my mind is what she wrote on my desk. It goes away and we talk pleasantly about our lives and part ways wishing each other well. I can honestly say I hold no anger towards her, but I always walk away wondering if she knows what that one act started for me in my life. I then hope that I never was the catalyst for someone else's pain and sorrow and I silently plead in prayer that if ever I was I can somehow try to put it right. We all make mistakes; we don't get out of this life without hurting someone (intentionally or not). Sadly, sometimes the person we hurt the most is ourself. The sad part to me is that this is what I looked like in fifth grade:

 I can now see that I wasn't this huge gigantic monster I began to tell myself that I was. Before that day I had never worried about my size because I was just a kid. My brothers and I lived on our bikes during all seasons and wore ourselves out trying to get every last minute out of daylight: playing soccer, baseball, night games or just crazy tricks on the trampoline.  Oh, the tears that would come when we had to come inside. I was active and happy and words like "fat" or "skinny" or "diet" didn't even crossed my mind.

But I was a shy kid, an embarrassed kid, even with my own family. I never told anyone anything. I liked to have fun and do things with friends but I was the listener, I hardly ever talked about me. That year began my battle with myself as it came to what I looked like. I began to watch other kids and frantically wonder if I was bigger than they were and if so, how much bigger? As the days and weeks and months went by I continued to go careening down the wrong path until it was my well worn trail that I never got off.

What does all this have to do with the last year of my life? Well, it's the reason I finally decided enough was enough. I didn't want to lose weight for everyone else in my life who lovingly thought it would make me happier; or so that I could finally feel like I fit in and was just like everyone else; or even that it could maybe improve my dating life – I wanted to do it for me. I was tired of living like the only thing that made me a good enough person was how much I weighed and with the state I was in I could never judge myself a good enough person. I wanted to be healthy, to play soccer again, to finally stop hating who I was for everyday of my life. It might sound a little dramatic but really, under the smile I tried to wear, these were the true emotions.

I started last year on March 1, 2012 and to date I have lost 75 pounds. My first step was to get rid of the guilt; if I wanted a cookie I would have one and I wouldn't hate myself for days because of it. I began to slowly try to exercise a particle of will power in watching what I ate. I tried to chose better but not act paranoid. I began to walk, like I have always liked to do and then the craziest thing – I stayed away from a scale. I only really weighed myself every couple of months. 

Every day was hard. I had to tell myself everyday that I was doing this for life not for a diet. I still have to say that. I still have to ask myself if I'm hungry or if I'm letting my emotions control me. Sometimes the emotions win but I stop there and try again the next day. I realized a person's value is not found in a number on the scale, whether too high or too low. I used music to help – "I want something to live for" by The Rocket Summer became my own personal anthem. I realized I had been living the shell of a life not the real thing and I needed to stop fearing things like failure or pain or embarrassment and live!

I debated even sharing this with others because the honest truth is that I might have been able to change my weight a little in a year but the way I think about myself is a whole other story. I haven't even come close to fixing the years that negative self-hatred can do to a person, but I'm trying. I still look in the mirror and see the same person from a year ago staring back at me. I thought I would be instantly happy as I lost weight; I thought I would be dating like crazy . . . but so far, neither of those things has happened. I guess what I am learning is the cliché old way of thinking: happiness comes from within, from liking yourself. I'm not there yet but I've decided to use this last year as another course correcting experience – who knows what hindsight will bring me in twenty years?

So I just want to say to myself and to whomever might be reading: be nice to yourself, be nice to others. 

February 2012 - - - - - - -  - - - - - - February 2013

          

Moments from the past year that I want to focus on and maybe in a year I can be talking about finally liking the person I am - inside and out. 

The Living Years . . .

Mia, Grandpa Chard and Gabriel on Grandpa's 76th birthday

     I was in fifth grade when my brother Gabriel came into my room in the early morning with a panicked look on his face, "Mia, mom and dad are both gone." My heart instantly sank and fear was my main emotion. We were quiet as we wandered the house looking for them so as not to wake our younger brothers and inflict on them the same torture we were feeling. It's interesting how memory works to pull you back in and even now, as I type this, my chest tightens because I know where this memory leads and I'm sad all over again for those two little kids in my mind and what they will soon feel. In our wanderings and at the same moment we both heard steps on the porch; freezing on the stairs, we both were hit with the same realization: Grandpa. 

     Growing up next door to my Grandparents was a blessing I will count as treasured, forever. Grandma had passed away a few years earlier and Grandpa had become an even bigger part of our lives. I can still see him sitting on the porch in his rocking chair; giving us money to run to Hind's Quick Stop to get coke and snowballs; and watching me mow his lawn and then laugh as he finally realized I was pushing so hard because I never held down the bar that would make it self propel.  I want to think those were the thoughts that were running through my mind as I waited for my mom to walk into the house but mostly I think my mind was blank. One look was all it took, she didn't need to speak because Gabriel and I already knew, Grandpa had died.

     Almost instantly I wanted to see my dad. Was he okay? Was he with Grandpa?  What do you do without a dad in the world? My mind couldn't grasp that last concept and maybe seeing him would help. My mom walked Gabriel and me over to the house so that we could be with Dad and his sister Norma. I will never forget walking into Grandpa's house and hearing the radio playing softly in the background - the song was, "The Living Years" by Mike and the Mechanics. I could see my dad and his sister Norma in Grandpa's room; Gabriel walked to them but I moved into the living room and sat alone, listening to the music and not knowing what to do.

     I heard that song the other day and instantly was brought back to that moment, day and time when Grandpa passed to finally rest with Grandma. That song is the clarion call to all who listen to not live with regret – to speak the things of our hearts because, for this life, there will come a time that it will be too late. I know that my dad and his father didn't share the tortured relationship that the song talks about but I have often had conversations with him about his memories and his life growing up and when he talks about his mom or dad there is a longing in his eyes. Why do we wait? Why do we not let people know what they really mean to us – now – immediately – right away?

So today, in my living year, I want to let people know that I love them, that they have influenced me, that I have seen their kindness and one day only hope to match a small portion of it. I guess tonight it's also my challenge to whoever might read this – don't wait, say what you always hold back and do it now, in the living years . . .

The best season of all . . .

My favorite time of year has arrived. Fall. The world slows down, the air is crisp and the leaves are crisper. This year I have been able to appreciate what the best season of all means to the city and the country, either way it's beautiful:

 

 

 

 

 

I love you Fall!!

Brothers . . .

. . .  do you remember this day? So. much. work.

But, oh, what a fun trip.

The Story - Brandi Carlile

If you have never heard of Brandi Carlile, stop what you are doing, and listen to her. One of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard and such amazing lyrics.  I love the power that is found in music. I love the lyrics to her song, "The Story" -

All of these lines across my face

Tell you the story of who I am

So many stories of where I've been

And how I got to where I am

But these stories don't mean anything

When you've got no one to tell them to

It's true, I was made for you

I climbed across the mountain tops

Swam all across the ocean blue

I crossed all the lines, and I broke all the rules

But,baby, I broke them all for you

Because even when I was flat broke

You made me feel like a million bucks

You do, I was made for you

You see the smile that's on my mouth

It's hiding the words that don't come out

All of our friends who think that I'm blessed

They don't know my head is a mess

No they don't know who I really am

And they don't know what I've been through

Like you do, and I was made for you

All of these lines across my face

Tell you the story of who I am

So many stories of where I've been

And how I got to where I am

Oh but these stories don't mean anything

When you've got no one to tell them to

It's true, I was made for you

And it's true that I was made for you

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8pQLtHTPaI


Sometimes music helps you say something that words alone can't, maybe one day I can have that kind of gift. I am tired tonight. I am tired of feeling the same emotion over and over again, does that ever happen to anyone else? You think you have it licked and it sneaks up behind you and there you go again:) Well, tomorrow is another day and I'm hoping for a good one . . .

like a pendulum.

A Girl on the Swing

Chungmi Kim

She sees the mountain

upside down.

With her long hair 

sweeping the fallen leaves

she swings

like a pendulum.

From the lagoon at sunset

a hundred sparrows fly away.

Wishing them back

she whistles softly.

And downward

she falls into the sky.

I am came across this poem at an extremely dark time of my life. I felt haunted by it. I felt as if I connected with that girl on the swing, having my own things to wish back: childhood, innocence, happiness, love, confidence. But we all know that nothing comes back just by wishing for it. If it were so what would we say for growth or cultivation of character? 

What I didn't realize then, that has come with time, is how truly wishing is a childlike verb. It points to the lack of being able to change your situation; you wish for things for which you have no control, it is what you do when you are helpless. For far too long I have lived my adult life with that childlike verb as my mantra - sitting back and wishing that things were different, that time could be reversed to come out right, to have it all play out fair.

Finally, however, after small steps in the right direction I am finally beginning to swing my pendulum in the opposite direction and realize there is nothing wrong with wishing . . . if . . . it is combined with work. That was what I was forgetting all those years - I am no longer a child. I am no longer a helpless victim of unfairness and pain. I can wish and work my way to the person I long to be. It has taken years and many set backs and there will probably be a few more but I am okay with that, because it is in those moments of set back that I have the free feeling of knowing that I can see a mountain upside down and my hair can touch the leaves as I make my way back up . . .

On Thursday August 9, 2012, I was given a gift that will forever live in my memory; I was able to see what I had set aside all these years as something I didn't deserve - - - love. My parents threw me a surprise birthday party and the inadequate word I keep thinking that would encompass it is LOVE - I certainly felt in and I hope with all my heart that they felt and will continue to feel it from me. 

Thank you. 

And now for the fun . . . . picture madness . . . "deal with it Cate Blanchett!"

Yeah - - - I wasn't expecting a backyard of people:) but oh, was it fun . . .

Love first to the women who made it all possible and worked all summer for this - love you mom!

Enjoying a moment with Pops - thank you Dad! I love you:)

And the prize for the person who came the farthest goes to . . . Aunt Margie! Come on downnnnn!! (What I always assume must be said when a winner is announced - curse you Price is Right!) I love you more than words:)

Closest I will ever come to a celebrity . . . no autographs please.

Such a beautiful night! Thanks to everyone who came:) 

Some of my favorite people on the planet - Paul and Paulette Barnes:)

The wonderful Apedailes!!

Becky and I  - such a dear friend

Fernando and Raquel - it wouldn't have been a celebration without them:)

Los Patiños - - - part of my life for 20+ years, love you!

Mark and Candace Crane - I love these two:)

The Lyon's - Peterson is a better place because you live there!

I must interrupt the guest pics to highlight everyone's favorite part - - - the food! Marcela made and decorated the cutest and most delicious cupcakes - there were ribbon sandwiches, empanadas, fruit, veggies, rolls and so many more delicious treats - someone better tell me if they were good;) I was too busy talking:)

Alex and Val - Seagull Book and HR at the Church would have been so not doable without these friends!

Cassie and Michelle! What can you say for best friends?! So happy they came!

Amber!! Life is so much fun because I know this girl!

Could this group be any cooler?! I pretty much say no - Mackenzie, Jenny, Hayli, Eliza, Jake and Andrea (award for best expression goes to Hayli ;) she wins every time)

Cassie and Michelle with their great husbands - Bryce and Spencer:)

I was so happy that Betty and Gordon came:)

She taught me preschool down the lane . . . isn't that so "small town" . . .

Claudia loved having me pose and I loved her for doing that - It was such a great sunset!

The swing was a fun spot - Eli could really get it going, it was so great that the Ferrell family came!

Natalie and I pretty much go back to birth, haha - My cousin and dear friend!

There was so much fun going on - good food, conversation, and SOCCER - it wouldn't be an Argentine birthday without soccer, I wish I would have joined in:)

Look at Jake taking all those kids on - you rock Jake!

And the highlight for many . . . . the PIÑATA - not one but two! Mason is going for it!

So many fun prizes - my mom made separate bags for the boys and the girls! There isn't anyone more awesome than my madre!

Of course they needed a 30 year Piñata veteran to step in and seal the deal - 

Nothing to it but aggression, haha

Summer Ferrell and I with the perfect birthday hats - such a cutie!!

Mackenzie! I am so grateful for her:)

LoriAnn Ferrell and I  - one of my favorite people on the planet:)

The camera women herself - - - Tia Claudia!

Natalie and her cute Siena

My friends from SLC - seriously love them all: Jen, Hayli, Lesley, Andrea and Kristen! These girls are the coolest, can I please be like them when I grow up?

Alex always being the life of the party:) Love you, Al!!

The day finally coming to a close but not before . . . .

CAKE! Mason will always and forever be my birthday candle blowing out partner - he is a pro!

I didn't get to get a picture with everyone that came but I hope they know how much I love them!! . . . . . . . so . . . . . . until another 30 years pass . . .  . . . . . . .

THAT'S ALL FOLKS . . . . .