the reinvention of you

I wish blogs had little trap doors into a virtual family room of sorts. For this one I feel like we need to curl up on the couch so I can look you in the eyes as we talk back and forth. I want to hear about your life too. I have some news I want to share that is just so precious to me and I hope the written words can do the actual feelings justice. 

As women, we constantly reinvent ourselves with each decade of life. I don't mean anything as surface as a make over or even a personality overhaul. I mean a real and authentic revamping of every single purpose and cell in our being. Think about it- ten years old you compared to 20 year old you. Pigtails and skinned knees turning into adulthood. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" turns into, "What am I doing with my life?" You look and feel and are completely different.  

I remember turning 30, thinking I was so "old" ( HA!!!) Wondering when my "real life" was going to begin, not knowing I was there all along. I lived in my own apartment in Hermosa Beach, a gorgeous beachfront city in Los Angeles, California. I was making great money in Pharmaceutical Sales, I loved to run on the beach and hang out with friends on the weekend. But I thought a lot about what I didn't have- my Disney promised "happily ever after." Husband, kids and a yard to call my own. 

From 30 to 40 was a huge shift. From career person to wife, mother, and then stay at home mom. First to an 18 month old and a newborn. And then the realization that although I was a mom, my life was unlike any other motherhood journey I had personally witnessed. I had to relearn everything I thought I knew about parenting and life. Yoda said, You must unlearn what you have learned and so I did. Imperfectly, sloppily and with all the grace I could muster. 

I hit 40 and I felt younger and more capable than that 30 year old prior, but I didn't have it "all figured out" suddenly like my dog-eared Glamour magazines promised me I would by now. Yoda also says, In a dark place we find ourselves, and a little more knowledge lights our way. I think Yoda gives pretty good parenting advice. 

For most of these years I was home with the boys, attending some kind of Doctor or Therapy appointment. Our days were planned around intensive home Behavior Therapy where my boys learned to navigate life. Every single thing typical kids learn naturally- how to eat with a utensil, how to pull on a shirt on over your head, how to brush your teeth, how to label colors, how to hold an adult's hand while crossing the street- they were repeatedly and painstakingly taught on a daily basis. At first I was terrified, I was confused, I didn't know what they needed- and over the years, we found our path.

Sometimes when you are on our own little well lit path- you can suddenly find yourself in the dark again. In September of 2023, we moved to St. Louis after I spent 24 years in California. A truly magical state that was unfortunately no longer meant for us. Buddha says, In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you. Boy is letting go hard. 

The boys started school in October. For the first time in literally ever- both boys are in the right spot for school. Suddenly I found my days filled with free time, which at first was weird, and then cool, and then just boring. I had an ache in my soul for something more. What do I want to be when I grow up? I still wondered. In my past life, aka before Mom'ing- I was in Pharmaceutical Sales. I made a lot of money, but it didn't fill my soul. 

While rocking our Plan B Life during the past decade- I fell in love with watching my boys learn. I fell in love with teaching them. I read everything I could get my hands on about how the brain works, neuroplasticity, what motivates behavior, communication, and child development, how to learn how to read and more. Certainly that passion could be used somewhere, I wondered. And then I thought about the 15 year gap on my resume. Then I saw an add on Facebook, polished up my (ancient, carved in stone) resume, got some letters of recommendation, and went on my first interview in probably 20 years. 

And now you are looking at the new Mrs. Kelly, substitute Teacher. It's only been a month, but I LOVE IT SO MUCH! 

It's so fun! It's also so hard! One- because it's hard! Two, because I don't know any of the technology and currently school is MOSTLY TECHNOLOGY- it's all apps and google drives and links. Back in my days we called links ACTUAL HEAVY BOOKS in our backpack. Three- because you literally have to have 47 windows open in your brain at one time, while also talking, writing, finishing what you are doing while also planning how to execute what comes next. I've taught kindergarten,1st, 2nd, 5th, 6th, Freshman and PE (enter laughing emoji here! What the hell is ultimate frisbee and floor ball?!I don't know but I taught it!)  Every time is a new choose your own adventure. 

But my hard is absolutely, positively NOTHING compared to full time Teacher hard. MY HEROES. My first few times subbing- tears filled my eyes numerous times as I watched how many people are literally working all day, every day - pouring their everything into our children. From the people in the cafeteria, to custodians, to bus drivers, to paras and aides, to people holding a stop sign at the cross walk to the main office air traffic controllers.

Teachers are teaching all damn day, sometimes monitoring lunch duty and recess, then donning walkie talkies for after school pick up. (I thought school drop off was crazy from a parent perspective. HA! At least we don't have to deal with the craziest of all= US PARENTS!)  

ON TOP of teaching, Teachers and Administration are attending meetings and professional development, learning the constantly changing format of technology, finding new and innovative ways to engage students, and accommodating extremely different learning styles with different baselines. They are writing lesson plans, managing behavior, filling out check lists and questionnaires about students with known and suspected learning differences, collaborating with Admin, communicating with parents and connecting with children (plus eleventy hundred trillion things I can't think of right now).

"So and so rides the bus so he leaves in five minutes", "so and so gets picked up", "so and so stays for after school club"- (also- can I go to the bathroom- my stomach hurts, can I go to the nurse- Tommy has Speech Therapy at 10:30. The timer went off- Maddie has to go to the nurse to take medicine). THERE IS SO MUCH TO REMEMBER AND OUR TEACHERS ARE DOING JUST THAT. It is an outright miracle and incredible and they deserve Pharmaceutical Sales level money so much more than I ever did.

Every single day from bell to end bell- our schools are this constantly changing by the second machine and it is the most beautiful thing and an honor to witness. 

Every parent should have to substitute teach for one day. 

So here's your homework assignment my friend. 

1. Answer- What do you want to be when you grow up? Maybe you are doing it now and need that reminder. And if you aren't, It's never too late to write a new story regardless of what decade you are in.

2. Hug a Teacher. Write them a note telling them how awesome they are. Give them a gift card or a high five or a Mercedes. They are magic. 

So Much Love,

Mrs. Kelly

PS- I wish they could just call me Chrissy but I know that's illegal. 

be ok

I like to put words into feelings. Sometimes it helps me to name them. (Sad, happy, anxious, melancholy...) Describe them. Understand their origin and backstory. All of this work creating a door inside that is able to then release them.

But sometimes feelings just need to be felt. Not prodded or labeled or poked. The words we tell ourselves aren't always accurate. We aren't as omniscient of narrators as we would like to think. It's not that we mean to lie, it's just that we are stuck in the stories we tell ourselves. It's never ever too late to tell a different story.

Remember driving without stress or care, windows down, weather perfect, a song that explicitly matches your mood blasting on the radio? You just feel. I mean if you HAD to describe it, you could. But it wouldn't accurately describe how simple and free and good it feels. 

Sometimes, we just need to feel. 

It's been a little over 6 months since we moved from California to Missouri. The sharp grief of loss is slowly being replaced with acceptance and new normals. I can tell you, we are much more the same than different. When it's cold we complain about it. When it's hot we complain about the heat. Most people don't know how to drive in the rain. Most people think the boxes we check (girl/boy, republican/democrat, black/white) make us more different than the same. 

Recently I was listening to a new podcast called MeSsy with Christina Applegate and Jamie-Lynn Sigler. Both ladies are dynamic actors, truth tellers, gritty, and witty as hell- and they have MS. But this isn't a podcast "about MS" because we are never the one thing that simple minded people might use to quickly label us. While listening I was overcome with its relatability. Not because MS has been a part of my life, but simply because they are human beings trying to navigate some of life's unexpecteds. It was such a great reminder that: it's ok to temporarily not be ok, we are never just one thing, and something that makes our life harder can ALSO bring us into a realm so authentic that it makes you stronger, better and realer than you ever could have written into existence.  (You can listen to MeSsy HERE.)

People who haven't been through HLT (hard life thing) often don't know what to say, so they say something that makes us feel more lonely. "You have MS? At least it's not ALS!" (toxic positivity- fun!)  " My neighbors Aunt had MS." (ok...is there more to this story?) "You are such an inspiration!" (because of a diagnosis? Ok).

We've all heard it based on our HLT. "Your son has autism? I know about that- can he do Masters level Quantum Physics?" (Nope- He's a Freshman and working on 1st grade math currently.) I believe people mean well and want to connect, but like I mentioned, not all feelings we try to convey can be translated into words.

Yes, it's freaking hard (life). But sometimes I am overwhelmed with the beauty this unexpected world contains in this parallel existence. 

 Like Parker at Special Olympics Swimming Practice. It's literally a highlight of my and his week.

Some Scenes from Spring Break...

The last time I was at Vintage Vinyl on The Loop it was 1999, and I was buying a new CD for my roadtrip to California. I can't believe it's still there. It smells exactly the same- like burning incense, and endless youth and possibility. And here I am now, exactly the same and not at all. It's never too late to tell a different story.

Whatever burden it is you are holding, you aren't doing it alone. It's so easy to shrink and hide and believe that- but remember- sometimes our own words don't always know the truth. Sometimes we just need someone to tell us- "Maybe you aren't right now, but I promise you are going to be OK."

So, here I am my friend. You are going to be OK. (Chances are- so much more than OK in fact.)

SO MUCH LOVE,

Chrissy

she let herself go

DEEP RANDOM THOUGHTS:

I do not wear clothes with words on them. It's ok if you do. I just can not.

I floss and vacuum daily. 

I’ve never found anything I like more than my bed after 9:30 at night. Three dogs, two heating pads- what more can one ask for? (Also- I hate ending sentences in prepositions.)

_______________________

I’m a story teller. I can’t get enough story in life. I read them like crazy. I daydream. I love memoirs. I love non famous people’s unwritten memoirs. The real ones- the folks who you get 5 minutes of their time while waiting for a train, while checking out at the store, while standing on a sidewalk waiting for a friend. They leave their footprints. 

I love to write, and I hope people out there care about the stories I share. (I care about yours). Thank you for being here.

Soon after we moved to Saint Louis, my sweet niece looked at my hands and said- "Why do your hands look like grandmas?!" with an ewww look on her face.  I looked down at my veiny, raised tendon hands in shock- as if I were just seeing them for the first time. "I don’t know- maybe because I’m old?" I answered, hiding my hands under the table where we were sitting. For weeks I became wildly self conscious of my hands. Grateful for long sleeved shirts I could tuck my hands into. 

Never had I considered my hands as anything other than something to open and carry and wave with. But now they were a billboard announcing - I’m here and I’m old!

 Why is old so scary? I ask myself. Because if I'm being honest- it is to me. I think because we’ve been shown all our life that old is ugly and old is irrelevant. We are bombarded with these messages daily- so much so that we start to believe them. My mean inner voice sounds just like my own, so sometimes I trust it.

Tik tok kept showing multiple videos of a 50 year old woman I didn’t want to see discussing her healing from a recent facelift. She looked ugly and awful and the scars were scary and wretched, and I judged her and then I yelled at myself for judging her.

I tried to get to the bottom of my anger and disgust. I don’t want a face lift- I’m not jealous. Sometimes it's jealousy that makes me judge someone initially. I think it was because if she was showing her befores like they were appalling, then it felt like she was saying I was appalling- because in her before, we had our aging face in common. But she doesn't know me, and her actions have no impact on me- so why was I making them have impact?

In one video, she showed off her hands proudly. “I even got a facelift in my hands” she declared proudly. Her doctor injected fat into her hands. They looked so... weird. Like chubby toddler, old lady hands and I asked myself-  What in the frick is wrong with society that we would rather have weird fat hands then old lady hands? (my inner me also talks like a sailor.)

If you do nothing- it's "She really let herself go." If you gain weight- 'Boy, she really let herself go." If you let your hair go gray, "She really let herself go." She can cure cancer and raise a family and follow her passions and serve her community and cry at the beauty of a sunset, and make a meal for her friend that is sick, but the focus is still “She let herself go.”

If you do something to counteract the effects of aging- You are vain, you are superficial, you look gross and can’t you just age gracefully?! 

Why are we so opinionated on other people's faces? Telling someone they should dye their hair is just as wrong as telling someone they shouldn't get botox.

The 1st time I saw Madonna debut her new face at the Grammy Awards, I scolded her. You look puffy and weird! Just embrace your age! Money can buy almost anything but it can’t buy youth. But judgement can't buy happiness either, so I try and dig into those feelings.

I am attempting to make friends with my new me in the mirror. I’ve done fillers and botox in moderation. I still have crinkles around my eyes and crepey skin underneath. Jowls are starting to form- like my skin is subtly melting down. My neck is giving saggy scrotum.  I'm trying not to compare her to the face of my 30's that I criticized constantly anyway.

Where is the line between Let herself go and Doing whatever the hell you want and Can’t you just age gracefully?

I thought of Madonna. Unlimited funds and a world obsessed with her likeness for decades. So much pressure to stay relevant simply so she can have an audience for her craft. When she writes songs and I imagine she feels alive like I do when I write. I looked at her in a new way. 

Who gives a shit how I look at her- Does she feel pretty when she looks in the mirror? I hope yes. Who am I to begrudge another woman feeling that peace. That feeling when you look in the mirror and you see HER. WE LOVE HER!!!! The 8 year old you with skinned knees and pigtails. Your body simply a vehicle to help you run so fast and jump so high. Face rosey after a bike ride home. And 11 year old her. (She's perfect). With your new big people teeth and awkward limbs somewhere between a toddler and a teen. And angsty 15 year old you. You feel like a woman and a little girl in the same breath. Twenty year old you. 40 year old you. 

My god, you are still you! I tell her, beautiful by no standards other than warm sunshine and twinkle lights and the way you light up when you do what you love.

I felt this depth of empathy for Madonna- who face is ridiculed and worshipped and criticized and praised daily by thousands of people all over the world. 

Scenes from Des Peres Park today...

So now I type, and I bring my focus back to me and even to my hands. My hands that held my babies and rocked them to sleep. The hands that filled out checklists in psychologist offices to confirm autism. Hands that clean and make dinner and drive and write and type and wave around wildly while I talk. My hands that are aging like the rest of me. And at least for today, I call they are beautiful- because they are.

Finally, she decided to let herself go. Let herself go from expectations. Let herself go from the past. Let herself go from traditional beauty standards. She let herself go and she was free.