11 years ago today, I officially owned my acreage. Over those 11 years so much has changed I don’t even know the person I was back then.
I didn’t know that a few short years later, I’d meet the love of my life. Or that just a few years after that I would confront my biggest demon: the step brother who molested me. A past that laid dormant until I wanted to be able to love this man wholly. That through that process of facing a childhood trauma, I would lose the love of my life. Forever. Or that a few years even further down the road, I would lose Bosco. A loss so significant, it would spark a new direction entirely for my career and life. So was born Buff Co. A charity so close to my heart that explaining to people what we do is easy, explaining why we do it is never done without a lump in my throat.
So while the 3 years between losing Keith and losing Bosco has been filled with the deepest levels of growth, it’s also been building towards a success I couldn’t know without all the trauma, breakdown and loss. As I looked through some photos of the last 3 years, these selfies stood out. Laying them next to each other put a lot of things into perspective. How even though I have anxiety, I am not anxiety. It is just one of the many things that I am.
From dog trainer to dairy farmer. A time of finding out exactly how I was going to survive. A break in the rat race and back to good old fashioned hard work. From hunter to bow hunter, learning a new skill next to the ever faithful Ella dog, always ready to jump into action. Redneck hippie, happiest on my horse in the mountains, cowboy strong to the core while always maintaining a respect for nature. From all of that to fire fighter. A deep desire to make up for all the things I’ve said and done...the guts to prove that some people change. Serving a community that has been mine for 11 years. And of course anxious. The face of anxiety, taken on a day that my service dog passed her most important test.
I’ve worn so many faces in my pursuit of peace, I created stories that will last til I leave this place. I think they are all me, today, in this moment, they are the representation of a life starting over. Rebuilding from rock bottom to a solid foundation.
If you made it this far into my worm hole of a Thursday morning, I hope to see your face. Who you are. And who ever that is, know it’s enough.
I didn’t know that a few short years later, I’d meet the love of my life. Or that just a few years after that I would confront my biggest demon: the step brother who molested me. A past that laid dormant until I wanted to be able to love this man wholly. That through that process of facing a childhood trauma, I would lose the love of my life. Forever. Or that a few years even further down the road, I would lose Bosco. A loss so significant, it would spark a new direction entirely for my career and life. So was born Buff Co. A charity so close to my heart that explaining to people what we do is easy, explaining why we do it is never done without a lump in my throat.
So while the 3 years between losing Keith and losing Bosco has been filled with the deepest levels of growth, it’s also been building towards a success I couldn’t know without all the trauma, breakdown and loss. As I looked through some photos of the last 3 years, these selfies stood out. Laying them next to each other put a lot of things into perspective. How even though I have anxiety, I am not anxiety. It is just one of the many things that I am.
From dog trainer to dairy farmer. A time of finding out exactly how I was going to survive. A break in the rat race and back to good old fashioned hard work. From hunter to bow hunter, learning a new skill next to the ever faithful Ella dog, always ready to jump into action. Redneck hippie, happiest on my horse in the mountains, cowboy strong to the core while always maintaining a respect for nature. From all of that to fire fighter. A deep desire to make up for all the things I’ve said and done...the guts to prove that some people change. Serving a community that has been mine for 11 years. And of course anxious. The face of anxiety, taken on a day that my service dog passed her most important test.
I’ve worn so many faces in my pursuit of peace, I created stories that will last til I leave this place. I think they are all me, today, in this moment, they are the representation of a life starting over. Rebuilding from rock bottom to a solid foundation.
If you made it this far into my worm hole of a Thursday morning, I hope to see your face. Who you are. And who ever that is, know it’s enough.
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