The grass is always greener where you water it.

Women are an insecure bunch. The ones who don't admit it, are lying. We're constantly try to live up to others standards, live a life of discontentment, striving for the next best thing, and sometimes going along with a theme or an idea of something we don't believe in, just to "fit in."

The trend that I've found myself in over the past year has been quite the opposite. I now only surround myself with the people who make me better, and push my beliefs to expand on new ideas and concepts. I date a man who makes me a better woman, and overall human, because it feels good to do good. And I strive for career goals, because that's who I've always been. I can't sit still, I don't do stagnate well, but by NO means am I perfect.
I look in the mirror every morning and notice the flaws, I constantly correct my own work (I will have re-read this blog at LEAST 25 times before posting it), and critique my routine. I challenge my own thoughts, judgments and decisions, and do a very large helping of self-reflection. I engage in conversation with friends, family and strangers alike about current events, politics, cause and effect properties and even a little shameless Hollywood gossip from time to time. But long gone are the days of drama, wondering who doesn't like me and how I can fix it. Gone are the days of chatter, judgment and caring about irrelevant things like dress, weight and hair color. Mostly, I do what makes me happy and try not to negatively affect as many people as possible.
Most recently, I have run into several messages that are extremely humbling. Women and men in my life stop to tell me how they aspire to be me, or live vicariously through me. While I'm extremely dumbfounded that someone pays enough attention to my "highlight reel" of social media that they sometimes want to enjoy what I enjoy, it is just that. My highlight reel; the great, glorious, braggable/laughable/shareable moments that I choose to share with the publics in my world.
I'm human, and to every fault of what that means.
I definitely don't know how I got here and constantly research about God and what it takes to follow and believe in him, since, well, there's no other theory in my mind that makes sense.
I definitely don't know where I'm going when I die, and that, when overly pondered, makes me wonder all of the silly human things that we think, Will it hurt?, Will I suffer?, Will I get a chance to do all of the things I want to do before my time clock stops ticking?
I definitely don't know what tomorrow will bring, just like the rest of you. I can't tell my future, although sometimes I selfishly wish I could.
I definitely do not know how to protect all of my loved ones from hurt and pain. I wish I could, I promise. I wish I could never see people suffer hurt, despair and loss. I wish I could heal wounds and promise a better future, but I can't do that either.
I definitely do NOT live an extravagant life. I'm not fancy. I rarely shop for myself. I own a whole handful of designer brand name things. I am definitely NOT rich.
I definitely don't have a perfect relationship. We fight, bicker, argue, and disagree. We are human just like the rest of you. We have bad days and need some alone time. We offend each other and sometimes hurt each other's feelings. We don't concisely TRY to do any of these things, but they happen from time to time.

::The grass is always greener where you water it::

So as I was thinking about the eloquent words some have used to summarize my life, and wondered where they were coming from, I came up with a few things I'm absolutely sure of.

I work HARD at my relationship because it's worth it. I have started down a journey with a man who is my best friend. And for every idiotic stunt he pulls, he pulls 10 heroic or romantic ones. Everyone sees the cute ones. The ones that make me brag about him. The ones that make me proud to call him a thoughtful, kind, selfless man. He's funny and cute (which I am reminded of daily by friends and strangers alike). He gets me, appreciates me and makes me want to work at our love. Friends say, "I want a Peter." While I don't want to minimize the fact that he is an incredible man, it's not a "Peter" every girl needs (insert numerous jokes here). Peter and I tell each other every day what we mean to each other. We constantly say "please," "Thank you," "I love you," and "I'm sorry." We try our best to be honest about our feelings and make it a rule to end every night happily. Long distance is not easy. I said I would never do it again, and look at us now. We both have chosen high-stress career paths, and thrive off of delightful chaos. SO believe me when I say this, it is difficult every.damn.day. You have to CHOOSE to invest, if you find stock that you're interested in. Watering the grass makes it greener, not looking to the other fields and wanting what they have.
I work HARD at my job. Just like my love-loss in my recent years past, I lost my job in March and was stuck in a rut. A large rut. (Peter actually jokes that he picked me up when I was at my lowest to make a large investment for when I make the big bucks, and his investment will pay back in dividends with his early retirement- ha!) I went without a paycheck for THIRTEEN weeks. Yes, that's 3+ months from which I'm still recovering. But thankful for some pretty incredible people in my life, I forged the river and only a few ox died... Today I work for a communications agency I found off of an unmarked internet ad. It turned out to be one of Detroit's longest-standing and acclaimed agencies in the automotive business. It weathered the bankruptcy storms, and even recently merged with an equally great creative agency to bring logistics, event planning and graphic design and production in-house. I started on a prayer of just getting my foot in the door, and after five months of annoying enough people and applying for every open position that became available, I was promoted to Program Manager- Logistics, Ford Communications in mid-October. I now work on-site with our client at the Ford World Headquarters, alongside of the team of five others on the account. Yes, I travel with them. I laugh and enjoy my job with them, but there's not one of them from my executive director, rigth down to myself as the rookie, that doesn't work our ass off, put in long hours, last-minute troubleshooting, and give up some nights and weekends in the name of work. I do it because I love it, and I'm thankful for it.
The point is I'm strong, stubborn and normal just like the rest of you. I experience highs and lows, and I choose to be happy, because I would rather believe the glass is half full, than half empty. I'm not an optimist, I'm a realist. Nothing in life ever comes easy. I haven't been handed anything, just the rest of you haven't. We're all working hard at different things, and playing the cards we have been dealt. But that's just it; hard work.
You know what I don't have? Memories of a beautiful wedding and a handsome husband. Cheerful-playful children, running around, dirtying my place. A house or equity in land. But I'm not mad about any of these things. I don't want them because other people have them, I want them when it's my time, and right now, it's not. I'm not proud of some of my past mistakes. I don't tend to think I'm even 50% right, in all reality. Humility, shame, embarrassment, they're all incredible character builders. Publicly admitting I failed at something stings a little bit too, and that's happened a couple of times. I was depressed for a bit after my failed engagement. Some days, it took convincing myself to shower that day and I would consider that a win. Nobody wants to hear that stuff. Facebook doesn't want to read my somber music lyrics, or my anger cycle of rage.

And then one day, it's like you finally pick yourself and CHOOSE to be better.
The sun didn't just magically appear one morning. It was there the whole time; I just had the shades drawn- literally. It affected my relationships, my work and my overall health.

So to the people who want to live my "glamorous" life, don't sell yourselves short. There's a career out there for everyone, there's a person out there for everyone, and luckily there's always a second chance at life. I'm 6 weeks away from turning 28 and I've never been happier with my second chance. I've changed, I like myself. I go to bed at night at run through (6782351 checklists according to Pete) what could've went differently in my day, and which of those, I could've influenced more positively. And then I finally fall asleep and wake up to a new day, a new chance and a new opportunity the next day. Work hard for what you can control, and ease up on the stuff you cannot. And look around you. We live in a beautiful world, with incredible scenes. It's what you make of it. Water your own garden, lawn, trees, grass- whatever it is you choose to invest in. But make it your own, and something you're damn proud of.

I'm not lucky I'm blessed, yes.

As I sit here and my Friday afternoon turns into my Friday evening, I think about how blessed I am. Blessed to be living the life, and with the people whom I surround myself with. 

After my crazy summer of 2012, and quite possibly the most entertaining and memorable to date, I'm excited for the upcoming fall. The fall where house projects start filling up your weekend mornings, and football starts filling up your afternoon and evenings. Friends start to settle into a routine, people don't feel the need to party every night, and the boats and pools will start to get winterized. All you can do is smile. Smile about what was, what is and what's to come. 

In the instance of what's to come, I've had quite the secretarial night in booking trips. For starters, we just booked a room for four of us (stay tuned for that rooming saga...) on the Carnival Breeze, leaving port in Miami on April 7, 2013 and sailing to Grand Turk, Jamaica and the Bahamas for Oz & Darren's wedding. I'm SO excited to be included in their big day, and plans to celebrate and vacation with new friends. I'm sure it will be one for the books, no doubt. 

Otherwise, I just booked a trip for two, yes two, to Manhattan, New York, to go knock off another bucket list trip. The classic Joe Cool in my life, my brother, was very excited to embark with me. We're heading into NYC the morning of Thursday, September 27 and staying until the night of Monday, October 1. We're heading in with no concrete plans, other than a (hopeful) plethora of "broadway and cocktails." I'm sure we'll get around to the most notable tourist locations (compliments of S. Waddell and her City Pass secrets) and live to share the classic instagram's of them. 

The idea of vacationing with my little brother makes me smile. We're both finally to the age where a little bit of a disposable income, and a lot of big dreams, are fueling our motives. Plus, after Florida with my mother in February and Montreal with my sister in August, it's only fair I jet-set with my main man. I do believe my mother is a little worried, but that's pretty standard. We're both always in some kind of trouble, which I'll argue finds us first. :)

Shane and I at Artprize 2010

...So here's to the great upcoming fall, the unknowns in life, the loving what you have, and the taking life as it comes instead of always trying to plan it. My new mantra, my new outlook, and my hopeful new blueprint for the future. 

Enjoy the pumpkins, cider and the ride, friends. 

oh, and Go Blue. 

My Journey Continues...

 "... I might, just might, be able to find my stubborn, wildly-excited, optimistic, always-laughing, loving self again...And I am sure, 2012, despite the speed bumps, might just turn into my most memorable year yet." (May 21, 2012)

That wasn't even three months ago...

Well, the foreshadowing was right about on par.  To say I've found my old self again is an understatement... I've had quite the summer, and the most hilarious of times. I guess I didn't quite realize it until one of my best friends came over to hang out and quoted one of her friends, an acquaintance of mine, saying, "Amanda Barry is living like she's dying." ...Aren't we all?

May started off with a bang. Three of my close friends and I travelled to Las Vegas, NV to vacation for a couple days before Amanda's older brother got married at Caesar's Palace that Friday afternoon. We lived quite the life, enjoyed the pool, met new friends, and hung out of the top of limousines cruising the strip. It was an eye-opening experience of sorts, although I had been there before at the mere age of 21, vegas was an entirely new and wild ride.

Outside the taxi circle of our hotel, The Flamingo

After I got home from Vegas, another speed bump hit- and like always, unplanned and quite jolting.

My puppy Max, who had already been through a lot before I rescued him, then the break-up, the housing changes and the minimal socialization, had the most severe anxiety disorder. He was antsy when I wasn't around, down trodden when I left him, and completely unpredictable. I started paying an "arm and a leg" to take him to a canine behavioral therapist, who prescribed Zoloft, observed him, and assured me he would absolutely never turn on me, being that I was the only human she was sure was 200% safe with him at all times. 

Well, like always, in times of need, my parents saved the day. I had taken Max over to their house a couple times, and he absolutely loved their dog Ben, played, rolled and ran everywhere with him. Naturally, when I left for Vegas, this was the best option for leaving him, since they were aware of his condition, and quite honestly- wouldn't sue me if something went terribly wrong. (Max's anxiety led to aggression towards people. As his doctor quoted, he was always "scared out of his mind.")

Well Max had found quite the home on Earhart and ended up staying even longer than my trip because he seemed to have molded so well. But then, an incident happened, and Max ended up biting a family friend of my parent's. The therapist explained it like this... There's a bite to warn, and a bite to harm, and this most definitely was a bite to harm. Once again Max had proved to regress in what we thought was a long road to recovery. So in talking with several animal professionals, my parents and his therapist, it was decided either my life, or Max's life was going to be inhibited. I would have to stay home (at a newly single 26 yrs old) to keep my dog feeling safe each day and night, or Max would live his life in a cage and with a muzzle due to incessant, unexplainable fear he experienced each day.

Because of this, I made the decision to put Max down, and bring him the peace and tranquility he deserved. 

I just looked at my family and friends after that day and said, "If 2012 doesn't kill me, I'm not sure I'm ever going to die." Saying it was a hard day is putting it mildly. Here is this tiny, lovable creature who was always at my side when I needed him, snuggled up when he heard tears, and loved to give me a run for my money when he got loose of the leash. He'd been there every day of the hardest months of my life, and we were pals.... I held him when he went, and covered him in a blanket with his favorite stuffed animal and buried him underneath a big shady tree in the back of my parent's pasture with my dad. 

Max and Ben rolling around during my lunch hour on Earhart

So naturally, as it has become a theme, when something bad happens, I just put that much more positive efforts into loving, laughing and enjoying the moment. 

June came, and like the weather, my schedule heated up- rapidly.

 There was weddings, parties, lake days, movie nights, Tigers games, LOADS of bachelorette parties, GR weekends, softball games and last, but certainly not least, the annual Love Shack weekend in Hale, MI. This is the weekend where our high school group of friends, and adopted stragglers along the way, spend a long weekend on the lake in Ryan's mom's cottage. It's one of the best weekends of the entire year, for the mere purpose of lack in technology, outer stimuli and work distractions. Four days catching up on life, laughing, swimming, boating and most definitely- frequenting the greatest 'Small Town U.S.A.' bar in history. It consists of good, clean fun, unbreakable, pure friendships, and hearty laughs that make you smile just thinking about them. It will forever be an annual tradition that has already begun to include future significant others and one day, as scary as it is, maybe our children.

Frank, Passage and I aboard the pontoon for a evening cocktail cruise

July- the even BUSIER season.

July started for me with an unplanned week in Grand Rapids. It was one of the best weeks this summer. Entirely spontaneous, completely unpredictable and wildly fulfilling. I stayed with Passage, just like old times. We managed to bring the house down with karaoke on July 3- to some extent myself more than her, enjoy 4th of July on the beach in Grand Haven and watched the city fireworks from the Blue Bridge downtown that evening, all while in back-to-back 105 degree days. (The record since 1936.) We enjoyed some new company at the Whitecaps game Thursday night, and managed to finally end the streak Friday night with a heavy metal 80s glam band in a sketchy part of town. I'm sure, if you have to give that week a definition, it would be "bender." It was great to be back, miss the ole GR days, and plant enough of a seed to make me secretly want to move back... one day. :)

The karaoke Dream Team- Twisted Bull- July 3, 2012

Grand Rapids Fireworks- Downtown- July 4, 2012

GlamHammer- The Log Cabin- July 6, 2012

After that, there were more bachelorette parties, reconnecting with college friends, weekday hangouts at my house with all of my crazy teaching friends in town for the summer, with no job to report to the next mornings ;), and lots of softball.

Crazily, one Saturday night when I was out, an old family friend got ahold of me via Facebook and asked if I would sub for her friend's co-ed softball team the next night. I reluctantly said yes, in hopes to not botch any big plays, agreeing to play and socialize with complete strangers. I'm pretty sure that invitation, game and night changed my summer. I met some of the funniest, coolest, most down-to-earth individuals in SE Michigan. And, since I was kinda funny, and would play wherever they wanted, they asked me to play on their women's league on Thursday nights too... which I stand corrected, is the team that changed my summer.

Some of the team taking shelter in the pavilion during the storm

These girls are hysterical. Everyone different in age, occupation, lifestyle and body type. Yet somehow, an uncontrollable, happy group of misfits. We all share an interest in ball, obviously, but aside from that, we stick around after the games to socialize, hear about one another's lives, and consume a few beverages. (Not to mention a couple of them date/are engaged/married to some of the nicest men that have a team that usually play after us.)

This team has just proven all of the lessons of life for me, bringing my self-healing light years up to speed.

"Give someone a chance and they might surprise you. Put a little bit of energy into that person, and it could turn out to be something you never expected. Expect the unexpected and you might find yourself with a new friend." ...Or in my case, two dozen of them. :)

Part of the team at 59 West- August 9, 2012

The tail-end of July brought on a trip to Rockford, Illinois to visit one of my most favorite friends, Tara Bells, who lives and works there as a high school Spanish teacher. She, like myself, joined a softball league that opened her eyes to an entirely new circle of genuine people, and saved her from the boring depths of books and video gaming this summer. These women, their friends and families are quality people, and went out of their way for us strangers, to make sure we enjoyed ourselves and were comfortable. And, might I add, throw a helluva party. Passage and I were invited back down in October for their "End of Season" lobster broil, and cannot WAIT to re-attempt our seed in the Kan Jam tournament. (Bring it.)

Jodi, Tara, Myself and Passage at the team party

So August is finally here, and has sang to the tune of family. An incredible vacation, visits from both grandparents and several family events will keep me busy with another novel-long post here soon... but until then, there's a point to all this jargon, despite cataloging my incredible summer.

A simple thank you. Thank you to those of you who picked me up when I was down. A thank you to those who believed in me when I had a hard time believing in myself. Thank you to those who don't ask questions, and also the ones who know exactly what to say, and when to say it. Thank you to those who never treated me any differently when I was pitiful, emotional or just plain sucked on a certain day. Thank you to those who have made my skin tougher, my cheeks pinker and boosted my standards higher. Thank you to those who constantly make me laugh, dance, sing and love on a weekly basis. Thank you for being you, and loving me.

"Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly. "

Raw, Untold and Alive.

I've opened this window at least 100 times since the start of this year. Why shouldn't I? In 2011 I selfishly talked of the times of wonder, bliss, and pure content. Conversely, 2012 hasn't turned out quite the same, and humbly, I have learned that as painful as honesty might be from day to day, at the end of the day, it's what really matters, and what, in turn, is happening.

We'll start from the beginning.

I broke off my engagement to be married in late January. I know, at this point, there is shock and awe on some of your faces. Horror on others. And just plain anger in some of your eyes. I'm not telling everyone this to take pity on me. And quite frankly, my past life of living in the spotlight has been one of exhaust. I'm just trying to be honest, and luckily, this column is about my life experiences, and what I feel.

If everyone likes what you're doing, you're doing it wrong. ~Unknown.

Sparing all the painful details, I had some incredible friends that picked me up when I needed it, called often to even hear my silence, offered their home to me for as long as I needed, and continually gathered on weekends when everyone's exhausting work weeks were done, to make sure I was comfortable and surrounded by love. To them, and you know who you all are, I am forever indebted to you. I love you.

You have not lived today until you have done something for someonewho can never repay you. ~John Bunyon

So in true Amanda Barry fashion, I ran, most definitely in the literal and biblical sense. My friends and I had been running for the past year, continually picking up distance as the races we signed up for progressed. The end goal was the Disney Princess Half Marathon, in Orlando, Florida in late February. I begrudgingly signed up, despite the mental roller coaster that had become my life, and put my emotions into the pavement. As the race neared, I made plans to drive to Florida with my mother, who also was entered to race, and finalized as many plans along the way as possible. We were going to be able to see my maternal grandpa and stay with him, explore Orlando with my friends, head South to visit my most missed, and dear family on my father's side, and there was still room for some random acts of spontaneity- most definitely my favorite pastime.

Myself, Aunt Colleen & Mom- Post Half Marathon

The open road surrounding us, my brave mother and myself made our way to Daytona, Florida in 16 hours. She probably still winces at the thought of a day-trip to Florida, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I wanted, and needed, so badly to drive and put as much distance between me and my reality as I could fathom. I didn't know how otherwise.

We laughed and talked, cried and argued, all of the natural details of such a loving friendship. My mother, whom I have been known to mirror in several ways in life, had once again surfaced as my rock- everything I needed and could ask for, and she gave so selflessly in my time of need.

Once in Florida, my mind washed away with the heat and tide. I did, indeed, have the best trip of my life, as cliche as it sounds. There, of course, was plenty more I had wished to see, cousins whom I don't get to see enough too far away and a definite feel of "home" in my 93 (this week) year old grandmother's condo on the golf course. The pool, the air, the old friends, the Barry family dinner with too much wine, the meeting of my grandfather's new girlfriend who bittersweetly doesn't replace the woman most dear to my heart, but brings a 16-year-old boyish grin to his face again, the food, the beach and the ocean- the healing process it had started can't even be put into words.

The girls & I posing for a shot with the glass slipper.

Grandma Barry, 93, posing with my finishing medal.

And then, there was the skydiving.

My grandfather, the one I claim as my hero, has had a hard last calendar year. Some days when I think my struggles are a worthy cause I remember, life can be so much more intense. This gentle giant. This tall, handsome, strong man has woken up to a new outlook on life. One I share, to my mother's dismay, and to be fair, one at my age, can be slightly risky...

You only live once, and tomorrow is not promised.

As one can foreshadow, in my mission to put 'driving from Michigan to Florida' in the day-trip category, we got up early, drove until we were tired and weary, and arrived late into the night. Upon entering my grandfather's home, there was a notable piece of scrap paper on the counter laced with his chicken scratch, "SKYDIVE 738-3539." Now I was wide awake.

My mom was gathering her things from the car, and using the restroom, so I had little time to react, turning it more into an interrogation than an actual conversation.
"You're going skydiving?"
"No."
"What's this about?"
"I don't know."
"Grandpa, so help me God, if I am in Florida for 10 days and you go without me, I will not be happy."
"I don't know what's going on. I don't want your mom to know. We'll talk about this later."
We smile. I hug him, so happy to see him, and we go to bed.

On my last night in Southern Florida, soaking up every second of my aunts, uncles, cousins and my beloved grandma, I got a call from Grandpa back in Daytona.
"You sure you really want to do this?"
"Skydiving? Yes."
"Good. I made an appointment for Friday at 10am. I'll see you when you get back here."
My heart sang. My grandfather, this mysterious new adventurer, arranged for us to skydive. Life was complete.

Not once did I cry, worry or freak about the thought. I was so happy. I did try to persuade my mother into jumping, using the "Three generations out of the same plan would be the coolest thing mom!" She didn't want any part of it. She joked that if something happened to us, she would need to be on the earth to field all of the calls and take the blow forces of my questioning aunts.

So we jumped. And it was, undoubtedly, the coolest thing to date. My instructor and I averaged 145mph from 14,000 up. It went by rather peacefully, yet we were back on the ground within minutes. We all celebrated with some spirits and lunch, and watched the DVD documentaries of our short journeys through the atmosphere. Top 5 days of my life. Hands down.

Grandpa, Fran & I- Post Jump

So back to reality we went that weekend. Home to cold, snowy Michigan in our flip flops. The paradise was put on hold for now... Until next time.

At the middle of March my grandpa offered me quite the proposition. I could live in his Michigan home, where I could have my own space, and my puppy, tend and take care of it, because he didn't want to live in Michigan any longer. It was like a call from heaven. The situation was perfect, it was everything I needed to get back on my own two feet, and he didn't have to worry about rushing home this spring to open it back up, clean and decide what to do with it. He's lonely in Michigan, and for a man who has recently been blessed with love again, the last thing on his mind was moving thousands of miles away from his dear new lady.

I can't say it's been easy. Ladies, all of the simple, mundane tasks of garbage and lawn care, fixing things and technology glitches that your boyfriend, fiance or husband complete- these are something to be praised, take it from one who used to disregard them. I have a home that needs cleaning, food that needs cooking, and an anxiety-ridden dog that needs special love and attention. It's long days and sometimes forfeiting social nights, but it's so worth it. I've finally rested my eyes, and my mind, relaxing into my reality. I speak openly, honestly and with special care now about what I want and need from people. I'm mending my broken heart, and filling the lonely empty nights with novels, writing and my new-found love for Jesus and the Bible.

I was raised Catholic, and much to my ignorance, being brought up in a religion does not mean you're a practicing woman of faith. I have recently, with the help of dear friends, opened my eyes to the circle of believers. I have accepted some tales to be truth, and aim to hold myself in a higher regard. Does it mean I'm going to make a 180 on my lifestyle and incessantly preach to family and strangers alike? No. It just does something for me that I need. A lifeline to hold onto when the days are hard and the nights are quiet. It gives me hope. And my most recent favorite book, The Shack, has left me with a resounding quote that I think of nearly a dozen times a day.

Love one another.

The sound of it makes this whole "life" thing seems simple. I know it's not, and I know Narnia, to quote a great friend, doesn't exist in the sense of a perfect life. But, I do know, that with a strong support system, some pretty incredible friends and a positive outlook, I might, just might, be able to find my stubborn, wildly-excited, optimistic, always-laughing, loving self again.

And I am sure, 2012, despite the speed bumps, might just turn into my most memorable year yet.