Louisiana Chicory

Even as a newborn, my mom said that my eyes were dark brown. I get it honest, a majority of the Watsons and Arringtons have dark hair and dark eyes. We also have some Native American blood in our veins, so it makes sense.

She recalls people always commenting on my big, brown eyes. Of course, that was the pronounced thing about me. I was basically bald until I was two. She had to pierce my ears to keep people from constantly thinking I was a boy.

When my sister was born, she had the most beautiful blue eyes. She was only one of maybe a handful throughout four generations in our family to have blue eyes. I was so jealous. She had the unusual eyes in my family. I just had plain, old, boring brown.

In 2005, I was working as a cashier when Hurricane Katrina came through. Even in North Central Florida, we had people flocking in from Louisiana. Some of their homes had been destroyed. Some were not sure of what they would find upon returning. My heart was breaking for them.

An older man, walking with a cane, walked in one day. I rang him up. When he opened his mouth, the sweetest Creole accent came out. He said, “You have the most beautiful eyes. They’re the color of Louisiana Chicory. They remind me of home.”

Never have I been so thankful that my eyes were brown.

Jumbled Thoughts

I’ve had an internal struggle lately. In trying to explain this today, I got more and more frustrated. My words were jumbled and I couldn’t get my thoughts straight. Thankfully, when I voiced it to my best friend...in a slew of poorly constructed text messages...she just GOT it. Some days, you just need that.

This is what I was trying, and failing, to convey today:

I love my church. I love the people at my church. And this has no real bearing on them whatsoever. My struggle is totally an internal one.

I am a very flawed person. My past is littered with things that many would deem “ugly.” I have a TERRIBLE potty mouth. My life is messy. And you know what? I LOVE it. I love even the ugly things in my past and present...because they have gotten me exactly where I am today. I love my messy life.

Hiding those sides of myself seems insincere.

To boot, as a writer, as a blogger, as a creative person (with many creative outlets), by hiding the messy parts, I feel like I do a disservice to anyone who reads my posts or follows me.

I never want to feel like I need to conform to a certain image or feel like I cannot talk about certain subject matter. I don’t want to feel censored. Or feel like someone is going to scrutinize me...or worse, go tattle to my mom (which seems ludicrous, as I’m 33...but it HAS happened).

But on the same token, I never--in any way--want to cause someone else to stumble. I know that I have people looking up to me...and thus, the struggle.

And as I’ve said...this is very much an internal struggle, not one placed upon me by anyone in the church. This post has served really as just trying to gather and organize my thoughts. In fact, this evening, I received some very sweet, encouraging words from a member of our Pastoral Staff in regards to this.

As I’ve said a million times. I’m trying. And this hasn’t been an easy process. But I’m trying.

Teetering

I don’t know why I even try to say what I’m thinking anymore. I do WAY better writing it.

This is exactly the predicament I found myself in on Monday evening. I was trying desperately to get the words mentioned below out...and I wound up sounding twiddleheaded, talking in circles.

This is what I was trying to explain to a friend:

Suddenly, I find myself at a weird place. I’m worried about how my words and actions affect others. More concerned that I may ever have been. I have never asked to be anyone’s role model, and when people look to me for opinions, I often say “my opinion doesn’t matter, you need to do what you think is right.” That’s honestly how I feel! My lowly opinion doesn’t amount to a hill of beans! But last week, in just making a simple, honest statement, I realized how quickly my thoughts/opinions can affect some of those closest to me and cause them to stumble. That is literally NEVER what I want.

Which led me to this thought process... my outlet for much of my adult life has been writing. And if you’ve been close to me, or followed my blog for a while, you KNOW that I’ve have written about the ups and downs, highs and lows in life.... If I’ve lived it, chances are I’ve written about it. Some of the great things...and some of the things most people would want to keep hidden.

But see, that’s just not who I am. I will always share even the ugly stuff...not to glorify it...or try and “normalize” it...but rather to show others a glimpse into my journey. All of these things...life experiences, sin, tragedy, and wonderful things...I’ve shown splattered through my posts over the years. I think honestly, that is why others find my writing relatable....because it’s honest. I have, and will never, say that I am anything more than a very flawed person who has been shown more mercy that I ever deserved.

I am trying to find a balance...of being that outspoken writer from before...and being someone that younger girls can look up to.

But When Do I Fail?

Flanner O’ Connor once said: “I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.” That is where I find myself tonight. I am hoping that in writing this, I can better gather my thoughts.

I think faith is easy to have when you’re on top of the mountain. When things are going great, and life is easy...it’s easy to have faith. It’s in the darker times that it is a struggle.

I cannot even say that it’s lack of trust in God that has been the issue. It is more of lack of faith in myself. When the panic has set in, I have asked myself time and time again, “But when do I fail?”

If I’m honest, one of the not-so-great traits within myself is the fact that I have trouble staying the course. I have trouble with commitment. I have trouble with resiliency. I know this about myself.

I’ve been back in church for a year, and as I told my childhood friend (now one of the church staff), “I’m trying.” But that has not been without moments of doubt and panic.

And when that panic has set in, I wanted to run. I wanted to jump the gun, and just quit. Quit before I had a chance to let even more people down.

See, that’s what I do. When I feel any sort of pressure, any kind of emotion, my go-to response is to run.

In telling this to a beloved friend this past week, I told him: “I just want to run away from it all...maybe get another tattoo...maybe get my nose pierced...Just run away and go a little wild for a while.” Running away from issues is what I’m good at.

But today, I made it through Sunday School. Then, the song service. Then, the sermon. And at every point, I felt something. And I was so glad that I was there.

I am not perfect. I am a very flawed individual. I do not proclaim to be anything aside from that. But here I sit, trying.

Aleta’s Tips on How to Not Get Murdered Before You’re 29

Okay, so, as many of you know...when I get hooked on something--a book series, television show, etc.--I become hopelessly obsessed and can’t shut up about it. This is true about the podcast Crime Junkies. I’ve now gotten several other people hooked, and I’m not even sorry. Not even a smidge.

One of those said people is my partner in crime and best friend KW. To give a little backstory, we met in Kindergarten and became best friends in the 3rd Grade. She’s been true blue since way back.

Anywho, now that KW is now hooked on the podcast too, we just keep saying to each other “How did we NOT die?” Particularly “how did we not die back when we used to party in our early 20s?” And the inspiration for this post was born...

Tonight, I’m going to impart a little knowledge on how to survive and NOT wind up dead before you’re 29. All I’m going to say is...learn from my mistakes, y’all...learn from my mistakes.

I will start with a story.... Picture it... 2014...Carrabelle. (I hate to even say that it was this recent, because I was 28 and “shoulda known better.” But alas, I am a slow learner...)

Before I begin, please realize that KW was a happily married lady at this point, and therefore, she went along with this because of nudging from her idiot friend. (raises hand) Me. I’m the idiot friend.

We had first trekked over to our favorite haunt, Harry’s...which is the best little hole in the wall bar until about 10 when the smoke gets so thick you can’t handle it anymore. Then we ventured to the new bar by the marina to hear the local talent play until the wee hours of the morning. It had a nice outdoor area where you could “air out” after leaving Harry’s smelling like a 70 year-old two-pack-a-day smoker. Some of our old, local friends that we hadn’t seen in years came up and sat with us for a bit... which brings me to...

Life Lesson #1: Don’t unknowingly befriend local drug dealers in your vacation/party town. (In our defense, the drug dealer ratio is rather high in those parts, and therefore we did not know in the beginning)

Life Lesson #2: Neck Tattoos possibly done by some guy named “Acid” or “Snake” should probably have been a red flag.

After the local guys left, we had some Tallahassee guys come over. I think I was trying to get over somebody...maybe? So one of them piqued my interest. He was much older.... but even on a good day, I can’t math. I spent half the night trying to figure out if he’d told me he was 20 or 30 years older than me. His hair was grey and I knew I was dealing with a man that was somewhere between 48 and 58.

Get your mind out of the gutter...nothing happened that night. He had his son with him. Ahem...

Life Lesson #3: Don’t get all googly-eyed over a middle-aged man that brings his barefoot 14 year old son to a bar! (I have no words. 28 year old Aleta was a dope).

So, the night was really nice. I am going to use code names here (mainly because I can’t remember what their names actually were at this point). Alan and Doug were super nice and funny. We enjoyed talking to them. I think KW even got out on the dance floor with the 14 year old.

When the bar closed down, we parted ways and went back to our hotel room.

The next morning, we went to Apalach for a late breakfast at Caroline’s. As we were eating our chocolate chip pancakes and slurping down our coffee, my phone went off. It was Alan asking if we wanted to go out on the boat with them and go to Dog Island. KW called her husband to make sure it would be okay.

Life Lesson #4: Don’t go off with strangers!

Life Lesson #5: Don’t go off with strangers to an island that is not in any way patrolled by police that takes 30 minutes to get to by boat...with NO cell service! (side note: this island is where they host the annual White Trash Bash...RIIIIING RIIIING...hear the alarm bells?)

Life Lesson #6: If you ignore #4 and #5, please have the sense enough to give SOMEONE a pile of details about where you’re going and who you are with. Be like KW, kids.

It was fine...we were fine. We went swimming at Dog Island...which is beautiful, btw. We went back to Alan’s house and chatted for a while.

So, all jokes aside, while everything turned out completely fine that weekend...at any point, things could’ve went drastically wrong.

Now that I’ve told you that story, I’m going to give you some additional tips.

1. Don’t go partying at a town that is literally surrounded by the ocean and a thick forest called “Tate’s Hell.” There’s a whole lot of places to put a body. 
2. If you’re going to party, be very careful who you party with. 
3. Stay with your group/friends. 
4. Always give someone (or multiple people) a ridiculous amount of details of who you are with, what you are doing, and where you are going. 
5. Have a friend like KW. 

Stay safe, y’all.

Author’s Note: So, so many of our “How did we not die?” stories start and end in Carrabelle. I feel like I could post life lessons every day for a month about what we learned from that town. I reserve the right for a follow-up post...

Trying

Those closest to me know that I have an extremely difficult time processing emotions.  Which, is ironic, because I’m very much an empath.  I can feel other’s emotions...but when it comes to myself..I would much rather skip town than have to deal with or feel my own emotions.

This is precisely where I have found myself the past few weeks.  I know that I’m absolutely right in the place that I need to be.  Surrounded by the people that I need to be surrounded by.  But even as I sit typing this, I would be lying if I didn’t have an overwhelming urge to run away for a couple of weeks.  When things get real, I tend to run or withdraw.

You see, more than anything--in this very moment--I don’t want to fall or stumble.  I think that may be what scares me the most right now.

But here I sit, trying with all of my might.  And I hope that that counts for something in the long run.

A Testament

This morning, I considered writing this post, but quickly thereafter doubt and worry set in. After having all of my social media sites watched and scrutinized last year, I have held-fast to my privacy. I could live my whole life without again being the subject of gossip.

So, why am I sitting here typing away on my laptop, you ask? 

As I had decided not to write this, I came home to a package from a dear soul sister, Mrs. Liisa Collins tonight.  This wonderful woman has encouraged me since I was 9 years-old.  She has been an absolute blessing in my life.  She didn’t realize it...but the package that she sent was confirmation that I needed to write and post this. More about how that sweet lady ties in later.

In January of last year, I found myself terribly unhappy.  I won’t delve too much into it, but I was in a bad situation where I found myself constantly walking on eggshells.  He could be sweet on occasion, but he could be terribly mean and hurtful. With every text or call, I began to brace myself because I was never sure what I would get.

At this same time, I HATED my job.  There were a few sweet souls that were my only saving grace there. I wasn’t SO sure about my safety. I had been threatened with a pipe bomb.  I had someone literally come in and throw a bucket across the room at us.  I got yelled at daily by irate customers.  And we had very little support.  I absolutely hated it. 

I was out of church. I had a difficult time finding my place after the real “college and career”-age class.  I never felt like I could find a fit in church after that.  

I was deeply unhappy.

I tell you that, to set the tone.  So that you can fully understand the gravity of the chain of events this past year.

In January 2019, one Sunday when I just flat did not want to be at home alone when she went to church, I asked if I could just join Mom’s Sunday School class.  The Joy Sunday School class is a group of women around 50-70 years-old. That same Sunday I went to Church and to her Life Group “The Eclectic Group” (ages 45-80ish).  Now, I’m going to tell you what...the older folks?  Those are just my people.  I somehow found my place in the midst of those groups.

From 2016 to 2019, I had walked away from the aforementioned situation/relationship/whatever-you-want-to-call-it, and been drawn back in time and again.  In late January/early February of 2019, I walked away for good. I had prayed about it and knew this was the right move.  It would never grow me...and it would never be an ideal situation for me.

Though my parents had always tithed, and I had when I was younger, y’all know that I’m hardheaded.  It took me a hot minute to get back into the swing of tithing.  But in March, I began diligently tithing.  Ironically enough, along with being hardheaded, I am an infamous procrastinator....I didn’t actually file my taxes until March. (this comes into play in just a sec). 

On April 1st, when I learned that my direct supervisor was leaving, and I knew that I had to do something.  My mom told me about a position at my current company.  I applied on April 4th.  Completed questionnaires that weekend.  

On Monday, April 8th, I was fired over an Instagram post involving politics.  I was blindsided, but not one tear was shed.  That afternoon, I received a call from the HR Department of my current company requesting an interview on April 9th.  On April 10th, I was offered my position.  A company whose mission I believe in.  I was set to start on April 15th.

In reference to my tithing/late tax file?  The same week I was fired...I received my last paycheck, payment for my accrued PTO, and my tax refund.  Through the very short gap from my last paycheck to my first paycheck, I had that money to get me by. God is good.

I would love to say that the rest of the year was filled with sunshine and rainbows.  But there have been hard days too.  There have been days that I have cried the whole way home from work.  There have been days when I sorely missed my friends from my old job.  There have been times when I braced myself when checking my phone.  

I would love to say I'm the perfect Christian...but Lord knows, y'all...I'm not.  I fail DAILY.

This past Fall, I asked some very close ladies that I trusted to begin praying for me.  Mrs. Liisa Collins being one of them.  I had some specific prayer requests.  There were some things I needed to get through.  And while, I am not there just yet...I am getting there.

There is nothing greater than feeling like you are exactly where you need to be. I had faith (sometimes just the smallest smidge) that God would see me through, and y’all...He has seen me through. I believe this past year of my life has stood as a testament to that.

I hope that whoever finds themselves reading this will have faith that God will see you through the trying times.  Trials don't last forever.  I hope that you take time to see your daily blessings.  And if ever you need someone to pray for you, I am only a message away.

Finding My Way Back

At times, I am so very thankful for photographs.  They offer an everlasting glimpse back at a single moment in time.

I could look at the photograph below and pick myself apart.  But honestly, this photograph marks a huge turning point in my life.  February 5, 2016. The very day that this was taken, my mom, sister, and I were having family photos taken by the wonderful Jennifer Lazos. We were in the midst of the photo shoot when I received a text that would send my life on a course for three years.  

I look back on this photo, at this girl, and many days I wish I could return--not to this moment--but to who I was at this very moment in time.  This girl was full of confidence, and sass, and zest.

While I’m not there yet, and while I can’t return to who I was in 2016, I am trying to become an improved version of myself that the 2016 version could be proud of.

Boots on the Ground

Graphics by Chris Rogers (as always)

He was a part of my childhood as much as my jungle gym, or my Putt Putt car, or my dog, “Rosie Sprinkles.” Weaving in and out of my memories from third grade on.

Our adolescent years spent together preparing for Bible Drills, or livestock shows, or 4-H meetings. Many Sundays shared at Sunday School, Wednesday nights at Team Kid, and a Saturday every month at our Double Sink 4-H Club Meeting.

Many get-togethers were had. We had dinners at his house occasionally, at which I remember helping his grandmother put together puzzles; and swim parties and barbecues were had at my house during the summer months.

Eventually High School rolled around, and we had our separate groups, our separate friends. We still greeted each other in the morning, awaiting the first bell to ring; or while walking past each other in the hallway.

We graduated and went our separate ways, our families always staying close. He went into the Marines, and I went to college.

I sent letters while he was in boot camp. During his first deployment, I found a bracelet in Cedar Key that was said to bring “good luck.” I sent him one and kept one for myself, promising to say a prayer whenever I saw it. It hung from my car’s rearview mirror until he returned.

A few years later, his best friend came home, draped with an American flag. I sat amongst he and his family, as his friend’s family received that folded flag in place of his safe homecoming.

There were many nights after that funeral that I sat up riddled with worry about my friend. Praying that he would come home, and come home safely.

Years came and went and I wondered if civilian life would ever suit him. I worried about him struggling to find his place here again.

I am ever so grateful for those that serve and have served this country; wholeheartedly indebted to those that gave their lives in foreign deserts, on foreign beaches, on foreign soil. No words could ever express my gratitude.

But there is no greater sound than hearing his booming laugh at Easter...
Sharing a vacation with all of his family and mine in the mountains...
Seeing he and his wife’s excitement at the upcoming birth of their firstborn child, a son...

Yes, I am forever grateful to our service men and women; but oh, how thankful I am to have my friend’s boots on the ground...on American soil again.

Chic Metal Jewelry by Victoria Tillotson

I have got to let y'all in on my latest obsession: Chic Metal Jewelry made by Victoria Tillotson.

Y'all....I. Am. In. Love.

I first checked out her Instagram at the urging of my friend Beth.  Last Fall, I asked her to make me a special necklace for my mom for Christmas.  After seeing her incredible
work first-hand, I quickly decided that I wanted some pieces for my own self.

To date, I have asked Victoria to make me a natural ruby ring and a natural emerald ring.

Labradorite studs on the left.  Turquoise, citrine, opal, and golden tourmaline studs on the right.

One of my very favorite stones is labradorite.  I just love how it flashes different colors in the sunlight.  I asked Victoria if she could make me a set of earrings with 3mm, 4mm, and 6mm labradorite stones.

Turquoise stacker ring

I have also won a turquoise stacker ring,  fordite dangly earrings, and citrine, opal, turquoise, and golden tourmaline studs in an auction.  

Fordite Earrings

I will mention here that as an adult, I have struggled wearing earrings.  I seem to have sensitive skin, and my ears tend to get red and irritated with a lot of earrings.  I have not had this issue with my earrings from Victoria.  I LOVE them.

Unfortunately, I don't have photos of my simple hammered band and twig bands.  Those are actually probably some of my favorite pieces as they are the perfect accessory for a simple dress-down day.

For those of you who haven't checked her out on Instagram and Etsy, get on it!  I promise, you will love anything you get from her.  Also, if you aren't quite sure about a custom piece just yet, check out her Sunday auctions.   They are the perfect chance to snag some of her work.

Catching up

I have stated this a’ many a’ time, and it still rings true. There are times when it seems so easy to pour my heart out for all the world to see. Then, there are times when I cling to my privacy tenaciously.  I think the latter is where I have found myself the past few weeks. Perhaps that is just the fine line that a writer teeters along.

For those of you who know the situation (if not, read the previous post)...know this...I am still unrepentant and unapologetic. I will not apologize for speaking MY opinion on MY page. No matter what consequence befell me. That being said...I had a comment made to me the other night that I would like to address. I made the statement “I should have known that all of my social media was being stalked...there had been clues.” The person then said “It’s social media.” Well, that’s very true. Completely. I don’t disagree. However, I don’t believe that any of us consider someone watching every single thing we post, trying to determine whether or not they can take offense or use it against you in any way. That part is eery and a bit creepy to me. Even still, it feels like a violation. I cannot believe that they are doing that of the other hundred employees, 24/7.  At the time, all of my social media sites were public, because I often promote my blog. Let me just say...if you go to any page looking to BE offended...you’re going to GET offended by something. That’s just a fact. 

I have also had people tell me, rather indifferently, "Leave it in the past and move on."  A little easier said than done.  It's a little hard to do when your character is being challenged.

I am trying to stifle my anger. I am trying to not let this make me bitter. That is never a person I want to be. I believe that what we put out into the world we get back. I have to believe that those that sought to harm me and challenge my character ultimately have to look at their own selves in the mirror, and they have to sleep at night knowing what they’ve done. As my mama has always said, “They’ll have to answer for that one day.”

I won’t lie. It’s been hard. I have not wanted to post. I have not wanted to talk to people. I haven’t wanted to go anywhere, really. I have wanted to withdraw and just be around a handful of people. And what I am most regretful about is the fact that I have kept my new coworkers at arms length. Not wanting to get too close. Frankly, that is just not like me. That is not my personality. That’s not who I am. And that’s something that I’m working on, and trying to change.

I want to take a minute and talk about all of my blessings.

I am in love with my new job. It is amazing to know what you will be facing day to day. It’s incredible to know that you are helping people and you are making a difference. I love my team, I love what I do, and I could not be happier in that aspect. I was even awarded Team Member of the month, which meant the world to me.

This has truly been a blessing in disguise.  As a dear friend put it...truly, my being fired was really just my liberation.

I have also been surrounded by people who are so supportive. I have even had multiple people reach out to me over social media and show me support. Of this, I am so appreciative and so thankful.

I am incredibly blessed and thankful for the new opportunities given to me. God is good!

P.S. I’m stocking up on my tie dye ;)

The Aftermath

I struggled with this post. I know that every social media site of mine has been monitored and analyzed closely for the past several weeks. The "Post Police" have been anxiously awaiting this since last week. And honestly, I didn't want to give them the satisfaction.

 
However, my whole blog pays homage to my authenticity. To withhold this would be to do a disservice to my readers and myself. Sometimes it is so very strange to live in such a small town, and lead such a public life.

Last week, I was fired from my job. In all of my working career, I have never even been written up. Not once. Still haven't been. 

 
My dismissal, rather terse, went like this...I had a print out of the post (shown below) put on my desk by someone other than my direct supervisor, and I was told to get my things and go. 

Of course, like any red-blooded human, I went through shock. It was a blow to my spotless work reputation. I felt shame, not for what I had done, but for being fired. I felt anger, of course. I felt saddness for the coworkers that I so loved.

In processing all of these emotions, I had these thoughts:

I do not regret my post. In the slightest. Not one bit. I am completely unremorseful and unrepentant. The only thing I WILL apologize for is my language. As my mama would say, it doesn't seem too ladylike.

See, I do not care if you live in Florida or Utah or Arizona...my post rings true. I do not care if you live in Atlanta or New York City or in Small Town, USA...my post rings true. I do not care if you are Democrat or Republican...my post STILL rings true. If your representatives do not represent the people they serve, VOTE THEM OUT. If they are only out for self-promotion, political gain, etc...VOTE THEM OUT. 

 
We, as Americans, have a constitutional right and responsiblity to elect officials that have the best interest of the people in mind...whether it be locally, for state office, or for national office. Even when coverage of politics becomes nauseating, it is important to not become indifferent. It is essential to do your own research of each of the candidates, and not just solely take others opinions or the media's opinion as fact. Sometimes, one vote has made all of the difference. That is our right and responsibility to both our fellow citizens and to those that will come after us. As Americans...we, as citizens and voters, are given a voice. 

 
I will never support censorship. The first Amendment guarantees my freedom of expression.

I have, and will always be, a proud American. 

As a young child, my dad taught me the importance of my American duties. He often took my sister and I up to the voting house with him. When he felt strongly about a candidate, he went out and campaigned for them. He felt strongly about term limits, and voting officials out when they became complacent. As I have said SO many times...my dad raised very strong girls with very strong convictions. 

 
This being said, I will not apologize for stating my personal opinion on my personal social media page.
 
I cannot fathom why my lowly opinion threatens some. I don’t even vote in the County that I worked in. But I stand, defiantly, in my convictions.

To those that I worked with closely...you have my unconditional love. I love y'all dearly. If anything good came out of my working there, it is simply that I was able to meet you. You guys have impacted my life more than you will ever know, and for that I will be forever grateful. Y'all were my lifelines.

To the individuals that sought to cause problems... Thank you. You have successfully strengthened my backbone and set my jaw. I will sleep easily knowing that I have stood firm in my beliefs.  I can hold my head high with dignity because I wasn’t fired due to my work ethic. Although you may have forced my hand; ultimately, I am destined for bigger and better things. 

 
As far as what I will do and where I will go...I have been offered a new, exciting opportunity. The future is looking bright, y'all!

Thank You

Today, I want to say “thank you” to my readers. I am thankful to each and every one of you who take the time to read my posts. The fact that you take a few moments from your day to read something from my life, means the world to me. In every post, I share a little bit of my heart.

And to those that share my posts regularly, I truly appreciate you more than you’ll ever know. Thank you for sharing my posts and expanding my audience.

Last week, I reached one of my small goals of the year… My blog has been viewed over 75,000 times.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

XOXO
Aleta Kaylee

My White Flag

Image found on Google Images

I am completely unfeeling in this moment. 

I have given all that I can give.

They have taken all that they can take. 

I’m void of any emotions.

I have fought the good fight.

I have given it my all.

I have not cowered to those who stood against me.

But I am done fighting.

I have decided to do what serves my best interest.

I have already done what best serves you.

I have been strong and served.

And now, I am tired.

It’s not easy being Joan of Arc.

It’s not easy always being a woman on a mission.

It’s not easy always being the one to stand for what is right.

This battle has not been easy.

Now, I look towards the horizon.

Now, I seek happiness.

Now, I seek peace.

Today, I wave my white flag.

Sirens

What I will always remember about that day will be the sirens. I am no different than anyone else who was sitting in Trenton that day. Working next to the Courthouse, I was at the epicenter of town…next to the one red light in the County.

Everything happened so quickly. The office scanner erupted with noise. My coworker got a call from her Paramedic husband saying, “lock the office down.” She ran to the door to lock it, as I called the Courthouse to have them do the same. I called my old office, just a few blocks North of us, and had them lock down as well. I called and messaged my loved ones and told them not to come through Trenton. We sat there feeling as sitting ducks, not knowing what was happening just a few blocks from us.

Siren after siren after siren flew past.

A young woman I recognized from church walked up looking lost. I let her in, knowing who she was. She had witnessed a Deputy stop in the road, jump out of his cruiser and take off running towards the chaos.  In the process, he had lost his phone in the road.  She had picked it up and wanted to have it returned to him.  She had been directed to our office.  She asked if she could stay in the office until what was transpiring had cleared. His phone rang and rang.

Sirens continued to flood by.

The first account that came in was that there had been an active shooter at the Sun Stop. Later, after seeing my coworker’s face after receiving a call…I knew the news wasn’t good. I got a message from a friend saying she’d heard cops had been shot at the Ace China. I prayed at that moment that somehow she’d gotten it wrong; and if not, that they were okay.

Sirens were still coming.

Neighboring towns were sending back up.

My stomach was in knots as we sat waiting.

After what seemed like hours, we got the call saying that the shooter had been killed and to shut the office down and go home.

A shooter?  In Trenton?  Even now as I sit writing this--nearly a year later--it seems surreal.

As we walked to our cars, in a daze, a girl we recognized ran past. She was notably upset. My coworker asked if she could help, she continued running towards the Community Center and said “I’ve got to get to her, she doesn’t know!”

Before I got home, my friend called me crying, telling me the names of the cops. She had worked closely with these guys.

I sat back dumbstruck. These two young men had just eaten lunch at our office only weeks before. They had been joking and laughing….so full of life. And now…they’re gone from this world?

I am still so angry. I’m angry that innocent lives were lost.  I'm angry that Noel's wife will have to raise their children without him being here.  I’m angry that Noel’s children will grow up without him. I’m angry that Taylor’s family and friends didn’t get to see him get married or have kids of his own.  I'm angry that their future was robbed from them.

That day, we lost our sense of safety. Something that might would happen in a major city, had happened here in Trenton. Evil took us off guard that day. I’m so angry that in one moment, we lost our Mayberry.

On April 19, 2018, that coward broke our hearts; but even in our grief, he couldn't break our community.

Though the days after were a blur, let me tell you what I witnessed in the aftermath...

No emphasis was put on the coward that did this.  His name was only mentioned a handful of times.  He received no media attention.  The attention was placed on our deputies, where it belonged.  He did not get what he had so craved.

Our community united.  We surrounded our grieving men in uniform, the families, and the friends with love. Our streets were speckled with “We back the blue” signs and “Thin Blue Line” flags.  Blue Ribbons were on nearly every front door.  We gathered together for the candlelight vigil.  Just the thought of the sheer number of people that lined the streets when our boys came home, and during the funeral procession, still puts a lump in my throat.  The funeral procession, itself, was the longest in Florida history...nearly 15 miles long.

The long line of Law Enforcement Officers bringing Noel and Taylor home.  Photo Credit: The Gilchrist County Journal.

Neighboring Counties honored Noel and Taylor the day of the funeral.  Photo Credit: Sara Spivey

In the days after, we celebrated the lives of the men. We honored these men. We cloaked each other in love. We supported each other.  I witnessed several counties send deputies and dispatchers to fill in for our own deputies and dispatchers who were mourning the loss of their colleagues and friends.  I witnessed restaurants feed these neighboring men in uniform at no charge.  What I witnessed was...love.  The richness of our community is something that could never be stolen or shaken by tragedy.

To those of you who have heard of us by only this story, I leave you with this plea:  Let our town not be remembered solely because of this tragedy.  Let us be remembered by how we responded during this tragedy.  Let us be remembered for our love.  Let us be remembered for our unity.  Let our heroes, Noel and Taylor, be remembered...and let their legacy of service and honor and duty live on in your life, as it does in ours.

Sgt. Noel Ramirez and Dep. Taylor Lindsey:  You are heroes and you will never be forgotten.  We will strive to honor your memory.  Rest easy.

 

Sgt. Noel Ramirez and Dep. Taylor Lindsey.  Photo taken from the Gilchrist County Sheriff's Office facebook page.

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I know that I have some followers from different states and different countries...and for those of you who are unfamiliar with this story, let me explain:  Trenton is the county seat of Gilchrist County, Florida.  We are a rural community.  The county has one red light and a population of about 17,000 county-wide.  On April 19, 2018, Noel and Taylor stopped at Ace China to have lunch, while working.  They had just ordered when a man drove past, saw their vehicles, stopped, and went inside.  He ambushed them.  The coward then went back to his vehicle and took his own life.  The coward did not know the deputies personally.  This wasn't an act of retaliation.  This was an act of unadulterated evil.  He was planning on not going home that evening, and he was hellbent on taking innocent lives with him.  April 19, 2018, he took two of our own.  We will forever grieve that loss.

Author’s Note:  There are times when I will sit on a post for months before I actually share it.  This has been the case for “Sirens.”  My heart was purely broken, and I had to wait until I was able to collect my thoughts enough to do it justice.  This is the finished product of about 6 months of planning and writing and re-writing it.

The artwork for "Sirens" was created by my friend, Chris Rogers.

#NoShrinkingViolet

Photo Credit: Jennifer Lazos

When you come from a rural area, it's not uncommon to be asked "Who's your people?" pretty regularly.

For those of you concerned with my pedigree, I want to answer this once and for all:

I come from a long line of strong, willful, badass women.

My Great-Great Grandmother on my Father's side had to restart her whole life after her husband died.  She lived on the Silver Springs reservation with her husband, Joe Darlington, and her three little girls.  Upon Joe's death, she and her girls were kicked off the reservation as they were not full-blooded Seminole Indian.  She restarted her life in a dirt-floored palmetto shack in Cedar Key.

My Great-Grandma Annie was a woman before her time.  Strong, outspoken, and quick-tempered, she was quick to tell someone just what she thought of them.  If there was a cause close to her heart, she would drive around the County collecting...and don't be fooled, she wasn't above strong-arming or shaming a local politician into donating to her cause.  She famously told someone that had high-hatted her "I was the first to slap your naked ass when you were born, and I ain't afraid to whoop it now."

My Great-Grandma Lois lost her mother at an early age and was married at 14.  She had four children.  She became a widow when her youngest was 6, and had to support them all by herself.

My Granny Doris can be found at the local nursing home.  She's sweet as the day is long...but cross her, and she'll give a talkin'-to you won't soon forget.  She looks out for the underdogs, a nurturer at heart.  Loyal to a fault, if she thinks you have done something against someone she loves, you will soon catch her wrath.

My Granny Betty was one of the most loving people you could ever hope to meet.  But if you upset her, she would have you outside huntin' a peach tree switch before you could say "I'm sorry."  She married young, too, and earned her GED at the age of 59; the same year her oldest grandchild earned her High School Diploma.

My mama?  Well...my mama is a saint.  She is funny, witty, smart, sweet, and strong.  She was Valedictorian of her class.  She was the first in her family to get a college degree.  She majored in Micro-biology, not a common field among women.  She battled breast cancer with a vengeance.  When my dad was sick 18 months later?  She was the glue that held us all together.  Her strength is amazing.

If you want to know my pedigree.  That is my pedigree.  This is the blood that runs through my veins.  I am from a long line of strong, willful, sassy, outspoken, smart, revolutionary women.

I will not be quiet.  I will not cower.  I will make my voice be heard.  I am the descendent of great women.

I am no shrinking violet.

Ghosts

There are some days that I still have to bypass Trenton. I’d like to blame it on the beauty of the live oak lined road that I take to detour, but that wouldn’t be the truth. Your truck is no longer parked out by the road. That absence still bothers me after all this time.

Most days, I have to take the long way around, as driving past your house still puts a lump in my throat. It has sold…it belongs to someone else. Now, it simply sits as a structure with walls built of “what ifs” and a roof made of “could have beens” for me. Some days I wish someone would simply bulldoze it, so it wouldn’t taunt me; but others, I’m thankful for its reminder that you were once here with me.

That’s the thing about living in a small town. When a person leaves, that void is felt. It resonates through the community like the rippling effect of a stone skipping across a pond. Their ghosts still walk the streets, presenting reminders of themselves from time to time; leaving their loved ones longing for more than just a memory.

Dear Shitty People Of The World...

At heart, I’m a very forgiving, loving, caring, empathetic person…But I’m becoming increasingly disheartened, as the days go by, with the number of shitty people walking amongst us. At the current time, I’m trying exceedingly hard to not become jaded with this world.

I understand that, unfortunately, I am in a position where I see the very ugly side of people…and that has been a bit of a shock for me. People who I thought were kind, genuine people in the past, are now blatantly surprising me.

I have a few thoughts that I’ve been stewing on.

I am not passive aggressive…I do not do well with snide remarks, or back-handed comments. I’m what I like to call “Aggressive-Aggressive”….I’m pretty in your face. I’m not going to sit around and make catty remarks. I’m going to tell you what I’m feeling. Make me mad? You’ll know it. Upset me? You’ll know it. And I have more respect for someone who comes and says something straightforward instead of making me guess at what you’re beating around the bush about…..

Also, if you have something to say about me…come say it to my face. I hate to sound like a drama-filled, pumped-up middle school girl here…but here’s the deal: I am a 32 year old woman…I do not do well with idle gossip or catty remarks being made about me behind my back. I don’t have time for this nonsense. Got something to say to me? Say it.

Stay in your own damn lane. I pay little mind to what anyone else is doing. I hate to sound flippant, but I just do not care. And if I don’t care what you’re doing, you damn sure don’t need to be bothered up with what I’m doing.

I have ZERO respect for spineless fence-sitters. Take a stance. Take any freakin’ stance. I’ll have more respect for you. But to go back and forth across the fence, never making any decision? Well, I can’t muster up any respect for you. Sorry.

I don’t have room for any of the ones mentioned above in my tribe. I have been on a blocking spree this week with NO remorse. I would rather have a smaller circle than a big circle full of fakes.

Words of Wisdom Wednesday

I was perusing either Facebook, or Instagram, the other night and stumbled across this.  Having just walked away from something myself, this struck a chord with me...

If a situation does not grow you, better you, uplift you, or make you happy... I pray that you have the courage to walk away.  Typically, there is something much better waiting for you just around the bend.

Love Me, But Leave Me Wild

I will never fit a certain mold. I was not made to conform to a certain brand of thinking. I was not meant to follow along with the groupthink mentality. I am far too much of an individual for that.

My parents did not raise me to bow down to another based on status or titles. They raised me to do what was right, not what is popular. They taught me to stand up for those who can’t speak for themselves. They gave me my voice, they gave me my courage, they gave me confidence.

My thoughts…my beliefs…my actions…they are all my own. I am an individual first and foremost. I follow my intuition, creativity, and discernment; and trust in prayer to lead me down my journey’s path.

I will never be what society expects me to be.

Love me, but leave me wild.