Growth Comes In Time

After moving away to Yuma county Sergio and I both lost contact with several people from our past.  Some were intentional, some happened naturally as our lives grew in different directions.  In the healing process we got busy raising kids, working and keeping up with our jam packed daily activities. We didn’t realize until we slowed down that what we thought were days had quickly turned into months. Months into years.  We let go of relationships that we agreed would not allow us to grow. Others faded away because of shame and regret.  Sergio more often than I struggled with keeping in contact with people, especially if he felt he had hurt a person or let anyone down in any way. As the years passed by it was easier for him to continue to hide from relationships rather than face how vulnerable he still was.  He continued to protect himself from the sting of rejection, as he had convinced himself that no one would ever believe he was changed. The fear of judgment still had a hold of him.  He often would share with me that he wasn’t sure why God spared him to live such a fulfilled life when he had hurt so many people.   Hearing him live in shame broke my heart.   Over the years with love and support I helped him to believe in the man that he looked at it the mirror.  I taught him to tell that man that he had come a long way and that he is proud of him. I sure am.

Unless you have gone through what we have you would not understand that we needed a different kind of support after Sergio was shot.  You may assume that we only ran away when we left the city.   Yes we did run away not because we couldn’t face our demons but because we needed to be in a safe environment. We had been surrounded by toxins unable to grow.   Oh how I wished we would’ve ran sooner. Why didn’t we run faster to a place where we could heal and grow?  

We quickly learned that home was the only place we could protect our very delicate relationship, as we were broken and afraid for our future falling apart.   After leaving the city Sergio admitted that when he returned for a visit he still wasn’t strong enough to stay away from old friends and old habits. He shared that he could still hear the call of the streets and the invitation was often one he wanted to accept.   When he shared this weakness with me I knew how much stronger he was becoming.  Growing up all he knew was drugs and alcohol, this was how one bonded in this upbringing.   This was the only kind of interaction he understood. Helping him continue to grow would require shedding even more relationships and being cautions as to whom we would share our hearts with.  We remained hidden in the place we felt the safest with little to no contact with others from our past.   

This last fall our home phone rang continuously, someone from our past was looking for us.  We often ignore the landline because it’s usually telemarketers  trying to sell us something.  The call was getting annoying as we were trying to visit with friends. Sergio answered to silence the rings. Half eavesdropping I understood that the person on the other line had apparently been looking for us for over ten years. Curiosity hit and I heard Sergio say the name Tina and I immediately knew who was on the other end.  Tina, Allen’s mother, wow it had been 22 years.  She found us and wanted to see us.  Her search was over.

The night that Sergio was shot his friend was shot as well.  Allen lost his life that night in August of 1992 and Sergio was left paralyzed.  In the years shortly following that night Sergio and Allen’s mother Tina started a relationship that included speaking at schools sharing their side for that painful night. Tina had a deep desire to share with youth that violence is never the answer.  Sergio wanted in some way to ease her pain as he carried the weight of shame.  He blamed himself for putting Allen in a terrible situation, he blamed himself for Allen not having the opportunity to go home to his family.  

As I watched Sergio struggle with being paralyzed, I could also see signs of self sabotage.  He began slowly falling into the pit of unworthiness.  Our relationship was unraveling during the time he and Tina started to grow theirs.  I saw first hand how Sergio pretended to smile while inside he was in pain. I knew him enough to recognize the face of defeat. He forced himself through the motions of life while not recovering much from his own trauma.  Every time I heard his voice the sound of despair rang.   Desperation to understand why he would be confined to a wheelchair.  I was also desperate to understand why he couldn’t see that God had spared his life and that I would have stayed by his side had he found his self worth.  As painful as it was I had to let go and move on with my personal goals.  I could no longer guide him if he wasn’t willing to follow my lead.  I tried to hold on but the struggle to not lose myself was overtaking me.  My identity was slowly being stolen.  My every daily routine was trying to protect someone that continued to inflict self harm.  I was losing the battle, I surrendered.

It took Sergio four months to believe that he was worthy of change.  In these four months I would hear some stories of victory and some of defeat.  In the months that he and Tina healed together Sergio slowly started down his own path to recovery without my leading.  The kind of healing I had been praying for.

As I watched and listened from a distance Sergio and I became friends again.  Not really.  I tried to be his friend but once I was in the same room as him I fell right back in love.  As if we had never been apart. I never stopped loving him I only needed room to love myself.  Eventually we made plans to move away and start over. In the quest to regain himself I listened as he would often go down the list of people he felt he had disappointed, one being Tina.  I reminded him that I believe in him and I am a witness to how much he has changed.  Our marriage has recovered from so many obstacles, our unity is a testimony all by itself.  Reminding him often that he has nothing to prove to anyone.   He still felt that he couldn’t face Tina after getting shot the second time, often saying to me  “Tina must think that I was always looking for trouble, I know that I have let her down.”  In my heart and watching him grow I knew this wasn’t the case, Tina would be proud of him.

This weekend we have the opportunity to travel and visit Tina and the rest of her family. I am so grateful for this time we will have to caught up.  After 22 years we will look at each other face to face and share all that the years have taught us.  This weekend may open up some old wounds for Sergio.  Wounds in all of us.  Reliving that night still makes my heart beat a little faster.  We may have to travel back to that terrible night and feel some of the emotions that have not been brought to surface in years.  I am confident that with strength we will use this experience to grow even stronger.  My prayer is that in some way we can all heal in the places that are still wounded.  The darkness we may still carry with come to light.  I pray that my husband can let go of the the need to prove that he has changed, that he can let go of the guilt and shame he has carried for years.  This weekend he can show how far he has come.  His personal strength shows how far he will go. Tina will be proud of Sergio and she will get to see and hear that the very dark night still had light.

Sometimes in our lives we all have to face our past.  The past that has shaped us to be who we are today. The past holds darkness but our future shines bright.  Don’t be ashamed of your past.  Our past experiences may be very different however when we grow and use the past for good, our goal is the same.  To thrive in this world while helping others see their worth.  Embrace it, share it, grow from it, and Keep Rolling On!

A wife to a man in wheels. Sharing my life with all of the struggles in hopes to open up the highways of understanding, compassion, love, and hope.Follow me as I tread through.

Be Brave, Fight Resistance

“Resistance is all around us.  It is hidden in secret places waiting to jump out to stop us from the work we must complete.  It lingers in dark corners of rooms waiting as we move towards our goal so it can derail us.” – Steven Pressfield, The War of Art.

The past few months have been a struggle for me to get on my computer to write, to pick up my book and edit.  It has been overwhelming to complete all my daily activities and demands.

Distractions merging with my passion.  I can usually accomplish what I consider to be a priority which leads to me pushing my dream aside.  Unfortunately after forcing myself to complete a task and giving my leftover energy to my dreams, I find myself unfulfilled and only being half present.

Have you ever pushed yourself through a project only being half present?

 I have been doing this the last couple of months, and then I look back at my work and realize I could have done a much better job had I been fully present.  

“Resistance has no strength of its own .  Every ounce of juice it possesses comes from us.  Master that fear and we conquer resistance.” Steven Pressfield, The War of Art.

This past weekend my daughter and I flew to Tennessee to attend a writers conference. She told me months earlier that if I could only get away once this year, this was the conference she would recommend I attend.  I agreed, bought my tickets and marked my calendar.  Time moved so quickly and it was time to go.  I packed my bags the morning of traveling and didn’t allow myself the opportunity to get excited about my upcoming travels until I was actually traveling.  I wasn’t completely present yet.   

When the conference started I quickly became excited.  I started to relax and once that happened I remembered how I had oppressed my dreams.  Spending time with my daughter and watching her reminded me how powerful we can be when we speak our dreams together.  This trip was what I needed.  I needed to fill my tank with all the beauty that comes from words. Words both written and spoken. The words that come from one’s heart and soul.  This is where I was to be, this is where my tribe is.  My tribe have the same kind of struggles I have with the same passion to dream.  We were all here to leave a piece of ourselves for the world to own.  We were all here to connect as one.

Once I settled into the conference and all its wonderful speakers. I noticed their words were directed at me, my mind and soul opened ready to not only listen but to set out and work to the fullest. The three keys to this conference were to be present, (imagine that) be helpful, and to be brave.  Yes, Norah you must be present!  

As I have often shared I struggle with being present the most.  Shutting off my mind in order to be fully present takes a kind of skill that I lack.   I live in the world of I must be that superhero mom that can multitask to prove that she is successful. I must complete several tasks at one time. I must do an amazing balancing act while I cook, clean, balance the checkbook, return phone calls, write on my blog and shave my legs.  That’s the demands I put on myself, no one has ever demanded this of me.  This is how I fuel my self worth.  How I feel the most productive and I can praise myself for “getting it done”.  Where is my cape?  Supermom has arrived.  Crap my cape is in the washing machine, now I must put it in the dyer. Oh maybe I should finish my laundry?  No one can be completely present giving a task your all when your mind, heart and soul is not completely present. You must be completely there to conquer.

Be helpful was next on the agenda.  In this life we all need community and connection.  In order to live out our dreams we are not fulfilled with living our dreams alone.  Our dreams include others and being a part of their lives.  Help others expecting nothing back.  Even when we feel that we have nothing to offer, give anyways and give wholly with the heart…often.

The last mission on this weekend’s agenda is to be brave.

Not just brave but BRAVE.  

The kind of brave that puts you in uncomfortable situations, the kind of brave that makes your heart palpitate and your palms sweat.  

Be bold with your dreams because they are big and you should give them the energy they deserve.  This is when I should put on my cape and I will as soon as it is dry. I will wear it often, Heroes are brave and you are the hero of your story.  Believing in yourself is the single most heroic act you can do.  

This weekend there has been a revival within.  I  know that I must tell my story and I must use it to inspire others.  My story is import and I am a hero.  Heros do not fall down to resistance they move towards it, they fight through it by being present and with a willing heart to help others.  They give 100% to fight the fight.  If they are ever a victim to distractions they will fall in danger’s way.

After this long weekend of learning I made myself a promise to work towards my goal of sharing my story and to fight resistance.  I will be completely present in my dreams.  I will be helpful to my tribe and I will be brave as I continue my journey to leave a piece of myself to the world.  I will stand tall and reach as high as I can towards my goals, inspiring others to do the same.

What is holding you back from your dreams?  That ugly resistance, fight it!  

What can you do to be 100% in what you know you should be doing.  

What is the one thing you can do today to move in the right direction?

What can you do  to be helpful to others?  

Look around at all the opportunities to be that avenue that someone needs to turn to.  

Be brave.  Be the bravest you can be, remembering that you are the hero of your story.

This is your story and you are writing its ending how you’ve always dreamed it would be. Keep Rolling On!

Your Passion is Like Sky Diving

Have you ever been so caught up in a moment that you are 100% who you are meant to be.  It may only be brief.  It may literally only last for one single moment.  But in that moment you are the most you, you’ve ever been.

If you play music it is the feeling when you get lost in the notes and your fingers magically play every single note perfectly and your brain isn’t even thinking.  You just do.  You just play.  The notes slide out from your fingertips and when the song is over you feel powerful.  You did something you didn’t even know you could and yet you did it without thinking.  You feel flawless.  You have impressed yourself.

If you play sports it’s the moment when you’re in the game and you serve, pass, spike, catch, throw, kick, score, dribble the ball in the most beautifully, effortless way. You have impressed yourself.  You’re teammates give you a high five, they slap you on the butt.  You have impressed even them.  The crowd cheers for you and you’ve never felt better.

It’s the moment when you fall in love and the entire world stops.  Everything freezes and you’ve never been happier in that one tiny moment.  

It’s the moment when you’ve read a passage in a book.  When it resonates you write it down so you’ll never forget that feeling.

It’s the moment when you’re thousands of feet in the air and a man is strapped to your back, while you’re standing on the ledge of the plane, waiting to jump.

It’s the free fall.

It’s also when the free fall ends, the parachute opens, and you hang in the air.

That’s what Writing feels like.  

That’s what attending the Tribe Conference feels like.

As if I’m in a tiny, life defining moment.  Like the world just stops and stands still and I’m 100% myself.

It lasts just a moment.

After the moment has passed the worry sets in, the doubts about the amount of work I have to do.  The amount of pages I need to write overwhelms me.

But I remember that moment.  The one where everything was so clear.  The one where I knew I was a writer.  The moment where sitting in the Tribe Conference made me know exactly who I am and exactly what my goals are.

The Tribe Conference is a writing conference that I attended last year with my dad Sergio and this year I went with my mom Norah.  It is the kind of place that is filled with people like me who want to get their story out into the world.  The kind of people who want to help others with their message, their words, their art, and their wisdom.

The first time I found Jeff Goins (the guy behind Tribe Conference ) blog about being a writer I immediately knew he was the kind of guy I aspired to be.  Though his conference last year and his book You Are a Writer I discovered I wanted to be a writer.  I began writing a book two years prior to this, but still I didn’t think I was a writer.  I didn’t believe that being a writer was my calling.  Until I found Jeff Goins.

At first writing a book only became something I wanted to do to help me parents achieve their dream.  I wanted to help them write their book of overcoming the trauma of paralysis, of showing that their love could conquer all, and of showing that when one person is lost deeply how love can save them.

It wasn’t until I searched deep inside of myself that I realized that I had my own story to share and my own journey to pursue.  

I can remember the time in high school when I played the clarinet and the world around me stopped because my fingers played the music flawlessly.  I can remember my best game of high school volleyball when I not only impressed myself but I impressed my team.  I will never forget the moment of falling in love and having the world stop.  I can always recall the feeling of standing on the ledge of the plane waiting to make the jump.

I will never forget the first time I impressed myself with writing.  I wrote something beautiful and I reread it over and over.  I could only think WOW I did it.  I am a writer.  

You cannot impress yourself all the time.  And those little moments of impressing yourself comes from years, months, weeks of practice.  I impressed myself with my writing after I wrote hundreds, thousands of mediocre words. I didn’t not wake up one day and become a writer, I had to practice at it for a long time.

The Tribe Conference makes me feel that tiny moment of clarity, only there are several moments strung together.  The Tribe Conference is a conference for writers, a conference for those who know what that moment feels like.

I could go into detail about the specific speakers, and how they influenced me to become a better writer.  I could, but it won’t give you the real effect of what it was really like.  I could blab about this speaker and that speaker and what they said, but that won’t make you feel anything.  Unless of course you were there, only then would you know exactly what I meant.

I can only say this it was like sky diving.  It was as if I was standing on the step of that airplane.  I had the entire world down below me,  I had a man who knew what he was doing strapped to my back.  I had everything I needed within my grasp.  I only needed to jump.

I needed to jump without forgetting that I wanted to go sky diving since I was 16 years old.  I purchased the skydiving ticket.  I drove 5 hours to Glenwood Springs.   I rode the airplane into the air, even though I felt claustrophobic from the moment I entered that plane.  I panicked at first until I remand myself that I planned to go skydiving, it was what I wanted.  It was a planned event.  It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision and it took me almost 10 years to finally do it.

That’s what being a writer feels like and what attending a writing conference feels like.

It feels as if you have to take one big jump knowing that every step you took to get to that jump was intentional.  It feels like you have a mentor strapped to your back who has taken the path before you.  It feels exhilarating and crazy once you get on that ledge.  The free fall happens so fast you don’t even think.  And when you take that big jump you float down slowly and enjoy the view.

Now maybe you’re not a writer, but you are passionate about something.  Take every time I wrote the word writer and put that into what you are: mother, daughter, wife, husband, father, son minister, photographer, coach, player, runner, dancer.

And reach for those moments that make you feel like the world belongs to you.  And if you have a chance to surround yourself with those who have the same dreams and goals as you, it will amplify those moments even more.  It will bring to light who you are and who you’re supposed to be as the Tribe Conference has done for me.

The biggest piece of advice I received from the conference that is applicable to every single person is, to live.  Go out and live.  The rest will fall into place.

Go out and share your story of how you live and Keep Rolling On!

It is our second year anniversary!

Can you believe it!  The years have gone by so fast.

This is our recap of our first year of blogging, and below is a recap of this year.  We want to thank you for being apart of our journey and for reading everything that we write!

 Posts by Ashley

Why I Used to Cry Everyday

What’s your Dream

Teen Parents

The Day I Became a Big Sister

Watch Your Toes

Growing Up With a Dad in a Wheelchair

Write it All Out

Trying to Get Published:Magic of Memoir

First Day of College

Posts by Sergio

Loss of My Legs

Desire of a Father

The Day I Met my Daughter

The Day I Found out I couldn’t walk

Why I’m Always Smiling

Sergio’s Story

Sharing My Wheelchair Story

Decluttering Down Memory Lane

The Smell of Fresh Cut Grass

Good Looking Mexican in a Wheelchair

Back to School: My Extra Cup of Coffee

Rolling Through Cancun

Posts by Norah

Traveling to Cancun Mexico

Mother at 14

I Am Her Mother

Unspoken Love

365 Days of Love

Marriage DIY

His Story is My Story

The Mental Illness Ride

I Was Chosen to Adopt Her

Norah’s Story

Lighten Your Bag

Mother’s Day Scare

We can’t wait to see what the next year brings!  Especially since our story will be featured in a book! 

Keep Rolling On with The Wheels of Grace!

Back to school time was always my favorite time of the year.  It meant that the air would start to get crisper, the leaves would start to turn a beautiful shade, and most importantly school was in session.

I loved school.

I enjoyed reading, and learning.  

9 years ago I started my freshman year of college.  It was a huge accomplishment not only for me but for my family as well.  My mom never went to college.  College wasn’t an option for her after she barely graduated at on time while attending day and night school her senior year.  Once she had her high school diploma she knew she needed to get a job right away.  After her senior year of high school, I had just finished pre-school and would be ready to start kindergarten the next year.  My dad received his GED and began to take college courses but stopped once he became paralyzed.

I was going to be the first person in our family to attend college.  

To my parents this was a huge deal.  My mom said over and over “You’re going to college!  No really you’re going to college!!!”

She said it over and over as if it was a huge surprise and a huge success. To me it was simply the next phase of my life.  I didn’t think I would do anything else with my life besides go to college.  I never not for one single second imagine I would do anything else with my life at age eighteen other than attend college.  I don’t think my parents saw anything other than that for my future either, but once the reality set in.  Once it was really happening.  They were truly in awe.

My mom shared about her school struggles and her baggage she carried around while attending school and  my dad shared about how he was a troublemaker kid who constantly got sent to the principal’s office.  I didn’t face any of those troubles when I was growing up but I know it had to cross their minds that maybe some day I would.

When I started kindergarten I’m sure my dad wondered if I would end up like him.  He may have worried that someday I might befriend the wrong kids and start trouble like he did.  My dad may have be concerned that one day I might not care about school at all and quit going like he did.

My mom may have worried that one day I might think I was in love and get pregnant at an early age.  She may have been concerned that I might struggle at school like she did.  My mom may have wondered if I would have trouble learning, and getting good grades.

But never did they express these concerns with me if they ever had them.  I know to some extent they had to worry, all parents do.  However I was never pressured to get good grades, I simply strived to.  I was never forced to participate in any after school programs, I did the ones I wanted and skipped the ones I didn’t like.  My parents let me be exactly who I was growing up.

They got lucky that who I was as a kid, and who I am as an adult is a book-loving, sometimes too quiet, sometimes talk too much, loves to learn, nerd.

The day I went to college was a special day for the three of us.  We all made it to college that day.  Even if it was me who was attending.  My mom and dad were right there with me.

We drove up to college together, and we unpacked all of my clothes, shoes, books, make-up, notebooks, mini refrigerator, and a bunch of snacks because they were afraid I might go hungry if they weren’t there to feed me.  That day was a new chapter for all of us.  It would be my first time away from home and it would be their first time without me.   We were all excited but slightly nervous.  We tried not to cry when we said good-bye and they left me all alone in the big world as an adult.  I know my mom cried all the way home but she was strong in front of me.  My parents did their job in raising me and to me to the point in my life where I could go to college and succeed. Even though it was 9 years ago we still look at that day as one of our biggest accomplishments.

I see the look on their faces as they get to tell people from their past, maybe people who didn’t think they could make it.  People who said that they would fail from all of their past troubles.  What teenage mother could raise a normal daughter?  How would Sergio ever get his life together?

When my parents get to tell those people that they not only succeeded, but their daughter did too and she graduated college, their faces light up.  I know they’re proud of me and they’re proud of themselves.

Now when those people ask if I use my degree, well that’s an entirely different story.

But….

Chase your dream, even if at some point you change paths.  Just keep rolling on, you’ll get there.

On June 1st I hit submit to a writing contest that could end with me either getting something I wrote published or the devastating result in not getting it published.

I worked hard on my writing and I even asked several people to read it before I clicked submit.  The writing contest would result in my work getting published in a book along with several best selling authors and wonderful writers who have been published before, or like me it could be their first time getting published.  The book would be an anthology, a collection of pieces titled The Magic of Memoir.  A memoir is a book that tells a story of someone’s life.  It is not autobiographical in the sense that it tells every detail of a life from birth to death.  A memoir takes a slice of life to tell a story.  A popular memoir is Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert who will also be featured in Magic of Memoir.  Other examples of memoirs are Wild by Cheryl Strayed, Orange is the New Black by Piper Kerman (the real life story that inspired the Netflix series) and I could really go on and on and on, (P.S. if you want me to go on and on e-mail me, I love nothing more than talking about books and recommending books for others to read.)

The book my parents and I are writing is a memoir.  It is a slice of our life, a book about overcoming adversities and how love endures all.  My parents love endured gunshot wounds, teenage pregnancy, teenage delinquency, and so much more.  

I often checked the contest website to see when the results would be available, every time the website said August 1st.  I knew that waiting two months would be torturous but it was out of my control.  I put my best writing out there and all I could do was wait.

July 1st I checked the website and there was an update that almost 200 people had submitted their writing for the contest.  My writing would need to shine, and I began to feel nervous.  Did I have what it took? Could I really beat out other writers?  Since the book was an anthology  I knew I didn’t need to be the only person with great writing, but I needed to be one of many.  I was overwhelmed knowing so many people were trying to win this contest.  

On Tuesday July 26th I turned 27 years old and the entire day I told myself that this was my year.  I would use my entire year of being 27 to work as hard as I could to make it as a writer.  I set goals that day to really get a handle on my book so that by the time I turned 28 I was further in this journey than I am now.  But not just further, also somehow noticed.  I wanted to make trackable, tangible progress.  I wanted to get something I wrote published somewhere, whether that be in a book or on an online publication.  I needed an accomplishment.  

At this point I’ve been working on writing a memoir for two years, two of those years I wrote in secret without telling very many people at all, and after those two years we started this blog to let people know we are writing a book as well as sharing parts of our past story and and our present lives through the blog.

It has always been a goal to spread our lives to encourage others that whatever life brings you, embrace it and let it inspire you to be a better person.  Have a parent in a wheelchair has always taught me that anything is truly accomplishable, it has taught me that becoming a published author has always been in my reach, I just needed to work hard and stretch out my arm and grab it.  

On Thursday July 28th, two days after my 27th birthday and after my promise to myself to work harder to get to my goals I received my congratulations email. The top of the e-mail read “Congratulations, Ashley.”  That was all I needed to read to know that I had accomplished something amazing!

I did it, I am going to be published!!!

This is a huge step in my ultimate goal of getting our book traditionally published because now I can say I’ve already been published.  I can use this as motivation to tell myself that I can really reach my goal.  

The book I’ll be in The Magic of Memoir is now available for pre-order and will be published in November.  It is a book tailored for those who want to write a memoir, and that may not be you, but I know it will be inspiring even to those who aren’t writing a memoir.  It will be filled with personal, inspiring stories, and even if you’re not wanting to write a memoir it might encourage you to do so.  I think we are all writers, anyone reading this is a writer, and you have your own story to share.  Maybe reading this book will be the first step to you realizing that.  

I encourage you to read The Magic of Memoir, not because my writing will be in it, but because I think you’ll love what you discover when you read it!

Don’t forget to chase your dreams, and accomplish you’re goals!

Keep Rolling On!