“YOU ARE LOYAL TO YOUR FAMILY.”

Last month, I had one of the most intense months of my life.

My father was admitted to the hospital for a routine procedure where they insert “stents” to help improve circulation from major arteries to the heart. Pops had 80% blockage in his left femur artery.

What stents look like internally.

What should have been a quick procedure–in and out of the hospital within one day–turned into a full-fledged nightmare. A few days later, on Saturday night, my father began having a seizure-like shaking episode, so intense that his wedding band flew off. He called out for my mother and aunt to come help him. They immediately called 911, and Pops was admitted to the ER.

My father asked my mother to call “all his children,” as he didn’t know if he would make it. Quickly the entire Wallace family flocked to his bedside. Since Pops complained of significant chest pains, we were worried that he had experienced a heart attack. The doctors were able to stabilize him, yet couldn’t  determine what had happened.

I stayed by his bedside overnight on Sunday. I tried my hardest to keep a tough and strong appearance to benefit my mother, but I was truly falling apart internally. No one ever wants to see their father in such a helpless and vulnerable position.

I am not a super religious person…but I do believe that in times of tragedy, the power of prayer can prove to be invaluable. My mother had gone home for the night so I was the last Wallace there. While getting some air out in the waiting room, I was approached by an older woman. Since I was crying, she sat next to me and simply held my hand. She didn’t say anything or ask any questions. She just sat there. Before she left, she handed me a small white bible and told me to keep my head up. “God’s plans are already working, and however they pan out, you are strong enough to handle it,” she said.

This helped me get through this.

That night I cried, prayed and envisioned my father pulling through. Well,while it took weeks for my father to get back on his feet, Pops made it. The doctors determined that the stent procedure had led to a blood infection, which easily could have killed him had he not gone in immediately.

Two thumbs up.

A week later, while eating my favorite–Chinese–for dinner, I opened my fortune cookie to find an interesting sentiment.

I like to think it was the universe’s way of acknowledging that yes, I had witnessed a miracle and yes, higher powers can work wonders.

BE STRONG BOSTON

Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. -A. A. Mine

This past Monday, what should have been a day of cheer, celebrating the amazing accomplishment of running one of the oldest and celebrated marathon’s, the Boston Marathon, quickly turned into chaotic tragedy.

As bystanders, including an 8-old boy named Martin Richard, 29-year old restaurant manager Krystle Campbell and Boston University International student Lingzi Lu, cheered on their friends and family members, three bombs went off, killing these three instantly. (Shown below from left to right: Krystle Campbell, Martin Richard and Lingzi Lu)

Countless others were critically injured, including Jeff Bauman, who was there to cheer on his girlfriend. After losing both legs in the bombings, Jeff managed to help the police with identifying the two prime suspects.

Jeff Bauman: Helped identify two prime suspects in Boston Bombings

Stories like this help me realize that for all of the evil out there, good will still does prevail. This past week has been a difficult one for a few other personal reasons, but after witnessing the aftermath of this US tragedy, I am grateful for my family and myself to be safe and healthy.

It’s easy for us to watch the news and be filled with anger. Why does these events occur? Senseless tragedy seems to haunt our nation and rears it’s ugly head monthly.

It seems that we cannot do anything in public anymore. We cannot go to a marathon, without fear. Watch a movie, without fear. Take a flight, without fear. Go to a public political rally, without fear. Go to a religious gathering, without fear. Eat at a public well-known fast food restaurant, without fear. Probably most devastating, send our children to elementary school, WITHOUT FEAR.

Yet rather, than throw my hands up in frustration, I am determined to continue to believe that despite all of the evil actions taken by misguided individuals, there are also those who follow a positive path and remind all of us that good will still exists.

TAKING A MOMENT.

This past Wednesday I lost my job as “Office Manager” of a start-up company located in South Charlotte.

This past Thursday afternoon I had my first ever panic attack.

Let me go back…because as you can imagine, yes the first incident did bear great influence on the other.

I personally have never had a panic attack before. No, I am not new to anxiety, I just usually am able to work through it and move on. Usually this entails a long run, hot yoga session or simply sitting outside and taking a moment.

I wasn’t able to do any of these three things on Thursday.

After getting delivered the news, I thought it would be best to make my way home to Winston-Salem, for a weekend of self-reflection. (Also more affectionately known as running home to Mama. Her soul soothing Peruvian chicken soup (sopa de pollo) has always served as a Prozac for me when life gets too intense.)

I loaded up the car with all of my belongings–most importantly the four-legged one named Bella–and headed North on I-77.

As I began to drive along the high way, I suddenly felt the need to open up all the windows. I needed the fresh air to avoid feeling suffocated. While the air felt good against my skin, it wasn’t enough.

I started to pay attention to the sensation that was building in my chest. What had at first felt like a small pinch was quickly growing…and growing. Soon I could barely breathe.

What didn’t help was the fact that I was stuck. Literally. Gridlock traffic surrounded my jeep and even if I wanted to pull over, I couldn’t.

I tried to steady my breathing, paying attention to the cadence and closing my eyes…but it wasn’t working. My entire body began to shake as I tried to relax. I put my hand against my head and was shocked to feel that I was covered in a thin layer of sweat. (It was 56 degrees outside.) Suddenly I felt like I was going to be sick. I had to get out of the car.

As if the universe took pity on my situation–even Bella was having shallow breathing– traffic let up and I was able to quickly move off the exit.  I found a gas station, where I bought water and then walked back outside.

The clouds were covering the afternoon sun as day was turning into night. Taking Bella on a quick walk in the front lot of the station, I breathed in the early spring air. My breathing had returned to normal, my hands and body stopped shaking and the nausea left. I had claimed victory over my first ever panic attack.

No, it wasn’t because of something I had eaten. No, it wasn’t because of something I had drunk. This attack against my entire body, was due to anxiety.

I honestly can say, I have never felt more afraid. This was a warning sign for me to pay more attention to myself. Pay attention to the way I deal with big changes in my life. No, I couldn’t change whether or not I was going to lose my job. But I could change the way I reacted to it.

While today I cannot say that I will never experience another attack, I can say that I will remember the way it felt to look up into the clouds and know I had taken back control over my body. I had been able to make it through and get off that never-ending highway.

VETERANS DAY.

Readers: I meant to post this before the holidays, yet didn’t get a chance to. The post is a somber turn away from my usual insights on life…

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I have only seen my father cry two times.

The first was at the funeral of his twin brother Don. The second was this past November.

Sunday, November 11th, 2012, Veterans Day, the entire Wallace family mournfully attended the funeral of my father’s older brother, Wayne. Uncle Wayne had suffered a heart attack the week before–a complete shock to the entire family as Wayne Wallace was one healthy man.

Each morning Uncle Wayne would join his good friend and neighbor Thomas for a two-mile walk. The two would talk about life or as Thomas said, “try to solve the world’s problems.”

This simple routine ended one cloudy morning, when my uncle didn’t show up. Alarmed, Thomas called my aunt and sadly the two found him in the house. He had already passed on.

Wayne William Wallace lived a content life in Chattanooga, Tennessee, an hour outside of Harriman, the family’s home town, with Martha. My aunt, truly was the love of his life. Even after fifty years of marriage, the two acted like love birds–finishing each others sentences, lovingly holding hands while walking around the city.

The patriarch of the Wallace family, Wayne Wallace was one man to truly look up to. A Korean and Vietnam vet, Uncle Wayne was a disciplined and determined man.  It was very fitting that his funeral fell on a rainy Veterans day. My uncle was the proudest vet I ever met.

After serving our country in the U.S. Navy, Wayne worked as a mechanical engineer. The attention to detail that was vital for his daily job often carried over in his personal life. My cousin Brenda recently told a hilarious tale about how one time after Uncle Wayne was trying to put together a trunk for one of his granddaughters, he called the manufacturer to let them know that there were a few things they needed to do with the instructions to make the task easier.

This was the way my uncle  lived his life. With a precise yet loving manner that enabled him to handle any and all of life’s problems.

Since my uncle’s passing, life in our Wallace household has slowly carried on, yet not without a few reminders of the oldest Wallace brother. My father has recently been proudly wearing his suspenders daily. Daddy says it is to “help him keep up his pants,” yet I think we all know he wears them for another reason.

RIP Uncle Wayne. Your youngest niece can speak for all of us that you are incredibly missed.

MY 30TH YEAR.

So last month I turned another year older.

Time really does fly.

Rather than the huge extravaganza that made up my 30th birthday, I celebrated my birthday with close friends.

As I reflected back on my thirtieth year–a year I expected great change–I realized I didn’t really conquer any huge monumental goals as I had in earlier years…however I did accomplish quite a few smaller things.

My 30th year was one where I learned the true pain of a rough heart break…

…it also was the same year was one where I conquered a new sport.

My 30th year was one where I met and made new friends…

…it was also a year I struggled yet managed ties with ones from the past.

My 30th year was one where I interviewed for many exciting jobs…

…and felt the pain of not getting those I wanted.

My 30th year was one where I helped launch a successful female social networking group…

…it was also the year I began a freelance business of my own.

I realized that I didn’t need the huge accomplishments and goals to make the year unforgettable.

I learned that I am not a quitter, not a settler and absolutely not a coward. I needed the tough life lessons this year handed out to me to truly realize this.

Let’s just put it this way, with all the anguish that my 30th year brought, my 31st is handing out a FEW gracious gifts. Most recently a new job.

And because of all the good and bad that made up that big year, I can easily say my 31st year never looked so good.

QUESTIONS TO THINK ABOUT.

With the DNC a week behind us, it seems that the Queen City has finally returned to normal. The feverish political energy has left, yet I am sure it did leave a number of Charlotteans with a number of questions.

Did the DNC “really” change our city at all by being hosted here? Or was it a simple quick moment in the spot light for the Queen city?

Has the convention strengthened community members? Or pitted them against each other thanks to politics?

As I drove to Winston-Salem to enjoy a low key weekend with my family, a number of questions bounced around in my head. After having lunch with my mother, a few questions of her own came up regrding a number of things. From what my next step was in my job search, to what was happening in my personal life,  it seemed that Renza had quite a few inquiries for me up her sleeve.

Just kidding Renzita.

After answering (or attempting) to diligently answer all of her questions, she did have me thinking. What are some questions I had in general. What are some questions I think my fellow 30-something-ers had as well. So like my previous post about meditations, I decided to open this post up to any readers.

Here are a quick list of questions I have lately been thinking about:

1-Why is there so much pressure on women to be perfect in all aspects (weight/beauty/career/family) in life?

**Okay, I know this is a loaded question, but I have been thinking a lot about pressure that the media puts on celebs (like Jessica Simpson to lose weight) and it really annoyed me. Can’t we just leave the girl alone? She did just have a kid after all? Otherwise, isn’t she is a super-successful woman? Why be so mean to her about a number on the scale?

2-Speaking of celebrities, why is there such a focus on them in the U.S.? Shouldn’t we really be turning our focus to those who aren’t famous, yet just as successful? (I know I brought up the celebs, but I am wondering…)

3-Why does politics often seem to bring out the worst in people?

**Again, this is a loaded question, but mainly because I feel often afraid to tell friends/accquaintances what party I pull for.

4-What can we do to get this country back to a stable economy?

5-What can I do in my part to help my community return to normalcy?

This is it for now! I will continue to think of more. Again, your own thoughts are welcome.

MANTRAS TO LIVE BY!

As noted, this past summer I have been over my head with job searching. Rather than get down about it, I have found some wonderful creative ways to keep motivated and my mind on the “prize.”

From running outside and envisioning my new job via a dream board to daily saying a prayer to St. Joseph, I have been doing things each day to remind myself to not give up hope.

Yikes. I feel your pain buddy.

Considering that I am SURELY not the only one who is dealing with the taxing yet ultimately rewarding task of job searching, I thought I would dedicate this post to uplifting mantras and the art of meditation.

Considering that I am not a person who meditates regularly, I thought I would first do a bit of research on how exactly to “Get my Mantra On.”

According to the “May All be Happy” yoga blog, there is a science to meditating. It is not as easy as it seems.

“Mantra Meditation– When people read the word mantra, many things may come to mind. Whatever your experience is, there is real power in the repetition of a mantra as a form of meditation. That power has no other source than God, and you can trust in that power. The power of mantra repetition can quiet the mind, provide a refuge in trying times, and unlock great virtues within. It may even help you develop fearlessness.”

Okay, so I get it. I must repeat a specific phrase to get it out to the universe, right?

Yes. According to the same website this is key.

“Mantra is a word or phrase that you repeat to yourself again and again for a specific effect. We could replace the word mantra with ‘positive affirmation’ and it would have the same meaning. Although positive affirmations can be powerful, mantra repetition for spiritual purposes often entails repetition of God’s name. Many people use this as a form of waking meditation, since it’s easy to repeat a mantra to yourself either verbally or mentally throughout your day, and despite what’s going on around you.”

I am ready.

So ready to take the plunge, I wanted to also find out what type of environment I needed to be in. A “meditation-friendly” room, if you will.

According to the website, http://www.meditationiseasy.com (perfect for this girl over here),”It is better to have a separate room for practice of meditation alone. Do not sleep in that room, it must be kept holy. You must not enter the room until you have bathed, and are perfectly clean in body and mind. Place flowers in that room. Put pleasing pictures in that room. Burn incense.”

Okay, so I do have a room like this (my makeshift “home office”). A small place where I can place flowers and incense, wear my yoga wear and meditate. Still before doing so, I needed to find a few easy mantras which I can practice regularly. The key to finding a perfect mantra, is to look for one simple and clear. Here are a few I have found to be particularly uplifting.

* I am present now
* I love myself
* I am free from anger
* I am free from sadness
* Love is my experience

While by all means I am a “meditation” newbie, I am ready to give this a try and dedicate a small part of each day to practicing this. I will give you an update in a week or so on my progress.

So I ask you, what mantras do you think could help yourself?

LIFE SURFING.

This past month has proved to be a difficult one, regarding one main thing: my job search.

Do not worry. I haven’t gotten to this point…;)

I definitely have had my plate full with interviews, meetings, tests and more meetings. All of these were heading towards the end goal of finding a full-time position. Yet, unfortunately life simply wasn’t ready to hand over a position to me…just yet.

Now I know I am not the only person in the country dealing with the hardships that come with a tough economy. Yet, rather than get discouraged, I now am more than ever dedicated to finding a full-time position. This week, I literally was blindsided with the recent motivation I feel. And I can attribute my new-found motivation to one thing: my family.

Nope…wrong family photo. However, my family is just as hilarious.

Right when I was about to bury my head in the sand, I instead got to bury my toes in it. Yep, the annual Wallace family beach trip conveniently had arrived. Every year, the entire family (which is around fifteen people, give or take a cousin or two) goes to our favorite beach, Topsail Island, NC for a week of fun in the sun.

Ahhhhh…heaven. Topsail Island beach view from our porch.

I know all of us look forward to this week. It is a time for us to all be under one roof…which at times can be downright hilarious. From the constant games of Cranium to my brother-in-law’s famous sand sculptures to my attempt at surfing, each year is filled with incredible family memories.

My brain still hurts…

This past week, while sitting on the beach with my family, I watched in amazement as my youngest niece, Sophia (age six) tried her first hand at riding on a surf board. Sheer determination marked her adorable, tan face. She wasn’t worried about falling off the board, only worried about not giving it a shot.

No fear. At all.

I realized then and there what life was telling me. I can’t let things get me down just because I may have fallen of the proverbial surf board once or twice. Instead I need to get back on it and give it one more shot. Simply because we all know, once one accomplishes a goal, the rest of the fun comes in the ride that comes afterwards.

Life.

 

BIG MOVES THROUGH SMALL STEPS.

This past week a lot of things have changed. I haven’t moved or changed my hair color…I am talking figuring out what my next big career move would be.

My hair is still brown and long.

Unfortunately this past year I have been a bit of a lost soul when it comes to figuring out what I would like to do–professionally. Not I am not complaining about my circumstances. I have made it by thanks to some gracious nanny gigs and freelance work and in the meanwhile, I’ve learned a lot about myself. Most of all, much stronger I am than I originally thought.

Last week, I decided to do something about my current job situation, something different, something new. Rather than attend the usual mixers hoping to make a contact for a Marketing/PR job, I decided to do some research into a career I have always secretly wanted to do.

I have been a networking maniac.

Teach.

I know those who know me well are probably laughing. I was the kid growing up swearing that I would never teach. I happened to grow up under the roof of one stern Special Ed public school teacher after all.

I hope to be doing this in the fall!

I saw firsthand how draining the profession could be. I saw the many nights my father come in, briefcase in hand, slow steps, tired eyes after another Parent/ Teacher conference.

Still I also saw the other side of teaching. The frequent times when in the middle of Arthur’s Cafe–our family diner–an older man by the name of Jimmy would come over, shake my Dad’s hand and tease him about how he was glad he was out of his class. Jimmy was mentally slow and never moved past the second grade mentally. Still each time we saw him–at the time in his mid-thirties–Jimmy happily still remembered all of my father’s classes he took.

There are many joys of teaching…including free apples;)

These were the moments that were hard to shake. Hard to forget. Hard to look away from. The pride my father had in his profession was evident each time we ran into a student like Jimmy.

And so this week, I have decided to take the plunge. I am in the process of applying to become a Charlotte Mecklenburg Public School Teacher and I couldn’t be more excited.

It has taken me a long time to figure out–or to be honest–be brave enough to take this step. I know in my heart this is the small step toward making one big move in not only my life, but hopefully in the lives of my future students.

~E

IT’S A BRUNETTE THING…

Last week at this time I was crazy busy preparing for a big event. I was playing in my FIRST EVER flag football game and boy, was I one nervous nellie.

My teammates and I were playing in Charlotte’s first ever, Blondes vs. Brunettes flag football game. The game benefited the Alzheimer’s Association, a benefit that falls very close to my heart.

The months before were filled with fundraisers and practices all leading up to May 19th aka GAME DAY. Two close friends of mine decided to bring the cause to Charlotte, and as soon as I heard about it I knew I had to sign up.

The thing is…I am..errrrrrr…not exactly a “football girl.” Luckily I had a great team who helped me get ready for the big day. Between teaching me the plays and creating study sheets, holding late practices and always cheering all of us on, my teammates and coach were incredible.

Team Brunette!

Why our team may have not won–yes the Blondes beat us–I walked away feeling pretty lucky. Not only had our organization raised a total of $23,000 dollars to help support, research and find a cure to the devastating disease, but I personally “won” a great group of new friends.

Blondes vs. Brunettes 2012