Not Your Average Gal

Copywriter. Content Creator. Constant Sassypants.

Caroline Peterson

When the SHOULDS Start Creeping in.

By

Narrator:

We cut to the middle of the night where we find Caroline in the midst of a blissfully wonderful sleep. Windows open. Husband not snoring. Their 14-pound ginger cat nuzzled up beside her. It's as if nothing could awaken this sleeping goddess… 

<Caroline suddenly sits straight up>

Caroline:

Shit. I should set a reminder to put dinner in the Instant Pot at 2pm tomorrow. 

Narrator:

…nothing, except for the laundry list of things that should get done.

Aaaaaand scene.

The shoulds are a real thing!

The shoulds wake us up in the middle of the night. The shoulds keep us in unhealthy relationships. The shoulds put our to-do list ahead of our body begging for a break. The shoulds interrupt quality time by nagging you to answer your phone. The shoulds tell us that anything other than stainless steel appliances are lame and Dottie next door will not be impressed by your renovations unless they are stainless steel, dammit! 

“That's a very bright, yellow kitchen, Caroline. When will you be renovating?” – Words actually spoken to me.

Phew. Did you get all that?

We're in the middle of a pandemic, in the middle of winter, after a deadly insurrection and you're worrying about the shoulds?! (Don't worry, I do too still.)

Here are some daily or weekly shoulds that run through my mind to make you feel a bit better:

  • I should get up, but my sleep sucked last night.
  • I should start dinner, but I'm mentally exhausted and just want a sandwich. 
  • I should call that person back that drains me, but I don't have the energy.
  • I should be more organized, but my desk looks like piles of pure chaos. 
  • I should be able to fit into pants I wore 2 years ago, but the pandemic puff is real.
  • I should have every minute of my day planned out to ensure maximum efficiency, but sometimes just showering is a win.
  • I should stay on track today and make sure my Macros are totally in line otherwise my whole diet is thrown off and the big bad food police will haunt my dreams and make me feel like shit.

Damn.

Let me tell you about those shoulds. NONE feel good. NONE are life changing. NONE will contribute to the moral arc of my life. 

And yet, we are all pulled into this secret societal Should Circle that somehow determines if we get a gold star for the day…or life.

Do whatever you need to do without the shoulds creeping in. 

I'm proof that life will carry on with or without you checking off the boxes of what you should be fucking doing with your life. Hello, my name is Not Your Average Gal.

If I followed those shoulds I would have had: a mortgage 10 years ago, 2.5 kids and a corporate career. I wouldn't have traveled the world, married a swell med student in England, started my own business or moved to Hawaii. 

Now, those high and mighty, playing-Devil's-advocate types may feel like, “But I have done everything I should in life and it pains me to see you not doing it…and enjoying it,”They may feel compelled to chime in.

So before they say it: Yes, there are things that we should all do in order to remain hygienic and healthy. 

We know that. 

We should care for one another, nourish our bodies, study and educate ourselves, go to work in whatever form that looks like, get the rest we need and put on deodorant. Maybe even catch up on some Real Housewives.

But really, that's it. If that's what you're doing right now in the middle of a God damn pandemic—BRAVO!

I hope you re-read that. 

So many of my dear, fierce friends are struggling to maintain some semblance of normalcy to the point that they have a laundry list of activities that should be done, and when it doesn't happen—because hello! Pandemic—they beat themselves up. Which starts a vicious cycle of wanting to get back to normal, with the painstaking reminder that it isn't normal and cue the bad feelings of inadequacy for somehow not being able to pretend things are normal.

This won't go on forever. It feels like it.

Your new normal will not disproportionately put your child on a terrible trajectory because we all are going through it right now. 

Your new normal will not adversely affect the memories made during this time because we couldn't go on that damn vacation we were so looking forward to. (Trust me, I get that!)

Think of the resilience and compassion you are teaching your children…and yourself.

Please, be kind to yourself during the weirdest time in our lives. 

Don't let the shoulds tell you what this time should be like.

Here's what's helped me keep the shoulds at bay for the most part.

Keeping a routine is certainly helpful, but what I've found is that honoring my body and mind—instead of trudging through the shoulds—has actually helped me more. 

If I've:

  • Moved my body
  • Filled it with food
  • Gotten 6-8 hours of sleep

Then that's good enough. Full stop!

That entire list could be pelted with shoulds.

I should:

  • Have gone on a run instead of a walk
  • Have skipped the butter
  • Have gotten up at 6am 

But the more I listen, the more I allow my body and mind to rest, reset and be nourished (even if it's Mac ‘n Cheese, kiddos!) the more I actually accomplish; the more present I am. 

Isn't that sort of the point of this crazy life during this crazy time?

To be present.

To watch the colors of the sky change at sunset instead of rushing to make sure you've got dinner on the table.

A mentor of mine once said to me:

“It will all get done eventually. It will. It may not be how you envisioned it, it may not be Perfect with a capital P. But it will get done. So you may as well enjoy it while you get it done, whenever you get it done.”

I hope you can chuck the shoulds out the window. See what it feels like. How your mind reacts. How your body thanks you. How liberating it is to define your own life.

I hope you know how wonderful that feels, how wonderful you are.

That's one should that's acceptable in my book.

You should know how wonderful you are.

A Battle Cry: 2020 Hasn’t Crushed Us.

By

Don't get me wrong, 2020 has pummeled us. 

2020 has held my head under water, yanked it back out by my hair and allowed me just enough air to catch my breath, right before shoving me back under again. 

But, I won't let it take me down. I'm a formidable contender, you know? 

Whatever fight I have left in me will body roll 2020 out of it's death grip, tossing it in the vast ocean of this relentless year. I will walk away from it, soaked, downtrodden but ready to toss my wet hair with the ferocity and precision of a sorority girl shooting another TikTok video.

Nope, 2020 won't crush me. 

It's in that browbeaten walk back to shore that perhaps I have the epiphany that makes this year not worth it necessarily, but one where we can all beat our chests and shake our fists up at the sky screaming—I made it! Maybe a little worse for the wear. Maybe more heartbroken than last year. Maybe grief stricken. But, we made it. 

2020 was perhaps the reminder we needed. 

Here’s your reminder: We can do hard things. 

I won't fill you feed with toxic positivity that we all learned something about life when so many of our fellow Americans have lost theirs. I won't downplay what a terrible year this was either. It was awful. 

But I will offer what little I know about the heart of a protector.

You. The protector.

When we were told to stay home, we protected our families.

When we were told school was canceled, we protected our children,

When we were told hundreds of thousands of our citizens were dying, we protected our neighborhoods.

When we were told to wear masks, we protected our communities.

When we were told voters were being suppressed, we protected our democracy.

When we were told we had to stay home more, adjust our schedules more, move more and more further away from when we'd be going back to normal, we protected our sanity with self-care.

When we were told we wouldn't have presidential results for weeks, maybe months, we protected our wine. Just me? I digress…

We had to slam the brakes of our normal lives and watch 2020 turn into a slow, catastrophic car wreck, while using our powerful “mom arm” technique, protecting our passenger and maybe yelling, “Not today, Satan!”

We've protected ourselves from the clutches of a relentless year.

We should be proud. 

You should be proud.

I should also mention that this doesn't mean 2020 has given me gut punches that would lead anybody with the wind knocked out of them, laying in the fetal position, questioning life.

After over a decade of sweat, tears, late nights and therapy sessions, mixed in with saving lives and caffeine IV drips, my husband finished his ER residency amongst the backdrop of a pandemic that took the lives of patients in a way he'd never seen.

Even now, today, nearly 10 months later, in quiet moments, like a soldier reliving his worst days of battle, he mentions just how scary those first months were. When no one had seen the likes of a virus like this. When patients came in struggling to breathe and died hours later in front of a team of brilliant minds. All of that, through all of it, he quietly put his head down and finished up the work and then waved goodbye to 4 years of his EM residency 6 months later. 

There was no big family graduation party. No huge blowout for this monumental feat. 

Less than a week later, we packed our home and moved over 4,500 miles away during a global pandemic. 

There was no huge going away party. No way to say goodbye to everyone in one, tear-filled party. (Although I did get to say goodbye in smaller groups.)

Now we're in the middle of paradise, the reward for the sacrifices and work from the last decade. And while we do not regret our move, it's been woefully lonely at times; unable to meet new people, join groups or even be able to connect with the people I love at times because of the time difference.

Not to mention the trips canceled, the birthdays missed, the holidays best-avoided and all the hugs desperately needed.

2020 is like perpetually drinking orange juice just after you've brushed your teeth.

I was watching a show last week—okay, it was the Real Housewives—and was reminded just how naive we were in those first few weeks of this pandemic and from that, just how far we've come. In a bizarre moment, it was almost endearing to see how people regulated their toilet paper use and thought the kids would only be home from school for a month.

I audibly giggled. 

Yes, I know that's a trauma response.

In a sick way, it has numbed us. We rarely blink at that statistics nowadays.

I encourage you to remember the early days, when we lived in absolute fear. The good fear; the fear that gives you pause not to touch a hot pan. We “only” thought 200,000 people could die and hearing that sent chills down our spines.

Now we're at over 300,000 lives lost. 

I urge you to read that statistic with the heart you started this year with, the one who clamored for normalcy in the first few weeks of our stay-at-home orders. 

It's shocking. It's unbelievable. It's gut wrenching.

And we've trudged through it. Adjusted our new normal. Braced for what is to come next while simultaneously hoping things just miraculously change.

Now is absolutely not the time to suggest what we can accomplish with the last weeks of this ungodly year. 

There are no trophies for who is the most productive right now. Plus, productivity looks different depending on the day. 

Sometimes it looks and feels like the rumblings of our past normal day-to-day life, only to be gut punched with the reminder of another patient diagnosed, another life lost or 100,000 new cases in one day while people protest wearing masks and call those of us who believe in science, sheeple. 

Sometimes it looks like taking a shower, putting on pants and simply checking off things that need to get done in order to carry you onto the next day. Even if that looks like feeding yourself something nutritious. 

It is not the time to assess your motivation for weight loss, your dedication to the gym or the drive to earn more money. 

Now is the time to be kind to yourself.

Like many of you, my weight has fluctuated throughout the pandemic. Right now, I'm grateful for still being able to get out and run. My pants may feel a bit snugger, but I'm not binge-eating my feelings (a win in my book). Some days I feel like my routine resembles the pre-pandemic gym days and I feel great. Some weeks, I don't want to get off my office chair or couch. My business initially took a hit, worried me and now I'm having to schedule work out for weeks because I'm so busy. 

The ebbs and flows of 2020 are real.

That sort of fluctuation is exhausting. 

But, I want to remind you how remarkable that is. How remarkable you are. 

We've been handed unprecedented daily tragedies. 

Extraordinary circumstances.

Unparalleled stress.

Do not dismiss that! 

2020 has not crushed me or you. 

We've done more than survived—we've overcome.

COVID Travel: Flying During a Pandemic

By

Not Your Average Gal Travel

This week, I traveled alone for the first time in over a year.

It's incredibly weird leaving my well-insulated bubble of an island for the Mainland.

Truth be told, I wouldn't be traveling under normal circumstances. I don't think anyone should be traveling for funzies right now. I don't think anyone should be heading to their families for Thanksgiving (outside their normal household) either. 

There are extenuating family circumstances where I have the ability to help. I'm grateful for the flexibility my career offers that I can typically work from anywhere which means when help is needed, I'm around (typically). Don't go thinking I'm about to head across the Pacific to help with Girl Scout sales…although those Thin Mints are legit. 

I’ll also be getting two COVID tests before heading home to Hawaii.

So, as I hugged my husband goodbye when he dropped me off at the airport, I had such a mix of emotions. It's been over a year since I've traveled alone! My heart was happy. My mind was anxious. 

Ask anyone who enters an airport with me and suddenly, as if my little feet have rocket boosters, there's an extra pep in my step and I'm movin' and groovin' through airport processes. I've got all the zippers in my backpack memorized to easily glide through TSA Pre-check by popping out my Global Entry card and boarding pass in one hand and once done, zipping it back into my pre-determined compartment in the other hand. I was so excited to bop through our super tiny Kona International Airport, sit at a gate (no real lounges here), maybe grab a beer and wait for my group to be called. 

We've flown since the pandemic started. In fact, we literally moved across an ocean during it. But I had my life buddy with me then to navigate this odd, new COVID-travel world. I also had my 14 year old kitty to worry about during our nearly 20-hour travel day. 

This time, it's just me. 

As exciting as that was, I was quite anxious, and truth be told, a little rusty. 

I was always that person who would wipe down seats and windows and air vents and flight attendant buttons, but I almost sat down before I went into full disinfecting mode this time. 

Perhaps I was just excited to have a seat at the table again, so to speak.

There's something unnerving about flying over an ocean for 5-6 hours without any land mass in sight. Did you know that the Hawaiian Islands are the most isolated island chains in the world? That means anytime I leave to visit anyone, whether that be in Japan or the US, I'm making a major hike across an ocean, something we knew when we moved here, of course.

It's still a bit discombobulating to know that if there's an emergency mid-air, we have a bit to go to find some land. Not that I ever think like that. Or catastrophize anything and everything. Nope, not me.

I've flown to Australia, Thailand and Hong Kong twice, so these 5-6 hour flights are not much by comparison. 

The longer flights always give me more time to settle in. I realize that sounds odd to people who view flying as simply getting from point A to point B, but I really enjoy the experience of it. (For the most part. If people could still figure out what you can and can't bring through security that would make it infinitely better.) On longer flights, I appreciate being able to bang out some work, sip on a glass of wine, maybe watch a movie and if I'm lucky enough to have cashed in some airline miles, put that seat in full flat bed mode and catch some zzzzzs. 

I know a lot of you are curious what air travel is like currently and boy do I miss writing about travel, so lucky you—you get to join me on a day of COVID-travel! 

LEG ONE: Traveling from Kona, Hawaii to Seattle, Washington

I booked a red-eye from Kona, which is on the other side of the Big Island where we live in Hilo. It's about an hour and a half drive there, which is the furthest we've ever lived away from an airport. Our airport in Hilo is great, it's about a 10-minute drive from our home and flies to any of the Hawaiian islands on “the big planes” as my friends put it. (Meaning, they aren't puddle jumpers.) But, it didn’t offer many flights to the mainland.

So to avoid flying from Hilo to Honolulu, then to the mainland, I opted to drive to the other side of the island which has direct flights to mainland.

This avoided an extra layover, which in my mind is the safer route when traveling during a pandemic.

COVID-Travel Pro Tip: If you can, avoid (multiple) layovers. 

Kona's airport is all outdoors. Bonus for COVID-travel times. Not so much if you want to avoid getting sweaty before your 6-hour flight. But I planned for this accordingly with layers. Travel pro here, folks. 

I checked my bag and was told that TSA Pre-check was on the right side of the security line. But once I got there, I couldn't find it because people were lined up like game day outside the bars at Michigan State. There was zero social distancing. I asked someone who I saw asking the TSA employees where the pre-check line started and he pointed me to the middle of a giant group of people. 

So I made my way there and left room between me and the people in front of me, as much as I could without people using it as an invitation to cut. 

Aloha spirit, what?

The line barely moved. At all.

It should be noted, I got to the airport an hour and a half before my domestic flight, where I have Delta status that gives me access to Sky Priority lines. I also have Global Entry which gives me TSA Pre-check. Both options were painfully slow and there was little difference between the regular and priority lines. 

But, since I've lived in Hawaii for 5 months at this point, I took it in the Aloha Spirit stride because I had an hour and half before my flight. No problem, right?

Except both took so long that I literally got to the gate as they were calling Sky Priority. I'm glad I had time to get a water because I soon found out we got a small bag of munchies and tiny water for the entire flight. 

I specifically booked this flight because of the aircraft flown, a Boeing 757-200 (75S). I knew it had 3 rows in the back that were huge exit rows. Additionally, Delta is still blocking the middle seat so there was a chance I'd have the whole row to myself.

I successfully gambled as the flight was barely booked and I did have the whole row to myself! I missed being upgraded to First Class by one person. If I had, I would have been laying down in my flat bed seat enjoying all the wine and food I could get. 

But since I was in the lowly Main Cabin (I say this facetiously, people!), we got a ziplock back of a tiny water, Cheez-its and my favorite Biscoff cookie. As it was a red-eye I had already eaten and prepared to basically just sleep. 

Yes, everyone is required to and wears a mask. No, you aren’t an exception to the rule.

I disinfected all 3 seats, pulled out all my layers of clothes from my bag because exit rows are notoriously cold on long-hauls and then settled in for the 6 hours. I wrote for about 1 hour and tried to sleep the rest. I even asked the flight attendant if I could use my 6 (SIX!) Delta drink vouchers I have because—hello, we don't travel anymore—to grab a glass of wine, but he told me they aren't able to do it in the Main Cabin. 

About 10 minutes later, he came back and told me I could move up to Delta Comfort and he'd be happy to serve me there. How sweet. I asked if there were many people there and he said no. But I already had settled in and the glass of wine wasn't worth it. 

Mark the date and time as words you'll never hear me say again.

As we landed people, in general, followed social distancing rules. Delta specifically tells everyone to wait for people to get their luggage out of the overhead bins before moving forward. It's something I really hope people abide by post-COVID because nothing grinds my gears more than people barreling through to the front to avoid waiting for others in front of them to leave. (Barring a tight connection, there is no excuse for this.)

LEG TWO: Traveling from Seattle, Washington to Portland, Oregon

Thus, began my layover in Seattle.

If any of you follow me on Instagram, you remember how appalled I was when we moved to Hawaii this summer and had a layover in Seattle. It was Packed. Yes, with a capital P. Perhaps it was COVID-fatigue, perhaps because cases were lower then and people felt more comfortable not abiding by guidelines, but whatever it was, it was packed.

I was pleasantly surprised with Seattle again this time. 

Please note, it was 5 am. So that helped immensely.

COVID-Travel Pro Tip: If you can, book your flights for very early in the morning.

I headed to Terminal B where my next flight was taking off and again, happy to see people social distancing on the train to get there. 

Once I got there I saw I had about an hour to kill, so I made my way to the Delta Sky Club in Terminal A. I had not been to this one before and the lounge life geek in me was super excited to check it out. 

Once checked in, I saw the upper level mezzanine was closed and all available food options were individually packaged. In general, it was the same things you'd get during non-COVID times in the Delta Sky Club; they are just taking precautionary measures to ensure people aren't double dipping and using the same serving utensils.The Starbucks machine still worked and I grabbed a double espresso after that 6-hour red eye. Praise be!

I didn't take any pictures of my food, but for the weirdos that like to know: I got hard boiled eggs, an avocado egg breakfast sandwich and some Greek yogurt. Again, all packaged individually.

At one point, while I was eating my hard boiled eggs, a Delta agent came up to me and started to say, “Ma'am you'll need to wear…” and then she saw I was eating and stopped and smiled. I was super grateful they are monitoring people wearing masks. I wasn't offended. My freedsom hasn't been taken away. She was ensuring everyone was safe and being taken care of. 

COVID-Travel Pro Tip: You'll be asked to only take off your masks between bites and sips. Use one hand to slip your mask down and the other to eat.

I know this seems basic, but you'll want to keep each hand available, which means using your tray table or table in the lounge to keep your food on. 

I disinfected all of my area before sitting down to eat and then went to the bathroom because I love the smell of the hand wash and lotion Delta uses. (Oh yeah, and I needed pee.) Yes, as a marketer I know which brands use what scents. Delta uses Malin + Goetz and the scent takes me back to my days of traveling more regularly. 

Plus, bathroom goals!

From there, I quickly hopped into a co-writing session with my fave MOFOs and started writing this very blog. 

Then it was time to head to my gate. I was upgraded to First on this leg for my whopping 45-minute flight to Portland. 

The people in my boarding group were cognizant of 6-feet separation and again, the flight attendant handed our hand sanitizer. I got to work sanitizing my whole area again. 

When I was upgraded, I was assigned a seat in a row with 2 seats. First class on Delta's Embraer E-175 are a 1-2 seat configuration. Main Cabin is 2-2. I decided to select the side of the plane that had 1 seat. This ensured I'd be as far from people as possible. 

My flight wasn't packed at all. Everyone was spaced out well, even for a smaller plane. 

COVID-Travel Pro Tip: Many airlines are still blocking the middle seat. I would recommend going with these airlines.

Even if it's more expensive, if you have the means, having the middle seat blocked is ideal. Right now, Delta, Hawaiian and Alaska are blocking the middle seats. While air travel is still safe, you do need to take proper precautions and having that extra distance is an added benefit.

The flight was uneventful. I literally was in the air for about 12 minutes before we started our descent into Portland. 

Once we landed, people were again respectful of letting the person in front of them get their luggage out of the overhead compartment and once those people left, then getting up to get their own luggage. 

PDX was pretty empty or at least emptier than I've ever seen it before. (Check out that famous carpet.)

It was still pretty early, so I'm sure that helped with how empty it was. Most of the stores and shops were still open. They had a lot of signage about distancing, similar to Seattle.

I went to baggage claim where people were again very mindful. Please know though, because of my husband’s line of work, I'm pretty vigilant about distance and masks, so some of this may be that I'm placing myself far away from other people. 

After that, I grabbed my bag and then another coffee because when in Portland…

Overall, everything went smoothly. 

Please bear in mind: 

  1. I'm traveling alone. Traveling with kids would be significantly more stressful. 
  2. Having airline status is an added social distancing benefit I had never thought about. Upgrades and lounge access are nice ways to get away from crowds.
  3. I was on a red-eye and my layover was very early. This helped significantly with crowds. 
  4. I'm flying from a place that people are more or less flying to more often. That means my flight home to Hawaii may be more packed.

Anything I missed that you'd specifically like to know about? 

Decency Won. Disinformation Persists.

By

We just reached 242,000 deaths from COVID-19 tonight and it feels personal. It is personal.

I easily could have been in that number. My husband, especially, could have been in that number. 

As the majority of Americans are breathing a sigh of relief that an administration that catastrophically failed to protect 200,000+ of our citizens is done, what I'm hearing from those that still voted for it, is astonishing. 

“Good luck getting a vaccine under Biden's administration.”

“Good luck with your stimulus check now that McConnell won't work with those socialist Dems.”

“Good luck with rioting and looting and burning down our cities.”

Who would wish that on another person? Who would legitimately want things to not work out for our fellow citizens? Why is that sort of animosity for your neighbor acceptable? What about ‘Love thy neighbor’?

I didn't vote for a man. I voted for an office. I voted for dignity. I voted for better. For all of us.

I voted so you could have better healthcare.

So you could have equal representation under the law.

So your relatives from Muslim countries could meet their new grandkid.

I voted so you could have better education.

So you could have better access to testing for COVID-19.

So you could return to “life as normal” sooner rather than later.

I voted so science could dictate guidelines and conspiracy theories didn't.

I voted so we could take care of each other.

So my black and brown friends know that I believe their lives matter.

So our future doesn't seem so grim.

Because ultimately, I want all of us to do better and be better. 

I've learned through the last few years that facts, processes, procedures and the will of the American people are not enough for some. I've also learned that debating with those who want to refute the sky being blue is a pointless endeavor.

The age of disinformation persists. It's ugly. It nearly brought the downfall of our democracy. It doesn’t deter from Biden’s win.

It will not just magically go away to some new social media channel. But, I can do my best to provide relevant, factual information to those willing to learn more or adjust the hill they are willing to die on.

Dave Chappelle hosted Saturday Night Live this past weekend.

As a side note, I'm always in awe of how quickly creators can change scripts based on current events. As networks declared Joe Biden the President-elect, they had only hours to come up with new skits and scripts. 

Chappelle certainly has a knack for stinging comedy that reflects the current temperature of the country and he did not disappoint with his opening monologue, something I rewatched again last night. 

“Remember when I was here four years ago, how bad that felt? Remember that half the country right now still feels that way,” he said.

“Remember for the first time in the history of America, the life expectancy of white people is dropping because of heroin, suicide.”

“All these white people that feel that anguish, that pain, they're mad because they think nobody cares. Maybe they don't. Let me tell you something: I know how that feels, I promise you, I know how that feels. A police officer, every time you put your uniform on, you feel like you got a target on your back. You're appalled by the ingratitude when you would risk your life to save them. Oh man, believe me. Believe me, I know how that feels. Everyone knows how that feels.”

“But here's the difference between me and you: You guys hate each other for that. And I don't hate anybody. I just hate that feeling. That's what I fight through. That's what I suggest you fight through. You've got to find a way to live your life and forgive each other. You've got to find a way to find a way to find joy in your existence, in spite of the feeling.”

That struck me. Hard. 

I will not go on a diatribe about allowing racists to get away with saying their morals and the way they view another person is just a “difference of opinion.” 

“It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.

Audre Lorde

But I will offer you this — in the throes of election anxiety this past summer and perhaps offering a glimpse into how nervous I was moving to an island during the middle of a pandemic, I sat in the middle of a Target parking lot talking to my therapist about how I felt over the phone.

That's nothing revealing, Caroline. She's your therapist. You pay her to talk about your damn feelings.

Ah, yes. But more specifically, I talked about how he makes me feel.

I admitted to her and myself that the way he speaks about minorities, the way he disregards women, the way he callously shrugs at lives lost, makes me feel something I don't often feel.

Hate. 

And I hated him for it. 

It drudged up feelings I, quite literally, have never felt before.

And ohhhhhh, I hated him for that. 

I hated me for it.

These were emotions I didn't know how to deal with because I hadn't felt them before and before I could accurately express that it felt gross, my therapist reminded me why.

“Because this isn't you. You don't like how it feels, because it isn't you.”

Damn, I'm glad I pay people who are smarter than me to break things down.

I didn't like it because on a visceral level, I knew these hateful feelings would devour me whole if I continued down that powerful path. You can be fueled by justice but not by hate for another person.

“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.”

James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time

So, I stopped and reminded myself of what was and wasn't in my control. To deal with the pain his actions were causing.

As we've all learned, we can't control a madman destined to prop his narcissistic self up on the back of the very country in which he calls himself the leader. 

I can have some sense of control with how proactive and reactive I am to his hate.

That's when I decided to write. Oh, and did I write and write and write.  

That's when I broke my years-long social media hiatus of talking about Trump and the election specifically. 

I went back and forth about how much of it was yelling into an echo chamber and reminded myself that if even one person didn't feel so alone in who they were voting for, then it was worth it. 

And boy, was it worth it.

I caught a glimpse of democracy in action. People reaching out expressing their respectful opinions. Friends busting through comfort zones with a nod for the nudge talking about it gave them. Freedom lovers volunteering their precious time to get out the vote.

What I saw was others standing up to hate in their own ways. 

Because those of us who do remember how it felt four years ago, did not want to feel that way ever again and even on the very basic of levels, we know how the other side is feeling today. 

(That statement does not repudiate the hateful rhetoric that is often spewed by people who mimic their leader.)

But what I'm hoping it does, is remind us of the fear we felt that day and how much worse it could have been again after this election. Know—whether right or wrong—others are very much feeling that way today.

And I want better for them. Which is why I voted the way I did. 

You will not catch me raising a Biden flag outside our household. You won't see a “Biden 2020 – Fuck Your Feelings” bumper sticker on the back of my car. I won't be wearing a t-shirt painting broad strokes of an entire party by using buzzwords like communist or socialist. 

I will not let hate enter my bones because others are responding hatefully today. I will continue to talk out about the atrocities. Continue to speak about marginalized communities. 

But the hate ends here. With me. With you. With what we continue to do, day after day.

This doesn't mean that when they go low, we don't fight back. 

It means our mission doesn't end here.

Let their hate and disinformation define them.

Let our response and movement define us.

You Did Good, Kid. Thanks for Doing the Uncomfortable Work.

By

After nearly every election I put together a quick social media post thanking those among us who worked tirelessly in different aspects of campaigns.

If I'm being honest, it's usually the same people time and time again.

But, not this year.

I wanted to take a quick moment to say I realize how profoundly different this election feels and a lot of that is because of you.

You deserve some validation and appreciation for what you’ve done. Regardless of the outcome. (And please pass this along to those who could use some love.)

You're creating what I'm seeing amongst my circle, outside my circle and on this little corner of the interwebs.

What am I seeing? What does it look like?

It looks a lot like people moving outside their typical comfort zones. It sounds like people taking a stand and buckling down even with the fear they may offend someone they love. It looks like voting outside your party. Against what friends or family wanted. Against what your neighbors’ signs say.

It looks like integrity.

I’ve had conversations with women who reached out to me from my faith-based group with questions. We've had wonderful, open and honest conversations. I even opened an email dialogue with a wonderful, dear high school friend about what this election feels like and means. After a recent podcast interview, the host and I had nearly another entire conversation about our feelings on this upcoming election and our love (and fears) for this country. I've been “that friend” checking in to make sure my circle is registered and if they haven't voted, know where the ballot drop-off box is. I've watched people who normally don't participate, show how much they are this election. None of this has happened previously in any election.

So let me be the first or, perhaps, the only person to say—thank you.

I see you doing the uncomfortable work. The kind of work that means talking openly about things in ways you never have before. Do not forget—that's important work.

No matter the results of this election, please know, it does matter. Your temporary discomfort speaking your truth, matters.

You may find speaking up and out makes others uncomfortable because it's not your normal staying-out-of-politics stance. That's okay.

It's not your job to make others comfortable.

And man, that's a hard thing to embrace, especially as people-pleasing women. I often found myself so frustrated with friends and family who wouldn't take a stance if their life depended on it because it would make the other person more uncomfortable. Your only job in this entire world is to be yourself.

There is a difference between being intimidating and being intimidated.

Read that again.

Your (new) confidence and stance may be cause for catty gossip in bored circles of friends or for a myopic, misogynist Creative Director to tell you that you're intimidating. (Not that I have experience in either.)

If there's anyone to show you that you can still live a fulfilling life and still be confident without being intimidating, let it be me.

(If you're looking for someone who has it all together and figured out though, you may want to look elsewhere.)

For many, this election is far too important to sit back. It's been a wonderful thing to see after feeling like screaming into an abyss for the last 4 years. I certainly feel a bit less lonely and I hope you know how much that means to people who've been fighting the good fight for so long.

I also know what that may mean while doing the uncomfortable work. It means you may receive some pushback. Some are quiet. Some are passive aggressive. Some are blatant.

Please know that not all critics matter.

It's often hard to decipher that amongst the mix of political pundits, heated family debates and the epic silence of people you thought were friends.

I would like to quote one of my most favorite people in the history of ever, saying one of the best things in the history of ever.

“If you aren't in the arena also getting your ass kicked, I'm not interested in your feedback.”

Brene Brown

Not all of your critics carry the same weight.

Take that with you as you sail this uncharted territory. It's something I have to remind myself of often. Some days I'm better than others. Some days it stings.

The morning after another mass shooting, I was told to take down a post because I didn't have children, so I couldn't possibly understand the hurt. And yet, this person hadn't sat next to a mother who lost her son in a senseless mass shooting during one of my many meetings planning and coordinating care for gun violence survivors. This person wasn't actively organizing to help the parents and loved ones of those murdered in the Parkland shooting, right down the street from where I lived.

You know who did? I did.

I was told by a family member to not “get political” after I expressed admonishment and concern over Trump telling another man to grab women by the pussy. And yet, this person hadn't marched in the streets protesting sexism nor fought for equal speaking time.

You know who did? I did.

I recently saw that a once close friend of mine deleted me, yet another product of the most divisive election I've experienced in my life. But the thing is, I've been unfollowed, unfriended, blocked, muted and snoozed by people who aren't personally affected by what's going on in the world and my reminder it's not only about them that breaks their well-insulated bubble. And yet, these people haven't sat through a single grassroots meeting about how to make sure everyone’s voices are heard.

You know who did? I did.

I've been told “life goes on” in relation to COVID. And yet, these people haven't witnessed my husband's pain and tears after losing a patient to COVID or the frustration in his voice when people continue to gather and then spread this more in our communities, putting him, me and YOU more at risk. These people also didn't put together a donation drive for weeks, ensuring our ER staff was well fed and taken care of.

You know who did? I did.

In all the advocacy work I've done, I've learned whose opinion is important to me.

Courageous work is full of critics.

Thank YOU for doing the courageous work out there.

Please take a moment to thank those who have done the same. Take a hot second to share this blog with people who have taken a stance or knocked on doors or phone banked or voted outside their party.

Whether you've just jumped in or you've been awkwardly moving through it for years, it doesn't matter. You're here now and your work is important.

The work certainly isn't over after Election Day, regardless of the outcome.

My sincere hope is that democracy and unity prevail and I know I've done the work to show that's what I'd like.

I know you have too.

So, without a single shred of condescension in writing this sentence: I'm proud of you. Thank you.

Here's to America. Here's to democracy.

Not Your Average Gal: Falicia from FortyFive12Studios

By

Not Your Average Gals are kickass, blazing-their-own-path, independent-minded, free-thinking, kind-hearted and all around wonderful humans beings. We learn a lot about ourselves from the people we choose to look to for inspiration or friendship. I'm excited to introduce you to some of them.

World, meet Falicia Ann O’Mard.

Falicia and I lived on the same dorm floor together at Michigan State University—GO GREEN!

We lived in the artsy-fartsy dorm as some of the less-than-cool people used to refer to it. Our dorm was part of the Residential College in the Arts and Humanities on campus, which meant it was filled with amazing, charismatic and creative students. Even though I wasn’t living in the dorms for that specific college and program, I benefited by being surrounded by such affection for the arts.

Fun fact: Because of the friendships made there, I worked in the Art History Library for nearly my entire time in college.

I’ve enjoyed seeing Falicia impact so many lives as an educator. When you picture the ideal teacher—one who is kind, compassionate and breathes life into learning—you’ll see Falicia.

She recently opened an online art studio that has paintings selling out like mad! I knew after seeing them and the reason behind why she started the studio that I had to ask if she’d like to be featured. Lucky for you guys, she said yes.

I’m so incredibly grateful Falicia is sharing her story with us. She absolutely is a Not Your Average Gal you’ll enjoy learning from and knowing. Let’s go!

Falicia Ann O'Mard
FortyFive12Studios Owner & Activist-Educator

What's your passion—the thing that makes you a Not Your Average Gal?

I'm a social-justice-living, creative-spirit-having, teacher-ninja who loves to paint.

When did you start this passion?

I've been working in education for 15 years. I have been painting since I was a child. I started @fortyfive12studios during quarantine. Being cooped up at home really opened up more time to express my creative side. I've been working toward social justice inside and outside of the classroom since I moved to Atlanta in 2003.

I volunteer with Hands on Atlanta on a regular basis. Because of my consistent volunteerism over the last 17 years, I was asked to apply to be a Civic Leader. The Civic Leadership Program develops volunteers while supporting the needs of nonprofit agencies. I joined Hands On Atlanta's Civic Leadership Program in June 2016. This program was an opportunity for me to further my personal and professional development while serving the Atlanta community.

Through this program, I served as an ambassador for Hands On Atlanta. I connected people to passions and expanded the capacity of Hands On Atlanta's nonprofit partners by serving as a liaison between volunteers seeking service and nonprofits in need of volunteer managers.

I led volunteer service projects with Truly Living Well (East Point Location), which is a local organization that grows better communities by connecting people with the land through education, training, and demonstration of economic success in natural urban agriculture. I led volunteers in harvesting more than 30,000 pounds of food for the children and families in need in the poorest areas of Atlanta.

I was also selected from over 500 applicants as a Teacher-Author in the Teacher for Justice Grant Program. That means I create anti-racist and social justice resources for teachers and families. This has been my life's work so it was the perfect opportunity to share my knowledge.

The two resources that I created are now live too!  They are listed for grades 2-4 (the grant has a three grade level limit), but they are appropriate for grades K-5. 

Here's a link to each of them:

Do you make any income with your passion?

I do make income with my passion. I make income by selling my paintings and also via TeachersPayTeachers. My hope is to make enough income so that it can become my “day job.”

Do you have a “day job” that is different from your passion or business?

My day job is working as a Mathematics Instructional Specialist. I work with educators in “failing schools” to improve their craft and close academic gaps. I still work with children on a daily basis. I believe that children are the best agents for change. Though they are tiny, they have the power to change the world and it is my job as an educator to help them harness their strengths and use those passions and strengths for good. I accomplish this by incorporating real world situations into my classroom visits. I teach students about people that look like them, live like them, and/or speak like them that have changed the world. By connecting student's culture and their circumstances, the idea of impacting the world becomes a more attainable goal for the students that I work with. It also models educational activism for teachers in real time.

I not only expect students to change the world, I expect it of myself. That's why I volunteer. That's why I make the conscious decision to work at Title 1 schools. That's why, after working at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention as an Epidemiology Fellow, I left that job and returned to teaching in Atlanta Public Schools. I saw the news about the cheating scandal and I knew that I could help those students achieve at a high level without cheating. I resigned from my job at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) on a Wednesday and began teaching on Thursday. The expectation of being an agent for change is reflected in every way in my personal teaching style, the choices I've made and in the way I live my life.

What lead you to your current path? 

Growing up, my parents pushed me to be a doctor or engineer. I always knew that those career paths weren't for me. I would spend my time under the kitchen table drawing pictures after dinner while the rest of my family would watch TV. Further, I played with all of the kids in the neighborhood. My mom called me a “baby whisperer.” When I went to college, it was clear to me that I needed to follow my calling, education. Once I changed my major, I earned a 4.0 in every single college of education course. I wrote my philosophy of education at 21 years old and it still holds true. My dream then was to create a classroom full of tiny activists. I do that. Half way through my career, I took a detour and earned a Master of Public Health in Reproductive Health and Population Studies from Emory University. I worked at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for 4 years in the Division of Reproductive Health. The entire time I was working there, my heart kept calling me back to teaching.

Teaching is so rewarding, but comes with a lot of stress. Educating and loving other people’s children is an honor and I want to do it well. Part of that includes self care. When I returned to the classroom, my need to paint was undeniable. After a day of creating tiny activists, I came home and decompressed with a canvas and some paints.

Please check our her studio and art. Its incredible!
Pieces tend to sell out, so snag yours.

In pursuing something less than conventional, did you face any pushback from family, friends or even strangers? If so, how did you deal?

I haven't received any pushback from family and friends in pursuing my passion for art and social justice. In fact, they have encouraged me to do this for many years. My hubs thinks that I should open up an art studio. My sister thinks that I should write a book. Many people have told me to write a book.

What are 3 things that you've gained from doing what you love and perhaps going against the norms?

Three things. It's hard to narrow it down to just three. I learned that painting is a form of therapy for me. When I paint, it allows me to get out everything that I am feeling that I may not have words for. I also learned that it is easier for me to paint for myself rather than for others. When I create something that flows organically it tends to better reflect me and I love it more. That's a huge metaphor for my life. Taking care of myself first isn't always something that has come naturally. Through painting, I have rediscovered self care.

One other thing that I have learned is that small actions can change the world. Sharing my knowledge of social justice and anti-racism helps to transform classrooms. It moves my work beyond my own four walls and makes it accessible to others. Not only that, but with quarantine and social distancing, many families are opting to homeschool. The social justice resources that I create are made so that anyone can pick them up and use them: families, teachers, tutors.

Tell us something about yourself people would be surprised to hear!

I love to travel! I've left the country every year since I was 20 years old. This year has been incredibly difficult because of travel restrictions and COVID-19, so it will be the first time that I’ve stayed in the states since 2000. My plan was to go to Greece to celebrate my 40th birthday, but that will have to wait until next year. So far, I've been to 25 countries. Costa Rica and Peru have been my favorites.

Are there any words of advice you can offer readers who struggle creating their own path?

Just go for it.  If you wait for the moment when everything is perfect, you will be waiting forever.  And above all else, trust yourself.  Everyone will have words of wisdom, but what matters is what you think and how you live your life.

Any favorite mottos or quotes that you live by?

“Every child deserves a champion – an adult who will never give up on them, who understands the power of connection and insists that they become the best that they can possibly be.”  – Rita Pierson.

This includes our inner child. Even though we grow up and mature, we cannot forget about our inner child. Maybe you are your own champion.  Maybe you are a champion for someone else. I have a picture of 5 year old me hanging in my office to remind myself of this quote. My art, my social justice work all harken back to this quote.

Be sure to follow all of Falicia's adventures here:

Bolding throughout article is my own emphasis.