One memory from my childhood that always sticks out to me happened around my 5th or 6th birthday. I remember standing on the front porch peeking in the screen door as my mom, my siblings, and my friends, who were there for my birthday sleepover, watched one of the Leprechaun movies. It was my birthday, but I had gotten out-voted on the movie. I wasn’t a fan of horror movies or anything scary at that age. Even as an adult, being scared is not something I enjoy. 

Though I tend toward wanting honesty, logic, and a sense of realism in life, my preference for fiction in any media (books, movies, tv) runs toward the romantic, especially when it comes to books. An escape if you will that makes my heart happy. However, the amazing chaos that is my life has prevented me from reading much over the last year or two. My entertainment story-wise is usually Netflix or Hulu as I can have that on while I am working on other things. For a little over a year now, my reading has mainly consisted of whatever kind of fiction is submitted for critique each week to the writing group I am in. Those pieces range from mystery, sci-fi, fantasy, erotica, poetry, and, you guessed it, horror. 

Unlike me, almost all of my friends in the group enjoy scary things. So much so that it crosses over into their writing. One friend in the group seems to write primarily horror. Recently, she was in the midst of editing her first novel (which she is set to self-publish in the coming weeks) and lamenting how many errors she was finding in her proof copy even after her and the group had went over the story multiple times. Critiquing of her book by the group ended a few months after I started attending the meetings last year so, though I had heard a lot about the story, I had only actually read bits and pieces of it. Because I often find myself wishing I'd had friends to help edit my novel before I published it, and because I like being helpful, I offered to go through and look for spelling or words errors. 

Just a few years ago, I probably wouldn't have offered to go through it for her because I was afraid of almost everything. Anything scary was off limits and something to be avoided at all costs. Her book was creepy and a bit gory in some places, which isn't something I usually enjoy, but I read all the way through to the end. I honestly can't say whether or not the book actually scared me because knowing what was going to happen in multiple instances may have kept me from being as creeped out as I probably should have been. Either way, the story was written in a way that made me curious to see HOW it all happened even when I knew what was coming.  
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So, why does this qualify for my Year of Being a Badass? Because for the first time in my life I read a horror novel. I learned that maybe I'm not as easily scared as I have always thought I was or maybe the idea of horror rather than the actual genre is what has had me avoiding scary things my entire life. It was one more test I gave myself in order to see what I was capable of, and I am happy to say I found that I was capable of more than I thought.

​What do these two things have to do with each other you may ask. For me? A lot actually.
 
While I love kids, they scare me. As someone who focuses on logic and rules and set ways of doing things most of the time, I am always terrified of not knowing what to do when it comes to children. So, I tend to be the aunt who gladly spoils, but who usually does not spend alone time with people who have not yet reached adult status. Plus, most of the children I know are toddlers and toddlers are exhausting.
 
So, I stay in my comfort zone where children are concerned or at least I used to.
 
When I read "Year of Yes", Shonda Rimes talked about always making time to play with her daughters, and it made me realize that my fear (as well as my tendency to not want to have to deal with anything on the weekends besides watching tv/relaxing) was keeping me from being the best aunt I could be. So, I told myself that part of my "Year of Being a Badass" would be to get over this fear and this tendency. It would be another step outside of my comfort zone. I told myself that this year I was going to make more of an effort to spend time and play with my youngest niece and nephew when we have them for the weekend instead of leaving it completely up to their Nana (my mom) to watch them...And I have.
 
A little over two weeks ago, I watched my almost 3 year old niece and almost 2 year old nephew on my own for a few hours. Three hours isn't that long, but for me that was a huge step. I was terrified; however, we survived it without any blood being shed and the house was still standing when Nana got home.
 
My mom and I have ended up having my niece and nephew every weekend for the past 3 weeks. Only one of those was Nana's usual weekend as every other weekend has been since my niece was really little. During all three weekends, I have let my niece use me as a jungle gym and have taken the time to have conversations with her. I have spent time making faces at my nephew and tickling him. I have spent time chasing each of them around the house. I have gotten up with them in the mornings a couple of times and let my mom sleep for 30 more minutes. I have changed diapers and pull ups. I have restarted movies, made sure the Cat and the Hat was turned on, fixed cups of juice or milk, given them candy/snacks they wanted, and let them have cookies for breakfast. I have watched them for short periods while my mom cooked dinner for us or ran an errand. I have made an effort to just be with them.
 
I write this now that I have finally gotten enough sleep to feel like me after a weekend spent with two toddlers I lovingly refer to as "the monsters" when I am talking to their Nana. They wear me out. However, I am Aunt Mantha or just Samantha depending on the mood of my niece (My best friend’s two daughters call me Aunt Sammie). She specifically uses Samantha when she is trying to boss me around which is often. She just started saying my full first name a few months ago. Either way, hearing it brings me such joy. My nephew tries sometimes, but he isn't there yet.
 
While I do still like to hide out in my room sometimes on our weekends with them, I really don't want that to be all they remember of me when they look back on their childhood. One day they will look back and remember weekends at Nana and Mantha's. I want those to be great memories for them of fun and adventures and general silliness. Right now, they both know who I am and are almost always happy to see me. I want to keep it that way because even though they don’t know what love means yet, they can still feel whether or not it is there. I want them to never have one moment of doubt on just how much I love them because loving completely and unconditionally is what being an auntie is all about. That makes stepping out of my comfort zone in order to make them more of a priority easier than I expected it to be. 

I have never been a healthy eater. I am extremely picky when it comes to food and have always considered burgers and chocolate to practically be their own food groups. I mean, who doesn’t like chocolate? I know. I know. There actually are people out there who don’t like chocolate. Honestly? I don’t think I trust those people. Not liking chocolate is unnatural. Anyway, salad is one of those foods I have always had an aversion to. The list of those foods that I avoid at all costs also includes broccoli and cottage cheese. However, my plan for “Being a Badass” and challenging myself to do things I normally would not do had me making the decision to try to learn to love salads (inspired by Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes). So, on Wednesday January 6th, I tried salad for the first time in my life. It made me gag. Literally. I did eat about half of the bowl, but it was difficult to do so. However, as multiple friends have told me that caesar salad dressing isn’t always the best, I do plan to make a few more attempts to develop a fondness for the leafy green stuff. I will keep you posted, but this was the first step out of my comfort zone in 2016. Though eating a salad seems like a minor thing to do, it was a major thing for me. It was proof that I am taking my plan for “Being a Badass” seriously.

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Chicken Caesar Salad

Being a Badass could be a lot of things. According to Shonda Rhimes in her novel “Year of Yes”, Badassery is defined as the following:

The practice of knowing one’s own accomplishments and gifts, accepting one’s own accomplishments and gifts, and celebrating one’s own accomplishments and gifts.

I like this definition, but I would add to it. Being a Badass is being you, but it is also about facing fears, getting out of your comfort zone, and challenging yourself in order to become the best version of yourself. Shonda Rhimes is a Badass. Her novel, “Year of Yes” is about her year of facing her fears and challenging herself. She is part of what has inspired me to make 2016 my year of “Being a Badass.” It is going to be a year of being who I am, not apologizing for who I am, facing fears, getting out of my comfort zone, challenging myself, and trying new things. Why this plan? Why do I feel a need to get out of my comfort zone? To explain why I am doing this, I must first explain who I am. More accurately, who I have been up to this point. I know. You probably didn't expect a history lesson, but bear with me here...
 
I was a shy child who was nicknamed "Turtle" in elementary school either because of the shyness or just because I was slow in gym. I'm not exactly sure which at this point. Though the nickname didn't stick beyond a year or two, I remained that shy girl throughout my childhood and early adult years. Even in college, I mostly kept to myself. Instead of using my undergraduate college years as a way to explore the world around me, I buried myself in school work. I also wouldn't even talk to guys during my childhood and college years. I would tell my few friends I thought a guy was cute, but I wouldn't say one word to him. Ever. I don't know what I was more afraid of, the possibility of rejection or the possibility of awkwardness if it was someone I saw on a regular basis. Anyway, the pattern was one that drove my friends insane. I didn't even have my first kiss until I was 23. 

If it isn't obvious by now, I have been the self-proclaimed "good girl" for most of my life. The good girl always acts proper, tries to do the right thing, plays it safe, and uses logic and reason to make decisions. She never does reckless things or takes chances. She may talk to guys, but she never actually makes a move or tells them how she feels. I know, talking about myself in the third person doesn't change the fact that it is me. I am that girl or I was. Being her was easy. I realize this now. Being the her gave me something to throw myself into where I could tell myself I knew who I was. But 2015 taught me that I am so much more than I knew, that I could be and wanted to be so much more than just the "good girl." I only tell you readers all of this because my lack of relationships plays a part in how this plan of mine came to be. A few months after that kiss I moved to Tulsa, and that was the best decision I have ever made for myself.

Fast forward 4 years later to Fall 2015. I was working on my second master's degree, staying extremely busy, and surrounded by amazing people. By that point, I had discovered a lot about who I was, yet there was still so much of the teenage girl I had been inside of me. I had grown up, but I hadn't outgrown her. Not as much as I tried to convince myself (and everyone else) that I had. I still remained firmly rooted in my comfort zone for the most part. I refused to try new foods or do things that would put me at the center of attention. I didn't see an issue with that. I was just being me. However, this past year changed how I saw myself in ways I could have never expected. I became part of a writing group early in the year, and at one of the first meetings I attended, one of the members told me I seemed insecure. She meant no harm, but I took offense. I thought, "No. She's wrong. I like who I am." Yet, I thought about it. I thought about the fact that I was someone who was afraid to say what I actually thought half of the time for fear the people in my life would walk away. I thought of how I held back when it came to starting conversations with people because I didn't want to bother them. There are reasons from my past for those feelings, but I won't get into all of that. The point is, she was right. That was the first clue that maybe I wasn't quite as confident as I thought I was.
 
The second clue that I wasn't as confident in who I was came from a moment of bravery. At almost 28, I was still single and had never been in an actual relationship. It didn't matter that I was busy and independent and of the mindset that I didn't need a man. I felt that I was unattractive to guys which made me feel unattractive as a whole which wreaked havoc on my self-confidence. It didn't even matter that I didn't want a relationship where I would have to go on dates and make small talk and be on my best behavior. However, for all of my talk (as truthful as it was) about not wanting to deal with dating, about being independent, and about not needing a man or wanting to be needed by one, that didn't seem to stop my traitorous heart/body/mind from developing an interest in one. As usual, I refused to do anything about it. Though I was feeling more confident about myself than I ever had before by the time I really developed the interest, I still just thought there was no way the guy in question would be interested. Then in a moment of honesty, I told one of my friends about my feelings and why I had them all the while believing (and probably hoping as well) that she would tell me it was a bad idea and that would be that. Instead, she told me to at least take the chance and tell him how I felt. And the crazy thing is? I actually listened to her and did so. He turned down my interest in the nicest way possible, and we became friends after that.
 
Here's the thing though...It isn't about the guy. Let me repeat. It isn't about the guy. That one or any other guy I have liked up to this point actually. It is about feeling fearless. You know what I mean right? That moment when you do or say something that is so out of character where part of you is saying "You probably shouldn't have done that", but where there is also a part of you that is at the same time whispering, "Hell yes! You are such a badass!" When I told him how I felt, when I did something that absolutely terrified me, I felt for that one instant like I was fearless and that I could do anything. As silly as it may sound, the feeling in that moment was one of the most exhilarating things I have ever experienced.
 
Over the last several months, I have said things to my friends that the "good girl" would have never thought possible for me. Conversations with two of my friends especially have shown me a lot about who I want to be and what I actually want in life as compared to what I had convinced myself I should be or should want. Also, I have finally embraced the belief that I am beautiful because I say I am. I no longer believe that being attractive is a matter of how others see me, but of how I see myself. Since adopting that viewpoint, I have begun to see a change in how I see myself as a whole, and that is amazing to me.
 
Yet, it was that feeling of fearlessness I mentioned and conversations about the fact that I still refuse to take chances, tend to choose logic/reason over what I WANT to do, and consistently play it safe for the most part that really pushed me to the idea that I need to get out of my comfort zone. Then I read the synopsis for "Year of Yes", and I was inspired by this idea of a year of doing things that either scare me or that I would usually just talk myself out of with logic and reasons of why I shouldn't. I felt like this was truly something I needed to do for myself. So, I find that I am looking forward to this new year with great anticipation for all that it will bring to my life. I am looking forward to making myself uncomfortable, to finding joy in all of the crazy and unexpected moments, and to not being the "good girl" because I have begun to believe that it isn't really living if you only do what is easy.  

Hey everyone. It is a busy time right now. When I enrolled in 9 hours of graduate school classes I did not think my life would be quite so hectic. Add in being a graduate assistant, working at a call center 28 hours a week, volunteering 3 hours a week, and trying to have time with those I care about. Well, that makes my life a circus with me being the ring leader. That isn't even counting time to get to the gym which has seemed non-existent lately. 

School has finally started slowing down though which means I may finally have time to go to the gym, wrap Christmas presents, and work on "Choosing Hearts". I have a little under a fourth of it written. The goal is to finish it and have it published by the end of 2015 at the latest. Hopefully I will soon have time to spend multiple hours working on it.

In other news, my sister is about to graduate from the police academy. I could not be more proud as she has worked extremely hard to make it this far. My mom and step-dad are coming in with my niece/favorite person in the entire world to go to the ceremony.  I am really excited for it. 

Otherwise, my life is fairly boring at the moment. Busy, but boring.