Today I feel it’s necessary to share some very personal related to racism, white privilege, and my own personal story.
These are my emotionally charged thoughts:
As a white woman of privilege, I could have turned out way differently.
I grew up in a small town in Indiana, that happened to be in White County. Back in the 70’s and 80’s the county had signs that upon entering, said “Welcome to White County, let’s keep it that way.” I never understood what that meant.
My dad used to say the N word but would say that there were those of every color. He would tell stories of his childhood of a Polish man who was his boss. He would say they would call him racial term when they were mad.
Again, I didn’t understand.
I didn’t see a black person until 6th grade.
The first black kids moved into our little farm school at that time, and everyone wanted to be his friend. Everyone thought he and his big sister were the coolest. He was the best athlete, all the girls wanted to be his girlfriend.
My brother came out to my parents when I was in 7th grade.
The only memories I have were my mom getting really angry and throwing everything that was his out of the house. And seeing my Dad cry for the first time. Then the only thing talked about were that he would never give them grandkids and carry on the Sargent name. That Christmas, my brother had to buy all the presents to try to ‘win’ them over to get to even come in the house.
Things like racism and gender equality and equal treatment for LGBTQIA weren’t brought up around the dinner table. Heck, emotions or hard things weren’t brought up.
Probably why when my sister announced that she was pregnant at the age of 16 it was also not talked about. Only that she didn’t have an option to not have the baby and to finish school.
I feel like this happens a lot, maybe not, this was my experience though, in small towns.
In college, I had friends of color.
I didn’t think of them any differently than my white friends. I worked with all colors and creeds and never did I consider them different than me. Also, I didn’t consider how hard their life was every day, and the privilege I had either.
My brother started dating a black man when I was a freshman. He really opened my eyes to a lot of the things I missed during my growing up years. Nate helped me understand how to say things, and how not to say things. He also taught me how to do my hair and makeup because that was something I didn’t learn growing up either. Several times, I can remember having a conversation with my Dad. Specifically about using the N word around Nate and how it offended him. And my Dad was as clueless as they come. Not even realizing it was offensive to his potential son-in-law.
My parents always called him ‘colored’ not black. I still correct them, because that’s possibly worse.
Looking back, I blamed it on the way and time he grew up. In the 1960’s, in the north where it was common terms. Where segregation was still happening. That’s not the case today. Yet we have people who still refer and use it as if that’s the case.
During my internship with Back on My Feet Indianapolis, I had the opportunity to connect on a deeper level with the members. Many who were trying to get back on their feet after experiencing homelessness. Many of these members were black and just wanted someone to talk with. Or someone to share an experience with during the morning runs.
In those wee hours of the morning, many still dark, running through some not so great areas of Indianapolis, I felt at home. I felt encouraged and comforted. The men and women who circle up are not out to get you or me. They are human just like you and me. The only ‘problem’ was that maybe they were born with a color on their skin that’s different from you and me.
And that’s the REAL problem.
After having my oldest daughter, Leila, I realize that I became comfortable, maybe even fearful to speak up. I let the white privilege sneak back in. Maybe because there was more at stake; I was a mom. And had someone who depended on me. Black people and people of color may do the exact opposite. They may stand up more because there’s more at stake for their baby’s future.
Finally, I get that.
If I truly want to make the future different for my little girls, and really help them understand what’s at stake, I need to speak up and educate myself. Not just what is shown in school, but what black activists and people of color are saying and putting out. The words they speak are far more clear and true than anything we can read or see in the media.
As a white woman of privilege, I will never know what it’s like to send her kids and husband and brothers and sisters and parents out the door and pray that they come home safely.
As a white woman of privilege, I may not know what it’s like to be judged by the color of my skin or the texture of my hair, before I even open my mouth but I can ensure that stops in my home, and expands outward.
And as a white woman of privilege, the things I get to hear my kids fight and argue and cry about are petty things that don’t matter instead of what racial term was used towards them or how they were profiled or that they were unjustly stopped and arrested or worse for doing nothing wrong. And my heart aches for all of my mama friends who hear this and worse from their babies (no matter age, they are always our babies) on a sometimes daily basis.
Growing up, I had the least privileged life, but because of the color of my skin, it was way easier than those of my black and colored friends’ lives.
I will never understand or even pretend to understand, but I DO stand to end this for today and for our future. The future of humanity. The future of our children. For all the unnecessary lives who have been lost.
All of it has to end. It’s time to unlearn what has been fed down our throats and really open up to educate ourselves with what is right in front of our faces.
Sometimes things in life should have to be explained as much as they do.
Alas, here I am going to explain one of the taboo topics that are usually only standard operating procedure in Hollywood, not small town USA.
My decision to get a breast reduction and lift without getting an implant as well.
Why is augmentation taboo when it takes care of Pain?
Now, this may seem like an everyday thing where I live now, but people I know from back home, don’t seem to understand the need or reason behind it. So here goes.
All of my life, I’ve had big boobs. In 6th grade was the last time I was smaller than a C cup. No matter what diet or exercise plan I went on, they never got smaller. They were big, never fit into anything. And I always felt so self consciously about them. And that’s not even mentioning the pain that can cause on your body. I could have washboard abs and toned and shaped everything. But because I has such large breasts my back and neck always had ‘knots’ in them.
When I got pregnant, I would balloon, literally. And with both of my pregnancies my sciatic nerve would cause so much discomfort and pain that I ended up at the chiropractors office at minimum 2 times a week just so I could walk. My body didn’t do well with all the extra volume and weight.
After pregnancy and nursing both of the girls, the girls were just sad and putting new pressure in different spots of my body. My pain moved from the top of my shoulders to the middle of my back and was constant. I could never get an adjustment from the chiropractor to stay longer than a day or so.
Now, I was not a huge size by any means, I was a size that some people get implants to achieve.
But my size 34 DDD (or at least that’s what they measured me at at Victoria’s Secret) wasn’t fitting into the cute, barely-there bras that are so popular today. And I had a hard time finding something not requiring special order or that would make my boobs super pointy instead of rounded and normal.
I would overflow in all of my bras and have what I call fluff when wearing shirts — you know the extra boob that hangs out on the sides of the bra and looks funny in a t shirt? Always had that and always felt uncomfortable and not confident in myself. I found myself not being me anymore. I would buy baggier and baggier clothing that was clearly the wrong size for me, just in case I would look like I was falling out up top.
Without a bra, I literally had zero midsection..
The girls would sag so low I didn’t know if my abs or stomach existed. And for someone who puts in the work, I’d like to see the results. I felt like I was in my 60s and gravity wasn’t being nice to me. I didn’t want to wear a swim suit or go on vacation — which I love a good beach vacation any day of the week.
It was affecting the interactions I have with my girls. I literally wouldn’t go swimming with them. And I know that raising girls to be confident in their own skin basically felt like a lie because I didn’t myself.
I expressed all of these concerns to Steve and even went to consultations without him because I knew that if I wanted something, I was the first person I’d have to convince to do it.
Getting over the fear of the needle for the IV was the biggest hurdle. The rest was a piece of cake.
As a guy, Steve wanted them to be bigger and stay bigger. But because he loves and supports me, he agreed to let me get the reduction and lift. Mostly because he knew I’d never stop talking about it until it was done.. but because he knew/knows how much pain my body was having and would have to rub the knots out when they got so bad.
A huge piece of advice is to go with your gut when choosing a surgeon.
I first met with a male doctor in this fancy office and they gave me a gift bag, showed me the movie about what procedure I was wanting (probably first mistake for someone who doesn’t want to know anything when it comes to needles and such), and tried to wow me. But then didn’t listen to my concerns and tried to push an implant in addition to a lift and reduction. As well as literally making me only ONE size smaller.
He was one of the best in the valley and came highly referred by all the reviews and people who wanted bigger, perkier breasts.
Then somewhere out of the blue, this other female surgeon started following me on Instagram and was showing the process on her page and seemed like an actual person behind all of the medical terms. I sent her page a message and she asked me to call and ask for the gals who would set up a consult.
When I went in for the consult, I mentioned that I only had 15 minutes because I forgot Leila had a half day. So I needed to pick her up. The doctor came direct from surgery because she knew how important meeting with a potential patient was. And honestly, I appreciated it more than she will know.
In that 15 minutes, she did an exam, answered all my questions, brought up concerns I didn’t know I had. And assured me that she was the surgeon for me, without me telling her so.
I related to her on a personal level because we have girls close in age. She was a working mom. And she is on a mission to help women live a better life and gives back by mentoring and providing a scholarship to women in scientific majors.
From the time I met with Dr. Patti Flint the first time for a consult to the date of my surgery, it was less than a month give or take a few days.
She made me feel comfortable and heard from the moment I was in her care. And her staff is amazing, which makes the rest of the process incredible.
When I was in the office with the first doctor, I felt icky and that I didn’t belong. I felt shame. I felt wrong for being there. And when I met the doctor, the shame and guilt continued. The longer I sat in his office and consult with him, the more I felt I needed more things done to my body. Which I don’t and didn’t and Dr. Flint confirmed that for me as well.
If you take anything from this, know that my experience was way better with a female as my doctor. But you may feel more comfortable with a male. Just listen to your body and what your gut is telling you during the whole process. Every experience is different and knowing what you want going into the consult/procedure and standing by that will help so so much in the process.
I had someone tell me I should just go to Hollywood and get the surgery by one of the well known doctors out there, which I’ve seen on tv. My gut and heart were telling me no and I’m so glad I listened to them instead.
Don’t give up on you. You are the only one who can advocate and truly know how and what you are feeling.
If you are considering a reduction/lift or any other procedure and have questions, I’d be happy to answer them for you or point you in the direction of my surgeon if you’d like. She is happy to answer questions and help educate.
For anyone that knows me well, knows that I like good food, but most days, I’m a simple cook.
If I don’t order it, it may come in a box, a cup, a bowl, or something similar. If none of these, then it’s fresh, raw fruit or veggie.
That being said, for me to make an elaborate, multi-step meal with multiple courses isn’t realistic.
I’ve tried and partnered with nearly every meal prep and delivery service out there. And still, meal time is a struggle for me nightly. And if I’m being honest, like I always am, the idea of making meals and dinner stresses me out more than most things in my life. I know that if I had a personal chef that would make the things I need to eat (like fruits and veggies) it wouldn’t be a problem.
If this person would also cook for my husband and children, I know it would take a lot of stress off my life.
The book that teaches you how to cook like your Grandma did
So, when I was offered to test out this new book, “The Anti-Cook Book” by Shelley Onderdonk and Rebecca Bloom, I was intrigued by the title. Easy, Thrifty Recipes for Food-Smart Living it goes on to say…
As I dug deeper and deeper into the book, I realized that any and everyone could use this book successfully. Because we all have little time and we all have to eat. These two moms, wives, and career women teach the readers that no matter your status, age, budget, background, makeup, anything else socioeconomic status wise –
You can do this!
Even for those of us who pretend to know what they are doing with our nutrition and in the kitchen (ME too).
The book is sprinkled with personal stories and easy, simple recipes with minimal instructions needed. And a bit of spunk and quirk along the way keeps you (it did me anyway) interested in the story and reasoning for the choices made in the book. Another sprinkling throughout the book that usually goes with a story:: Real text message conversations from the authors’ lives.
It supports the story and also that they know what they are doing.
Most of the cook books I’ve ever owned or seen have a full page, or very near full page, dedicated to a single recipe. This book combines story, ideas for using the recipe, proof it’s a great one, and then the recipe in short form. All on the same page. Incredible work and less intimidating for those of us (ME too) who don’t even want to open a recipe book because they are already checked out of the process.
Throughout the book are useful tips like planning meals for the whole week, without spending hours on end in the kitchen making them. Or when is appropriate to use Google because I know y’all pull out your phone or ask Siri whether you want to admit it or not!
It’s the perfect time of the year to gift this book to a Grad or a Dad in your life, or heck, an overwhelmed, underblessed Martha Stewart Mamma (also Me) who just wants to make their life a bit easier.
Grab the link here and get yourself and those who need this the most a copy. (It’s the cheapest cookbook I’ve ever seen!)
And leave me a comment letting me know your cooking/Martha Stewart style too. I’d love to know where you stand on this and if this book is on target or way off the mark for you!
I always have considered myself a strong willed woman, even from the days my siblings and I were too young to make our own decisions. Here lately, I’ve noticed that if I give up some of the reigns, I’m able to experience things much easier and with more flow.
Things like allowing others to help me complete a task, asking for help and knowing it’s ok, or accepting the fact that I’m not the greatest decorator. And maybe my minimalist lifestyle isn’t the same for everyone else in my family.
I’ve even gone so far as allow others to help me parent my children when I’m in the same house as them, because I always assumed I needed to parent them better than anyone else. But let’s face it – sometimes allowing someone else to take care of a screaming, angry almost 3 year old is kind of nice.
We all need a break every now and again.
And considering my husband sees the girls about 2 hours a day, right before bedtime, it gets hard sometimes, feeling like I’m doing this parenting thing all alone.
Having someone around who knows me before I knew my husband – before I moved across the country with my oldest without any support, because I can do it all alone (insert strong will much?) – before I became a parent and was a wild early 20 something who had her fair share of fun has been really, really nice.
I didn’t realize how much and how shelled in I had become. A piece of me was pushed down for about 4 years, and wasn’t allowed to see the light of day.
Maybe for fear of not being comfortable with who that person was.
Maybe for fear that she might want more in life than I currently had.
Maybe for fear that she might not like this life.
But after having my brother-in-law here for a month to keep me company, do the girls’ hair each day, help me learn how to cook a bit better, and even teach me a thing or two to decorate my home, I feel like there’s a new fire lit inside of me.
I feel vulnerable.
I feel passionate.
I feel powerful.
I feel that I have a valid opinion in areas that matter for our family as a whole that need to be heard.
I don’t know why for so long I didn’t allow my power to come into my life and my marriage. I guess I felt that if I wasn’t the main breadwinner, I didn’t get to have a say on anything. I honestly settled and felt trapped because I would walk on eggshells nearly daily. I knew that if I wanted to do anything or have anything that I wanted more than was needed for our family, I would have to figure out a way to make my own money.
And I also didn’t want to waste my experience and settling for what I had, even though it is amazing and many people would be extremely happy. I knew I was meant for more, and wanted so much more for me in this lifetime.
So I started my own business partially to grow and learn for myself, but also to help other Mommas who maybe struggling with the same things I went through. And some days struggle with still.
I believe in you sister, and know you are made for so much more and that your desires and dreams are there for a reason. Don’t give up and compromise just because.
You are the result of the love of thousands. Honor that, and give gratitude to those who came before you, who made it possible for you to exist.
At some point or another, we say “I don’t want to be like my Mom or Dad,” and then before we know it, we doing things/acting like our parents. Sometimes it’s good, other times, not so great.
I’ve been there too.
Here’s the thing – your parents, grandparents, etc are only doing the best they can to NOT be like their parents. They are trying their best to give and do things for you that they had and didn’t want to continue in their children.
While they are trying to make things better, parts of their past are coming through as well. When we choose to get angry over those who didn’t have all the tools or the awareness that wee do today we are simply giving into the fear and judgement parts of us.
Instead of looking at these incidents as faults or fears, we can take them as an opportunity to learn from the experience and express gratitude for the lesson to be presented in our lives.
I can’t count anymore the number of times I have heard my parents say “Well, we did the best we could with what we had and knew.”
And, for a really long time, I didn’t think that was good enough or acceptable. I thought it was a cop out or an excuse as to the experience I had in childhood.
When I started realizing and looking into my ancestry, I began to understand that was true. I was so concerned with the things I thought I was missing out on, I failed to see the experiences I was given that others weren’t able to experience. As I gave gratitude and love to my childhood, I started to have a different and better relationship with my parents.
The gratitude I gave to my parents went to my grandparents and on down my ancestry. It helped me to understand, give up judgement, and heal my anger and victim mode.
I no longer feel the burden of my past. I’m at peace with my history, and love that I have those experiences to make me who I am. I don’t carry them around like a weight on my shoulders any longer. I have released the weight not only from myself, my parents, or grandparents, but also from my children and their future children.
Are you carrying around more than you bargained for? Let’s book a call and see what all is ready to be released for you and your family.
13 years ago, I joined a platform in the fall of 2005. In my freshman year of college, and very much in my infancy of freedom and adulthood.
Facebook was also in it’s infancy. Back before all the videos, ads, marketing, random PM messages, groups. The days when only those with a college email address could join.
Looking back, no one could have predicted our journeys as they are today. Maybe Zuck saw it for his baby, but I certainly didn’t see mine for me.
When these memories come up and I think back to that time in my life, I had all these hopes and dreams of who I was going to be and how long it would take. I was majoring in Radiology – mostly because I wanted to prove my dad wrong. Because he was ‘old’ and didn’t know anything.
I now appreciate his guidance and opinions.
I wanted the freedom to be me. It was the first time I felt I could finally escape the childhood and past that I deeply wanted to hide. So much so that I started dating a guy much older than me. I was so consumed with is affection and attention that I spent every weekend with him in my dorm or traveling back 2.5 hours, 20 minutes from my parents, at his house. I didn’t do the normal college things often, only 3 times that whole year. I stopped attending classes and actually dropped most of them after the financial aid was released.
I was completely terrible to my roommate, whom I had known since 3rd grade and saw daily in middle and high school since our names were so close together, our lockers were next to each other. I forgot who I was and realize looking back, I had no idea anyways. I was running, I was hiding. And that became my story until about 2011.
Most of those years, I went to community college, worked full time, and dated the same guy who didn’t want to go anywhere with life fast. Because that was safer than returning to face the things of the past. That also meant I could support myself and show everyone I didn’t need them.
I had it all figured out…..at least it appeared on the surface.
Deep down, I had no idea there were hopes and dreams dying a little more every day inside.
At one point, I had so much shame and gilt that I couldn’t take it anymore. So, in typical AJ fashion, I ran. I did things I’m not proud of but realize it was part of my journey.
Running away and not dealing was my escape when backed into a corner with no other foreseeable options. To me, running away was easier than standing and facing the truth. I would have rather carried the burden inside of me with a smile on my face than deal with the truth. Or telling the people I was in a relationship with in any area of my life, to their face.
Looking at the pictures and memories from that time, I don’t recognize that girl. I can see sadness and a cry for help. But I also see the calculations of who and what next move happening.
It’s so easy to compare that to now. It’s so easy to look back and point the fingers and imagine “what if…..”
In reality though, I have no idea where I would be now if I didn’t take those risks or calculate the next thing. I honestly couldn’t have even planned the life I live today, not even a little bit.
I do know for a fact that I am far better and happier today and yesterday and tomorrow because of them. I am forever grateful to have these experiences and opportunities to make mine and those around me’s lives better.
You are allowed to be with your journey too. Stop for a second and just be you. Don’t compare who you were or what you were. Just be present in this moment and listen. Listen to what your body is saying. To what that little voice inside is saying (both good and bad). Then decide where you go from here. It’s completely your choice.
As I dug deeper and deeper into the book, I realized that any and everyone could use this book successfully. Because we all have little time and we all have to eat. These two moms, wives, and career women teach the readers that no matter your status, age, budget, background, makeup, anything else socioeconomic status wise –
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