Snoskred – Life in the Country

Out Of Her Niche today is fellow Australian blogger Tiffany from Three Ring Circus

I usually write about my children. Today, I’m ‘stepping out of my niche’ for Snoskred, to talk about where I live…

What can I tell you about where I live?

It’s different.

From anything I have known before.

I was born and grew up in a suburb of Sydney. It was a community where I often felt that our family did not belong. It was a fairly large suburb, with three and then eventually, four schools. I went to the nearest public school, which I hated. I was the resident ‘fat girl’ who was the constant target of teasing and abuse. I felt… friendless and often alone. I guess I was a bit of a loner because I wanted to avoid being hurt. Not alot changed through high school, although I did find a nice group of girls to sit with eventually.

When I married David we moved around a fair bit. We initially stayed in the Sydney area but never in one place long enough to get to know many people. We eventually built our first home on the Central Coast in NSW. The suburb was huge. We settled in and started to find our way in a new area but we were not really part of the crowd before we chose to shift areas again.

The move to The Hunter Valley was a reluctant one but at the time, we had three girls of our own and had taken on my sister’s two boys. In a matter of weeks we had outgrown our four bedroom house. It became clear that our temporary custody of the boys was anything but temporary, so we moved to a six bedroom house, on a large block of land, in a tiny, little, country town. At the time I was newly pregnant with our forth baby. My friend declared us mad and in the first few weeks, I certainly felt that way. I knew nobody, there was very little to do. Our main street consisted of a corner store, the pub and further down the road… another pub. Town was fifteen minutes away and that was not much better. For kicks, you could go to Coles and when you really wanted some excitement, there was Woolworths!

Ok, it wasn’t as bad as that but coming from a place that had a Westfield Shopping ‘experience’ within walking distance from home it seemed as though I had landed myself in the world’s biggest hole in the ground. David was still working in Sydney so the days that the kids were at school and I wasn’t working, seemed long to say the least.

When we arrived in the boonies the first thing we had to do was enrol up at the school. The administrative staff had other ideas, however, as they would not even consider placing the children in classes until we could show official proof that we had a residence in the town. As we walked out of the school grounds, one of the ‘gate mums’ introduced herself but before we could reciprocate, she was sprouting our introduction for us. She knew that we had moved into the old Miller house and that we had come from the coast. She knew that the girls were into dancing and that the eldest boy liked soccer. With that she produced the name and number of the local soccer team’s president and ordered us to contact him!

We were absolutely floored that someone we had never clapped eyes on before could know so much about us already! We soon found that most people knew of our coming weeks before we actually arrived. In fact most people knew about what was going on in our lives long before we did!

On this day, as we moved on from our first (bizarre) experience with the people of the town, the same mother yelled over her shoulder not to worry, we would get used to it and it would only take ten years before we would be considered local! Ten years! Our track record for staying in one place indicated that we would never be considered local!

We were pretty reclusive. That was (is) our way. The kids made friends though and I started to get to know some of the ‘gate mothers’ by name and would wave if we passed in the street. As my pregnancy progressed I made a couple of friends and we would go up to school assembly together.

Our life in our home though seemed completely separate to the life of the town. We did not have a lot in common with the people. We did not knock off work early on Friday and go down to the local pub for dinner and a beerfest with sixty of our neighbours. Our idea of fun was a couple of DVDs, a nice dinner with the kids, an outing to the movies or something equally…sensible. These country folk enjoyed drinking themselves into oblivion before jumping on the back of a bull and calling the bucking, jostling, often bloody mess between drunken man and angry beast a rodeo.

Perhaps if we had taken part we would have been welcomed into the fold and considered one of their own.

The truth is, I hated it. I felt isolated, bored and alone. We didn’t fit in at all.

I know we didn’t join in but in my mind that was to avoid the inevitable pain I would feel when the locals shunned us (me) because we were different .

In the April of 2004, approximately eight months after we moved into the tiny country town, our son William was born and died five days later. Our whole world was turned upside down. After a week away, coming back to our home seemed very surreal. Arriving in the sleepy town, it seemed as though nothing had changed, except us. William’s funeral was still a week away as it was Easter and his body had to be transferred from Westmead Children’s hospital to the local funeral home.

The afternoon that we arrived we received a phone call from the funeral director. He just wanted to let us know that William had ‘come home’ and was safe with them now. We were also invited to go any time we wanted, over the following days, if we wanted to see him again. For me it was as though this man on the phone was the first person to treat my baby as a human being. When he spoke, his voice was respectful. Something that we had not encountered in Sydney.

The days passed and the funeral loomed closer. People came and went, family mostly. I don’t remember much of that time. What I do recall though and what stays with me now is his angel day. We decided that we would bury our son in the local cemetary and that the service would be in the small church down the road. As we arrived I remember seeing cars for as far as my eyes could see. In my grief I did not realise that those cars were all parked for us. All of our friends and family were there but also much of the town had stepped out to show their respect for a little boy they would never know and for the people who were only half a year into their initiation to become locals.

I walked into the church and I saw the gate mums to my right. I saw the teachers of my children and the principal representing the school. Out the front, near William’s tiny coffin, were hand crafted butterflies, cut and coloured in by every single one of the children at the school. Messages of love and sadness reached out to me through the innocent handwritten condolences of the students, for our family. I was truly touched. For the first time in over a week, I felt something. It was a sense of community.

There were tears and hugs and casseroles, letters, plants, heartfelt gifts and offers for the children to have time away from the grieving household.

That day, the way I felt about ‘the boonies’ changed. I accepted what it was… a tiny outback town… with a huge heart.

There was not much to look at, not much to do but the people made it rich and textured. They pulled together and supported each other…and us.

Like I said, the place I live in is different from anything I have ever known. That’s because it’s a place that I feel that we belong, even though we are different.

We are part of the community.

Things have pretty much gone back to normal now. We still keep to ourselves and four years into our residency of the old Miller house we are still considered newcomers but we are accepted and comfortable.

My daughter commented today that we have stayed here longer than we have in any other place.
I said; It must be time to move.
She said, No, it must mean that it’s home.

This post from Tiffany made me homesick for my “heart home” – which at this stage I still consider to be Tamworth. I think where we live now has a chance of replacing it in my heart but it does take time for that to happen. People reaching out to you can speed up the process, too.

Sometimes life takes us on a journey we were not expecting – a journey we would not have chosen ourselves yet a journey we needed to go on without our knowing it. I’m glad your family has found home, Tiff.

You can read more from Tiffany at her blog - Three Ring Circus and remember, you can get out of your niche too!

Brown Baron is out of his niche here today with this post –

Bloggers who decide to become serious with their writing and promoting their blog often experience stress usually found in an office environment. Whether it be practicing good SEO, dealing with blogger’s block, or simply feeling pressured by bigger blogs, bloggers often forget that the secret to having the proper attitude towards blogging can be found by observing children.

Start the day with a smile
Have you ever noticed how children have the incredible ability to wake up in a good mood most days? That’s how you should do it. Start each day with a positive attitude. If you wake up and remember you still have no idea on what the next post will be, don’t worry about it. Just smile. Try and start your day with a positive outlook and you’ll notice how easy it is to enter your blogging routine. As the day wears on, try to maintain your good mood and you’ll be surprised at how productive you can be.

Keep asking questions
Children never seem to run out of questions. No matter how much they learn, they keep asking more questions. If you’re satisfied with the direction your blog is taking, don’t be complacent. Keep asking yourself what else you can do to improve your visitors’ experience.

If you still haven’t grasped the fundamentals of running and promoting a blog, make a list of the things you don’t understand and work on them one at a time.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help
Children have the tenacity to keep working on a problem until they’re sure that they can’t do it on their own. They will then ask grownups for assistance. Any time you feel like you’re way over your head with customizing your blog, installing plugins, upgrading, or need advice on promoting your blog, don’t be afraid to ask your readers or other bloggers for suggestions.

Your readers come to your blog because they like your writing. They don’t expect you to be a master at the technical aspects of blogging.

There are a lot of bloggers that would be more than willing to help you out. Don’t be shy, just ask.

Make lots of friends
Have you ever noticed how children are so adept at making new friends or at getting along with other kids? Make sure that you form a bond with your readers and other bloggers. Knowing that you have a connection with your readers and other bloggers gives you motivation to keep writing even during the times you don’t feel like it.

Forging friendships with other bloggers will give you the feeling that you’re not alone in the world of blogging. You’ll learn new things, share tips, and help develop the growing community of bloggers all over the world.

Every day is an adventure
It’s amazing how children are always bright-eyed at even the most mundane tasks. It’s because they treat everything and every day as an adventure. Don’t look at your blogging as a routine or chore that you need to finish. Think of every post, comment, blog tweak, as a new game that you just discovered.

There is magic in writing and connecting with your readers. Your readers are your treasure. Some you will find, and others will simply find you. No matter what happens during the day, remember it’s all a big adventure.

If you find that you still need help with regard to having the best attitude towards blogging, take a look at the children. They’re smarter than you think.

Brown Baron blogs over at Brown Thoughts. I can’t remember how I first found his blog but I am thrilled that I did.The Baron is almost as mysterious as me but he does let slip that he is the father of 3 kids and the adoring husband of one wife.

This post is extremely apt today as I met my first fellow blogger, more about that tomorrow. I wish I could meet all my blogging friends in person and I hope to do more meeting bloggers in Australia, at least.

The community of bloggers is filled with wonderful people. Step out of your comfort zone and make a new blog friend today.

Note from Snoskred – This week Thomas – Technical Blogger is getting out of his niche, and reading this I am so glad he agreed to do it. I love this post.

I was in my mid thirties before I had a cat.

In 1999 or so I took a contracting job at Microsoft, and my girlfriend at the time and I moved to this cool log cabin in Redmond, WA. My girlfriend had this ornery black cat that I didn’t really like, but for the most part he left me alone, and I left him alone. A couple of days after we moved in, there was this little kitty out on the deck mewing very loudly. It was there for a couple of days mewing. Did I mention this cat was really loud? Finally I told the girlfriend to do something to shut that cat up. She fed it some food that it gobbled right down and became quiet and started purring.

This cat had no desire to come into the house. Whatever room we were in, it would hang out in the corresponding window, so it could see us, but did not want to come in. In October the weather was starting to get rainy and nasty, so we built a little shelter with warm bedding for the kitty in the planter box outside the big window. We feed her and all seemed to be well.

In November it started to snow, and we decided that we needed to bring the little cat indoors. She adjusted to the indoors really well. She was neurotic and a pain in the butt, she hid under furniture 90% of the time. All I could think is how much cats sucked.

We moved, and I said that since we had taken responsibility for the little kitty that we had to take her with us. She did really well in the new place. She was neurotic and a pain in the butt, but she did change, now she hid under furniture 95% of the time. All I could think is how much cats sucked. At this point the girlfriend became an ex-girlfriend. I told her that she had to take both cats, but she would only take hers initially as she was moving back to the Bay Area and left me with that damned little cat.

Two days after the ex-girlfriend and her cat had gone, I started seeing the little kitty out and about. I used to say she was a little bit of a cat, and the name stuck. Little Bit. It just being the cat and I, Little mellowed out within a week.

One day I was working in my office at home, and I heard Little meowing from another part of the house so I told her where I was. I then heard meowing closer. This happened a couple of times, and then I heard a meow outside my office. I looked at her and told her she could come in, and she did. She settled down by me and seemed to be happy. She seemed to like to play this game, as she played it frequently. I played along because it made me laugh.

Moving to the Bay Area

I got contract work in the Bay Area, so we moved. Initially We stayed in corporate housing and I wasn’t supposed to have a cat. I told the Little to stay out of sight, and she seemed to understand. At this point you might say – Thomas you are deluding yourself if you think your cat had the power of speech, I don’t think she had the power of speech, but she seemed very intuitive and appeared to understand what I told her. She would sometimes wait in the window for me to come home, and when she saw I noticed her, I would waggle my finger at her and she would jump down and hide. She was a great cat. Having just moved from Seattle to the Bay Area, I had few friends and although I was happy the girlfriend was gone, I was depressed about my general state of relationships.

Little started sleeping on my chest. I would sometimes wake with her cheek on mine. If I came home late, she would wait by the door, and would let me have it, with a barrage of meows. If I came home after being in a bar, I would have to shower before I got into bed or she would snore and wheeze all night keeping me up and expressing her displeasure. I took care of her and she took care of me.

We moved out of corporate housing and got a loft in East Side Oakland. It was the Little and I, and we had a great time. If I sat down for more than 5 minutes she was in my lap. When it was time for bed, she would get up, go to the bedroom and meow on the bed waiting. When I got in bed, she would crawl on my chest and fall asleep. She was trusting, sweet, and gave love unconditionally. She watched over me, and when things got tough, was always there for me.

Little was an excellent barometer at reading people. I never mentioned to dates that I had a cat. Some women would come in, and the Little was not to be seen, for others she would come out and say hi. It may sound weird, but I always listened to the Little. Interestingly enough, when the ex did show up from time to time the Little was never to be found. Considering Little always met me at the door when I came home, I found it interesting that she would disappear if I brought someone else home.

The Little had an electronic litter box. One afternoon, the box was going off, every 15 minutes for a couple of hours. I thought it was broken. When I investigated, I realized Little was playing with her litter box. She would go in and let out about a marble’s worth of urine and then jump out. She would walk around and when the box would start she would run over and watch it. A couple minutes after it stopped, she would jump in to start the process again. She would take frequent trips to her water dish to ensure she was probably hydrated and had enough ammunitions to continue the game. This was a game she would play periodically. Goofy little cat.

I raised my voice to the Little once. She was playing with the sheer curtains in my rented loft. I just looked at Little and said No sharply. She disappeared and I did not see her for the rest of the evening. I looked for her and she was not to be found. At bedtime, I got in bed and called, and there she was. I have no idea where she went, but I never had to raise my voice to her again.

I traveled periodically for my job and my buddy Tim would stay at my place to hang out with the Little. Little loved Tim, and Tim loved the Little. In early 2000, I took a work oriented trip to Cairo, Egypt for a little over two weeks. Tim was unable to stay at my place the whole time but stayed there off and on to ensure the Little was doing ok.

When I got back, Little and I fell back into our normal routine. Not long after that I met my wife Shannon in Portland, OR. When the Little met Shannon in August, it was love at first sight.

In October of that year, the Little started to get sick. I noticed her walking around wheezing. When I took her to the vet, they removed almost two pints of fluid from her body cavity. Apparently her body cavity was filling up with fluid, squeezing her lungs and she was having difficulty breathing. I had her tested, but we could not figure out what was wrong, she was not getting better, and she wouldn’t eat.

When Shannon came to visit, the Little crawled on Shannon’s lap, and gave her a long hard look. I could see the Little sizing Shannon up. The Little put her paw out, and Shannon took it in her hand. The hung out like that for a couple of minutes, and then Little curled up in Shannon’s lap and went to sleep.

That next week, I could tell the Little was getting worse. One evening I had to take her to the emergency vet to get her drained again. A few nights later, Little crawled off a couple of times to find a secluded spot. I told her I found this unacceptable, as her friend I would help her and wouldn’t let her die alone. That was a really long night, hanging out with my sick friend. I took her to the vet first thing that morning and was told she was rapidly getting worse. The vet said she was just going to keep filling up with fluid and there was nothing they could do. Apparently if she hadn’t received good nutrition when she was younger she might not have formed properly internally. Considering that we found her outside, this seemed reasonable. Under these conditions it is possible for stress to initiate the onset of these types of problems.

The vet suggested the best course of action was to put her to sleep. They explained the procedure and how it would work. I shouldn’t be alarmed if the cat should evacuate its bowels after it had passed. All I could think is that Little is way too dainty and too much of a princess to let something like that occur.

I called Shannon for support, this was one of the hardest decision I ever had to make. I knew Little was in pain, but I didn’t want to give up too early. What if the tests taken the week before found something, but results weren’t expected for another couple of days. I tried to be realistic about the current quality of her life.

I talked to the Little about it, I knew she was in pain and she was wheezing again. She sat in my lap for a while, and then got in her carrier for a minute. I put her on the table and petted her while she was put to sleep. The vet said something about being amazed that Little did not make a mess when she passed, but knowing her that did not surprise me.

The next couple of weeks were kind of a blur. But here are some things I realized later.

- A couple of days later, I noticed that her carrier smelled. I looked in and found she had used her carrier as a litter box. I have heard that a cat will not mess in a carrier that they expect to get back in, I think she understood what was going to happen and wasn’t going to go out leaving a mess.
- When I thought about it, I realized that Little had passed the baton on to Shannon for my care and well being. She wasn’t going to leave without knowing I was taking care of, Little was like that.
- The Little and I only had a couple of years together, and I hope she was happy enough to balance out such a short life and time we had together.
- To this day I think my being gone for the couple of weeks while I was in Egypt stressed Little out, and initiated these problems. I am not sure that there was anything I could have done differently to create a different outcome, but I do blame myself . . .

It would be a couple of years before I could get another cat. It has been almost seven years, and honestyly I tears roll down my checks as I write this, although in my defense my allergies have been acting up as my eyes have been kind of watery.

Enter Mr Pants

As I said, it was a couple of years before I could bring myself to get another cat. Shannon and I started visiting the humane society. I figured it would honor the memory of Little to give another cat a break. At the humane society I told them I wanted to see the cat that had been their the longest. We were shown some cat named Diego. When we got to the cage, the cat charged the bars of his cage and starts meowing loudly.

A sophisticated cat, said the tag, wow he smells and looks horrible said Shannon, I want to see him, says I.

We went into the visiting room with Diego. He was flea bitten, he smelled, he was mangy and weighed 10 lbs. His head was the biggest part of his body. I talked to Shannon and we decided to think it over. Diego was taken back to his cage. When we went back to look at him in his cage he hissed at us. He had thought we had a deal, and it appears we had reneged.

We went back two days later to get Diego. When we go to his cage, he is laying listlessly on the floor, he picks his head up and blows a big snot bubble out his nose. Dude, that is no way to get adopted I tell him, you need to try and put your best foot forward.

Shannon calls a tech over.

Shannon – Excuse me . .

Tech – Can I help you

Shannon – Is this cat going to die, it looks sick. We like him, but we aren’t going to adopt him if he is just going die.

Tech – Uh, ma’am we can’t guarantee the pet will live, but . . .

Shannon – I’m serious, we don’t want this cat if it is going to die.

Tech – Well we can’t guarantee, he just has URI which is common for cats in a situation like this. If anything does happen to the cat, we can get you a new . . .

Shannon – I’m serious, we don’t want this cat if it is going to die. My husband is a big guy, but he is sensitive. He already lost one cat, and I am not going through that again any time soon, this cat better not die.

Me – Hey, I’m not that sensitive.

Shannon – Yes he is, I’m not going through that again any time soon.

Tech – Ma’am the cat should be fine, but I can’t guarantee. I see no indication of ill health.

Shannon – better not die . . .

So we took him. Diego was neither sophisticated or worldly so that name got dropped. Apparently he was found as a stray just a couple of blocks from where we lived.

Side Note: I don’t swear. Shannon has worked in the bar industry most of her life, and knows how to swear real well. When were first dating, she and I were bickering about something. She looks at me and says, you’re a . . ., you’re a. . . ., Mr Pants. To this day I have no idea what that meant, but I knew if we had a pet what its name would be, and Mr Pants it was.

We have had Mr Pants for over 5 years now. He has been a great cat. He is a 22 lb Maine Coon. He is sometimes referred to as Little Brudder, or Chubba Brudder. He doesn’t care as long as you don’t call him late for his food.

When we first brought him home, he was watching a bird, and jumped off the back of the couch, into the window. He smacked his head and fell to the floor. He would stare out the window for hours. There was a neighborhood outdoor cat that he would see, and cry and cry. It was then that we realized we would some day need to get Mr Pants a friend.

When Nicole was about 10, I was coming down the stairs to see Nicole with Mr Pants in her hands. Nicole then proceeds to toss him over her head to let him land in her bean bag chair. I have never seen his eyes so wide. Nicole looks at me and says, look he likes it. Don’t confuse fear with fun and don’t ever do that again I told Nicole.

Mr Pants is the kind of cat that will play with toys, but not if your watching. He likes to be close to you, but don’t bother him or he’ll move. He is always willing to befriend a cat out the window.

A Friend for Mr Pants, Me Too

Three years ago we decide to get a friend for Mr Pants. I want a Bengal, but Shannon is against getting a cat smart enough to do math. A friend had one, and it used to open doors, drawers, and turn lights on and off.

Time to go back to the humane society. This time we found a Manx, named Taylor. She is a cute little fireball. When we first got her Mr Pants was very excited. She was neurotic and a pain in the butt, and she hid under furniture 95% of the time. Initially we joked her name was Maybe, because she wasn’t getting along with Mr Pants, but was changed to Me Too when we noticed she followed me everywhere. She was surrendered from a household that had too many cats, so she tends to be a little territorial, and has space issues.

One of the first days we had her, I woke up one morning to find the stick feather string thing in the bedroom. I asked Shannon why she had brought that up from downstairs, and she mentioned she hadn’t. A couple of days later, I noticed Me Too running around the house with the feather in her mouth with the stick trailing after her.

Me Too is a goofy little cat. She doesn’t meow, she chirps and warbles. She loves to bird watch and is a great jumper. Her hind legs are powerfully built like a rabbit. We have found her on top of the refrigerator. She loves to take skitter toys in the master bathtub, which is a big soaker tub, and use it as her personal skitter rink. She tends to be pretty vocal as she plays with her toys.

Me Too now sleeps on my chest. She is on the skittish side, but in the last year she actually comes out when we have company. She is a sweet little cat, and will sit on Shannon or Nicole’s lap. Me Too has her own set of stories, but the post is getting a bit long.
At this point I can’t imagine not having a cat. They have been great additions to the family, and are a constant source of amusement.

Thanks to Snoskred for the opportunity to get out of my technical niche, and try a different bit of writing.

Thomas, this was a most incredible piece of writing – the best I have seen for a long time. I hate to tell you but I must be suffering from allergies too because I suffered that same side effect at almost exactly the same moment. Did anyone reading this find the same happened to them?

Many of us humans have had pets that have touched our lives in ways we could not possibly have imagined. I don’t know why but in Australia some men feel like it’s not “manly” to have a relationship with a cat. They are missing out on something special.

Thomas can be found at Thomas – Technical Blogger where he says – I don’t normally write sensitive cat pieces, more often I write “manly” technical content – and the manly content is also excellent and worth reading.

I love that picture of Little hiding. Mr Pants looks so relaxed and happy. Me Too looks like a real character. To me a house is not a home unless there is at least one cat. Two is even better!

Liv is the second blogger to take part in the Jump Out Of Your Niche series – if you are a blogger you can take part, instructions are here.

I live in a medium sized town smack in the middle of the deep South state of Georgia. It wasn’t always this way. I was born and raised in a shabby suburb of Atlanta, and then moved to a posh suburb following my marriage.

I lived a life that I was well equipped to by virtue of my Grandmother’s excellent training in etiquette and elocution. As a young, married woman I went to countless important occasions with important people where I was expected to be a darling Twinkie of a bride. And how. I wore mad hats and dresses, changed clothes at a moment’s notice to attend fancy dinners, and even have been known to sing on command for my erstwhile husband’s uber-powerful boss who loved the country standards of Loretta Lynn and Patsy Cline.

You can imagine that I was getting pretty used to this life when not too long after I deplaned from a celebratory jaunt to the Bahamas in 2000, it was announced that we were making for the country.

I was none too happy because I had recently jumped through a million hoops to get my dream job with a Fortune 500 company, and was making more money than I ever imagined I might. My spouse moved down south while I tied up loose ends at our apartment and with my job. I was assured that I would get a transfer to the local branch of my company in the smaller town, and with that, I wrapped up payroll for 450 people and packed my bags.

When I moved to the rental house I was greeted by a rather tasteless letter in the post that indicated I would not indeed be getting the job transfer, and I was thus unemployed. I instantly became enraged. With my own two hands and a stray knife that I found lying around, I pulled up every shred of carpet in the house and hauled it out to the street. I refinished the floors, retiled a bathroom, raked leaves, whacked down bushes, planted flowers, resurrected the lawn, and was horribly depressed. Productive, but depressed. I was home all day by myself in a town where I had no friends, and I was also in no condition to go find any. I could not find a job. I don’t even know if I wanted to find a job.

I finally found a job in late August of 2001 working with the Red Cross in public relations. I had training for 3 weeks, and then hit the road to a very small town in one of my nine county area. I gave the first of two presentations on the necessity of giving blood, and was on a break when a television was turned on. It was 9:15 on September 11th and the World Trade Center Towers were burning. There was no cellular service in the remote area, and I could not get in touch with the home office.

I’ll never forget the drive back to town. The leaves were beginning to turn colors, and I just vividly remember thinking that if I didn’t know what tragedy had befallen our country it would be impossible to even dream of given the beauty of that day.

Following 9/11, the Red Cross was a very bad place to be. Countless public relations disasters rocked the organization, and the working environment was hellish. We worked virtually around the clock for days before finding out that there was very little demand for the massive quantities of blood we collected because there were so few survivors. It was devastating. Add to this that I wanted to start a family, but with 4-5 anxiety attacks each day chased back with Xan*x, it would never happen. I made a choice to leave and go back to school.

I did go back to university, and I did get pregnant, and in September of 2002 I gave birth to a son. What is all of this really about? I think it’s about the journey to happiness. I didn’t think that I could ever be happy outside of my life in Atlanta. In some ways, I think I created many obstacles to living a joyful life. I sulked, and pouted, and created a lot of hell for myself.

The biggest lesson I have learned from this period (2000-2002) is that we have divine potential to manifest whatever we want in this life. If we want a pathetic existence, it is easy to come by. If we choose to wake up one morning, and demand radiance it’s out there for the taking. I feel fortunate to be awake these days—to be able to accept what comes with curiosity rather than contempt.

For now, I have chosen to stay in this small town. I have many wonderful friends, a business to run, and overall, a good life. Who knows where I’ll land ultimately, but right now, this good is good.

Liv is 30 with two kids and owns a yoga studio. Liv says “My career intention through yoga is to illuminate the innate strengths of mind, body, and spirit in others.” Liv certainly has found those things within herself, as this post clearly shows. You can read more from Liv at madness, madness I say!.

The Jump Out Of Your Niche series is now booked up until the end of October – don’t let it stop you though! I am still looking for bloggers to take part.