Continuous Improvement

What is it to learn? I mean to really learn. Sure, you can sit in a classroom and frantically scribble down the most prominent words of sentences that someone once heard and, now, is regurgitating to you. Yea, you can read what McGraw-Hill and Prentice Hall have decided is worthy-enough information to publish in a textbook. Mind you, this is the same textbook that thousands of other students around the world will devour, chapter by chapter, only to make a grade on their exam and, no sooner, put the information out of their mind. Absolutely, you can sit by while someone shows you, step-by-step, how to perform a task on a computer or change a spark plug on a vehicle. And while you are surely being taught, are you really learning? Or are you merely remembering? Maintaining a series of steps in a particular sequence in your head so that you might be able to mimic the task at hand?

I know I've said it a million times: "You'll never guess what I learned, today..." And then I'll go on to demonstrate something my ex showed me how to do, or give a synopsis of a lecture in one of my college courses. But really, when I sit back and think about it, other than storing information and presumably being able to recreate a situation at a later date, I'm never able to convince myself that I truly learned anything.

To me, learning has more to do with life, and the trials and tribulations that go along with it. Its about taking the underlying lessons from any given moment in life, carrying the lesson into a value-adding mindset, and using it to better yourself in the future. 

My dad recently said to me, "Ya know, Shel, you can't always learn things the hard way." I just nodded in agreement with him when he first said it, but upon some personal reflection on the statement, I think I've gained a greater understanding of what he truly meant by it. 

For the better part of my 23.5 years on Earth, I've managed to learn all my lessons, and I mean all of them, the hard way. I allowed my actions to fly freely, without creating any reservations derived from a preceding logical thought process. Instead of working towards damage prevention, I allowed whatever may happen to happen, and then played game after game of 52-card-pickup to sort through the aftermath of my actions. Without a doubt, anybody who knows me would be unable to tell you any different. I consistently and knowingly allowed myself to fall between a rock and hard place just to have to dig myself out again, time after time. I loved it. And every time that I managed to wriggle my way out of a tough situation, sometimes by only the skin on my nose, I felt an overwhelming sense of ability, invincibility, and know-how.

                 But doesn't that get exhausting? Don't you get tired of cleaning up the mess you made?

Somehow, amazingly, I still enjoy flying by the seat of my pants. Regardless of what situation I've gotten myself into in the past, I've always found a way to come back out on top. I've "learned" that if I can find the drive, I can find a way to get through it. "Where there's a will, there's a way," right?

And then, my mind makes it's way back to my father's statement. Why can't I continue to live life this way? If it's worked in the past, it'll work again. Learning the hard way is how I learn things. Wait....learn what? What I have I really learned? I haven't learned a damn thing. I've only recognized a pattern and accepted it as the way of life. Fall down, get back up. But isn't that just repetition? Isn't that just recalling how to do the same thing, over and over again?

To learn, would be to take conscious note of how many times I've had to pull myself up off my knees and fight to keep my chin held high. To learn, would be to walk away from each one of those situations with the ability to use what I've learned to keep myself from falling down the next time around. To learn, would be to grow, to gain stride, to move forward. And, if I'm truly learning, these moments of hardship will make less frequent appearances. And if I take full advantage of the knowledge to be gained from my faltering moments, my troubled tears would be few and far between.

Here's to learning the easy way. Here's to continuous improvement. Here's to a more productive next 23.5 years. 

Cheers! Xo 

Success is Not Final, Failure is Not Fatal; It is the Courage to Continue That Counts

Sometimes, in life, everything just falls apart.  

You feel like you're not moving towards anything...nothing at all. You can't afford to buy groceries, a week's worth of dishes are piled up in the sink and you don't even want to get out of bed. You hate your job and your relationships have faltered. Suddenly, everything you thought you knew about where you were headed and what you wanted, doesn't make a bit of sense.  

Sometimes, in life, you can't help but to feel that you're at your lowest point. 

You internalize, because you feel so embarrassed about the shape you're in. You start to discount your goals, because, at this rate, you just know you'll never reach them. You simply start settling for less. 

And when you're at your worst, it would not be proper for life to let you off the hook, just yet. Instead, you'll lose your job, or your house will flood, or your car will spontaneously combust and dismember into a million different pieces. Whatever it may be, it will surely throw you over the edge at maximum speed with no brakes and no soft landing in sight. 

And when you're breathlessly sobbing in the middle of your living room floor with your hands clenched into mini wrecking balls and your knees tucked close to your chest, only then, have you truly arrived at Destination: Rock Bottom.

I know that many people reach this point at least once in their lifetime. And I know that everyone will handle their situation differently. They have different resources available to them, a different support system, different means of getting by.

But for me, my family is my savior. My parents, now in their mid-50's, drove three hours across the state in a commercial van. They loaded up every single one of my belongings, like a real-life version of Tetris, into the back of this van and carted me off to a new beginning. As I followed them down the highway, I thought: "Here are my parents, despite the distance, despite the hardships in my relationship with them over the past year or so, despite the reason or the cause...here they are. Doing whatever it takes to help me, to give me the opportunity to build my life back up. Here they are, loving me...truly, unconditionally.

I cried for a good 45 minutes of that drive, as I followed my bedroom furniture and kitchen utensils down I-96. I had cried so, so many tears over those few months of desperation, but these were the first of the happy tears. The overwhelming pressure of pure love kept pushing tears down my cheeks like I hadn't cried in years. I felt an immense sense of gratitude towards my parents, who were glimmers of hope navigating their way through the debris of my broken heart. All I could do was cry.

Although I have many things yet to take care of in Operation: New Start, I am astounded at how quickly I have bounced back to high spirits. I dove, head-first, into being happy. I spent as much time as possible with friends, shared many meals, conversations and adventures with my family, and I just started a new job that I'm extremely proud of. I kept myself busy with DIY projects and going to the gym and simply doing things that I enjoy.

While it takes personal effort and a large amount of desire to succeed, I absolutely could not have turned my life around like this...without my family. They gave me just the right amount of shoulder to lean on, some tough love to motivate me and, once again, a roof over my head until I'm back on my feet. I would like to think that any parent would do the same for their child, but the hard truth is that not every parent would...not every parent can. I, in no way, feel that I am all-deserving of the support I received, but boy am I ever grateful. Grateful to have truly caring and loving parents, grateful to be where I am, grateful to be smiling and  for each step I take towards a successful life.

There are a few lessons learned that I would like to capitalize on:
1) A strong family is the most beautiful blessing you will ever receive.
2) No matter how deep your pain or how heavy the circumstances, you can always find the strength you need to inch towards a better life.
3) Hitting rock bottom is actually beneficial, albeit those benefits may be disguised by heartache, tears and loss of direction.
4) Never settle.

Although its not nearly enough, a huge, heartfelt Thank You goes out to my Subjects of Honor, Mike and Sue Jackson, for saving me from my Twenty-Something-Life-Crisis.

To My Mother

A tribute to my mother, of course to celebrate her accomplishments and abilities as an amazing Mom on Mother's Day. But also to acknowledge her strength and courage in the toughest of times, for maintaining her rock formation when all the pressure built up around her, and for enduring, some of what I can only imagine to be, the hardest moments a parent has to go through. You amaze me.

Here is a song that always makes me think of you, Mom, (because truly, you have always been the one woman who could do it all):



Through talking to my mother throughout the years, I gather more and more insight into the emotional and physical trials my parents went through when our youngest sister, Stephanie, was born, unexpectedly, with Spina Bifida in 1992. Just think of the information they had to learn and the changes they had to make in order to properly care for Stephanie. All of this, alongside maintaining a life for their other two children, Amy (the oldest) and myself. If there was ever a day my parents couldn't give me the attention I wanted or needed, I surely don't remember it.

Looking back at my childhood, I feel blessed. I know I've said this time and time again...but as a child of the Jackson household...we traveled and saw mountains and oceans and Disney Land. We hiked trails and went down water slides. We cooked meals over a roaring bonfire and absolutely lived for Christmas mornings. We got to play sports, and lots of them. We could play an instrument or kick a ball or shoot a basket...we could do whatever our little hearts desired (within reason, of course.) If my mother was ever troubled at any point during my childhood...I surely knew nothing of it and never saw an ounce of its aftermath. Life was good. I had friends down the street and learned to ride a bike with no hands, we had the world's best dog and a backyard full of lush green grass and a playset that doubled as a hideout, a lunch spot, a daredevil's paradise. We had a home....a really, really good one.

Now of course, these days have gotten away from us as we 'kids' have started our adult lives. But the memories are powerful and beautiful. I look around at some families today and feel sad that they don't have the same opportunities we were given as children. The memories of my childhood and the ache I feel for children who will grow up without similar ones...puts a drive in my soul to provide my future family with the best childhood they can have...just like mine.

Through all these years and all these memories...one thing always remained true. My mother was strong. She faced some really tough times as a parent of three young children. And just this past year, she was thrown into the ring again. We found out that my younger sister, Stephanie, needed a kidney. Both of her kidneys were failing at an alarming rate. Stephanie lost so much weight, and the symptoms started appearing one after another. With my older sister Amy, and myself out of the house, my parents were left to deal with this pretty much on their own. All the doctors appointments and medications, the diet changes and the fear. When new news came about, my mother informed me with a cool and collected tone. She remained strong and took the necessary actions, when all I could do was cry for my sister and ache for her healing. I know my mother pained and feared for Stephanie, of course she did...she is her daughter. I know my mother felt helpless at times. But I also know that through all of that, Stephanie found a kidney and is so much healthier and happier, because my mother (and father, of course) was strong and persevered through the agony only a mother can feel when her child is suffering.

I didn't realize, in the moment, all that you had gone through, Mom. I didn't realize that I could have done more to help, to be there. I don't think I allowed myself to fully comprehend all the stress and fear going on at home while I was miles away. And I am deeply regretful and sorry that I didn't do more to be more supportive and helpful. We are so lucky to have you in our corner, a mother who's main concern is the health and success of her children.

You are amazing every year, you grow every year, you are the world's best mother...every year. And I've always known that. But this year...you went above and beyond. When so many others would have burnt out and broken down...you maintained your ferocity. You not only maintained your ability to be  'Mom of the Year', but you flourished. Every single person out there that knows Stephanie's story, and how strong and feisty she was through all of this, also knows that her mother was beside her every step of the way doing whatever it took to make it through. This year, your "Momability" reached beyond us three girls. This year, you inspired those around you. This year, you triumphed and showed that Mom is Mom no matter what age your kids are. This year, you etched something new on my heart, a pride...an emotion, that will be there until the end of time. And in my own time as a mother, I hope to feel that mark tingle and burst out of my own chest in a time of need. Because, Mom, every woman out there can only hope to be half the woman you are.

I love you, Mom. My strong, beautiful, caring mother. My giver-of-life. My provider. My protector. My healer. My tear-catcher. My supporter. My inspiration. 

I once was lost, but now am found. Or I'm hoping to be found, anyway.

- What truly makes me happy?
- What will my life look like in two or three years?
- Will I be happy, then?
- Am I happy, now?
- Do I spend enough time doing the things I love?
- Do I see the people I care about often enough?
- Am I making the best effort that I can to lead an inspiring life?
- How can you inspire others if you aren't inspiring yourself, first?
- Lack of money is a problem.
- I need to live life for myself, not to please or impress other people.
- I have the most wonderful friends, I'm going to visit them more frequently.
- The day-to-day as a college student has gotten sad and tired
- My life has very little meaning right now, what can I do to add some color and excitement?
- How can I utilize my creativity? I really want to make things...

I am going to work towards finding the answers to some of these questions and to incorporate some of these desires into my life.

Someone extremely important and close to me recently made a statement to me that really struck hard:

"The Shelby I know is strong and works hard for what she wants. I don't see her, anymore."

I'm going to get my strength back. I'm going  to find what it takes to place the things I love back at the top of my list. I think I've lost sight of what it is I truly want. How can you work towards a goal you don't even have? How can you tell the strides you're making if there is no finish line?

Taming the Birds that Turn our Tongues to Fools

It's not worth all the hurt
or the tension between us
It won't do any good
to let emotions fly free
I'd struggle to say
all the words I've been thinking
They'll come out all wrong
and we'll both end up hurting

So tonight
I'll lay down my head
On a pillow of conscience
I'll dream of the life
our memories once shared
I'll lock all those thoughts
way down deep in my soul
and pray
for a better tomorrow

It's not worth all the hurt
or the tension between us
It won't do any good
to let emotions fly free
I'd struggle to say
all the words I've been thinking
They'll come out all wrong
and we'll both end up hurting

And when morning comes
I know I'll be free
Free of the hate
You brought me to, dear
I'll walk a little taller
than I did the day before
And I'll keep on walking
until the hurt, hurts no more

So tonight
I'll lay down my head
on a pillow of conscience
after I've swallowed my pride
and grown a bit stronger
Because its just not worth all the hurt
or all the tension between us
And it just won't do any good
to let all these emotions fly free

Growing Up...and Throwing Up.

   First, you wait in a line. A long, long line that wraps and curves into an endless maze of shuffling feet and a roar of different conversations. You spend way too much time examining the back of someones head, the tag sticking out of their shirt and their shoelace that is slowly coming untied. Then, finally, you feel like you're rounding the last bend in the metal railings that cage you in behind the lucky son-of-a-gun who gets to go before you...just to realize you're approaching yet another series of wrapping lines. You make a quick estimate of how long it will take you to get through it all and mindlessly begin shuffling along, once again.
    After what seems like three weeks of standing in line, you finally get to the front. You sit down in the hard plastic bucket seat and strap yourself in, good and tight. Then a man, in high-wasted khaki shorts pulls on the seat belt with all his strength, pinching your waist smaller than you thought humanly possible. As if that's not enough, a second pair of khaki shorts walks up and pushes down on the body harness squeezing your lady-bits or manhood to nonexistence. The thought of there being even the slightest possibility of you falling out of this miniature locomotive while being flipped and twisted backwards and upside down, is now completely diminished. Yes sir. You. Are. Safe.
    The crew all put their approving thumbs high up in the air, and the track lets out a great sigh of relief as the brakes are released and the carts begin to roll forward. As you exit the loading platform, the apologetic eyes of onlookers stare deep into your soul, judging your ability to handle what comes next by the expression you wear on your face. "Oh, she's done this a million times." "Uh oh, someone must have lost a bet, they're as white as a ghost," "That one's gonna hurl for sure."
    But as a first-time rider, nobody dares to tell you that fifteen seconds in you will drop at a ninety-degree angle straight to the ground just before being ripped back up into the sky and violently twisted upside down eight hundred times in a row. If they told you these things, you'd never even get in that seat. If they told you that when you get off the ride you'll be so dizzy that you can't walk straight for days, you would tie yourself to a tree and dare them to even try to get you to go. If they told you that you'd come out on the other side looking like all the green things in the world took residence on your skin, you'd tell them to get lost. So instead, they smile a bright smile and tell you it will be the ride of your life.

    But really, this crazy flippy, twisty, high-speed ride is life. You take 110-degree turns, travel so fast, at times, that your eyes water and occasionally ride through pitch-black tunnels where you can't even see your hand in front of your face. Your stomach might get sick, your head might feel like its screwed on backwards and you might feel like you've completely lost your way. One minute you're gliding along in a smooth straight line and the next you're upside down being soaked to the bone by a massive waterfall. There will most likely be a point where you'll think to yourself, "Okay, let me off this thing." And when the ride doesn't stop, you might get frustrated. But its nobody's fault...it's just life.

Not a Resolution List, Rather...A Lifestyle

In the past six months....

I have traveled to Europe
I have ridden on the back of a motorcycle for the first time
I have tried new foods
I moved to a new home with someone I had never met before
I explored an abandoned building
I've introduced myself to new people
I have driven a snowmobile for the first time
I did my first doughnut in a vehicle (intentionally)
I went to the beach in late October
I enjoyed a wine tasting
I went to a pig roast
I saved a bug's life instead of killing it
I rebelled and walked across a closed bridge
I floated on a pontoon anchored by an island
I watched two of my best friends get engaged
I watched one of my best friends through her pregnancy


In the next twelve months...

I hope to bungee jump or sky dive
I will graduate college
I hope to move to a new location
I hope to continue trying new foods
I hope to change my hair style
I hope to make new friends
I hope to travel somewhere I've never been (hopefully multiple places)
I hope to take a vacation to somewhere warm
I hope to have a new job
I hope to lose 40 lbs
I hope to have an even stronger love for my boyfriend
I hope to continue learning and growing as a person

But most of all, I hope to maintain a sense of adventure and enthusiasm for life
I hope to continue surrounding myself with those who matter most
And keep pushing forward towards my goals.

Happy New Year!