no title, just frustration

 A dessert. 

All I wanted a dessert made with Biscoff cookies and to go back to the wine garden.

But the line we found for that particular booth may have saved our lives.

It sounds dramatic, I know.

But the truth is we had only walked out of the building at the State Fair long enough to find the line before I heard a few pops and people started screaming and running.

My mother looked me straight in the eye, told me to turn around and keep going.

I didn't believe what I'd heard. How could it be gunshots?
We all walked through security.
It seems I've trained myself to believe I'm overreacting because I usually am... but this time it was real.

We found a games trailer on the midway and somehow got behind it.

I was already crying. At this particular point, my mind has caught up and realized that yes, I did hear gunshots.

I had crouched down, trying to calm down when two little girls were suddenly in front of me, crying and asking why everyone was running. I immediately tried to pull myself together because the last thing I wanted to do was make it worse and upset them.

My dad had ducked around to see what was happening, so my mom and I pulled the girls closer to us.
It seems their parents had gotten separated, but only for a minute or two.
Before I realized it, their mom was sitting in front of us on the phone, and their dad was handing me their infant sister so he could go look for his own brother.

Today, my mom told me that being handed that baby was the best thing that could have happened to me. She says I was going into shock, but everything changed once I was holding that baby. She looked at me with the widest eyes, and I knew I had to calm down because babies always know. Eventually I was able to hand her back to her mom.

There are definitely moments that I don't remember.
I don't remember the girls getting under the trailer, but I remember asking the little one her name.

She was crying so hard that I couldn't understand her.
I remember she asked me my name, and I remember my mom and I holding hands with the two little girls as my mom prayed.

I don't remember the girls getting out from under the trailer.
But I remember my mom helping me up when an employee told me we could go because my legs felt like Jello. Later, I realized I had dirt all over my leggings from basically crawling on the ground so those little girls never felt alone in the chaos.

My parents and I were walking away from the midway, and it was so calm... as if nothing happened.
It wasn't until we made it around the Cotton Bowl and closer to the rodeo arena that an announcement was made. All I understood was "shelter in place" and people started running again.

We went into the arena, where the announcer told everyone there was a confirmed active shooter.

I kept trying to let work know what was happening, but the networks were definitely struggling.

It felt like forever before we were able to leave... I think it may have been about 20 or 30 minutes. I really don't know, my sense of time last night was terrible. I was in a daze, because of course, all I could think about was how any of this was possible.

How my best friend could be killed in a shooting a month after she walked out of a food court and missed a shooting... and how I walked out of a food court seconds before a shooting. 

How I happened to be in the same spot where I had a panic attack on the midway years ago because the sound of the shooting games made me think someone was actually shooting. 

How someone would bring a gun into a place like the State Fair and then use it in a room of crowded people, only to scare all of us, including small children.

How those poor little girls didn't deserve to go through those terrifying moments, how I hope we were able to help them, and how I hope they forget everything that happened.

I wish I could.

No one died. And I am incredibly grateful.
But the feeling of hearing gunshots, running for cover, and having to tell those sweet girls everything was fine when I didn't know that for sure... when I didn't know if I even believed it.

Just over 24 hours later, I can't stop thinking about how terrified I was. How angry I am.

So here I am, writing this because I have to get it out of my head and off my chest. 
I am okay.
But that doesn't mean this is easy.

I will be thinking about this one for a while.

I never got that dessert, but thank God for that line.
It really may have saved our lives.

Another trauma. A different response.

Hard to believe that I've not written here since 2017. It's like a time capsule of myself, and the things that happened in the past. The things that have happened since then... I don't know if the Emily of then would believe them.

This year marks 10 years since my best friend Jessica's murder. Next week marks 10 years since she narrowly escaped a shooting in a Toronto mall... only to die in a mass shooting just over a month later.

I was barely 24... I didn't know how to process it then.
I turn 34 in two weeks... and I don't know how to process it now.

This week, the nation faced another tragedy with a mass shooting in Uvalde, just 80 or so miles from my hometown of San Antonio... which previously suffered a loss with the shooting in Sutherland Springs in November 2017. That happened a month after I wrote my blog post about the shooting in Las Vegas.

This time around, I am a manager. People look to me for decisions, strength. And I feel like I've failed.

I'm writing here again partially at the suggestion of a counselor, who says the physical illness I've been dealing with since Tuesday is a response to trauma. She says my body can't deal with any more internalizing. I need to externalize, rather than try to swallow it, because this is how it is manifesting. I have a horrible headache, I've thrown up several times, I'm hardly eating (couldn't even bring myself to finish a kid's meal today), I cry randomly, and I can't focus the way I need to for work.

I know I'm carrying everything inside. And it's eating at me. Uvalde was the tip of the iceberg, when we heard two dead, then minutes later it was more than a dozen. My heart stopped. I knew there were babies in that school. Children who would never go home to their mommies and daddies again. They were laying there alone, just the way so many others have at different scenes.

I didn't know for months that Jessica did not die in the theater, so I had nightmares about her laying inside alone. I eventually found out she was taken to a hospital, which gave me some comfort... but I knew other people weren't given that chance. And I know she was likely gone before she got to the hospital, but at least I know she wasn't alone.

I see these pictures, these names... and I think back to all of the shootings I've ever covered. The loved ones who thought they were just going to school... to church... to a movie theater. 

I'm going to share this. Not for sympathy, although prayers/good thoughts/happy vibes are welcome, but because I don't want anyone else to go through this. I know my job requires a lot of me. I know part of this comes with the emotional trauma I've carried for 10 years.

I thought I was bigger than this. I thought I could handle it myself. I thought I had to be strong for everyone, but I don't know that I was being strong for myself.

Part of me hopes that by being upfront about my own struggles and sharing them, I will find some healing and maybe even help someone else.

The counselor I spoke to today asked if I've been to therapy. I have, it's just been a few years. And even then, a car wreck is what got me there. But that therapist told me my deeper rooted issues stem from the trauma of losing a loved one in a mass shooting. I didn't totally understand - how could I carry this when I wasn't even there? Is it my fault? Is it all in my head? Should I be stronger than this? 

She said there was a lot to work through, a lot that I carry - guilt, anger, pain, grief. Then I moved. A pandemic happened. And I didn't go back to therapy.

I called our EAP line today and asked for help to find a counselor, so I am going back. And if you need help - for anything - I hope you ask for it.

I am the world's worst about asking for help. I've always carried this chip on my shoulder that I had to be good at everything immediately. I hide a lot. I internalize. It's done some damage, and you'd think I would learn... but that appears to be an ongoing lesson.

I'm okay. The social worker at EAP asked if I was in any danger - I'm not. I am not suicidal, I know that things do get better (sort of, but this keeps happening), and I know that I am okay. But I can't go on like this. I have to do something.

Right now, it's writing this. I spent a half hour with a counselor earlier, and hopefully I will be in regular counseling by next week.

I know I've rambled here. It's been a bit of a freestyle exercise, just to get it out of my system. And if it helps someone, then at least I've made a difference.

Vegas.

A concert.

That's all it was.
A place where people could enjoy music, friends, and escape the craziness of reality - until it came to them.

I was at a concert on October 1st - thankfully, hundreds of miles away in Texas - but my head has traveled to that "what if" space. I've even seen Jason Aldean live - in a very similar setup, right outside the Dallas Omni hotel.

I can't imagine.

And yet I can.

For the friends and families of the 59 people who lost their lives, I don't have to totally imagine what they're going through. Because I know. I am well-versed in the road they face, because I've already walked it. I've felt the pain and the anguish and the frustration.

I wish I could say it goes away.
But it doesn't.
It gets easier to manage, but then life goes on, nothing changes, and the worst of the world unfolds in yet another neighborhood. And it all comes back.

I felt sick when I heard about the concert shooting. It seems you can't go anywhere anymore without knowing it could happen - and it probably has - a concert, a school, a movie theater.

The videos that conspiracy theorists point to for proof of a faked shooting or to find something where there is nothing - they hurt. It wasn't my loved one this time, but the sounds of that gun were sickening. It's the sound of a weapon similar to the ones I've been told killed my best friend.

So I know. And I hurt. And I wish there were something, anything I could do for those left behind. I will never know exactly what the families are going through - to have someone you've loved their whole life taken away - it breaks my heart.

But the friends. I understand them.
When you're single and in your 20s, friends are your other family. You know the ones you know you can trust with just about anything - and who will pick you up when you don't want the world to see you fall.

That was Jess for me.
Having her ripped away in such a public, tragic, senseless way was one of the most painful things I think I will ever face.

To the friends of those killed - and even those recovering: you may not believe it, but you will find strength you never knew you had. I've heard it for years. I still don't always believe it, but I know what I've been through isn't for the faint of heart.

You may think you don't need help - but don't be afraid to get it. Sometimes I wish I had. I've been okay, but I wonder if I could be better.

If you feel guilty - don't. You can't change what happened. You didn't pull that trigger. And the friend you lost or are helping fight their way back - they need you. The person they love, not the guilt you feel. I've felt so much survivor's guilt over the years - I wasn't there, I didn't tell her I loved her one last time, I made it to another birthday and she didn't. It's been five years and I still have to tell myself that there's nothing I could do. And I shouldn't feel guilty, because Jess would want me to be happy. She would want me to LIVE.

There will be things that are hard to face. I struggled going back into a movie theater - heck, I still mentally prepare myself. I have moments of panic in crowds - not all the time, just randomly. I've cried at the sound of a BB/pellet gun game at the fair - just flat out went from laughing to crying my eyes out in about 10 seconds. Monday morning, I skipped a trip to the fair because the last place I wanted to be was in a crowd.

But I won't hide. Because the person who took Jess' life doesn't control me from a prison cell. I hope you won't let the person who did this to your friend control you. That's not living. And you have to live.

Go back to a concert. Sing loud and dance if you want. Don't let the fear of what happened once stop you from doing something you love.

And take life one day at a time. Because we're not promised tomorrow. But we still have today.

#dallasstrong

I've always been proud to be from Texas. While I will always call San Antonio home - Dallas has a piece of my heart.

Six years of my life have been spent in north Texas; half on the western side of the Metroplex, the other half on the side where the bright green lights on the Bank of America building are always visible.

(Not long after I moved to Dallas - this is part of the city's BIG campaign)

Thursday.

I didn't know what had happened in downtown right away. It took a message from a friend asking me if I was okay to know that someone was shooting in downtown, just a few miles from me.

My heart sank reading Twitter updates while getting ready for work. I knew it would be a long morning - far from the chaos in downtown, but still crazy. (I've never seen so many people in the newsroom with us all night long.) I couldn't think straight most of the night, but I had a job to do.

My coworkers went on air at 9pm Thursday. We didn't go off the air until 8am the next morning.

Friday.

I had to hold back tears several time at my desk Friday morning, as the number of officers killed continued to go up. I can't unsee the image of an officer face down on the ground, motionless next to a squad car. When we walked out of the control room at 8am, I finally let myself really cry. And that wasn't the last time.

I used to work in downtown Dallas. I walked all over the part of the city that's now a crime scene. The men and women who wear that Dallas Police badge are the same ones who held doors for me, said hello as I crossed the street, drove by and waved. And it broke my heart to hear Chief Brown say how much they needed our support.

I've never been prouder to live here. But I've been fortunate to see the unity and feel the change in the air just driving around. One person inflicted so much pain and heartbreak on us, but I know we will get through it. We're Texans - we're resilient.

And it's been amazing to see how the world is responding - several newsrooms sent my station food. My morning team even got a Starbucks gift card from our counterparts in San Antonio. It's been absolutely incredible.

When I left work, I didn't care that I hadn't slept. I had to do something, so I tried to give blood at city hall. I actually got turned away because the blood drive was almost over, but I did run into a DPD officer. I really wanted to give him a hug, but I made sure to say thank you.

I passed Dallas Police HQ on my way to city hall. This is what I found.

Saturday.

Just driving around downtown earlier reminded me this is still our city. We live here, we work here, we play here - and we love being here. No one can take that away.

It won't be long before downtown is busy again, with the sounds of life moving forward. Our hearts will heal, but they won't forget.

(taken next to DPD headquarters last summer)

#istandwithdallas #dallasstrong

On my heart, never off my mind

This blog has become an outlet for my pain, my heartache when the reality of the world becomes too much to hold inside. I'm a pretty emotional person, so to say the shootings in Orlando hurt is an understatement.

I doubt that I know anyone in the Orlando club shooting, but I have close friends in the area. I also have a number of LGBT friends. This is close to home.

I really started blogging after my best friend's murder in Aurora nearly four years ago, and in that time, I've written about at least three mass shootings. Those are just the ones I've written about - Sandy Hook was so emotionally draining from working that day that I couldn't write another word about it.

Then I read the death toll this morning. 50 people killed. 50 beautiful, innocent lives, taken in a burst of hate.

We ask "why?" over and over, but the answer has yet to be found. We get sad and angry, but then we forget until the next mass shooting. Trust me - those of us who are unfortunate card carrying members of the "I lost a loved one to gun violence" club, we do not forget.

I feel the pain of my own loss every time I see, write, or hear "mass shooting." My heart breaks for the families waiting to learn the worst, and the survivors who have to live with this tragedy in their own way. I wish I could say it gets better with time, but I'd have to say it depends on the day.

No one deserves any of this, and surely, we as a nation deserve better.

As I write this, one of my friends in Orlando just marked herself as safe on Facebook. While I'm thankful for her safety and the idea that prevents me from having to worry, I'm just sad this even has to exist.

Orlando, I love you. Your city is home to one of my favorite places to vacation in the world, and it's not lost on me that I was almost there this weekend. Instead, I was at the movies last night with my family - another place I've struggled to feel safe in since Jessica's death.

I'm praying for the city, the families, the friends, the first responders, and those who made it out. I'm also praying for those with hate on their hearts. The ignorance and the violence have to end. We live in what I still believe is the greatest country in the world, but our own hate has become our own undoing.

It's about love, not hate.

Two beautiful smiles, taken from this world just a few months apart.

The sweet little boy on the left is Noah Pozner. He should be celebrating his ninth birthday with his twin sister today. The sassy redhead on the right is my best friend, Jessi. She would've been 28 next week.

Instead, they're frozen in time as a 6-year-old and 24-year-old, as victims of gun violence in 2012.

But this post isn't about what happened to them in Newtown and Aurora. This is about how they're remembered three years after their deaths.

I never had the pleasure of meeting Noah, but his sister, Danielle, is now a friend of mine. This morning, she posted a message on Facebook calling for acts of kindness in his honor today. Of course, I'm happy to oblige. I'm hoping this post will inspire others to do the same.

Coincidentally, today marks one week to Jessi's birthday. Every year, I write a letter to her on this blog as my way of working through the pain that rears its ugly head every so often, especially around important dates such as November 27.

The year she was killed, I decided to put together a social media project in her honor called "Mustaches for Jessi". It was my way of honoring her memory (and love for mustaches and social media!) in a happy, creative way. So many people participated that year - and it brought me so much joy when I was hurting most.

Last year, I dropped the ball. And now that we've been able to close the door on what happened in Colorado with the ending of the trial this year, I've tried to put it away in my heart, but never forgotten her.

I broke out my mustache scarf today, just as my own personal reminder that she's still close to me in spirit. Then it occurred to me that her birthday is just around the corner - it snuck up on me, seeing as I can't even believe it's November.

So rather than push for mustaches all month, I decided to stick to just her birthday. This is where I ask for your help to make that happen.

If you're interested, all I'm asking for is your best mustache photo. It can be real, fake, a finger 'stache - whatever you want. I have a Twitter account set up (@Mustaches4Jessi) so I can share them with the world. I would rather the world remember her for something she loved, and not the moment that ended her life.

Because to be honest, I need to do something that's about love, not hate.

I spend so much of my workday writing about the hateful, awful moments in our world. Why not contribute to the beauty that we tend to forget? Noah and Jess were people we loved long before they were part of the headlines.

I hope you'll help me celebrate both of their lives.

Emily
@emehlee
@Mustaches4Jessi
#ily

Small victories.

I went to the movies today.

I can count on both hands how many times I've been to a theater over the last three years. It takes a lot to get me to go, because I'm nervous. I still have the occasional panic attack, like the one a few weeks ago. I thought I heard a gunshot on the midway at the State Fair. It was a game, but I still burst into tears.

But today was a big deal for me. Today was the first time I didn't panic in the theater.

I didn't look at the emergency exit. I didn't plan my escape route. I just let myself be. It took three years, but that's some major progress.

Don't get me wrong - this doesn't mean I'm fine and I'm going every week again. But it is a step towards healing, which is a process.

Anyway, I just felt this was a small victory that deserved some documentation and acknowledgment.

Remembering Roanoke

Someone pointed out recently how long it's been since I wrote a blog. What I woke up to this morning was enough to make want to cry, then pull out my laptop and just spill everything on my heart.

Two lives, taken by a gunman. 

Sadly, this is something I could've written for my newscast just about any day of the week. What made it sink in: they're in my business and this happened on live television.

Courtesy: Twitter

I didn't know Alison Parker or Adam Ward, but it wouldn't be a stretch to say I could have worked with them at some point in our careers. And this industry is so small, I knew I was bound to know someone who knew them. (I do.) Their lives were ended this morning by a man who used to work in TV himself.

I suspect this could be true of other businesses, but in TV, I promise you: we are family. You spend long hours with people who get to see everything about you - good, bad, and the ugly. You spend holidays together, you work in high stress situations, and you get to celebrate your big moments, like an exclusive interview - or heck, just free donuts in the newsroom. Sometimes they're your roommates, your drinking buddies, your best friends, or something more.

I sit in a control room five days a week and watch my reporters & photogs prepare to go live. I talk to them - sometimes we joke, sometimes we snap at each other, but there's an unspoken belief that you'll see each other again and that things will be fine. What happened this morning in Virginia is proof that is not guaranteed.

I've seen people yell at my coworkers, throw things at them - it's awful. And there's nothing I can do for them. I've even had to write a formal statement for police about what I saw from the control room as one of my reporters was assaulted. It's terrifying to feel so powerless. I can only imagine what it feels like for those in the field. 

I can't imagine being in that control room this morning. And in a few weeks, I will be that producer in the control room early in the morning. 

Adam, the photographer, was engaged to the morning show producer. Alison was in a relationship with another reporter. My heart breaks for both of them, especially because I know firsthand how it feels to lose someone you love to a gunman. (Coincidentally, the person who killed my best friend is also all over Twitter today because he was formally sentenced to life in prison.) 

If you've watched the video, I'm sorry. If you haven't, please don't watch - and please do not share it. Without knowing them, I can already promise you that Alison and Adam were more than what happens in that video. They deserve to be remembered for more than that. And their loved ones deserve not to have that moment thrown in their faces over and over again.

This is about Adam and Alison, the people who loved them, and the realization that at any moment, we (or someone we know) could be one of them... this is not about the person who ended their lives.

I wish I could walk into the WDBJ newsroom today and hug every single person there. I know I'm nobody, but that's my personality. This hurts me, and I wish there were something I could do for any of them. Instead, my heart is with them.. and maybe in some way, my words, thoughts, and prayers will be felt there. Television news is a small business, and they are like extended family. 

Courtesy: @visitvbr

This post also wasn't intended to forget Vicki Gardner, the third victim in this shooting. She is also in my prayers, and assuming she does recover physically, I'm praying for her emotional recovery. It will be a long one.

Hug a journalist. Remember the collective "media" is made up of people who see some awful stuff. We feel it... and sometimes, we can't just write about the news - we're part of it.

Birthday turkey?

My dearest, darling Jess -

For the first time, I'm writing this on your actual birthday.. which is also Thanksgiving Day. Your last two birthdays have been really hard, but I'm feeling pretty hopeful on this one.

I have so much to be thankful for this year. I have my family - my brother is home safe from his deployment! - my health, my job, an amazing amount of people who seem to love me for the ridiculously strange person I am, and this really wonderful angel I know I've had looking out for me. (And given my clumsiness, I know you've been working overtime.. except for that time last week I bit it in the Target parking lot.. and I KNOW you laughed.)

There have been some struggles this year, but I can't help wondering if that's just part of being in your mid-twenties. It makes me a little angry, but mostly sad that I can't really share that with you. We should be laughing, eating turkey AND birthday cake, and roller skating - because that doesn't sound like a disaster waiting to happen.

People are brought into your life for a reason, right? I know you were brought into my life right when I needed you - someone who could remind me of the important things in life.. to laugh, love, and LIVE. It's that tremendous loss that I like to pretend I don't feel because it still hurts.. which is probably why I just burst into tears.

Some things have gotten easier to handle over what has almost become two and a half years. (How is that possible?) I don't cry every time I think about our adventures - in fact, I have listened to "Chelsea Dagger" more than ever this week - and I dance! (Shh.) I can talk about you without needing to break down - most of the time. I usually find myself just talking to you out loud in the car, which means half of Dallas probably thinks I am a crazy person. They might be right. :)

Two years ago, after everything that happened, I started the "Mustaches for Jessi" project to honor you. I tried to start it again this year, but things kind of got away from me. Cue the guilt trip - some best friend I am. I'll try again next year - promise.

While my plate has been full - and I'm sure you know the details - it's not that you haven't been on my heart or my mind. I recently got to meet our pal Tony and his family - it was a fantastic reminder of all of the wonderful moments and people you brought into my life, and for that I am forever thankful.

Enough rambling - I've got to get ready for work, because some things never change! :)

I love you, I miss you... you better be saving that spot for me at the big hockey rink in the sky. I'll bring the Crown... or we can shotgun beers.

Happy 27th birthday, Jess.
ily.

Some things change, others stay the same.

A lot about my life has changed drastically in two years.

I have moved across the country, changed jobs, gotten a new car, made the switch from Apple to Android, dated a guy or two, and tried to fill the void left behind by the loss of my best friend.

As I sit here writing at 4am, I can't help but think about the late night phone calls and texts that seemed endless, even though we lived in different time zones. Any time, day or night, I could count on a text about Jess' day or a quick "hello" and "I miss you."

It was a late night moment that changed my life forever when she was killed in that movie theater. To this day, I can pretty much count on one hand the number of times I've been to the movies since then. It's sad; movies were almost a weekly outing when I was in college. Now, I can't help but feel uneasy walking into a theater. I've made myself go anyway, but it's not the same.

So now I find other things to do. And I find new ways to distract myself when I know it's too much to think about. This weekend, I am taking off work and staying out of the house so I can remind myself it's a beautiful July day in Dallas and I should be thankful I am alive and living my life, just like she would want me to do. 

But the thought will still be there. In the back of my mind, I will still remember where I was July 20, 2012; crying in my room in South Bend, wondering why she had to go through yet another shooting.. and why this time she wasn't as lucky. Wondering why someone would feel a need to walk into a movie theater and open fire, killing people he'd never met. Telling everyone I would be okay, even when I didn't feel like myself and wasn't sure what I would do next.

I thought she would always be around. We had all of these random plans - trips to Canada, Turks and Caicos, Vegas.. places she loved and wanted to share. We were going to show the world who we were and what we could do; prove that we weren't just little Texas girls with big dreams and zero talent. Now I'm going it alone.

I've lost people in my life before, but this was different. This was so violent and public; so shocking and terrifying. And the people I'd said goodbye to before were important, but they weren't my best friend.

Her death felt like I had the rug pulled out from underneath me. Suddenly I realized nothing is guaranteed.. and the person who knew more about me than 99.9% of the world was gone. Few understand everything about me - my frustrations, my tears, my awkwardness, my jokes, and my personality - but Jessi got it. And I got her.

She still reminds me she's here now and again. I've smelled her perfume out of nowhere, heard songs we shared when I needed them most, and felt that breeze that could pass for a hug. I've seen things that shouldn't make me laugh, but I know we would both crack up over them.. and an eerie calm when I'm in the middle of a breakdown over the problem of the moment.

I'm not sure how two years have really passed; in some ways, it feels like yesterday. In others, it feels like an eternity. Every birthday, every accomplishment, every minor celebration makes me feel like I'm leaving her behind. And I feel guilty for that. Some say I'm really just taking her along with me.

I will never be who I was on July 19, 2012 again. Some things have changed, but part of that Emily has come back. She's a little tougher, a little more compassionate, and a little more jaded. But I can't help but think of the line from "Wicked"... "because I knew you, I have been changed for good."

Two years later, I still call Jess my best friend. That is one thing that will never change.

Should you feel so inclined, please donate to the Jessica Redfield Ghawi Foundation.

#ily

The new normal.

I live to write and write to live, so sometimes I just have to get everything out of my head and out onto a screen/piece of paper.

My heart is broken, because once again, more families have been forced into the club I was thrown into almost two years ago. It's a group no one wants to be a part of, yet it grows every day.

Another shooting at Fort Hood. I remember the 2009 shooting, because my sorority big sister and her husband were stationed there and I was terrified they might be affected. It was horrifying having to be the one to break the news to her after learning she was safe off post and had no idea what happened. Thankfully, her husband was okay.

Five years later, I've lost someone I love in a mass shooting that made national headlines. I know what it's like to have a piece of your life destroyed and the damage echoed all over TV in the microscope that is the media. And I'm also a part of the media.

Every time I hear "active shooter", I feel sick. I'm thrown back to July 20, 2012 and the pain that has become a regular part of my life since. The feeling of loss, grief, and anger is all too familiar. Working in news just makes it harder, because you can't look away.

On top of that, it hurts to think of a shooting on a military installation. I'm a military brat who spent the first ten years of life on several bases around the U.S. and loved living on them. I always felt safe. When my dad left the military and we moved offbase/back to Texas, it was a bit of a culture shock to live without SPs and security gates.

I feel for all of the families involved in today's tragedy, but the ones I really want to hug are the kids. The children and teens who live on post, who didn't know if their parents were okay.. I want to hug them. I can't imagine how frightening it must be, especially for those who may be aware of the 2009 shooting. I hope they find some peace and security.

I'm also praying; not just for Fort Hood, but for our country. This has to stop. It's ridiculous, senseless, devastating, and just wrong. I can't say I have all the answers to solve the problem, but obviously we're not doing something right.

I would never wish what I've been through on anyone, but with the way things are going, more people are going to understand that heartbreak. This shouldn't be normal, and yet it almost is.

Happy 26th birthday, Jess

My dearest, darling, dorky redhead:

Your birthday post is early yet again this year.. because the holidays are upon us and I will be working the next 34507223072436 days. Okay, not quite. But it seems like it. So here it is.

Another day, another year, another birthday.

This time last year, I was sitting in my apartment in South Bend, wondering how I was going to get back to Texas and how I would get through it without you. I knew I could do it, but I also knew it wouldn't be easy.

I still feel some guilt thinking about everything that's happened in my life over the last 16 months. I'm back in Texas, trying to figure out who I am and who I want to be. My outlook on the world isn't exactly what it was before you left it. I still love news, but sometimes it's just too painful. So much sadness in the world, and it's my job to face it. Tell it like it is.

So I try to find some good. Some happiness. I try to remind people to go for their goals, even if they seem ridiculous or out of reach. I know, it's cheesy, but I feel like that's part of you working in my heart. I wanted to find the best of you and keep it alive. Your spirit, your fire, your passion. The belief that it's not over until I say it's over, not when someone else tells me it is. That I am worth more than I could ever imagine, even when I don't feel like it.

26. You would've been an old woman. I kid, I kid. I can't help but imagine what you would've done - what we would've done by now. Maybe I would've been to Colorado. I believe there would've been more phone calls, texts, adventures. More reminders that I don't suck, I can do this, and not to be my own worst enemy. (Still working on that.)

And maybe this little bit of wisdom as written by the great Dr. Seuss:

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go...” 

When I started writing this, I tried doing the math on how many days, hours, minutes you've been gone. Why, I don't know. It just became too overwhelming.. and we both know I'm terrible at math anyway. Maybe I just wanted to put how much I miss you into some kind of number.

But that's impossible.

A new friend of mine recently put two and two together and realized you're the friend I've lost. I was shocked. I'm still amazed by the impact you've had on people around the world. They know your name, your face, your red hair, your dreams.. and I'm still telling your story. Not necessarily the one in the papers, magazines, and blogs, but the one I know about the girl who tripped on air, loved the Oxford comma, and had a heart of gold.

Jess, in some ways I've been dreading your birthday. It's another reminder you were taken far too soon and that we have to go on without you. Physically, that is. You're still on my phone screensaver, so I see you and think of you every day.

But there have been moments that I am convinced you are by my side. Earth lost a beautiful soul, but Heaven gained one, and I scored one badass guardian angel. I like to think you're there when I have my singalong dance parties in the car, when I find myself crying my eyes out over whatever problem of the moment is at hand, and when I feel scared or worried.

That's pretty much all the time.

I try not to cry because it's over, but smile because it happened. And your favorite Emily-ism: remember that there's a light at the end of the tunnel, but I don't know if it's the sun or a train. So can you do me a solid and stop the train? ;)

Thank you for giving me so many wonderful memories, beautiful friendships with those who loved you as much as I do, and all the little pushes I've felt when I needed them most. I love you dearly, and I always will.

Happy (early) birthday, Jess.
#ily

Not just another day on the calendar.

June 10. February 21. December 14. May 9. July 20. 

We all have those dates - anniversaries - that linger in our thoughts, tied to some memory, good or bad. 

I'd also have to include September 11, 2011... and of course, September 11, 2001.

The pictures and memories of 9-11 have already started to pop up on Facebook and Twitter, as we all remember the day that knocked America on its back. 

We were a broken and bleeding country then; in some ways, we still are. I was 13, an eighth-grader sitting in math class when I heard the news. 20 minutes later, I watched one of the towers fall on live television. 

That was a defining moment in my childhood. I witnessed part of an attack on the country I love dearly, knowing that hundreds, thousands of people died in the rubble. I was far away, but I could see that block of NYC clearly from my visit just a few years earlier. Just thinking about seeing it in person before and after breaks my heart.

Ten years later, I was a 23-year-old college graduate, trying to make it in the TV business. My best friend had come to visit me for a big football game, and I was determined not to focus on the anniversary. 

We were crazy; driving several hours for the game, tailgating most of the day, and then I drove all night to be up for work the next morning. I had to drop her off at the Detroit airport first.. early on the morning of September 11, 2011.

This exact moment two years ago, I was sitting in an Ann Arbor apartment, figuring out the best way to the airport. Then we stopped for pizza at an all-night place, and headed to the drop-off by 4am. I remember telling Jessica to be careful. God forbid some crazy person try something stupid on such a major anniversary. It was almost eerie letting her go.

I didn't know at the time that it would be the last time I saw her.

My heart feels heavier just thinking about it. A haunting feeling of not wanting her to go, and now realizing there was more than one reason why. 

September 11 will never be just another day on the calendar. It will always mark a day my generation lost part of its innocence, and my last hug from my best friend. 

Not "goodbye", just "see you soon".

It's been a full year, and I still struggle to say "my best friend was killed in Aurora."

Seven words with a lot of power. They hang over my head some days, especially when I want to laugh with Jess about something, or just call and cry about the really bad day I've had. Instead, I find myself sitting in my car talking out loud as if she's right next to me and can hear every word I'm saying.

Because I'm convinced Jessica Redfield Ghawi can hear every single word I'm saying... and usually has something to say back.

Right now, I'm sitting in the exact same spot I was one year ago today, when my world was turned upside down.

I woke up to several messages of condolences, and had no idea what they were talking about until I got to one: "I can't believe Jessica was in the theater shooting." I swallowed the scream building in my throat and rushed to get online to see if it was true.

I fell apart, right here on my bed. Just plain lost it, sobbing. The memory is still fresh; I've relived it several mornings since. The feeling in my chest is not one that I imagine will go away anytime soon. Then I have to think about the good times... when my heart was not broken, but full because I knew no matter what ridiculous thing I did, I had Jessica to turn to for a laugh or a shoulder when I needed it.

Like the time she passed out on my couch and insisted it ate her phone charger. I still don't know where that cord is, but she was convinced it was in my apartment. I've moved, and still haven't seen it.

Or laughed at me for reading the 50 Shades of Grey series. And then admitted she'd read them too. We finally agreed we really just wanted to know what the hype was about. (Here's where y'all start laughing, I'm sure.)

When she texted me to say she had Julio's chips in her suitcase and was headed back to Colorado. I asked why she couldn't just bring them to South Bend first, but she told me to get my own. Rude.

One of my favorite memories is our trip to a liquor store in Ann Arbor. We walked in, cowboy boots on, asked to "borrow" several bottles of minis, then stuffed them in our boots and walked around to see if we were comfortable. The guys in the store stopped and watched as we debated over certain bottles and who would walk with what, then proceeded to buy everything we "borrowed".

Here's the outcome of that charade:

The last time I saw Jessica face to face was early the next morning: September 11, 2011. I dropped her off at the Detroit airport after the Michigan-Notre Dame game. It was about 4am, and I had to drive back to South Bend for work. She grabbed her stuff, hugged me, and reminded me we needed to plan my Denver trip.

The one I wanted to take last October, after Frontier Airlines launched a non-stop flight between South Bend and Denver. Of course, Aurora happened in July, I never made it to Denver, and earlier this week, Frontier announced it will end its nonstop SBN-DIA flight this September. It kind of stung to hear the news; just something else I was supposed to do that I won't in the wake of her death.

So today, I'm asking you to do two things. Not a lot of effort required, but both can have a lot of impact. First, take a picture of yourself wearing a fake/finger/real mustache and send it to @Mustaches4Jessi or share it on our Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/MustachesForJessi

I launched the project to celebrate her 25th birthday, but I would love the smiles today. I think all of us on #teamjessi would.

And there are many of us hurting. To Sandy & Lonnie, Jordan, Jay, Brent, Bridget, Linda, Peter & Lauren, Nate, Jennifer & Mike, Tony, Christian, Danielle, Ashley, Jessica, Leslie, Darrel, Larry, and anyone else I may not have named: you have become my second family through all of this. Some I know better than others, but it's our love for Jess that brings us closer and helps get me through some of the really, really hard times... and even helps create some great memories. Thank you for everything you've done for me.

My last small request: call your best friend and tell him/her you love them. Because as my beautiful, crazy, redheaded best friend wrote just days before her death:

"I was reminded that we don’t know when or where our time on Earth will end. When or where we will breathe our last breath. For one man, it was in the middle of a busy food court on a Saturday evening.

I say all the time that every moment we have to live our life is a blessing. So often I have found myself taking it for granted. Every hug from a family member. Every laugh we share with friends. Even the times of solitude are all blessings. Every second of every day is a gift. After Saturday evening, I know I truly understand how blessed I am for each second I am given."

As much as I miss her, I can't hug her. But I tell her I love her all the time, because I've never said "goodbye", just "see you soon"... whenever that is. #ily

Bridal shops, balconies, and big changes.

Here we go... first blog post of 2013.

And it's almost May. Oops.

I am a terrible blogger; it's a proven fact. But last summer, this blog became just the outlet I needed. A place to express myself, my feelings, my thoughts... and my sometimes bleeding heart.

It's been a long road since July 20, 2012. I've tried to travel it in running shoes, but even I can trip and fall in those. Some days are easy, some are so painful I'd think I'd gone back in time.

One of my best friends from college is getting married this summer. I'm in the wedding, which of course means I have to wear a special dress. I am a) a procrastinator and b) hate dress shopping because I always feel like the ugliest girl in the store.

Unfortunately, I waited until the last second and finally went to the bridal shop this week. I had the dress I wanted in mind, knew what color I wanted, and thought it would be simple. One problem. (Well, the first of several)

I hadn't set foot in this shop since July 20, 2012.

It sounds weird, I know. That happened to be the day my friend Sarah was going wedding dress shopping. I had called out of work (for obvious reasons), and another friend suggested I tag along on the dress search to get my mind off things.

It was okay - I definitely would've enjoyed it more any other day. I had recently said that I thought Jessica would be in my wedding (if by some amazing chance I do get married one day), so I kept thinking of what we'd lost instead of losing myself in the moment for Sarah.

I did a lot of crying in front of that shop that day. I sat in the parking lot and did a phone interview with a reporter from the San Antonio newspaper, I answered a few calls and messages from friends checking on me, and I broke down with my dad on the phone, who had just heard the news after getting off a plane from a business trip.

I didn't tell Sarah what had happened because I didn't want to ruin her day, but I finally just had to excuse myself because I knew I wasn't being fair to her or myself. I still feel bad about that.

Sarah, I'm sorry if I put a serious damper on what should have been an exciting day for you. (If it helps, I am really looking forward to watching you walk down the aisle in the dress you chose later this year.)

Fast forward to this week. I went back inside that shop, braved the brides and prom crowd, as well as my own fears of shopping to find a dress.

Of course, the dress I chose wasn't available in my color or size in time for Maegan's wedding.. and the only ones available were pretty much everything that I had hoped to avoid. I compromised, and picked one out that I have been promised will be in before I have to leave for Texas (barely).

After gulping over the price (which was higher than the dress I went in to buy), I walked out and peeked over at the spot where I'd cried to my dad.

It was strange. Somehow, I felt transported back to that moment... and in another way it seemed like another lifetime.

Just another first of many along the road I've taken since losing Jess.

My best friend Christopher (who is essentially Jess' male counterpart in my life) is convinced we're going to the Big House for the Michigan-Notre Dame game this fall. I haven't been to Ann Arbor since the last ND game there... with one Miss Jessica Redfield/Ghawi.

I keep trying to convince him that it's okay to go without me. I have no idea how I will react walking into that stadium, but part of me says I have to go. I've never been inside without her. And I know if I go she will be there, just in a different way.

So as I sit here, enjoying a cool spring evening on my balcony with a glass of wine and my laptop, I look around at the bright blue sky... listen to the wind chimes and the barking dogs in the distance... and think about how maybe she's just been right here with me all along.

Hope you enjoyed the ramblings - there's always more where that came from.

Happy Birthday, Jessi

To my dearest, darling, crazy redheaded best friend -

Your 25th birthday has finally arrived - HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I know, it's only 10:51pm Eastern the day before, but I think I can slide being just an hour early since you were born in Michigan. (And by the time I get through this, it will likely be nearly midnight.)

How is it that we've finally reached this milestone? 

I've looked forward to and dreaded this day for months. I still remember last November when you were home for Thanksgiving and begged me to come home so I could go roller skating with you. Unfortunately, I had to stay in South Bend and work. I wish I could've flown home.. even just to skate (and fall) with you for an hour or two.

Jess, I've tried so hard to be strong over the last few months. Sometimes I'm just not sure how a 24-year-old is supposed to handle something like this. So tell me, "Mom", you're the older one in this relationship - how am I supposed to get through losing my best friend? 

There are days when I feel like I can take on the world.. and others where all I want to do is curl up and cry because I can't call you. Overall, it's getting easier, but I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing. No one understands my breakdowns and ridiculous moments quite like you.

This was supposed to be our year. The year where we stood up and ran things like we owned them - showed the world that we are as good as we think we are. The year that we start to really earn -- and get everything we wanted. We worked so hard to get to this point. And now I'm trying to keep going, because I know I have to do it. 

I've busted my backside to prove I can do the job I have. Some days I feel amazing, and then there are others where I'm pretty sure I fall flat on my face. 

But I did it, Jess - I won my first Emmy. I called my parents from the ceremony and as soon as I hung up, I called your mom and proceeded to cry over the phone. It was like sharing the moment with you. She was so proud; she reminded me you're proud of me too. That meant the world to me.

I launched this pretty cool project for your birthday. I just wanted to celebrate the beautiful gift that you were to the world - because you are far more than what happened in the moment that you left it. And it's turned out pretty well so far.. even Michelle Beadle took a picture for you! You have J.C. to thank for that, not me - but it doesn't mean I'm any less excited over the addition.

As the clock ticks down to your actual birthday, I can't help but wonder what we would've been doing right now. Would I have come to Denver to see you? Or would we be laughing over something silly on the phone? Or talking about how ridiculous this NHL lockout nonsense and how you're distraught over Notre Dame being number one? (By the way, I still have not worn any Irish gear, thank you)

Things are changing.. I've learned to dance to "Chelsea Dagger" again. I've gone back to the movies twice. I've taken on my one-hour show at work (even though it's proving to be a challenge). I don't have to cry every time I see your picture.

That doesn't mean I don't feel the pain. I still spend time looking through our photos. I listen to the videos of you on my phone just so I can hear your voice one more time. I can spend hours reading your texts, just so I can laugh and see where you said "I love you."

It's been a whole half hour since I started this and I've laughed, I've cried.. sounds like a typical conversation with you. I miss those. I know I'll get to have them again, but it's not time yet. 

Thanks for surrounding yourself with such amazing people while you were here. I feel like you left me a bunch of presents - one named Bridget, one named Linda, another named Danielle.. and the list goes on. They've all been there for me at one time or another.. and I can only hope I've been able to do the same for them.

I know I can't hug you or talk to you face to face, but I know you're here with me in some special way. Sometimes I feel like you're in my car, or standing by me when I get ready in the morning.. or sitting next to me right now on my bed while I write this.

I love you so much. There is so much in my life that I couldn't have done without you - and so much more that I will need you to give me that little push. Thank you for being my best friend and now my guardian angel. Enjoy that big hockey rink in the sky -- and save me a seat in the press box, will you?

Who cares if it's only 11:25pm? Congrats, you get an extra 35 minutes to celebrate on me. Don't say I never gave you anything.

Happy birthday, Jess.

#ily

Project Mustache

I'm on a mission, friends - one that requires your help.

Jessi would've turned 25 on November 27 - that's one month from today!! For weeks, I've been trying to figure out how I can celebrate her birthday in a big way... and it finally came to me.

I want to start a social media project called "Mustaches for Jessi." The girl loved a good mustache, and what better way to celebrate her impact on the world than by spreading the joy via social media?

Here's how it works - and it's really simple:

Send in a picture of you/your friends & family wearing a mustache! It can be real, fake, a finger mustache - whatever works! The pictures will then be added to an online photo album for everyone to enjoy!

The plan is just to show how many people have been touched by Jessi - and of course, celebrate her birthday in a fun and creative way.

There are several way to share your snapshots:

Send them through Twitter: @mustaches4jessi
E-mail them: mustachesforjessi@gmail.com
Share through the online photo album: http://mustachesforjessi.shutterfly.com/

Please share this with your friends, family, favorite celebrities, whoever you like! If all goes according to plan, this will be *almost* as big as Jessi's personality... so the bar has been set pretty high. Thankfully, we're heading into "Movember", so there should be some great submissions.

Looking forward to seeing your pictures!

#ily

Seeing green, gold, blue, maize and red.

It happened.

Last night, I went to my first game inside Notre Dame Stadium. The same game that would become the last thing Jess and I would ever talk about.

And nearly two months after that conversation, I'm finally feeling some of the peace I've been waiting for.
___________________________________________________
"If you're originally from Texas, how the heck did you get to be a Michigan fan?"

"That's a long story."

If you're reading this, you know most of the story already. Honestly, I liked Michigan before I met Jess. I got a chance to sing in Ann Arbor about five years ago and loved it. I remember being disappointed that I didn't get a chance to go inside the Big House, but I knew I'd be back.

Thanks to one crazy redhead, I've been back. Twice.
_____________________________________________________

It was always the plan - she would come back and stay with me in South Bend so we could go to the game. The day she died, I realized it was just one of the many plans that I would have to carry on myself.

Thankfully, I started twisting my general manager's arm for tickets back in April or May.

He gave me a pair on Monday. Yes, I started crying. To be honest, I'm not sure if he remembered Jessi before he decided to give me the tickets or not. I'm just thankful he decided to let me have them so I could be there to finish something else we started.
_______________________________________________________

I tried to take things slow getting ready for the game so I wouldn't overwhelm myself into an emotional frenzy. I had tickets, a mini of Crown (if you knew Jess, you know this was a must) my Michigan gear and finger mustache tattoos. I thought I was ready.

Then our friend Darrel asked me about getting a tattoo/sticker for my cheek like the ones we had last year.

For some reason, I'd decided to stick mine to a bin in my room. Guess what?

I'm wearing the exact same sticker in both photos, one year (and two stadiums) apart.

(more pictures are on the way, will be in a separate post when I get them)              
           
I had a little more of Jess with me than I thought.
______________________________________________

The friend you see with me in the first photo is my co-worker Heather. I invited her to take the other ticket after our (mine and Jessi's) friend Larry was unable to make it up for the game. Heather's a Notre Dame fan, so she was thrilled to step in and take Larry's place, but she's also gotten me through so much this year. I was happy to have her there.

We stopped by our GM's tailgate before the game and things were going great until "If I Die Young" started blaring through the loudspeakers.

I hadn't heard that song since Jess's memorial. So I bolted.

Of course, Heather found me crying - this just two days after she talked me out of my breakdown at work on the two-month anniversary of Jess's death.

The best part? (Yes, there's a good part) It launched one of the best heart-to-hearts I've ever had in my life - right when I needed it.

Heather was one of the only people I told about Jessica's brush with the Eaton Centre shooting - the day it happened. She met Jess once in passing, but she's heard so many of my stories. Just in talking for the two hours leading up to the game, we realized so many little moments and things that just reminded me that Jess is still here - and her spirit isn't going anywhere.
__________________________________________________

It turned out our tickets were on the edge of the ND student section.. so guess who took a little verbal harassment for my clothing choice? Thankfully, I'm from Texas and I'm used to taking it and dishing it out. No harm, no foul.

I eventually shared my reasons for being a Michigan fan with those around us - some not in detail, just enough to say that I lost a close friend recently who was a huge Wolverine fan.

That got me a thumbs up from Notre Dame students. Seriously.
____________________________________________________

Yes, I watched Michigan lose a tough game to the Irish. Yes, I cheered "Go Blue" and got a few dirty looks and even some "Shut your mouth", but all ended in a smile for one intense northern football rivalry that I've fallen for in the last few years.

I still think Jess had something to do with Everett Golson throwing a pick on his first pass of the game.

But something amazing happened.

I walked out of the stadium feeling more at peace than I have in weeks. Maybe it's because I've stopped stressing about how to get tickets for the game. Or because I was incredibly tired.

I really think Jess is just proud that I was there - that *we* were there.

Just like we'd always planned.

#ily

I sing because I'm happy.

I totally blew an audition today. With a capital B.

For those of you who aren't singers, trust me when I say the National Anthem is a difficult song to sing. 

I had it in my head. I knew the words, knew the right note - and yet I still completely screwed it up. 

Okay, so I'd only decided to audition about 24 hours' prior to the moment I stepped in front of that poor panel of judges and tried to sing.. but this is one of my worst moments. And the only reason I'm sharing my embarrassment and failure with all of you is because it's actually funny.

One of the local radio stations is looking for someone to perform the Anthem before its big concert bash this weekend. I have tickets to said concert and heard about the audition last night.

Now seeing as I believe I was completely overlooked by a certain local baseball team for a shot to perform this past season, I decided to go for this opportunity. No matter that I had a big day ahead already with our new shows (more about that in another post - tomorrow?) or that this is a big emotional day for me - no, I just had to pile on. 

Heck, I can't even remember the last time I had a live audition. And that's saying something, seeing as I have done quite a few in my 24 years on this earth.

I left work with the belief that I wouldn't make it in time to try out. The station was only offering 60 audition spots -- and I was already 45 minutes late. 

Nonetheless, I walked in - picked up my #27 sticker - and prepared to sing a capella as requested. 

There were several kids ahead of me, along with several stage moms. No matter how long I've been away from the audition process, some things never change. I just laughed it off and tried to focus on the notes. 

I've done this before. Auditioning is nothing new, and neither is singing the Anthem. I managed to walk in and belt it -- and it started out fantastic. The judges seemed pleased.

Until I hit the key change. I knew I'd screwed up. I started too high - rookie mistake. Too bad, since I was a rookie about 20 freakin' years ago. 

So I cracked. Not once. No. Twice. And I still smiled. Heck, I wanted to laugh. Those poor, poor judges.

Everything in me said "STOP." But that's not how this works. You just keep going and push through, because the show must go on. I knew what would happen before it happened.

I think I owned the rest of the song. Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself I didn't blow it as badly as I might have this time. Hey - at least I got the words right!

The last time I auditioned to sing the Anthem was for that one team - and it was on video. (In ONE take, thank you) Believe it or not, I sent that to Jess after I sent it in for consideration. She said it gave her chills. Let's be honest - today's rendition would've given her the giggles.

Bad moment aside, it really did feel good to really sing again. I haven't done that in ages. To think - I used to spend hours singing in college. And then it all went to the wayside for journalism. Now I don't really talk about it. Yeah, people know I can sing - or they've at least heard the rumor - but it's not a huge part of my life anymore.

I love my job - really, I do. But something tells me it's time to find my voice again. 

I just hope I can leave the cracked notes behind. Ugh.

Suck it up, buttercup.

I honestly do not know my own strength.

This isn't to say it's astounding by any means, but I have gotten through more in the last month or so than I could have ever imagined. And maybe it's not really my strength that I'm learning about, but a reminder of God's strength and power at work in my life.

Things are getting ready to change for me at work.. and I'm nervous. This is usually when I would pick up the phone and call Jess so she could reassure me that everything will be fine. 

"No, Emily. You're not going to screw this up."

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."
Joshua 1:9

I've not been to church in a while.. not because I've lost faith, but because my schedule wasn't the most accommodating. Yes, it's an excuse. And I'm working on it.

The other night, I found my soul in serious need of spiritual help. I started reading Scripture online - yes, on the internet.. twas a bit surreal - but it helped. The words began to fill the emptiness I've felt for what seems like forever now. 

So I've started reading verses to remind myself that I'm not alone and that God has a plan for me. I'm not sure what that is -- or where I'm going to end up. 


"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart."
Jeremiah 29:11-13


If you know me, you know I am a pro at stressing out. Everyone loves to tell me not to worry about things, just go with it. I think my favorite quote on this is probably from Mac.

"Emily, telling you not to worry is like telling an ocean not to crash against the shore."

I want so badly to do what I can and do it well. I try to think about the fact that I've now been in South Bend for a year and a half.. and not only am I producing, but I have been given more responsibility. That has to mean they trust me and that I don't completely suck, right?

This big shift at work has me waking up in the middle of the night - at least once in a cold sweat. I've always said that I'm in a constant state of prayer, whether it be praying my lead story makes the top of my show or that I can avoid sticking my foot in my mouth on a daily basis.

"Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me."
John 14:1

For all my stressing, I know things are looking up. My pain is still there and I have my moments, but there are more good days than bad days. I know my favorite ginger is here, she's got my back. And lucky me, she brought some amazing people into my life right when I needed them.

I know she'll be in that control room with me when the time comes, pushing me to "suck it up, buttercup. Deal with it." And reminding me not to worry, because I'm not going to screw this up.

So I keep going.

I went back to the ballpark today - only to hear "Chelsea Dagger" again. But this time, I sang along with a smile on my face.