Thoughts on a Plane

Well. They did it. We did it.

Olivia graduated two weeks ago with her degree in Counseling!

Last week the non profit I work for, Lexington Leadership Foundation, turned 20. And a few days later we celebrated the Woodhill Community Center turning 1. Talk about full circle. Didn’t plan on telling anyone, but today is my 2 year anniversary as a full time staff member. Not to mention this summer will mark 12 years doing the dang thing! (That's a Chloe-ism for I’ve been around Urban Impact on an almost daily - weekly - monthly - semester basis for 12 years.) Come on y’all. That’s wild.

Michael graduated Saturday with a degree in Intercultural Communications and walked out with 4 awards!

This is just a reminder that the young people you think have something special in them, but it seems super far off for their goals to become reality, can actually make it happen. We (they) just need you to believe in them. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly.

We’ve been siblings for over a decade, Olivia’s had me her whole life of course. But when I think back to what it was like. Middle and high school kids. Sitting on the floor in the basement. No one knows what we know. No one lived what we lived, other than the handful of siblings that I see periodically. And I can’t help but get emotional when I think of who we are now. What we’ve accomplished. Failed at. How we argue better than the best lawyer you could buy. How we love harder than any love song you call your favorite.

20 years.

12 years.

2 years.

1 year.

All the years we spent in college.

Fighting to prove ourselves wrong.

Figuring out how to come back and face those we left behind to make needed moves.

I’m sitting on a plane, almost in tears, proud.

Proud of a good life.

A life you can go to bed tired in a good way.

This isn’t the end of a finish line for my siblings and I. This is a chapter closed and another opened. This is motivation to push for the next goal. For the next “you thought we couldn’t do it. But we did.”

My prayer, hope, and lifelong mission, is that I can create a similar bond, love, experience, for my kids, that has been done for us. I don't know how quite yet... but that's the cool part of this life. It just sort of happened.

Remembering You

Have you ever forgotten how to be yourself? 

No, this isn’t some wild rhetorical question... I’m being truly serious and about as honest as I can be. 

Have you ever forgotten... to be completely 100 % you. Whether it was for a moment, or a lifetime. 

Maybe a milestone hit or something tragic happened. Something was lost, someone... then you just woke up the next day and kept living. 

Kept moving. 

Your body was moving and words were coming out but it wasn’t you. 

It’s just a season, you say. Or this is part of the process. This is grief, growth, maybe even a little bit of both. 

You read books that tell you how to be you. 

You listen to podcasts, which are poorly done yes men episodes by your favorite person of influence who doesn’t actually have as busy a schedule as they make it seem. 

You laugh and cry and sleep and eat and nothing seems different. 

But somehow, you’re watching yourself... or whoever that person is. 

Live your life. Hang out with your friends, miss parents phone calls, and forget to turn the laundry over again.

It’s an out of body experience. 

You feel weightless, worried that you’re missing something. 

But then you realize you’re just remembering how to be you. 

You’re seeing the day in and day out as if you got a second chance at being you. 

Minus the books and podcast. 

Skipping the pre mid life crisis and needing to go on a hike you wouldn’t ever survive. 

You cry hard enough. 

Breathe deep enough. 

Say how grateful you are to remember. 

You were never perfect. 

You were never what those people thought you were. 

You are you. 

And being able to stand back and watch, is one of the greatest gifts, most people never receive this side of heaven. 

It’s not a reset. 

It’s another scene from the movie you direct and star in. 
I thought, for so long. 
I was moving in slow motion. 
Trying to solve an unsolved mystery. 

My own heart. 

But the greatest realization was that I didn’t need to fight for it like so many have tried. 

I haven’t forgotten who I am, 

I just forgot where I put the key. 

my sister

She is the lover of those who are vulnerable.
She is the fighter for those who don't have any fight left.
She is the quiet spring shower you didn't know you needed.
She is my sister.
She is Olivia.

I remember the first time I had a friend that wasn't "our" friend. And I think that's when I started to lose my "cool" factor as a big sister and moved more into the "get the heck out of my life" stage. For a long time I was afraid I would never leave that stage in her eyes.
I had friends.
She had friends.
We grew up.

Years and Months and Weeks and Days go bye.

The love never went away.
The joy and support never went away.
But I knew there would be a moment someone would think they loved her more than me.
And I will fight them for that till I die... but right now, I am thankful for the ones who have stepped in and loved her when I wasn't near. When I couldn't listen.

                                                                                -

Last night I lost my breath and couldn't hold back the tears because I was so proud of my sister.

I was proud that she remains to be the girl who loves the vulnerable.
     ... she continues to be the girl who fights for those who can't fight.
     ... despite all the world has thrown at her she stands tall for what she believes in.

The world needs more like her, offering safe places, resources, a hug.

I have chills thinking about her next big moves and all the things and people she will impact over time. But it turns out... I was never the "cool" sister after all.

She is.

Deja Vu

I just cried in my car for 30 minutes.

Partially because I am exhausted and haven't slept well recently.
Mostly because I sat outside two of my favorite humans houses and listened to them debrief about what's been on their hearts lately.
It sounds simple and something I would do pretty often actually... and it is, in a way.
But today was hard.
This month has been hard.
When I thought I didn't have anything left in me, they gave me the opportunity to listen and respond.

Just like someone did for me a decade ago and every day since.

To just take a deep breath and acknowledge some parts of this life overwhelm us.
Parts of this life make us want to never go home, because the definition of home has changed.
We get excited that opportunities come our way or our regularly scheduled program is mixed up for something new and vibrant.
This life requires blood, sweat, tears, and really uncomfortable scenarios, because those things make us who we hope to be one day.
No one ever said working out and ripping muscles would be fun.
But we do it so they can stretch and grow and build up to become stronger.
I'm here to tell you our muscles have been stretched.
Our eyes are tired.
Our hearts have found a home in each other because the home we've known is foreign.
But I refuse to give up. 
Our stories have come to this place for a reason.
No one in this family ever came and stayed this long because it was easy.
As a matter of fact, many leave because it is not.

They have reached a spot I know very well.
I want to hold my breath for them or lead them the way or close my eyes till it's over.

But I cannot.

They didn't do it for me back then, I won't do it for them now.
I will show up. Listen. Pray.
Respond occasionally.
And hope.

Those who sit, staring directly at a torn muscle, sharing the highs and lows of life, breathing cold air that somehow reminds them of the fire in their chest for something bigger.

That is why I am alive.
That is why I have them, and him, and her, and those people to thank.
Because I was once in that spot.
Hoping they would see me one day.
Wondering if this home could last.
Wondering if I could save mine.

100 Days

100 Days without coffee. 

Actually, 107 Days without coffee. I'm a little late with the post.

For those of you who know me, you know I'm a little bit in love with some good coffee.

I prefer it to be black like the night sky, a strong dark roast, or bourbon infused if I'm in KY.
No cream, no sugar, and definitively no syrup... y'all aren't real coffee drinkers P.S.
And if you really know me... you'll remember that time I drank literal cups of espresso in San Diego for 4 months and almost died when I moved back to Knoxville.
Shot in the Dark. Black Eye. Or Dead Eye... whatever you call it, I was drinking it.

Coffee mugs in my car. Coffee mugs in the office.
Coffee stains. Coffee grounds in the sink.

Then something crazy happened.
I stopped drinking coffee.
Cold turkey.


107 days without waking up with a headache, already thinking of coffee, having a clear mind.
107 days where I ended up saving over $200 by not buying coffee grounds, coffee shop drinks, etc.
107 days where I wasn't shaking by lunch time.

It started with being really, really sick and knowing something needed to change.
So my smart ass decided to quit coffee and dairy cold turkey.
The next few days I was sicker than I'd like to admit.
The withdrawal alone was awful, having to purge so much from my body, was awful.

For 8 solid days I prayed and prayed for strength... but if I'm being honest... I also prayed that  I would be struck with a sign that I didn't need to follow through with this and I could drink 3 cups of coffee with 2 shots of espresso each day again...
The first 8 days I woke up so angry I had told people what I was doing... because now there was accountability!

But on day 9?

Day 9 I didn't think about coffee. or espresso.
I thought about what I was going to eat for breakfast (that was new.)
After that I sort of stopped counting... and I told myself "September."

For the whole month of September I would be free of the black gold I loved so much.
September past... October past... November came along and it was just cold enough that towards the middle I thought... I can be done with this right?

Wrong.
100 days was just around the corner.
I had to make 100 days.
As if that made me special.

The small things in life always impress me the most.
The idea that you NEED something that isn't an immediate, life altering necessity, is honestly bogus.
People tell me all the time they couldn't do this... I just roll my eyes and tell them "I couldn't do this." But here I am, under blankets,
layers,
winter is HERE.
And it is day 107.
Who knows how long I will go?
I don't.
All I know is, February will be 6 months without "NEEDING coffee."
I haven't looked back once and you want to know something?
I honestly have more energy now then I did then.

Maybe one day we will reunite.
But until then my coffee mug collection is seeing a lot of herbal teas and whiskey!

Finding Dreams

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Dream Big!

Raise the bar.

Achieve your goals!

You should work hard for what you want.

Be patient it will come.

Do you want to be successful? 

Congratulations!

Silence. 

No one tells you what happens after you achieve the goal or see dreams come true.
After the lights and magic turn off, and the confetti falls, on New Years Eve in Times Square, city workers come through and clean it all up. You wouldn't even know one of the worlds biggest parties had happened their the night before. That is how it feels when you achieve certain life goals. The build up to get there is exciting, you have something to look forward to. But once you get there. Once the big moment happens after possible years of working and waiting. You finally made it.

"Now what?"

Well... no one actually says that to you. You feel like that, secretly... but the image of happily ever after is all people have for you. There are no more next steps or what happens when the confetti is done falling.

Real life. That is what happens. As a matter of fact. Such real life that you will begin to forget you can achieve different goals. You can still dream. You can still work and be patient for something totally different. But no one told you. No one told you that you could feel or do those things. People ask how things are... you respond. There is a tinge of sadness when you begin to think this thing you worked and longed for your whole life just remains one way. Almost as if your dreams just got turned off because you won the golden ticket young. Imagine being full of dreams and excitement only to achieve it and feel pressure to perform and no longer dream. Imagine Peter Pan growing up. Or Alice leaving Wonderland. Or Ariel on land forever. That is how it felt until one of our own shook the dust from my eyes.

"Now what? This wasn't the end, what else are you dreaming up?"

A great awakening I didn't even know I needed. 

A sweet kid to remind me of my own dreams. 

To shove me out of my own robotic trance. 

To push me in a direction that makes me uncomfortable, but allows more growth. 

I want to be bold again.

To write something down and work and wait for it.

To know that this isn't the end.

That this ebb and flow doesn't always mean forever.

Real life is not leaving me, but the dreams don't have to disappear either.

People forgot that we were not built to be managers or to-do list keepers.

We were built to experience the greatest versions of people.

So while my dreams are being cultivated and put into a thought, we ask each other 

"Now what?" or "What's next?" we help each other feel the magic of confetti falling, 

and then show up the next day to walk through the reality of what it means when the lights turn off and you're left to deal with all the new.

Somewhere in the midst of my darkness and his question I realized my new dream was to stand alongside peoples life marathons and cheer them on.

To offer water and a snack, maybe even a hug.

I think I am tired of the "what do you want to be when you grow up?" question.

I'm ready for people to ask who they want to be today.

911 What's Your Emergency?

It's not uncommon for me to follow flashing red and blue lights.
This time though, there were too many.
And on a street I know well.
I turned around, like I would any other day, and made my way through an almost blinding sea of lights, people.
Tevin leaned out the window to ask what was going on and the next few moments felt like an eternity.

"A kid was just shot."

Everything in my body wanted to scream and cry but all it could do was run and find where he/she was. Someone on the sidewalk said "he is one of the boys at Crawford, you know him." 

My body started to shake. 

I was forcing myself to take in deep breaths and managed to dial Marcus's number before I got sick... I could feel my stomach twist into knots. 

I asked the police officer standing in front of a town houses fence if he knew who it was, 

I needed to know who it was. 

I heard the boy cry and curse in pain behind the fence.

I recognize the voice and shove past the officer saying, "That's my kid!"

After pushing past a few more officers, I saw him laying there in his own blood, trying to hold back tears and answer the officers stupid ass questions for the 5th time I'm sure. 

"Chloe, oh my god?! what the hell?!" We hugged and sort of laughed cause we hadn't seen each other all summer. 

Yes, one of my kids, no he wasn't from Crawford. 

Already people just beyond the fence were making up stories and that pissed me off. 

Tev asked what happened to him, I hadn't even realized he had followed me past all those officers, I was so focused on finding the kid... 

I was thankful and nervous he had followed me.

Familiar pain, and avoidable images will now be engraved in his mind.

I wish I could have protected both of them. 

He starts to explain what happened, then immediately changes the subject to a fight he had gotten into at school, and how he had been suspended for possession etc. 

He apologized to me for it all. 

This 16 year old, who has just been shot, apologized to me for not doing the right thing in school.  

I hadn't cried up to that point, but I was pretty close after that. 

I convince him to tell the police what he knows, something we have worked on in the past... authority.

Tev and I both look at each other in fear we know exactly who did it. 

That's the crazy thing about our hood. 

It's small, close knit, but the dividing lines are in thick ink.

I swallow hard and try not to think about it.

I had been holding his hand this whole time waiting for EMT's to arrive... even the cop standing behind me radios in, "for the love of god where is the ambulance its been over 20 mins!" 

It's a shooting in Woodhill... 

I guess I wasn't surprised all the cops in the area showed up a half hour before an ambulance. 

I think the more alarming thing was no one tried to stop the bleeding during that time.  

When they finally arrived they made me move away from him while they cut his jeans up and took a bullet out of his leg.

I never want my kids to be in pain... when he asked for anesthesia we smiled and said "you're tough, you don't need it." 

Over and over again I told him he was okay. 

Maybe I was trying to convince myself we were all gonna be okay too. 

I tried to make Tev leave as he watched a friend of his scream and flinch in pain. 

He didn't move. 

I followed them as they took one of my kids into the ambulance.

I felt all types of emotions up to that point.

But the second they shut that door and I turned around.

I was full of anger.

Looking around  the block I saw dozens of faces I knew. 

Faces that should be getting ready for bed, it was a school night.

I hugged Rona, thankful it hadn't been her or her kids too, knowing she saw it all go down.

My kids always find it weird for the first few months of knowing me how quick I am to say I love them... this is one of the reasons I do it. 

Whether they hear it from anywhere else or not, 

I will make sure they know they are loved, no matter what. 

Because unfortunately, as much as I want to be able to protect them at all times, I can't. 

I took Tevin home.

When I walked through the door to my apartment, the tears started to fall.

I didn't realize before I had his blood on me.

I felt sick all over again.

This could have been so much worse.

Every time I tired to close my eyes I saw him laying on the ground again.

Wide awake all night.

I asked God what the hell he was waiting on.

The next morning cops were all over school.

Kids had been talking about it.

My fear of knowing who had done it was confirmed. 

My heart was beating fast with more sadness than anger again. 

And despite how painful and chaotic it is, was, everyone still goes about their day like normal.

The only difference is? 

The ripple effect has begun in our community.

So instead of going about my day like normal, I do what I can to redirect the aftershock.

I won't apologize for it.

I won't ask for help.

This is just the ebb and flow of sin and hurt and hopelessness 

mixed in a pot that someone just shook up.

If you act surprised about it now, you were never meant to be here in the first place. 

So while you ask me sympathy questions, 

I'll have my ears to the ground in hopes there isn't a next time.