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I realized that strong women aren’t born. They are made. But when I think of what it takes to have the kind of tenacity and resilience that makes us strong, I think of overcoming failure, heartbreak, and trauma. All of my favorite women of history have their moments where they overcame adversity to find their strength. It’s the classic hero storyline.
I was raised almost entirely alone for the whole of my childhood. I don’t just mean that as in I was a loner or kept to myself; I was raised on eight acres of land with little to no exposure to the world. Due to the teachings of the cult my mother was a member of, I was never educated. I taught myself to read, and learned all my basic writing skills on the internet. In the time between, I played alone in the woods. Whenever I did attempt to interact with kids my own age (usually by going to the town pool) I was teased mercilessly for my lack of common knowledge
Have you ever tried to drive a car while it was on empty? I imagine it was difficult. Either the car didn't start at all, or it did start but stopped shortly after you started driving. Trying to drive a car with no fuel is very similar to how it feels living with a body that has a thyroid disease or imbalance. The body serves a similar function as a car. It helps take us from one place or activity to the next. Sadly a body with an imbalanced thyroid or no thyroid at all isn't getting the thyroid hormone it needs to regulate your metabolic rate which affects your energy levels, body weight, digestive function, muscle control, and bone maintenance just to name a few.
As children we are taught how to solve algebraic equations and chemical formulas, yet we are never taught how to love, be kind and how to survive life.It is our duty to teach others, no matter their age or gender, how to embrace difficult situations and become a stronger person because of it. Often the most valuable lessons we learn are not easily taught in a classroom, they are learnt through experience and mistakes and through others.
What do you think when you read the word “anorexia”? High fashion models? Crazy teenage girls? Another diet? Or the latest Lily Collins movie? How about a ten-year-old girl that ended up with a lifelong journey for recovery? Eating disorders are considered addictions, but unlike the addict, who can abstain from the substance, I can’t. I must face both my fear and my “drug” every 2-5 hours, every day.
I have a confession to make. I’m a has-been “beauty queen”. I never considered myself one, though. After all, beauty queens are tall with flawless skin, legs a mile long, gigantic smiles, and perfect speaking skills. I always felt like I had none of those attributes. I’ve even had people act surprised when they find out that I competed in pageants.
After trying for two years to get pregnant and having no luck, I wasn’t expecting anything but a big, fat negative when I tested the morning before heading down state to celebrate my birthday. I wanted to test “just in case” since I had a feeling a beautiful, blue bottle of Riesling would be in my very near future. And then, with an empty uterus, I would uncork the last year of my twenties, having high hopes for the next year in which we’d hopefully end up pregnant before thirty.
Even when I managed to fire and glaze a vessel, it didn’t seem right to be proud or excited about my creations. I knew they weren’t well done, but they were mine, something made with my own two hands. Though that should be enough, somehow it wasn’t. I found myself constantly giving disclaimers when people looked at my pots – “I’ve only been doing it for 10 weeks!” or “I know these are terrible!”
They say that everyone grieves differently. There is the obvious sadness, and of course all the other emotions - denial, anger, bargaining... acceptance. I have felt all of those and seems like more, but I can finally say I am reaching acceptance. Finally.
I found you online last week. Social media is kind of cruel like that - offering instant access to the skeletons from your closet with a quick click of a button. I’m not even sure why I looked. Curiosity, I suppose. You look so different. You’ve gained weight, and your hair has become so white. You look old. You look happy. And it hurt.
I am sick. You may not know that by looking at me, but I am. My illness is invisible. There are those out there who would say mental illness isn’t real, or isn’t as important as other medical ailments – cancer, heart disease, multiple sclerosis. And to them, I ask: Why? Why is my illness unimportant? It affects my mind and my body on a regular basis.
I couldn’t focus. Every day seemed harder and harder – I was losing my ability to accomplish my daily tasks and I couldn’t understand what was happening.
Nothing seemed to work. I’d get up and walk around, and when I sat back down the first thing I would reach for is my phone, my crutch when I was bored. The thing was, I wasn’t bored. My brain was being challenged, I was learning new things, and I had a lot to do. But I couldn’t seem to get anything done.
I'm the baby of the family. And my brother and sister were what I like to call “traditionally smart”. My brother was in the National Honor Society. My sister was too and in the top percent of her graduating class. She even gave a speech at graduation.
Then there's me.
Amy Bleuel founded Project Semicolon in 2013 to honor her father who died of suicide 10 years earlier. About the symbol, she wrote: ‘A semi-colon represents a sentence the author could have ended, but chose not to. The author is you and the sentence is your life.’ Project Semicolon's tagline - "Your story is not over" - gives hope and inspiration to countless people.
May is Mental Health Awareness month and here at Holl & Lane, it also coincides with our 12th issue all about mental health and the mind. But we wanted to take this idea one step further. We wanted to embrace letting others know that it's okay to talk about mental health. It's okay to say when you're having a hard time. It's okay to speak your truth out loud.
Only two weeks away from my due date and I’m so ready for this baby! Overall it's been an easy, joyful pregnancy and I’ll always be grateful for that, but these last couple of weeks have been tough.
When we last spoke, I sadly had four failed IUI’s (intrauterine inseminations) under my belt and had just publicly gone through a very devastating miscarriage of our identical twins following our first IVF frozen embryo transfer. And while it was heartbreaking and we miss our twins every single day, we discovered from that heartbreak that we indeed could get pregnant.
My journey to sobriety has been twisted, stubborn, and miraculous. Once upon a time, I could take a drink or leave it. Sometimes, I try to remember what may have flipped that switch.
The day after Easter, 2012, I waddled into the doctor’s office for my 30-week check-up. After having two girls, we were ecstatic to be finally having a boy. My pregnancy had been normal, so I was definitely not expecting these words from my doctor’s mouth:
The heart of the work we do at Holl & Lane is our belief in the transformative power of words. Hearing someone's story and sharing your own create deep connections and help heal loneliness in our lives.
Not all diseases or illnesses are obvious. There are so many people who suffer, chronically, without anyone ever knowing. Just by looking at me, you wouldn’t even know, but I am one of those people.
I thought I had lost my words. It was one of the emptiest, most terrifying feelings, and I could feel the weight of it on my heart. I thought I had lost my words, and I didn’t know where to find them.
One of the strange paradoxes of life is society’s simultaneous insistence that you should “accept yourself for who you are" and also that you should constantly try to improve.
My first memory of my mom’s drug usage was when I was 10. I was taking a shower in her bathroom when I pulled a perfectly folded towel off the rack and a mirror, knife, and small white baggie came with it.
Throughout my pregnancy, my OB appointments have been somewhat of a disappointment. Once you get over the initial rush of your first ultrasound, doppler, and measurement, the appointments start to feel rushed.
I have started a journey and no one knows. My journey does not involve planes, trains, automobiles, distant lands, or magnificent cultures. My journey is one that involves buying myself flowers on February 15, taking a day to read an important book, wandering for photographs, and pouring determination (and sore fingers) into knitting my own blanket.
The word “beginning” itself has a few different definitions (Merriam-Webster Dictionary actually defines it in 4 ways) but the main definition is “the point at which something starts”. That’s not a very poetic definition, right? It kind of kills the magic. To me, a beginning is so much more.
One day, I woke up and all my friends were gone. It wasn’t a bad dream – it was adulthood and I wasn’t a fan. After college, my friends left – chasing new experiences after graduation.
I sat on my bed with my back against the wall while I stared into the nothingness that was my room and breathed deep. I had recently broken up with my boyfriend of five plus years and was single for the first time in my adult life.
I realized that strong women aren’t born. They are made. But when I think of what it takes to have the kind of tenacity and resilience that makes us strong, I think of overcoming failure, heartbreak, and trauma. All of my favorite women of history have their moments where they overcame adversity to find their strength. It’s the classic hero storyline.
Music education is important for so many different reasons. Children who take music lessons, or who participate in any form of music education, have better memory patterns than those children who receive no music education. Music is a universal language, and children from any part of the world can hear the same music and be moved by it in the same way. Music education helps children with their language and reasoning skills, gives them a sense of accomplishment, and helps improve math and spatial skills.
A lot of people assume being a woman or mother in the music industry is a weakness, but I see it as a strength. When I first got in the business, I realized I just put my head down and worked hard to prove myself and make relationships. Once I did, I wasn’t focused on what I wasn’t getting because of my gender, but what I could accomplish because of it and the advantages it brought me.
After trying for two years to get pregnant and having no luck, I wasn’t expecting anything but a big, fat negative when I tested the morning before heading down state to celebrate my birthday. I wanted to test “just in case” since I had a feeling a beautiful, blue bottle of Riesling would be in my very near future. And then, with an empty uterus, I would uncork the last year of my twenties, having high hopes for the next year in which we’d hopefully end up pregnant before thirty.
Even when I managed to fire and glaze a vessel, it didn’t seem right to be proud or excited about my creations. I knew they weren’t well done, but they were mine, something made with my own two hands. Though that should be enough, somehow it wasn’t. I found myself constantly giving disclaimers when people looked at my pots – “I’ve only been doing it for 10 weeks!” or “I know these are terrible!”
At the end of my pregnancy, it felt like I was going to be pregnant forever. All I wanted was to have this baby, then you have her and she’s here, and you realize you’ve got her and more importantly she's got you for the rest of your lives. Whoa. It's so real you can't really wrap your head around it and for a second you start freaking out… then you change a diaper. Then you feel your milk let down. Then she makes eye contact and she smiles at you. Then your heart grows three times its size and your baby fits right in there.
They say that everyone grieves differently. There is the obvious sadness, and of course all the other emotions - denial, anger, bargaining... acceptance. I have felt all of those and seems like more, but I can finally say I am reaching acceptance. Finally.
I found you online last week. Social media is kind of cruel like that - offering instant access to the skeletons from your closet with a quick click of a button. I’m not even sure why I looked. Curiosity, I suppose. You look so different. You’ve gained weight, and your hair has become so white. You look old. You look happy. And it hurt.
On Wednesday, April 19th I was checked by my midwife and she reported that I was 2 centimeters dilated and 50% effaced. Naturally, I got super excited and assumed delivery was imminent. I was wrong. No bloody show, no broken water. My midwife wrote me a prescription for a tincture to help induce labor. It consisted of blue and black cohosh root, ginger, and Lobelia. Two days later and one empty tincture bottle... still nothing. At this point, I was more than ready to get this show on the road
I'm the baby of the family. And my brother and sister were what I like to call “traditionally smart”. My brother was in the National Honor Society. My sister was too and in the top percent of her graduating class. She even gave a speech at graduation.
Then there's me.
I fell in love. I got married in my 20’s. Settled into a beautiful condo with our pup, Miss B. I had a great job and my career was in full swing. Life was going well and on track for greatness. Then, in a flash, or so it seemed, it all came crashing down.
Only two weeks away from my due date and I’m so ready for this baby! Overall it's been an easy, joyful pregnancy and I’ll always be grateful for that, but these last couple of weeks have been tough.
When we last spoke, I sadly had four failed IUI’s (intrauterine inseminations) under my belt and had just publicly gone through a very devastating miscarriage of our identical twins following our first IVF frozen embryo transfer. And while it was heartbreaking and we miss our twins every single day, we discovered from that heartbreak that we indeed could get pregnant.
My first memory of my mom’s drug usage was when I was 10. I was taking a shower in her bathroom when I pulled a perfectly folded towel off the rack and a mirror, knife, and small white baggie came with it.
Throughout my pregnancy, my OB appointments have been somewhat of a disappointment. Once you get over the initial rush of your first ultrasound, doppler, and measurement, the appointments start to feel rushed.
Expectations. We all have them, especially when it comes to our children. As parents we expect certain behaviors from them. We expect them to follow our rules, our lead. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t. And when our expectations for our children fall short, it can be devastating.
When I was fifteen, my life changed completely. My whole world was turned upside down. I remember this day like it happened yesterday.
The word “beginning” itself has a few different definitions (Merriam-Webster Dictionary actually defines it in 4 ways) but the main definition is “the point at which something starts”. That’s not a very poetic definition, right? It kind of kills the magic. To me, a beginning is so much more.
One thing that is so important to us on the Holl & Lane team is giving back. While we're not able to give much, I've made it a goal to donate to a new charity with each of our last few issues. $1 from each sale of our issues goes to a charity based on the theme of each issue.
As I sat in a bed about to deliver my baby, hoping for the anesthesiologist to come quickly, or even more than that, to have a mother there to tell me that everything will be ok.
No matter how much you read or how many sisters or friends have babies, nothing can prepare you for the crazy shit that happens to your body.
They say that worrying as a new parent is normal, that you’ll worry about your child for the rest of his/her life. That may be so, but I was experiencing something I couldn’t imagine feeling for the next 18+ years of my life.
As I stand in front of the mirror, I sometimes wonder where I’ve been and how I got here. Sometimes I wonder “Who am I?”
I followed the rules. After much research, I decided what I wanted to study in college. Like many others, I signed the dotted line for the expensive student loans to receive my college degree.
I read an article years ago about why your name matters, and it really got me thinking. Not only about what I’d name my future children but my own name and how it has affected my life.
To celebrate National Spouses Day, we asked you what you love most about your spouse and rounded up a few responses that gave us all the warm fuzzies.
In 2008, I was diagnosed with Epilepsy after having a few major seizures, one of which landed me in the ER.
Negative. It’s such a definitive word. The word to describe the home pregnancy test I just took.
I was the kind of woman other women feel jealous of. I was married and we had a beautiful daughter. We were both very successful in our careers and had a high lifestyle. People used to say that we were the perfect couple.
As a young girl, all I ever wanted to be "when I grew up" was a wife and a mom. I was never the career driven or super focused person that I felt everyone around me was.
As part of my work, I write about the art of speaking gracefully and whether we should speak up or stay silent when it comes to online bullying. Now I’d like to take the discussion on language further -- to explore how words and phrases have the power to heal or harm when it comes to gender stereotypes.
I was raised almost entirely alone for the whole of my childhood. I don’t just mean that as in I was a loner or kept to myself; I was raised on eight acres of land with little to no exposure to the world. Due to the teachings of the cult my mother was a member of, I was never educated. I taught myself to read, and learned all my basic writing skills on the internet. In the time between, I played alone in the woods. Whenever I did attempt to interact with kids my own age (usually by going to the town pool) I was teased mercilessly for my lack of common knowledge
I found you online last week. Social media is kind of cruel like that - offering instant access to the skeletons from your closet with a quick click of a button. I’m not even sure why I looked. Curiosity, I suppose. You look so different. You’ve gained weight, and your hair has become so white. You look old. You look happy. And it hurt.
One hour. Four shots of Fireball. And a new found love of left swiping.
I was immediately hooked on Tinder. It felt so liberating to swipe left, left, left, ohhh right, left, and left some more. There were very few worthy of my right swipes and later down the line, my treasured super likes.
I fell in love. I got married in my 20’s. Settled into a beautiful condo with our pup, Miss B. I had a great job and my career was in full swing. Life was going well and on track for greatness. Then, in a flash, or so it seemed, it all came crashing down.
After everything had finished with *Austin, before he moved out of state, I was ready to have more of an actual single girl experience. Up to this point, I felt like I went from long serious relationship to one mini relationship to another.
When we last spoke, I sadly had four failed IUI’s (intrauterine inseminations) under my belt and had just publicly gone through a very devastating miscarriage of our identical twins following our first IVF frozen embryo transfer. And while it was heartbreaking and we miss our twins every single day, we discovered from that heartbreak that we indeed could get pregnant.
The heart of the work we do at Holl & Lane is our belief in the transformative power of words. Hearing someone's story and sharing your own create deep connections and help heal loneliness in our lives.
I wasn't looking for anything in particular when Adam* unexpectedly came into my life. At the end of May, only two weeks after ending things with Matthew* before they even really got started, Adam arrived in the small town I was still adjusting to.
When I was fifteen, my life changed completely. My whole world was turned upside down. I remember this day like it happened yesterday.
One thing that is so important to us on the Holl & Lane team is giving back. While we're not able to give much, I've made it a goal to donate to a new charity with each of our last few issues. $1 from each sale of our issues goes to a charity based on the theme of each issue.
One day, I woke up and all my friends were gone. It wasn’t a bad dream – it was adulthood and I wasn’t a fan. After college, my friends left – chasing new experiences after graduation.
I sat on my bed with my back against the wall while I stared into the nothingness that was my room and breathed deep. I had recently broken up with my boyfriend of five plus years and was single for the first time in my adult life.
Beginnings have always scared me. And I don't mean in that super fun thrilling kind of way. I mean absolutely terrifying. Like seeing a clown jump out of the woods kind of terrifying.
As I stand in front of the mirror, I sometimes wonder where I’ve been and how I got here. Sometimes I wonder “Who am I?”
When I began dating Tyler at the age of nineteen, I had no clue that we were both going to face extremely hard challenges in the months and years to come. How could I? I was just beginning to understand that the heart beating wildly in my chest was my own.
To celebrate National Spouses Day, we asked you what you love most about your spouse and rounded up a few responses that gave us all the warm fuzzies.
Single-mom isolation, gastrointestinal problems, a business in the dumps, and a box of vegetables: who would have thought that this particular mash-up could lead to a more self-expressed life? But that’s how it came together for me.
In 2008, I was diagnosed with Epilepsy after having a few major seizures, one of which landed me in the ER.
I was the kind of woman other women feel jealous of. I was married and we had a beautiful daughter. We were both very successful in our careers and had a high lifestyle. People used to say that we were the perfect couple.
I haven’t heard from Kay* in months. Such a change from 7 years ago when she was a young teen sleeping on our couch and I was trying to drag her awake & off to school every morning. Now she’s a young woman off living her life and pursuing her dreams.
When the going gets tough, people always say, “Mind over matter.” Until this year, I thought this mentality was reserved for the athletic, but it came in handy during the most difficult conversation in my life.
Have you ever tried to drive a car while it was on empty? I imagine it was difficult. Either the car didn't start at all, or it did start but stopped shortly after you started driving. Trying to drive a car with no fuel is very similar to how it feels living with a body that has a thyroid disease or imbalance. The body serves a similar function as a car. It helps take us from one place or activity to the next. Sadly a body with an imbalanced thyroid or no thyroid at all isn't getting the thyroid hormone it needs to regulate your metabolic rate which affects your energy levels, body weight, digestive function, muscle control, and bone maintenance just to name a few.
What do you think when you read the word “anorexia”? High fashion models? Crazy teenage girls? Another diet? Or the latest Lily Collins movie? How about a ten-year-old girl that ended up with a lifelong journey for recovery? Eating disorders are considered addictions, but unlike the addict, who can abstain from the substance, I can’t. I must face both my fear and my “drug” every 2-5 hours, every day.
There are a lot of opinions out there on what a good birth should look like. I believe that no matter what her choices are, a woman should never be brushed aside – never be ignored. The fact is, there are still a lot of unknowns when it comes to the birthing process, and maybe we should all humble ourselves a little and listen.
They say that everyone grieves differently. There is the obvious sadness, and of course all the other emotions - denial, anger, bargaining... acceptance. I have felt all of those and seems like more, but I can finally say I am reaching acceptance. Finally.
I am sick. You may not know that by looking at me, but I am. My illness is invisible. There are those out there who would say mental illness isn’t real, or isn’t as important as other medical ailments – cancer, heart disease, multiple sclerosis. And to them, I ask: Why? Why is my illness unimportant? It affects my mind and my body on a regular basis.
I couldn’t focus. Every day seemed harder and harder – I was losing my ability to accomplish my daily tasks and I couldn’t understand what was happening.
Nothing seemed to work. I’d get up and walk around, and when I sat back down the first thing I would reach for is my phone, my crutch when I was bored. The thing was, I wasn’t bored. My brain was being challenged, I was learning new things, and I had a lot to do. But I couldn’t seem to get anything done.
On Wednesday, April 19th I was checked by my midwife and she reported that I was 2 centimeters dilated and 50% effaced. Naturally, I got super excited and assumed delivery was imminent. I was wrong. No bloody show, no broken water. My midwife wrote me a prescription for a tincture to help induce labor. It consisted of blue and black cohosh root, ginger, and Lobelia. Two days later and one empty tincture bottle... still nothing. At this point, I was more than ready to get this show on the road
Amy Bleuel founded Project Semicolon in 2013 to honor her father who died of suicide 10 years earlier. About the symbol, she wrote: ‘A semi-colon represents a sentence the author could have ended, but chose not to. The author is you and the sentence is your life.’ Project Semicolon's tagline - "Your story is not over" - gives hope and inspiration to countless people.
Only two weeks away from my due date and I’m so ready for this baby! Overall it's been an easy, joyful pregnancy and I’ll always be grateful for that, but these last couple of weeks have been tough.
When we last spoke, I sadly had four failed IUI’s (intrauterine inseminations) under my belt and had just publicly gone through a very devastating miscarriage of our identical twins following our first IVF frozen embryo transfer. And while it was heartbreaking and we miss our twins every single day, we discovered from that heartbreak that we indeed could get pregnant.
Not all diseases or illnesses are obvious. There are so many people who suffer, chronically, without anyone ever knowing. Just by looking at me, you wouldn’t even know, but I am one of those people.
One of the strange paradoxes of life is society’s simultaneous insistence that you should “accept yourself for who you are" and also that you should constantly try to improve.
My first memory of my mom’s drug usage was when I was 10. I was taking a shower in her bathroom when I pulled a perfectly folded towel off the rack and a mirror, knife, and small white baggie came with it.
Throughout my pregnancy, my OB appointments have been somewhat of a disappointment. Once you get over the initial rush of your first ultrasound, doppler, and measurement, the appointments start to feel rushed.
No matter how much you read or how many sisters or friends have babies, nothing can prepare you for the crazy shit that happens to your body.
It's been one year since I wrote my piece for your magazine and what a year it has been. January last year was the beginning of my recovery and last month I celebrated one year into my recovery.
"I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul." This was a line from "Invictus," a poem I had not studied in years, yet I found myself thinking about it one morning on the way to hot yoga.
They say that worrying as a new parent is normal, that you’ll worry about your child for the rest of his/her life. That may be so, but I was experiencing something I couldn’t imagine feeling for the next 18+ years of my life.
My brain was hijacked by overwhelming fear at the age of twelve. A fear so strong that it eventually took over my whole being. At the time, I did not understand why all of this was happening to me.
Single-mom isolation, gastrointestinal problems, a business in the dumps, and a box of vegetables: who would have thought that this particular mash-up could lead to a more self-expressed life? But that’s how it came together for me.
In 2008, I was diagnosed with Epilepsy after having a few major seizures, one of which landed me in the ER.
Almost seven years ago, I was told that the cruel way I treated my body was going to eventually kill me if I kept counting calories and restricting my intake at the rate I had been pushing myself. The day my doctor said to me if I were to continue to do these things to myself, I would not live to see my twenties was the day I decided to defy all odds.
For most of my life, everything was fine. I was a well-adjusted person, at least by my standards. I didn’t wake up one day knowing something was wrong. But it was in the little things, every day.
There’s so much technology around in today’s society that it's no wonder there doesn’t seem to be a need for learning braille. There seems to be this idea surrounding braille that it’s no longer useful in contemporary society, and that it doesn’t have as much value nowadays, but is that really true?
As part of my work, I write about the art of speaking gracefully and whether we should speak up or stay silent when it comes to online bullying. Now I’d like to take the discussion on language further -- to explore how words and phrases have the power to heal or harm when it comes to gender stereotypes.