Journey

I was probably in kindergarten or first grade when my family decided to dig a big hole in the backyard to put in a pool. I learned over the course of that first summer to swim and became a great swimmer throughout my remaining years at home (we lived in four different homes with a pool at each place). I could swim laps with the endurance of a marathon runner, hold my breath under water for an extended period of time, and experiment with several types of dives or jumps from the side of the pool or the diving board. One thing I discovered was that doing front flips into the pool left me extremely disoriented for around 30 seconds. I would make this leap, flip through the air, slip into the water, and hope that I had adequate air in my lungs to float me to the top rather than sinking. Oddly, I really enjoy that feeling even if I can't swim immediately after hitting the water. Either way, being a great swimmer means nothing if you cannot figure out which direction to swim to get to

My first experience with roller coasters was in 5th grade. I went to Cedar Point in Sandusky, OH with my best friend and her family. I hopped on this tiny, simple rollercoaster called the  Iron Dragon . Seriously, watch the video to see what a pansy I was. A couple years later I ended up at Cedar Point again with my sister and her family. I ended up riding on the Iron Dragon again, and I managed to venture to the  Blue Streak . It seemed so scary at the time, but it is literally a down and back wooden rollercoaster that goes up and down a few times. It wasn't a particularly rough or scary ride. After my experiences with roller coasters at Cedar Point, I managed to avoid pretty much every ride that required me to drop quickly. I don't particularly like the feeling of the contents of my stomach wanting to exit, and I certainly do not want to do something to intentionally cause that feeling! One day, to my horror, my brother told me that the freshmen trip during the fir

I thrive on competition, and I get really discouraged by comparing myself with others. It can be psychologically excruciating. Striving for perfection throughout my entire life stems from the feeling that I have never been enough; I have never met my own expectations or my perceived experience of what I think others expect from me. Perfection certainly runs deep in my family. My husband still laughs about an incident that happened with my dad the week before we were married. I think it was my husband's first glimpse at what he was REALLY getting himself into with me (with the exception of getting mooned at the table on Thanksgiving before we were engaged). About two or three weeks before Tim and I were married in Michigan, there was a torrential downpour at my parents' house. A recent leveling of land two lots away from their house to rezone for a development had changed ground water drainage and flow, and the result was a river flowing into the backyard. The in-ground p