Because I’ve Been Ignored

My story is in the lines on my face, the silver in my hair, the unlikely blooms in my desert garden, the trusty horses in my barn, the dirt under my nails and in the brave hearts of my daughters.

I haven’t always been this woman. The scars are barely noticeable anymore. The sharp edges of ego, fear worn like armor, and tight fists ever ready for a battle are now softened by the kindness in the eyes of my horses, by the sloppy kisses of my dogs, the scent of flowers and alfalfa and the sounds of hooves on dirt trails taking me far from worry, shame or regret.

It hasn’t always been this way. I help others because I’ve been hurt. I give freely because so much was taken from me. I listen because I’ve been ignored. I see you because I’ve been invisible. I fight for the underdog because I was given up on. Don’t mistake my softness for weakness, or my silence for a lack of awareness. The journey from there to here required courage, perseverance, education and introspection.

I don’t often speak about the wisdom I’ve earned, what I’ve seen and survived, but if you look and listen without assumption or preconception, you will know who I am through my girls, my gardens and my four legged gurus. If I’m doing what I am meant to do, you will recognize yourself there too.