ToGETherJOY
A space to share stories
with all sorts of ‘feels’ empowering women
to pause, reflect and redirect

`Mic

Grow New Branches

I desire to inspire women to unleash their voices with vulnerability and unapologetically share stories, including the ‘messy,’ thereby discovering a message of hope and unlocking chains of shame, fear, and isolation. These truths connect us as sisters, where seeds of courage, grace, and bravery are planted, and new growth flourishes.

I am honored to introduce you to my friend Sage Everett. Sage is the name I employ when women prefer anonymity. The name Sage symbolizes strength, wisdom, and healing, and this guest writer undoubtedly embodies all of these traits.

This is part of her story, raw, impactful, and difficult-to-swallow layers. Her wounds are deep; she didn’t choose them, yet Sage takes charge of her healing. The whole of her is much more; there are layers of kindness, quick wit, beauty, soulfulness, fierceness, love, and a lot of sassiness!

Sage has grown tired of the emotional baggage. These days, she’s leaving it in the dust and trading the heavy armor for a pair of kick-ass boots, which suits her splendidly. She is a little lighter, growing taller, and finally learning to F.L.Y. (first love yourself).

Love yourself enough to take the actions required for your happiness…enough to cut yourself loose from the drama-filled past... enough to set a high standard for relationships... enough to feed your mind and body in a healthy manner... enough to forgive yourself... enough to move on." – Steve Maraboli

Thank you, Sage, for sharing and reaffirming that beauty is pain blooms if we are open to growing. You continue to be an inspiration, and lucky me, I get to call you a lifer.

Keep growing; keep writing new chapters; your story is not over.

Always & Forever,

Mic

Who Am I?

By Sage Everett

Time and time again, we are asked that glorious question, “Tell me a little bit about yourself.” We come up with those catchy, wonderful things about being a daughter, a mother, a sister, or a friend, and then describe ourselves as kind, athletic, and spiritual. Yeah, that’s great, but that’s not who you are. Peel back the layers of the onion… Who am I? This is where you input white noise.

I know it sounds crazy because I should have a pretty concrete idea of who I am at my age. Most people do, don’t they? And then it hit me: I’m a chameleon. It sounds strange, but I morph and adapt to just about any situation. I don’t know how or why I got here.

Now is the time to go get the wine and pour some popcorn; buckle up; it will be a bumpy ride!

Sage

Let’s Rewind

I grew up with a pretty basic life. My parents are still married, and in my eyes, they still love each other, granted they had their days of arguments and mom slamming cabinets doors (I think that’s where I got that from). As I think back, I have been a pleaser all my life, and when I found dismay from someone, I would change to make them happy. I could be it all, even if it were only for a short time. I love seeing people smile; I find enjoyment in others’ enjoyment. On the converse, it hurts my heart when others are sad, especially when they are upset with me. The worst is that awful word, “disappointment.” Growing up, I did well in school and in sports. My brother wasn’t much into sports, so I filled that sports void of my brothers by being it all for my dad, which made him so happy. I always did enough to get by to stay off the radar.

I was a long-term dater in high school, and I fell in love with the fairy tale. Everything was wonderful, but he was much older and in college, and I lived two lives. When my senior year hit, I decided it was time for a new me- SENIOR YEAR. Hindsight is always 20/20!

I started college, where several of my high school graduates went; this is later coined 13th grade. Everywhere I went, it was “remember the time…” I quickly grew tired of all of that; I wanted to invent a new me. So I left and went far away.

Another opportunity to be whatever I want, or whatever someone thinks I am. I have been a fixer, the person that people talk to about their problems, all my life. I guess I have that face. Little do they know that I am a fucked up mess when it comes to dealing with my issues. And in walks Adam; he’s a bad boy, but I’m a good girl, so if anyone can fix him, it’s me, right?

Run Girl

Here’s where life takes a hard right turn. This is the portion of the movie where they state, “Viewer Discretion Advised” I won’t go through all the gory details because on each occasion, I will hear you shouting, “Run girl, run.” But I didn’t; I stayed. I stayed over and over again. Oh, the relationship started off well; he was a charmer until he wasn’t. Over the next two years, I endured mental and physical abuse from the guy who “loved me.” The cuts and bruises would heal, but the mental part left a scar for life. Each day I put on a happy face, went to school, played sports, worked, and volunteered, and very few people knew, and those who did, didn’t talk about what was going on. I ceased my relationship with my father because he didn’t like Adam.

A year and a half go by, and I barely talk to him until that night. If you ever watch Lifetime, this shit really does happen. Adam had no money but wanted to go out, so he came by my work and expected money, and he was driving my car. I walked outside to talk to him in my car so that I wouldn’t get in trouble, and it turned into a physical altercation. He drove recklessly through the downtown streets and across town, backhanding me and punching me in the stomach, so I was keeled over into the passenger seat. He finally stopped at the park where we could be alone to talk; I thought, “he’s going to severely hurt me or kill me, and no one is around to see this.” A policeman drove by by some luck of God, and I ran screaming and crying. Adam was arrested that night for assault.

I knew that night that this would never end; I had to make a change. I had to call my dad. My dad answered the phone at three in the morning, East Coast time. “Dad, I need you. Something has gone horribly bad with Adam, and I need you.” My dad was on the eight am flight to Colorado. I don’t think I had ever seen my dad cry until that day. The memory of it all is still so vivid twenty years later. The tears ran down his face as he saw the cuts and bruises from the previous night. I withdrew from school and left Colorado within twenty-four hours.

It’s been many years since that day, and I should be over it by now, but things like this do shape who you are; they do, in a sense, define you. I tell the story if anyone asks, but I will not voluntarily put that information out there. And the chameleon lives to see another day.

I spent what seemed like forever going through men like toilet paper. Not a proud moment, but I wanted to be in control; I wanted that love but wasn’t going to allow anyone around long enough to hurt me. Then I met my husband, and my whole world changed. Honestly, he was my friend to start with, I am sure he loves to hear that, but it’s true. When we first met, we stayed up all night talking. He was everything I was looking for and needed. I finally gave in, and I fell, and I fell hard. He’s been what I was always searching for, what I always needed. Has it been perfect, no? Married life isn’t always great, and sometimes it downright sucks. Our marriage has hit pitfalls and has had a time of infidelity, but I believe in seasons, and seasons change. We, as humans, change.

My favorite is the “you guys are perfect,” umm, don’t look too hard, sister; you might see some dents in that armor. Is he perfect? No. Am I perfect? No. Have we each done things to hurt each other? Yes. But at the end of the day, I know that he is my human. He is my ride or die. He is and always will be my best friend. He gets me, and as you see, that’s a whole lot to take in!

Peel The Onion

So you ask why I share this now? It’s been a while– I should just get over it, right? As I said, those internal scars run deep and sometimes stay for a lifetime. Look a little deeper into your friend and ask them if they are ok. The person to the right of you who seems so strong may still feel like a lesser human being and curl up in a fetal position crying because they still feel trapped by those demons of their past. You may learn about the day that they raced at a tree just wanting to escape this world because they felt worthless and thought that it wouldn’t matter if their existence carried on. Pick each other up, peel back a few layers of that onion and learn what’s at their core. I may forever be a chameleon, but for the first time, I feel ok saying that I’m not ok, but I have hope.

-Sage