ToGETherJOY
`Mic
A space to share stories
with all sorts of ‘feels’ empowering women
to pause, reflect and redirect
I desire to inspire women to unleash their voices with vulnerability. To unapologetically share stories, including the ‘messy,’ thereby discovering a message of hope. Thus, unlocking chains of shame, fear, and isolation. These truths connect us as sisters, where seeds of courage, grace, and bravery get planted and new growth flourishes.
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I love spring and the unspoken promise of a fresh start. New growth reemerges in a cascade of beautiful colors with aromatic scents that paint a hopeful picture. Personally, the seeds I planted last year are beginning to bloom, and they are lovely.
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And then I realized that to be more alive I had to be less afraid so I did it… I lost my fear and gained my whole life ~Rudy Francisco
This reminds me of her, my friend Cheryl. Living less afraid.
Her life resembles the cover of her first novel, The Other Side of Sanctuary, a bed of stones leading to the water’s edge. My friend has been walking on rocks her entire life. Lately, some rocks have cut her deeply. The edges have been sharp, painful, and with layers of complexities.
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“Mom, I am spending the night at Mick’s, I yell from my room as I stare at my clothes; hmm, what shade of black should I wear? I go on, I know it’s a school night, and then I proceed to lie, easily I might add…we are working on a project”. I shove clothes in my backpack and head out the door. It’s 1989, cell phones are not a thing, tracking devices are definitely not a thing; I am free to roam. The whole of 16, the two of us, big hair, and wheels. Betsy-Mick’s 1979 car -I can’t remember the make but Betsy girl was beaten up, bandaged up with Duct tape, resembling our lives; we too were a little banged up. It was a warm fall night, and I could hardly contain myself. I only knew a couple of songs; I didn’t care; it would be epic. The Rolling Stones, my first concert, how many girls can say that? We drive off into the sunset, windows down, our hair is not going anywhere… a little prayer for Betsy- don’t fail us now, girl!
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This week’s post comes from an anonymous author- brace yourself for a genuine, honest, and raw voice. Anonymity is essential; her story is personal- I grasp this, and you will too.
It is hard for me not to use a name; personally, I think she’s a rock star. If it were up to me, I’d give her a massive arena with an elevated stage, hand her the microphone and shine the spotlight. It would require all this to fully illuminate her strength and devotion. Protecting her privacy is non-negotiable. Nevertheless, I am inclined to pay tribute to this incredible person and the many who suffer in silence. A modest gesture to say, I see you, and I honor you. With that in mind, I chose to bestow her a stage name, Sage Everett. The name symbolizes strength, bravery, wisdom, and healing. I know Sage personifies all these qualities and so many more.
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Hey, Y’all! Allow me to introduce my friend Stephanie. Our friendship spans decades, and it is hard to imagine my high school years without her. Even though she came in the latter part of high school, she is in every memory and in every moment. The friendship felt organic from the beginning. She fell in the arms of our tight and established crew and blended immediately. Our lingo, our inside jokes, our secrets quickly became hers. I am convinced people flow in and out of our lives for a reason. No doubt, Stephanie and the rest of the crew helped me survive the messy, confusing, and complicated coming of age.
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