Today would have been my great-grandmother's 102nd birthday. She passed away 12 years ago from that horrible disease that robbed her of her mind.

I can't imagine not knowing who I am or who the people around me are. I'm certain that she had to be scared. In fact, I know she was because the last time I visited her, all memories of me were forgotten, and my mere presence caused her to be so uneasy, that I left her room and went and sat in the car.

My family now looks back at a few of the things that happened and now we can laugh. Time has allowed us to see the humor in some of the situations.

Like the time she tried to hit my mom over the head with a nut bowl and called her a little shit. I had no clue my great-grandmother, who went to church every Sunday, even knew those types of words.

Or the day that she forgot me completely, she looked at me through narrowed eyes, and said to everyone else in the room, "You have to be careful with that one. She's a sneaky one, she is."

Alzheimer's is a horrible, horrible disease that is hard on everyone close to the situation, and those are times I will never forget, but I have found now that her things, things she left to us are what gives me comfort.

Like her hens and chicks that sit by my feet on my front porch right now. Or the start from her lilac bush that is in my back yard. Or the few little knick knacks that I got when we cleaned out her house.

I think my most favorite of all is the fact that a few years after her death, my grandmother and I were swinging on the big front porch swing she has, and she happened to glance down at my feet. She said, "You know you have Mom's feet. Her big toe sat slightly under her 2nd toe just like yours does."

And I looked at her and smiled.

In high school, one of the most important things to me was basketball. I loved playing the game, loved figuring out how to win the game, and more than anything, I loved being a part of the team and my teammates. I have such fond memories of my teammates. We had fun. They are a big part of what made me NOT hate high school.

Yesterday, I got word that one of those teammates had passed away.

She graduated three years after me and was a couple inches shorter than me but five thousand times faster than me. She was a true athlete. Every thing that I had to work extra hard for came naturally to her. I always admired that about her.

We ended up attending the same college, but while she played college basketball, I didn't. I can remember being so happy that one (as well as a few others) of my old teammates were on my college's squad.

More recently, we both worked in our downtown area and would see each other from time to time. We always made time to say hi and sometimes talk about the "good ol' days".

Yesterday, her passing reminded me how short life is. How much we should embrace the time we have now, and to follow our hearts. And in the next several months, that's exactly what I plan on doing. Now more than ever, I am even more aware and thankful that I have made the decision to do just that.

Please don't give your condolences to me, but think of her family. They need your thoughts right now. I'm quite happy with my memories of her, and the time we had playing basketball together. It was a pleasure and honor to know her. And my wishes for all of you out there is to take a look at those around you and embrace them.

Life is short. Live life and love it.

The one person that I've worried most about hurting in my thoughts and plans of moving is my mom. My mom and I are close. We love to go to antique malls, go to lunch, shop...you name it, we've done it. Sometimes she's my "go-to" gal when no one else is available. I know she loves it, and the thought of leaving her kind of breaks my heart. So, today, when the subject of moving came up, I got a little nervous.

Things at work have change recently. The details are unimportant, and honestly, I think that this is a sign that I need to get my ass in gear. There was a time that I needed to just sit tight because I was in no mental state to try to find something new. But now, things are such that I just don't know how long I can stand going to work every single day. I love my friends at work, and my manager is great, but I know myself enough to know that I need a change.

So, I said to my mom, "I just don't know how I'm going to be able to stand going into that place every day."

Her reply was, "then don't."

That sparked a discussion about moving. And she said, "I've lived my life. It's time that you've live yours."

We talked about visits to each other, where I would go, what kind of job I would look for, and getting my house ready to sell, and it all seems so real now. And instead of having this nagging pain inside of my heart that is worried if my mom is going to be okay, I'm excited to begin this new chapter of my life.

And it's because I have her blessing.

Tonight, a segment on the Biggest Loser really hit home. There is a father/daughter team who is very close. The daughter is 24, but obviously still very much under her father's wing. The whole segment was about how the daughter needed to start living her life for her. How she was strong enough to do so, AND how she needed to tell her dad that she was ready to do this.

I can relate to her SO MUCH.

I realized at some point, that I have relied a lot on my parents. I stayed under my parents' wings a lot longer that most people did. There was a time that I had to. I needed them. I had no one else. Or I felt like I had no one else.

Once I felt like I could spread my wings a bit, I was afraid to disappoint my parents. I felt like they need me. And while, I know that they would support me, the thought of hurting them killed me. It still does. And I've stayed put.

Recently, some things in my life, especially on the job front, have made me realize that my future most likely means leaving this beautiful valley that I was born and raised in, the place that I've always called home.

And while I'm nervous and scared about it, I'm also excited. I can hear other places calling my name. I love that a new adventure is just waiting on me. I've slowly been getting my parents used to this idea. (And if I'm being honest, me as well.) This change won't happen overnight because I have some things here to get in order and to take care of before I can leave. I know that my parents will be sad and will miss me (as I will them), they just want me to be happy, and this will always be home. And for the first time, I know they will be okay. We all will.

It's time I spread my wings, and I can't wait to fly.

There once was a little girl who had two loving parents and a brother. Her parents never abused her. They did the best they could to provide for her and her brother. The four of them had really good times and built great memories together.

However, the little girl's father was very hard on her. He never meant it in anyway but to try to raise the little girl into being the best woman she could possibly be. You see, he had a hard childhood with a very poor example as a father, and while that may not excuse the fact that he was hard on his daughter, it was the reason for it. It was the only way he knew how to parent.

He used to tell the little girl that even if you think you've done your best, you can always do better or find a way to improve. That stuck with the little girl so much that for a long time, she felt bad if she brought home a "B" on her report card. She was always the first one at basketball practice and the last one to leave, even when her chances of playing in a game were slim. Anything else would have made her feel like a failure.

As a result, the girl grew into a woman who was extremely hard on herself. She was always afraid to disappoint those she cared most about. Even if it was something little. She did eventually see how self-destructive her ways were, but after a lifetime of feeling such pressure from not only her father, but also from herself, it was a very hard habit to break. In fact, she still struggles with it. She finds herself apologizing even when she doesn't need to or panicking over little things.

She realizes it's hard for people to understand it. Just snap out of it, some say. But she can't just snap out of it. She's stuck. She doesn't sleep, can't focus, her head hurts, her heart hurts. She knows that it's bad and she shouldn't do this, and that just creates more pressure.

Why can't she just let it go? Why can't she just relax? Let it go? Know that everything will work out? God, this hurts, why do I do this to myself? Three nights without sleep and I can't think. Is it dinner time? When did it get dark out? How do I turn my brain off...

Yes, that woman is me. I admit this is an extreme case of what I sometimes go through, and they do happen less often than they used to because I have people in my life now that really help me keep the calm. Most days.

I don't blame my dad for being hard on me. Do I wish he would have realized what he was doing and changed it? Sure, but I'm not angry at how he raised me. How can I be angry with him for his flaws when I have my own?

I'm not sure that I'll ever not be hard on myself. It's like it's deep inside of my brain, and while it doesn't surface as much as it used to, it still surfaces. But I know that I have people, friends, that will pull me out of it, that will hold my hand while I sleep if I need it. They help me see the light.

Because of them, the pressure isn't as bad.