Tag: andrea frazer

education, Uncategorized

Art, the Harlem Renaissance and the Pursuit of Dreams

Andrea Frazer

As I mentioned a few blogs back, I am knee deep in Vision Board creation with my art class. For 5 periods/day I talk Langston Hughes, what it meant to be an African American artist during the turn of the century, and what Hughes’ poem, Dreams, can mean for them for their own vision of their future.

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Me: “How many of you have printers at home?”

Only half the kids’ hands go up.

Me: “No excuses for those of you who don’t! I will send you to the library in three’s… with the exception of Parker, Carlos and Jack. I don’t want it burned down… But everyone else, you can take turns.”

Blank stares.

Me: “Or… you can send me an email directly at my LAUSD account. I will print and bring it back the very next day! This is the easiest A you will ever get!”

Murmurs of understanding ripple through the classroom.

Much to my surprise, I received quite a few requests for printouts. These ranged from colleges, professional basketball players, doctors and anime characters.

From several I heard about how they, too, wanted to live dreams that inspired them beyond their present circumstances.

And from one girl, I received this:

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I call this an A+.

Happily Ticked Off Tip #13: Never underestimate bathing in a tub full of hard cold cash. (Or wet cash, as the case may be here.)

Until next time,

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook. 

books

faith

Losing My Religion. And Tacos.

Andrea Frazer

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I found a new writer who pretty much describes the transition I’ve been in for, oh, the past 20 years. Her name is Elizabeth Baker and she writes about her move from Evangelical Christianity to Progressive Christianity in places like HuffPo, her own blog at ElizabethBaker.com, Scary Mommy and more. Call it the wanna be Evangelical in me, but I’m still a bit uncomfortable with some of her word choices (ex: Why People Think Christians Are Assholes) but I get her drift. She’s over hiding her questions. And so am I.

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For a long time I felt like I wasn’t good enough. I drank over it. Raged over it. Hid behind my feelings that “something just doesn’t feel right” with my soul. When I found a big church, it felt like the pieces came together just enough to keep me from breaking apart. I loved the sermons and the pastor. I loved some of the people. It felt safe. People were kind to me. But there was also a bottom line: There was one way to heaven. Doubt, resist and flail, but in the end, put down your guns.

I wanted to do this. I was used to doing this. After all, when everyone else is right, and you are wrong, this is an easy creed to follow. And yet, there were issues. I had a Jewish father, lots of Jewish family members, and many friends from other faith traditions. I tried to swallow the idea that my conservative church’s way was right, and their’s was not, but I never felt the need to convert them. The only thing I wanted to ask them was if they could pass the bagels or the Tikka Massala shrimp.

As time went on, and I found my strength through a 12 step program and a flock of girlfriends who just let me be me (as well as raised independent thinkers who asked hard questions that couldn’t be answered with just black and white Bible verses) my facade of “it must be this way or I’ll crumble” well… crumbled.

And in the rubble, with just me, the Holy Spirit and an empty cup of Yuban, it hit me: I didn’t want my church’s “religion” so much as I wanted the assurance so many of the members seemed to have. For the first time, I had honesty about my doubts. And while that honesty was uncomfortable, it was like finally taking off a pair of jeans that were too tight. I felt free. Less burdened. I didn’t lose Jesus. I just lost my need to have someone else’s Lord.

The Awkward Rebel

I know that many conservative folk would say I’m being rebellious, but if they knew me, they’d know I’m the most tender, rule following good girl there is. But often that has been at the expense of this good girl’s wellbeing. And that felt bad.

So Now What? 

I believe with 100% certainty that God is for me, not against me, but I also believe he is for you if you are naturally born gay. I don’t believe it’s a choice. And I can no longer attend a church that counsels people to deny this aspect of their being.

When I get quiet, which is where I hear from God (just like Paul did… just like many male prophets did) I hear a tender voice that reminds me, “You don’t know everything, Andrea, but you were fearfully and wonderfully made. I love you. Now go out and love others and put down the judgement today. And by judgement, I don’t mean of others. You have always loved others. I mean of yourself. And eat a taco while you’re at it.”

And so I did.

I joined a tiny open and affirming church that allows me the respect to question, seek and love my fellow worshippers exactly as they are, not as religion tells them to be. And I’ll be providing the taco bar for fellowship in a few weeks. If you, too, are a seeker, come join me. Services start at 10.

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And if you’re happy at your more traditional church, that’s okay, too. I don’t want to be right. I just want peace. And I wish the same for you.

Happily Ticked Off Tip #12: Find Your Own God, Not Someone Else’s. If You’re Wrong, God Will Let You Know. And It Will Make a Fun Story at the Welcome Back Church BBQ.

Until next time,

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook. 

books

 

writing

Taking a Stand: Our Kids Are Worth It

Andrea Frazer

this one

It’s Day #3 of the teachers strike. This means it’s Day #3 of me not subbing.  Here are my thoughts.

From a Substitute Teacher

I do not like this teachers’ strike
I do not like what Beutner’s like
I do not like the pouring rain
I do not like the money drain

I don’t like subbing without insurance
Until 100 days worked. (Yeah, that’s assurance!)

But…

I do not like the crowded classes
And kids on phones who act like asses
I don’t like pencils thrown at my head
(Sometimes they throw milk cartons instead)

I don’t like kids who curse me out
I don’t like asking them not to shout
I don’t like feeling I’m a babysitter
But I refuse to teach and come home bitter

So…

I’m standing with teachers
I’m taking my chances
That L.A. wakes up
And our culture advances

If we all do not want guns in school
And we want kids who think (not just follow rules)
If we want less bullies
If we want kids to be kind
Then let’s value our teachers
Let’s all walk the line

It’s time to make the class sizes shrink
So kids can grow and laugh and think
We need to make school a beautiful space
Where kids feel heard… where kids feel safe

Let’s bring back the music
Let’s bring back the laughter
Let’s bring back the joy
‘Cause the fact of the matter is

If you cherish our future
And you value our kids
Then do what the teachers
Finally just did

They took a stand
To change the game
Now come on, L.A….
Will you do the same?

Andrea Frazer Paventi
Proud LAUSD Sub 

Pictured: My beautiful peeps at my home school.

writing

Happily Ticked Off: 2019

Andrea Frazer

this one

This just in! This just in! I am no longer writing about Tourettes. See here.

I am no longer offering services for tic consulting.

I am no longer pushing essential oils for relaxation.

Why? Aren’t they good ideas?

Yes, my dear readers, they are. I believe in them. But you know what I am happiest doing most? WRITING!

And who has a TV pilot contract writing? Me!

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And why am I considering getting my Masters in Special Education and teaching? Because I need to live in a fun little place called Reality, and that means my said pilot might not sell. (But honestly, I have a good feeling it will. I really do. If you are the praying type, please pray. If you are the superstitious type, please cross your fingers and don’t step under ladders for the whole month of January and beginning of February.) But…if this pilot doesn’t sell…and I teach… I will get summers and four weeks off a year to do what I love most. What is that? Did you forget? WRITING!

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And so with that in mind, bring on 2019. Let’s get Happily Ticked Off together learning how to accept the life we cannot change, change the life we can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.

PS: As a substitute teacher for the LAUSD School District, I’m officially picketing with the teachers for higher pays and better classroom size.

What does that mean? I’m not working this week. What does that mean? I’m… WRITING!

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You know what, I refuse to be in a bad mood. Life is too good. I can’t wait to see where this life leads in 2019.

What are your plans for 2019? What are you dying to do? Leave a comment below! I miss you guys!

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook. 

books

Uncategorized

When Will It Be Enough? Oh, You Mean NOW?

Andrea Frazer

kids together

Sometimes at the end of a long sub day

The kids come home and there’s hell to pay

The dishes from morning are still in the sink

There’s a lamp on the table and it sure makes me think,

“Why do I cook and do shopping and clean

And all of the other shxxx all in between

While they can do school and come home and relax

I swear those ungratefuls can go kiss my… donkey.”

And then I remember

“They’re only teenagers!

With just a few short years left

Don’t you think you should savor

The fact they do homework? That they don’t argue much?

When, Andrea, when, will it be enough?

When your son stops his ticcing?

When you sell your next book?

When you get on a show?

When you hire a cook?

When you hire a maid?

When you get a new car?

Perhaps what you want is not really that far

You’ve got cars to drive in

You’ve got water to run

You’ve got food in the fridge

In a nutshell… you’ve won!

Stop waiting for Stink to stop making those sounds…

For the toilet seat lid to just for once to go down

The magic is happening… RIGHT AS YOU TYPE

With the neighbor kid laughing and the sweet pumpkin spice

That’s in my diffuser

Plus there’s chill in the air

It’s Fall time at last

And these days, I swear

It’s becoming more clear

That’s it’s my attitude

That keeps me most happy

That indeed sets the mood

So I’ll set all boundaries

I’ll remind them of dishes

I’ll have them fold laundry

But this mom – she wishes

To remember that mostly

This time… it’s so short

It seems yesterday, friends, they were setting up forts

And now they have cell phones

And geometry tests

So I’ll do what I can

But let God do the rest

In closing I wish

That no matter your deal

You’ll focus on things that are precious and real

The hugs and the smiles

The books by the fire

Because when kids are gone

And it’s time to retire

You’ll miss all the chaos

(Yup, even “those” sounds)

And wish those sweet donkeys were still coming around.

Until next time,

May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook. (Yes, I’m back on Facebook for work mainly!)

bookcover profile pic

Uncategorized

Beeing Happy on Purpose

Andrea Frazer

Yesterday was my mom’s birthday. She’s 87 or 88. Not sure. All I know is that somewhere between a 12 step meeting, my daughter’s choir concert the night before, my son’s impending “not-date” later that evening and Costco shopping I baked her a cake to celebrate.

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I say this not to be the Queen of Busyness. “Congrats! Here’s your award for stretching yourself too thin and then yelling at the kids five minutes before she arrived that “I DO EVERYTHING and all YOU have to do is sit on your butt and watch Youtube where people thirty years younger than me are making three times as much money as me and NO I AM NOT BITTER.”

I’m not at all frustrated about making that cake. Or the fact that no dishes were washed while I was shopping. (Okay, I’m frustrated about that last one.) I mention the cake because, if I’m not careful, I will be so busy busy busy doing and fretting and striving that I will forget to celebrate the people who mean the most to me.

I don’t always celebrate well, especially the past five years in this endless loop of trying to make money while raising my kids and finding my purpose. My mom will be the first to say, “I know how busy you are, Andrea, but don’t forget to call.” That said, despite not doing things as effortlessly as I did when the kids were younger, I am proud that yesterday I didn’t let a rough start with the kids bleed into the birthday celebration. Some days, like yesterday, just not throwing a fit is good enough. And I’m learning not to apologize about it.

Plus we had a lovely evening later that night at Stink’s “not-date”. While Stink was at the movies, Rex, Pip and I walked around the mall. We ended up playing this charades game, “Heads Up” on Pip’s phone. In the process, two random women walked by and started playing with us. An hour later, I learned all about one’s marriage issues, one’s scrap metal business, the fact that one of them just booked a part on Modern Family and how another wishes she could get into film editing but she’s thinking of starting a family soon. My introverted spouse and daughter just let me play Jay Leno to the latest guests on the Andrea Show while they checked out some free samples at Lush. I’d say I felt bad holding court without them, but it was a blast. I’m always in my happy spot when I can just converse – and that leads me to today’s message in church.)

Pastor Dre  was talking about Paul. He spoke about the importance of finding joy in our less than perfect circumstances. That joy happens when we leave room for God. When we don’t have to do everything ourselves. Like that conversation last night with my two new besties. Not planned. Not going to serve me financially. But honestly, made me buzz with the joy of the banter.

Choosing to be happy is a decision we must make every day. It might seem like an odd thing – finding small bits of glee when things don’t feel so easy in the grand scheme. But that’s kind of the point. We must choose gratitude over what is working, and not focus on what isn’t. That’s where the peace comes in.

As of this moment, I don’t feel particularly joyful. I am tired of the thought of waking at 5am to wait for a sub call I may or may not get. Why don’t I just finally go and get that Masters in Education and be done with it? But if I do that, there’s no more writing. At least not for a few years. Am I okay with that? Sometimes yes, sometimes, no. I’m sick of having no consistent income. So what am I waiting on?

And so, round and round I go. But, to quote my sponsor, sometimes the hallway is exactly where we need to be. If we’re so busy trying to fill it up with fixes, we may just block the door to the freedom and purpose that we’ve been waiting for.

For tonight – just for tonight – I will put on my sneakers and enjoy the beautiful Fall air.

I will relish in the fact that I have a clean car and a script to work on tomorrow.

I will focus on happy children downstairs and a pizza being made by my husband.

And I will remember that I don’t have all the answers to everything right this second. But God does. And that’s enough for now.

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Bee photo from here.

Uncategorized

Being in the Present On Purpose

Andrea Frazer

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I’m subbing today at the Middle School I worked as a special needs aid for two years. I feel lucky that, out of 8 days subbing so far this year, 7 have been here at this school. These teachers know me and support me. I can make mistakes with people that already are aware of my successes. No more reinventing the wheel. It feels, in a nutshell, glorious. It feels safe. And from that place of safety, I can grow to be who God most wants me to be.

I have not always felt safe. I have the kind of mind that lives in the past or in the future. The present? It’s too frustrating. Here in the present is where the reality lives. The messy house. The lack of funds. The fears over my son’s Tourette’s. It’s also where my greatest joy lives when I remember to lean into it.

  • A delicious cup of coffee at 530am with my morning prayers

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  • A beautiful new office to dream in

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  • A husband who works very hard to be on the same team with me these days.

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  • Trader Joes pumpkin spice samples and old ladies at Costco who hand out burrito squares and tell me about immigrating from Cuba. (Sidenote: Has anyone seen One Day at a TimOne Day at a Time on Netflix? Rita Morena plays a Cuban grandma in this remake and she is amazing! So funny!)aaa

 

As I edge closer and closer to 50, I’m becoming more and more aware that my present only need be frustrating when I make it so. When I choose to accept reality exactly as it is… when I commit to being someone whose goal is to give to others, not take for myself,  things feel perfect.

Last week, in a special day class, I had the kids begin home room by talking about what they were most grateful for. Most kids couldn’t think of anything (minus the few who were thankful for Fortnight and Sephora) so I created gratitude for them. “How about, you are happy for your sweatshirt, because you’re not cold?” or “How about you’re grateful for the free breakfast you are eating because now you can concentrate.” From there we went on to study the solar system and discuss why Pluto is more than just a Disney character and no longer considered a planet.

“I wonder if he feels rejected?” I quipped, following it up with, “And your phone will soon be rejected by YOU who will give it to ME if I see it again.”

With the phones safely stored away in oversized sweatshirts we finished the class. At the end, a short boy with floppy brown hair ambled up to me. He looked into my face with amber eyes and mumbled, “Ms. Frizzle, I’m graaaful fa mefily.”

“What?” I asked, having no idea what he said.

He repeated in a soft whisper, “Ms. Frizzle, I’m graaaful fa mefily.”

I still couldn’t decipher it. “One more time, sweetie,” I asked, leaning in even closer.

“I’M GRATEFUL FOR MY FAMILY.”

He walked away then, big smile on his face.

And if I chose to look back, he’d see one on mine.

And maybe a little tear. (But don’t tell anyone. I work with Middle Schoolers. I don’t want them thinking I’m going soft.)

Until next time…

May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook. (Yes, I’m back on Facebook for work mainly!)

bookcover profile pic

Uncategorized

Uncertainty: Do or Don’t Do (But Don’t Complain!)

Andrea Frazer

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I’m subbing these days for the LA Unified School System. It’s terrifying and thrilling all at once. I love the kids. I love the bell schedule. It’s comforting to know that no matter how awful a hormonal middle schooler can be that in fifty five minutes he will, indeed, get off his desk and turn his cell phone on in someone else’s classroom.

What I don’t love about subbing is how inconsistent it can be. Some weeks I am on top of the world – everyone’s favorite sub and putting out flames like Miss Frizzle on a firetruck. Other days it’s slow. It’s me at 530am, barely awake with my phone on my chest, hoping above hope that the phone will ring – I can stumble through a quick shower – and I’ll be able to put 200 bucks in my bank account.

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Add in the fact that I need to book at least 100 days this year to qualify for insurance for next year and the pressure, like Donkey Kong, is on.

When I start to question my sanity on doing this job, rather than get a 9-6 office job or stay at the steady eddy school aid job that paid very little but gave me insurance, I have to remember a few things:

Reasons for Taking Chances

  1. Not working on certain days this entire week damnit would give me a chance to write my tv pilot! My dream! I am doing just that.
  2. Working as a sub would give me a better understanding of what it takes to teach. (I’m getting that. What used to terrify me now makes me a bit giddy. Who knew I could handle 46 stinky general ed 7th graders, or a class of 9 non-verbal/diaper wearing 8th graders, and not lose my cookies? It’s been an incredibly exciting challenge and full of personality and joy.)

The Uncertainty of Life

The issues I am facing with both the writing as well as the work is that they are both incredibly uncertain. Maybe I’ll get called for the day, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll sell a script, maybe I won’t. (Oh, and tics? Those are kind of uncertain also. Fun times, this uncertainty!) Bottom line: I can’t have it both ways. There is ZERO point in taking these leaps of faith if I’m going to complain, protest and be a general crazy person for my family. (This week taught me that. As of this moment, I am putting it down. Dear Courage, Dear Jesus, I’m ready… Bring it on! And please bring coffee, too. Panic attacks are so much better with Starbucks.)

Fantasy vs. Reality

Let’s get real: The chances of selling like a show, at my age, are slim. It’s not that I am not talented, but it’s so much more than that. This business, as I am experiencing yet again through a class I’m taking, is incredibly, incredibly laced with competition, fear and desperation. I was told by more than a few students in my class that I came on “too strong” and like I had “something to prove.” The truth? I did have something to prove. I wanted people to know I could write! But guess what? They didn’t care! And that’s, sadly, the reality of this business. EVERYONE wants EVERYONE to know how good they are. It’s not just about writing well, it’s about navigating complicated personalities. Knowing when to open your mouth and when to just shut up. The truth? I failed and it cost me a potential workshop win.

Truth vs. Lies

Losing the contest was a bigger blow than I had anticipated. I originally told myself, “It’s just one class… get used to it…” but I’m realizing now the wound went much deeper. It triggered a core belief I had about myself… a belief that turned out to be a lie. And that’s this: Somewhere along the way I told myself this big story that unless I sell a TV show I’m a loser.

Typing it out loud, it sounds so silly, but deep in my gut, my motivation for this genre was flawed. And flawed never works. Even if I sold something, I’d be happy for a bit, but then that roaring lion would come out soon again, taunting me with its “You’re not good enough” barbs and roaring at my inadequacies.

My dear friend, Barbs, said it best, “Andrea, it’s not about writing. It’s about your idol. As soon as you make something bigger than God you are going to lose out on your true purpose for doing what you do. Set it down. See what happens.”

Purpose

And so, on that note, I leave you with the idea of purpose. What is your purpose? What do you do when you think it’s one thing and it turns out, maybe, that God has other plans? Ex: I thought for a long time my purpose was to STOP THOSE TICS. And guess what? That was not the case. In terms of T.S., the purpose there was to teach me to not be so controlling – to accept my son for who he was. (Note: I fail with this a lot.)

With the writing, I know my purpose, beyond a shadow of a doubt, is to do this. But in what form? I don’t know. But God does. And until I am willing to surrender outcome 100% to him, everything else will be just a false idol of ego and proving that in the end will leave me flat.

A teacher I really respect, Graham Cooke, talked about this today.

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I don’t know where I’m going these days, but I know that God knows. So for today, just for today, I will finish up that pilot for a workshop I didn’t win, and once again remember that when my sweet ticker comes home from school, it’s not about me wishing he would make different choices with his Tourettes. My son knows he is a child of the King whose voice deserves to be heard. And, whether in Hollywood, books, magazines or just here in my beautiful new office, mine does, too.

And so does yours.

Until next time,

May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook. bookcover profile pic

Uncategorized

Acceptance Begins with Sleep! And Coffee Never Hurts

Andrea Frazer
Summer is officially over. I went from hiking each dawn with some fellow teachers and mornings of glorious reading and meditation, to the grind “Mom, have you seen the cheese?” and “We need 1 million and 1 school supplies RIGHT NOW LET’S GO RIGHT AFTER SCHOOL!”

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Yesterday I was up at 445 AM for a meeting and didn’t go to bed until 1030 PM. Add in a visit to my mom, getting my kids to and from their first day of high school, picking my daughter back up and taking her for a Starbucks treat and taking care of a dog who insists on jumping through our living room windows, it was nuts.
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I write this not to earn a badge of courage. I write it to say that some days are just unmanageable. Fears come in. For those of you who read my book, you know it’s Rhonda, the voice of an old school yard bully. “How are you ever going to finish that writing pilot? What if you don’t win that contest? Your life is over! What about that messy office? No wonder you aren’t a successful writer! And by the way, those five pounds from not hiking are starting to creep back in. Watch it, Tubby!” (She’s a real bitch, that one.)
 
This morning, instead of freaking out, a nicer voice entered my head. Her name is Glinda, named after the Good Witch of the West, and she gently whispered, “Andrea, you need to rest on days you can. There’s no shame in celebrating some silence. And your curves – muy magnificente! And by the way, class or no class, you just sold an idea to a producer for another TV pilot. No pay now, but it’s great on your resume, so let’s just concentrate on what is real joy, not future fear, okay? Toodles!”)
 
I took her advice. And while Glinda would never take off her tiara and her bra, I did. Today the hanging twins and I took advantage of my husband driving the kids to school and no substitute teaching calls and slept in until 9. We sipped coffee, nibbled on toast, and watched three episodes of Call the Midwife.
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I was reminded once again through the lives of these nuns and young nurses that love comes in many forms. That in birthing babies we birth new ideas. That in burying ill friends or toxic relationships, we can let go of thoughts and patterns that don’t work for us.
For me, it’s realizing I’m doing a lot better than I sometimes think. That perhaps I never found a cure to tics, but am trusting that in allowing my son – my very ticky and twitchy son – to be exactly who he is, that this just might be a cure to what the world needs most: acceptance for who we are just as we are designed, not how others want us to be.
 
Last night I walked into Stink’s room to say good night and I heard a sound out of his chest that I had never heard before. These muffled honks came out while he was happily pounding his keyboard, writing to a good friend from 10th grade. My gut clenched. (I can’t lie. Each time it gets me. More to come on a diagnosis that explains a lot!) 
“You’re never going to get used to this. Give up now,” Rhonda snapped at me. But then Glinda came in. “Give yourself a break. Go upstairs, put on the loud fan, and go to bed. You’re worth it. And so is your son. He just needs you to love him as he is.”
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So with the power of a mom who loves this kid more than I can say. I kissed him good night and headed upstairs. I fell asleep fast – not out of sadness or despair, but from knowing that I spent a day doing what God asked of me: being of service, letting go of my old ideas, and loving my child just as he needs at this moment of his life.
What Can I Change? What Can You Change?
 
I can’t change my son’s decision to not medicate his tics, but I can change the grease on my kitchen cabinets.
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I can tape off the walls of my office so my husband can spray a neat white line on the ceiling.aa.jpg
And I can remind you that, if you’re hurting or lonely, you are not alone. Change what you can, and give the rest back to God. Because take it from me – the answer is not in fixing things or getting what we want. It’s would be nice! (Believe me, I’m ready for tics to end and get a TV writing gig to make some cash again!) But true serenity comes in loving what we have, not what we don’t.
And we can do this every day, one day at a time, with good friends, a little faith and, if you’re like me, a little coffee and hiking never hurts.

Until next time…

May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook. (Yes, I’m back on Facebook for work mainly!)

bookcover profile pic

Uncategorized

Here’s to New Beginnings!

Andrea Frazer

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I made the recent (and for this social media mama, quite radical) decision to leave Facebook lately. Many of you readers found me over there originally… perhaps through a friend or my Happily Ticked Off page. Unfortunately, Facebook’s lull, pull and constant jabs of information and opinions became for me like tics – overwhelming, hard to decode and utterly exhausting.

Starting Over

Social media feels to me like how I used to view my son’s tics: Like everyone else knows the answer and I’m just an ignorant ass, fumbling along, trying to make sense of what is up and what is down. I was always spinning – never really present with Stink or my family because I was so busy just trying to hold on to the tornado of info that never touched down. Quite the opposite: I felt dizzy from the ride.

It wasn’t until I took the opposite approach and simplified that I found answers for my son and for me. Simplification meant less input from everyone and more input from a few trusted sources: God, my intuition, a few sites, a few good friends, and amazing naturopath.

I’m taking the same approach here. Either God is bigger than social media or he is not. Either my message is strong enough that people will seek me out or they will not. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. If 25 of you find hope and healing from what I bring here, then my life has meaning.

A New Day

It’s Sunday. I’m off to church and then to a communications class with my husband. I need it. Just last night we had an almost brawl over how to handle my 15 year old man child’s non-ending vocals. Stink is still not on medication, and he gulped approximately 7000 times during our vacation. (Yes, I estimated. I suck.) I am tired of it and want to put the hammer down: CBD oil or I’m out! But… on the other hand… I have to admit he is content. Yesterday he had 4 boys and 2 girls over for 5 hours to play video games and the board game Apples to Apples. He’s ridiculously goofy and full of joy. Who am I to demand him to change?

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And so I go… off to my quiet space… to let God know I don’t have all the answers but perhaps he can love me anyway.

And as I sit there in the chapel, praying and leaning into the grace, I will lift up a prayer for you, too. That perhaps you don’t need to have all the answers but are so worthy of love anyway.

Until next time…

May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites. 

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