Hope vs. Despair

I really want to be getting over being sick and get back to feeling somewhat normal. My fever is nearly gone. I don't feel normal though.

I am afraid I'll never feel normal again.

I feel so sad today. Isolated. I have just encountered the perfect emotional storm: two weeks of digging up childhood trauma and reliving all of the abuses that have scarred my life, respiratory virus with high fever and, of course, menstruation. The menses always has a way of sneaking in when it's least welcome...wedding, vacation, Mondays. Who am I kidding. Any day of the week sucks. Damn Eve and her apple. That's my sarcasm.

I'm listening to one of my favorite authors, Wally Lamb, talk about The Power of Writing group he led at a women's prison. He was asked to talk to some of the prisoners after several of them had committed suicide.

They were having trouble finding hope in despair. He helped them find it through writing their stories.

Writing has always been a practice in finding hope for me. Not that everything has always worked out, but I'm still here. I used to start writing with no particular end in mind and I usually berated myself for awhile or just spilled my feelings on the paper and then finished by wrapping up what I would collectively begin calling my "self-pep-talks."

I have felt a lot of fear in the past couple weeks that I had almost forgotten. I am feeling it right now. A crazy panic-ridden feeling that my heart may explode or just stop. Bursts of sweat. Eye twitches and blurring. Shallow breaths...but I don't do that on purpose and I've been trying to change it because I know breathing can save me...can't it? ...Can something...someone...?

So I've been living with my son and my husband for the past 5 1/2 years. The 3 most recent years are the first time I've truly felt safe in my life. I've often said, "I like my home for the first time in my life." The truth is, I have never felt safe at home or anywhere until now. Never safe in my own skin.

The more I learn, the more I realize that's what childhood sexual abuse will do to a person.

Wally mentioned most of the female inmates were also victims of incest.

My cough is terrible. I stopped writing to make some hot tea. (I had a hard time continuing after that...and I only added the words "of incest" on my first read after publishing.) I think it's time to listen to some music instead of Wally. I had moved onto another interview that is very long anyway. I was feeling particularly intellectual to seek out an interview with one of my favorite authors. Actually, I realized I had never listened to him speak at all. I've read his books though and even written about them, so obviously I knew I needed to hear him, so it was time. He talked about becoming an accidental writer and an accidental activist. His story is neat, but I'm here to tell you the same thing happened to me. It saved me and is saving me now.

I became a writer to get here. To survive. I called it my therapy. My friend. My passion. My purpose. I am still surprised that I got here in as good condition as I did. It makes me think I must have an even broader purpose. That's where the activist part comes in. I hope one day I can move past getting stuck in this trauma state. I remind myself it's only been a couple of weeks that I've been dealing with 28 years of bullshit. Bullshit being neglect, emotional, physical & sexual abuse.

I've always tried to focus on the good stuff. I had some good times with everyone I think. I smiled a lot and was always told that my dimples were beautiful. My smile was photogenic so I always looked happy in pictures. I've been supremely blessed with great friends my entire life. Not that some weren't trouble too, but they were great and we learned a lot together even when we were getting in trouble. If we weren't learning together, at least I was able to learn and leave them behind.

I wasn't trying to be fake. But deep down I was shattered. And so alone.

I'm trying to figure out how the story is supposed to be told. I just know I can't hold it inside anymore. It was poisoning me and my life. And I have so much to live for now. Working through it is hard enough, but an extreme urge to share leaves me speechless and frozen in fear. Maybe the details aren't important.

The details aren't important. That just feels wrong. The details are the story. Sweating again.

I knew this wouldn't be easy. It's definitely going to take some time. I've been dealing with PTSD for years now and I just now am diagnosed and able to learn about it. Sometimes realizing there may be no options...it feels like despair. The intense fear. Life is too short for this. The pain is too much to bear. But I must. Because I want to heal. I want to be my best self. Not shackled by these chains. Not deluded that getting drunk once or three times a week isn't to push away unwanted reality. This shit is real and the trash needs to be taken out.

To be clear, the details that follow are NOT the ones I am terrified to tell.

I thought I was crazy and I was terrified of being bipolar like my mom from a young age. I was expressing it at 12 and still writing about it in college in 2010. I was 28.

I always felt like I was being watched or recorded somehow. That started at a very early age though I'm not sure when. I remember first feeling it strongly in the bathtub. I felt like someone was listening to me often and even was afraid that people could hear my thoughts. These feelings lasted far past time that normal rationality should have taken over. They still occur.

I have always had a strong feeling I would die of breast cancer. I was always afraid to admit it, superstitious just a tad. My breasts were often targets of familial and peer sexual abuse and torments from males who believed they were giving me compliments.

I have an irrational fear of violent home invasion. I'm not sure when that started but it was a long time ago and still occurs, most often while I'm in the shower while home alone. That is paired with the feeling of being watched or under surveillance and has even caused me quite a bit of fear tonight. Maybe I should have windows I can completely cover? I try to be rational...

Now, most of the time these feelings are pushed down and I don't let them interfere with my life. I don't think I had ever admitted them to anyone until the past couple of weeks, when I realized they are symptoms of my PTSD. Symptoms of what was done to me as a child. This disease was forced upon me when I was too young to stop it. I was invaded. My privacy. My body. My innocence.

My value and my peace was stolen and destroyed by those who were supposed to protect me.

And it still torments me. I believed I was fine because I had finally stopped using some of the more harmful coping mechanisms I turned to in my youth: cutting and burning myself, engaging in risky sexual behaviors, experimenting with drugs, seeking out abusive partners, drinking daily (which started around age 18 and didn't really slow to a more normal amount until I was 28 or 30.) I punished myself in any way that I could.

I was finally safe. My brain began to heal.

But the fear and the symptoms continued. Panic attacks, anxiety, depression, binge-eating or drinking, hitting or slapping myself, projecting negative thoughts onto others, self-hate, feelings of worthlessness, inability to focus, fear of success, feelings of failure and of not being good enough for my family.

My subconscious child mind often interjected this inadequacy and anxiety into daily life and almost always special occasions. It has affected my relationships outside and inside of my home. I was ashamed that it affected my work and still does.

In my conscious adult mind I love myself. It's clear.

Look, I chose to change my life for my son and I did it. I wanted to give him what I always wanted. That led me to my husband. We are the family I always wanted. We have a loving home where we talk and spend regular time together and we hug and express our love daily. We know each other and we laugh and play and cry together. We eat together. We go places and stay home together. We spend holidays together and recently decided we are going to do new traditions alone in the safety of the three of us. We read together and watch movies. We go to the park and run and play together and plan to spend more time outdoors together; we've camped and fished a couple of times and hiked a bit and want to do it more. We want bikes and kayaks. Nature makes me feel centered. More trustworthy and predictable than human nature.

Writing about that makes me feel my hope start burning inside again.

In the past, it has also made me feel insane fear. Gut-wrenching, "Oh shit, I'm so terrified of ever losing them and I would die a thousand deaths if something happened to them and I know it will because I never have anything good" fear. It was fucked up. And right around the time that I started getting really cozy.

I didn't bail. Because I knew better. Instead, I protected my family as much as I could. We took full custody of my son because I never wanted him to suffer the neglect and abuses that I did.

And I know I have so much more to offer him still. So much more of me that has been held back by fear. I don't want him to suffer from my trauma. So I have to find a way to move forward through it. I still have to be gentle with myself. Yet another difficult balance to strike. The bills are overdue...

Maybe it wasn't "2015...The Dream" as much as "2015...Come Clean." The dream is there but playing out more like a nightmare. A necessary nightmare...but...damn. I wanted so much more for all of us. Gentle patience.

It feels good to have said this much. I know some people are afraid of this. But those of you who fear me don't know me at all. I feel isolated and ostracized. And I want to talk about it. I want to be understood. Nobody has to say anything. You can't fix it or take it away. You can just care. No, it isn't easy to hear, but think of what it's like to go through it and then have to live with what it did to me my whole life...you don't even know what all of "it" is.

But others have been there too, and maybe this sounds familiar, and this is for you as much as it's for me. It's not just a self-pep-talk anymore.

There comes a time when "what I could have been" is forever changed to "what I will become."

That time is now.

Hope wins.

More Poetry Is My Life

OK I've been wanting to write about my reason for running my Pure Romance business because it will be good for business, but I have been thinking so much about this post and sharing these poems and I just can't wait. Also, I need to get really excited about studying and working my ass off for this certification.

There are so many reasons I need to be a personal trainer. And all of them will make me very good at what I do. I know I'm not in amazing shape to many people. But the way I see it, we are all on our own paths of figuring things out, and just because I have some jiggle doesn't mean I can't help you learn, plan, take action, and reach your goals. My body will certainly be changing too, but learning to meet myself where I was is one of the most valuable lessons I have ever learned and my success is owed to it.

This is something that has been brewing all of my nearly 33 years. Ten years ago, I would have laughed at me so hard for ever thinking I would be working to be a personal trainer. And then working as a personal trainer? That's just impossible. I'm not the kind of person who would/could ever do that.

My mind back then was limited.

I started writing Family Inheritance in college. It was my final year and I was having a blast making work of something I had loved for at least 20 years. What? I didn't need to edit my poetry...it came out perfect the first time. Exactly as I wanted it. Except, oh wait...that poetry class (actually Dr. Anaporte because she and I were the only ones there!)  taught me that poetry is sometimes a living, breathing thing. It can change and grow and its impact can be better expressed through different words, meter, punctuation, line selections, rhyme schemes...and on and on. Poetry is one of my favorite arts, and I don't know what that means because it makes a smaller list to say what isn't a favorite art to me. And no, I'm not cultured really (as you'll witness in the video),
I just love love love to create.

And I love the things I create. And I like to share them.

They deserve it! This poem means so much to me and it's been shared multiple times in different ways. It has a new part now. And it makes me tingle. Goosebumps too. The bumpiest of therm.

Family Inheritance

I

I learned my mom had diabetes;

It felt like someone told me we were out of popsicles.

PawPaw already had to put shots in his belly

As we played at the table awaiting MawMaw’s biscuits and gravy.

The first summer I spent at Dad’s

I enjoyed the swimming pool, the palm trees, the kids I met,

But I remember nothing like holding the cold phone to my ear

And from eight hundred miles away I hear mom tell me,

“PawPaw had a heart attack and he’s in ICU right now.”

Sobbing, I fell to my knees and prayed.

II

Cigarettes seduced me with their false comfort;

Every thirteen-year-old girl needs some type of crutch.

PawPaw quit smoking before I was born;

His kids begged him to stop

And still half of them smoke.

I stole many packs from my mother

That my friends and I smoked in my room

Poking holes in the window screens to wedge

Our poisonous cylinders into

So we could flick them into the yard

When we heard the old steps under mom’s feet; but usually

She stayed downstairs on the cushion

That curved around her bottom,

So we all smoked freely

Cloaking the stagnant house in miasma.

III

My twenty-six-year-old belly swollen

With my son, his father cooked

And urged me daily:

“Watch your sugar.”

Mom had gestational diabetes first:

A warning sign.

I never liked raw vegetables,

But when my body belonged to my son,

I devoured them.

After a year and a half of his nourishment

He returned my body to me,

His best interest ever in my heart.

Often in life I took my own body for granted

By feeding it junk, lounging too much,

Consuming intoxicants and sunshine,

Sharing sexual pleasures

With passionless fools without caution.

I wanted to stop

And live healthy with my family,

But there were holes in our foundation

And some men care little for change;

I left so I could grow.

IV

PawPaw died last spring

After caths, and stents, and bypasses,

Mush through feeding tubes,

The hiss of breathing tubes.

I no longer prayed, but

I shaved his face to show my love

Because he wasn’t supposed to eat my banana bread

(Though he insisted on a piece anyway).

We hid the bread; I should have grown fruit,

But there was hardly time.

V

My new boyfriend carried PawPaw’s coffin to the hearse

With other men from my family

And he felt the weight of us all.

His health had taken dives in recent years;

But this year he slowed in the grocery store

And amazed himself at the labels of things

He placed back on the shelves.

Then, a friend, a brother to us,

Is attacked by his own heart one night

Right before Valentine’s Day and his thirtieth birthday

And we are stricken with the fear

Of a storm we thought was many miles farther away

When it ripped the walls down on his family

And doctors gingerly propped them back up.

VI

I run on this machine

And stare at the tree by the river—

Its limbs sprawl outward like arteries in each direction against the backdrop

Of the sky, and the mountains, and the water—

I think of my mom, in hopes that

She makes the right decisions so that I may talk to her,

For years to come, about everything.

I think of my son, who loves running and all foods

(Even the ones I don’t like)

And candy. He will learn positive habits

And the importance of being healthy in my home,

So he doesn’t have to learn this agonizing way.

I think of my boyfriend, who stands by me

And works for more days with our family

By picking better foods and strengthening his heart

And our bond; we want more days together.

I haven’t smoked since our first date

And we’re planting together this spring.

I think of my friends and family who have suffered

And watched their loved ones suffer.

Do people have to die

For us to understand

Why we should change?

And I run.

I run as if something horrible chases me,

And it never stops.

VII

But sometimes I stop,

So lazy, easy to forget why I must continue,

Keep my heart pumping, racing for love, for desire, to perspire, inspire—

My son and all of us grow older, my boyfriend turned to husband,

My extended family suffers slowly, painfully, and others prosper still.

And the world goes on now

Without my Uncle—we can’t live without our liver,

And cancer eliminated his within weeks.

Though not one of us will get out of this alive,

I want to dance while I am here

And live without the fear

Of leaving those I love alone

Without a fight to stay—

Then, a light! A way!

A new dream to plan and scheme, work and scream

From the mountaintops I climb;

A new life’s purpose defined

For me and those who want to thrive

And arrive at a new level of self-love

And acceptance of the truth

That our bodies are our temples

Worthy of love and respect for all they can do—

The incredible ability to carry us through.

So part VII is brand new--the rest was mostly written in 2011. I think this is the first poem I've ever composed that has been divided into parts. And that was a great suggestion given to me by my professor. She held readings for her classes at Taylor Books in Charleston. My first public poetry reading was bigger than any of her classes that had more than one person in them. I'm praising my support system, not being vain, people. And I'm going to leave that here for your viewing pleasure (man I was nervous but it still made me cry!) 
My good school mate Jessica Fertig is also in this video and she and her father provided awesome comic relief after that quite heavy poem with great talent.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAp_aWEav8E

I like the poem it even better now though. And I like me even better now. I like that I've always loved making people laugh.

This poem is a little more sexy and can maybe promote both businesses. Circa 2012 at our old house, Hogjaws (seriously, it was previously a convenience store dubbed as such), I wrote this gem. That's where one of our friends also dubbed us a "power couple" when I explained to her what that meant.

Watching you dance

From the elliptical

I feel stronger, smarter

For choosing you of all

Pulling my breath

Into my body

I anticipate

The sweetness of all

The air we'll share for life

Admiring your muscles

I want to learn their names

So I can feel an expertise

As my lips meet their grace

And that one is completely unedited so far except for the fact that I just messed with its composition on the page and I'm quite pleased that it resembles an hour glass or a sweet human figure! 
It's unfinished and you'll probably see it again.

I Love poetry.

I meant to capitalize that "L." But I didn't want to be annoyingly over-exaggerated in making the word "LOVE" in all caps. But it just looks weird.

But we're all weird. So it's ok.

Leave a comment. Especially if you got this far. A lot of people just tell me my blogs are too long (they told me that about this essay I wrote about boobs because it was about a lot more than they wanted to learn). I'm sorry; I write them because I like to write and read. And I just read this again and I LOVE it lol.

So if you read any of it, I would like to know. 

I would like to know if you're as cool as me.

And it's my sweet, supportive husband's birthday 3/13
and I want to spend the day celebrating the person he is. 
I have to figure out what to bake (another favorite art of mine) because he won't tell me what he wants! Then get some sleep.

My Own Biggest Fan

Hello and welcome back to my crazy ramblings about me, me...ME!

Feeling a bit narcissistic about it in some ways, but let me explain: This isn't all for me. If it were, then I certainly wouldn't let anyone else read it. Or maybe I would if I were that much of a narcissist...

Anyway, see, I have always loved an audience, but I want to have something to share that matters. Truth is, I've always had plenty to say; sometimes I have simply lost my voice. Or more like given it away. I don't like that at all. It's stifling.

I think sometimes in life I've felt like I had to be someone else. I don't really enjoy situations where I can't just be who I am. I don't mind politely censoring myself like not consistently saying the word "fuck" as often as I do when I'm in normal conversation with my nearest and dearest friends. Excuse my language, please, but there is a content warning, after all. You did click it.

I'm learning that I felt I had to hide myself so people would love me, like me, promote me, listen to me, give me good grades, tip me, be nice to me, talk to me, read my work, let me read my work to them, not ridicule or judge me, just accept me at all...you get the picture. Truth is, none of that matters. Real love is the people who stand by you when you're at your worst and your best, and especially, when you are simply yourself. Believe me, it can be equally as hard to keep "friends" when you're on either side. Especially when you're suppressing your soul.

Self-absorbed? Nah. I'm not just writing about me. I'm writing about you. Our human struggles.

My friend Orbital hit the nail on the head with his compliment, "Your random life musings sometimes remind me of my own mental question and answer sessions. It is a nice contrast to read about someone who is both searching for the best possible life, yet appreciative of all they have at the same time." 

It still pulls at my heart strings. I have such talented friends. And for them to see this in me...

Looking at the people who surround me reminds me that I'm fucking worthy. Oops, I did it again. And it's no accident because really, people, there is no better modifier to explain how this feels. I think its impact is nearly sufficient. I'm worthy of my own love and anyone else's. I'm worthy of a good life. And so are you.

Here's the deal, when you start stifling yourself and living a life that you dread on a daily basis, you are just convincing everyone and yourself that this is the life you worked for and that you deserve. Are you really loving your life? I wanted to love my life, and I've been taking steps for many years to make that happen. I wanted to find dreams and go for them. Find my purpose. So I had to learn how to do all of that. It's not easy, but being honest with yourself and changing habits in thought and action truly works. It takes time and practice and dedication, but it does work. I think my learning, my experience and my work is to create, entertain, inspire and help others realize their goals and how to reach them. I've always wanted to help people and I just couldn't figure out how I was supposed to do it.

If you want something, then the only way to get it is to work for it. If you don't get it, you should keep working for it. Never quit. Be proud of your work and your worth as a human. This is really about how much you love yourself. What do you deserve? That's the real American dream. Living the life you want and loving yourself enough to do so.

You should be your own biggest fan.

Because we are all amazing beings with unique talents and a story to tell. We ain't here forever, no matter what you think happens when we're gone. We owe it to ourselves make the best of it.

And to each other. We owe it to each other because we are all better for being true to what we truly desire. We are more true to each other when we are true to ourselves. That goes for love or any old bullshit. It's cliche but you can't love others if you don't first love yourself. You can try all you want but it's just not worth anything if you aren't caring for yourself. You can't take care of others if you don't take care of yourself (including your kids and partner). And that's for everyone, but especially for those self-sacrificing moms we all know and love. Here's an idea, you can be a happy individual who is allowed to enjoy things that aren't just taking care of everyone else!!

I've decided to dedicate the rest of my life to working for myself and my family. I've always wanted to work for myself and learn how to run a business that attracts awesome people who may benefit from my assistance in varying ways. Recently I've realized just how much time we spend doing things everyone else's way, and we simply don't have to. And that thought opened up a world of opportunities for us.

I decided I wanted to teach Fisher at home; we are both quite enthused. We will go on weekly (or more often) field trips to learn important things from others as we have so many talented people in our lives. If you would like to teach us a lesson (and I don't mean that sardonically), then just let us know and we'll schedule a trip. We want to use some of our time to help others too. I believe we can focus and learn in shorter amounts of time than he spends in school. We have tons of help and are surrounded by educators and experts on many things. Our family, our community and our home can benefit from more of our attention. Our learning, studying, critical thinking, gardening, reading, sewing, canning, visiting, cleaning, dmv-ing, writing, taxing, running, experimenting, creating, socializing, cooking, building, serving, baking, performing, volunteering, and whatever else we want and need to be doing.

In order to do this, I must work for myself now, not at some unforeseen day in the future when I go all Jerry McGuire and peace out of another soul-sucking job. And build businesses and clientele with respectable rapport (again, please forgive the language). I choose a way to empower and educate women about their health, bodies and relationships with Pure Romance (yeah, and we'll talk about sex too, so what?! It IS how we all got here!). And to inspire people to recognize their worthy and attainable fitness and health goals as a Personal Trainer later this summer. I am thrilled to be able to better the way I feel with no pain and more energy than ever, and this is something we all need to be conscious of. We can't control much, but we can control our health (for the most part).

 There will be more. Just because I am passionate about a lot of things.

That's why the original name of this blog was "A Little Unfocused." It's OK to have focus on several different passions though. We may not have long to live really, but it's long enough to get things done.

Just as long as you don't half ass them all. Give your all when you are there.

Give your all because you deserve it.

Yeah. I've been listening to motivational master Tony Robbins and Nerdist god Chris Hardwick books on tape telling me to say all these things...seriously...check them out...

Karaoke Self-Love Superstar

A bit of an oxymoron there, I admit.

But I fell in love the first time I entered a smoky hole-in-the-wall bar and took the spotlight on the gritty tile floor. So long ago...I was 13. This year makes two decades.

Even earlier, I spread blankets across the living room floor and sang into a hairbrush while I danced across the makeshift stage.

I would be lying if I said I didn't still do it, only now I have actual microphones. Proved it to everyone the other day when I posted a video of myself singing "Thank You" in the style of Alanis Morissette on my Facebook timeline.



I had some wine that night; I cringed a little the next morning listening to it. Did I consider deleting it?

Well, not really. I'll just leave it here too.


I quite honestly posted as an act of self-acceptance and self-love, two very important things I intend to share with others as much as I possibly can. Things over the past 20 or 30 years have changed a lot, including my ability to truly love and accept myself. My love of singing and performing has been constant. As has my love of writing and creating. Maybe the artistic side of me went into hiding for a while, hell-bent on figuring everything out.


But that simply sucks.

Time to emerge, whole and unafraid.

Art and helping others always were the best at helping me figure things out anyway.

2015...The Dream!

Lovely to have embraced my inner nerd lately. I've also found my professional side in the past few years since college, and that's great too. I believe I can successfully embrace both of those pieces and all the rest of me.

Nerd, I say. It's funny being called that by new friends and clients. My old friends are mostly nerds like my little family. We all call ourselves nerds, so it's not like we don't hear it or even wear the name with great pride, but it's just strange when an outsider expresses it emphatically. I suppose that can account for the feeling of many "groups" in our "us vs. them" way of thinking.

Feels good though ^-^  I like when anyone sees all the things and people we love. When we are free to be ourselves.

Maybe I don't mind labels as much as I thought I guess. I've learned there are few concretes in life - no need to go to extremes trying to covet or avoid anything. And it's all what you make of it in perception and reaction.

OK, so I'm a nerd this moment regarding the title of this post. Yeah...I've been doing that for years-the thing that rhymes with the year that I half-ass. Maybe it started in 2005...Alive! Because that's the farthest back I can actually remember. Beyond that, I start guessing if I named my years poetically more than ten years ago (ten years ago?!?!?!). 2004...The Whore? 2003...Who Me? 2002...So Boozed???

No, really, I didn't half-ass those or name them that I can recall. I think I've only formally named most of the years where I really cared for myself well. Or tried to at least. You know, growth.

Life is different here in 2015. My son is an inspiration beyond measure (b.2006) and my husband's (est.2014) support strengthens me daily.

My dear friend, Erin, took this photo of our family feet at our wedding 5~24~2014

Many others have had a hand in what I'm about to announce, but Fisher and Nicholas are my reason. My inspiration. My constant reminder of what I'm working for. Of who I am and want to be. Because they make me want to be the best mom and wife I can be. And that, along with loving myself, my life, and those in it, energizes me. Drives me.

I have been ill the past week, and sometimes not being able to commence with daily life-supporting habits-like eating or staying hydrated-can bring one even closer to the truth. Mortality sets in; life flashes before your eyes. 

Starting this afternoon I finally felt well enough to start cleansing the germs that infected us. And the rest of this mess was killing me. So I've been spending my Valentine's night cleaning my office and listening to music. 

My office is home to my business and it needs to be productive and comfortable. 

Because I am running a business. My business isn't just Pure Romance or the fitness training that I'm excited to explore, but it's ME. I believe in myself and have more confidence and ambition than I've ever had. I know I can educate and empower myself to succeed and have everything I want in life. And I can help others achieve their dreams also. 

This year I will go full-time, full-throttle into dreams of working for myself! Intimacy Specialist and Relationship Expert with Pure Romance by Stephanie Bragg (c.6/2014), ACE Certified Personal Trainer (c.6/2015), Home-School Educator of Fisher Taylor, and Self-Made Superstar dba Stephanie Ann Bragg. 

Why not? Life is short. 

Do what you love and be of value to the world with your most beautiful talents.

So thankful for this opportunity. Cheers!