Reflections on faith, family, purpose & passions.
It’s hard to believe I launched H.A.F. Creative on this day four years ago! I’m so grateful to my clients who keep the business growing and moving. And a thank you to colleagues, people who refer my work to others and my family who makes life beyond work so great.
As I celebrate four years in business, I’m also launching this new website. Enjoy!
At least once a week, Kate and I walk to the school bus stop. It’s about 5 minutes from our house and now that the weather is starting to cool, we like making the walk. Plus, I love the early morning chats with my precious girl.
This morning, I was telling her about an arts-related event in downtown Charleston on Sunday I thought she might like to attend. She asks, “Can we go with someone?”
I teasingly reply, “What, you don’t want to go with your ol’ mom and dad?”
She does, but … it’s fun to take a friend.
I tell her someday she’ll be driving off with her friends and won’t want to go anywhere with us.
“Well,” she says, “I will be moving to New York.”
I ask, “Can we come visit?”
Kate says, “Sure.”
I ask, “Will you call me every day?”
“No,” she says. “I’ll be busy with all my jobs.”
At least she’s honest.
At age 6, she has mapped out plans to move to New York where she’ll be running both her own art gallery and a zoo/farm of exotic animals. Granted, she hasn’t been to New York, but many famous artists live there, so seems like a good idea. And why not?
She’s shared her plans with some friends at school and already has two friends willing to move to New York with her and work at her zoo. She’ll be the leader, she says, and give them jobs to do.
Of course she shares all of this in a very matter-of-fact tone with complete confidence in her plans.
I love it.
I love her spirit, independence and self-confidence.
Sweet girl, don’t ever lose that.
I don’t want her to reach middle school only to see her confidence wane as is the case with so many young girls. It is my life’s mission to keep her believing in herself, her abilities and the fact that she can do absolutely anything she wants in life.
And in the meantime, I’ll take advantage of the fact she still holds my hand as we walk to bus, sharing her life’s plans. I tuck these conversations away so in 20 years I can remember a darling little girl who is in the process of fulfilling all her dreams …. and, I hope, has time to call me at least once a week.
When did she get so grown up?
Last year I hoped on a trend of picking a word of the year. I choose “strength” and as I read my post from a year ago, I didn’t feel as if I’d totally blown it over the year. In fact, I needed a little more strength than I anticipated last year to survive a move, adjust to life with a school-age child and to support Clint as he entered the land of the self-employed.
So, what’s my word for 2014? A few possibilities had come to mind but the one that struck me the hardest was “peace.” For the most part, my life is anything but peaceful. It’s busy, chaotic and crazy – and most of the time I thrive in that kind of environment. At times, I feel myself relating to this verse in Job: “What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me. I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.” (Job 3: 25-26)
That’s a slight exaggeration, of course, but still I could use a little more peace – and not just peace and quiet (although I’ll take some more of that!).
Peace in my family. Having a strong-willed (almost) 6-year-old can suck the peace right out of your life. She can be argumentative and demanding and loving and precious – all in the span of 5 minutes. It’s tiring. I need to find peace in me to create peace in her. And part of that means making peace with motherhood – a part of my life that hasn’t been easy. I need to make peace with those first years so I can be present for what’s to come.
Peace in saying “no.” Part of my lack of peace is my tendency to take on too much. I’ve never met a cause I couldn’t get behind or a project I couldn’t tackle. But I have to remember that just because you can doesn’t mean you should. It’s OK to say “no” sometimes. Interestingly, I tried it a time or two last year and the world didn’t end.
Peace in my own mind. Aside from CrossFitting, I don’t carve out a chunk of the day/week that’s just for me. This year I want to work on my personal writing – even if that’s just updating my blog on a weekly basis. Sounds simple but it’s often hard for me to allow myself the peace and quiet to just be with my own thoughts and do some writing.
Peace in my God. Each year I look for ways to better my spiritual health and grow in my relationship with God. I’ll be working to stay committed to daily devotional time and tackle some books and studies that help me grow.
So, here we go into 2014 with a resolve for greater peace.
For the last decade, Clint and I have been going to the Charleston Christmas Special. It’s become a tradition to attend with some friends, and I look forward to it all year. We took Kate a couple times when she was little but decided this year she was old enough to really enjoy the show with its music, dancing and comedy sketches.
The morning of the show, we selected a sparkly red dress for her to wear and I realized she had no matching shoes. Time to pop around the corner to Kohl’s. Before we left, Kate said she needed “high heels” to go with this dress.
We found a pair of shiny black shoes with a small heel. Kate tried them on, declared them “wobbly,” but she wanted them. Already she was taking after me and sacrificing comfort for cute shoes. How sweet.
She looked so grown up in her red dress and heels. But I didn’t feel a twinge of sadness, worrying she was growing up too quickly. Instead I felt excited for the moments to come – shoe shopping together or picking out an outfit for a special occasion. I look forward to sharing those mother-daughter moments with her and capturing even more “firsts.”
I survived my second CrossFit competition, Integrity’s Revenge, earlier this month. I competed in the team scaled division and my partner and I had a great time. As you can see from our photo, we spent a lot of time coordinating our competition outfit.
I think my incredible husband, Clint, summed up the weekend best in this Facebook post that I’m sharing below.
“I couldn’t be more proud of my wife Holly Henry Fisher. Two years ago, she stepped out of her comfort zone to compete in a local CrossFit style competition, Integrity’s Revenge. It proved to be a tough weekend for her when she got stuck trying to squat and press a barbell and couldn’t. With tears on her face and a crowd of CrossFitters cheering her on, she spent several minutes struggling through until she finally completed the movements. There were many emotions, terror, embarrassment, but ultimately I think one of accomplishment. She came in last place in the workout, but she conquered the barbell, and that was a big moment.
After that day, I didn’t know for sure if she’d ever try something like it again. But this weekend, she competed in the same event again, and she did it knowing she would face another very tough struggle.
Holly is terrified of jumping on boxes, and for the last workout this year, she had to execute a burpee and then jump to a 20 inch box. The first time she had jumped to a box that height was this week. Today, she faced her fear and completed all her burpee box jumps in front of a cheering crowd of CrossFitters.
Many of those watching were in tears to see her complete them, because they saw her struggle through her own tears to jump to the top of that box every time.
It was a profound moment, and I was once again reminded of the great example she sets every day. Our daughter Kate was right there in front of the box to see mom conquering another demon with grit and determination.
I think sometimes people thing we’re crazy doing what we do, intense workouts and challenges that seem sometimes impossible or ridiculous to others. But when I watch moments like I did today, I realize the importance of getting up everyday and challenging yourself to achieve those things that seem just out of reach, whether it’s fitness or some other pursuit.
Today, thanks to my wife, the world has one more great example of what happens when you step out of your comfort zone and truly challenge yourself.
We had 15 athletes compete from our gym, and they too all set great examples. I have the honor and privilege to work with them every week, and I couldn’t be more proud.”
Our daughter has been after to us for a year to get another pet. First she wanted a kitten. Clint’s not big on cats and neither are the two Labrador Retrievers already living in our house.
So, Kate moved on to asking for a puppy – something small she could carry around and hold in her lap. Enter: Freckles, a parti Yorkie (means she has an unusual coloring) courtesy of my mother-in-law, who raises Yorkies out in Arkansas.
Clint and Kate went for a visit in October, and Clint was scouting out the puppy situation. They loaded up 5-month-old Freckles and she flew back to South Carolina.
Kate, of course, is delighted. And Freckles is pretty darn cute.
You may recall two years I did my first CrossFit competition and struggled … but I did it! Now, I’m at it again. I’ll be competing in the scaled team division of Integrity’s Revenge this weekend. Here’s hoping two years has made me twice as strong!
And just like that she was off into the world.
Kate climbed on the school bus this week like she’d been doing it for years. “Bye, Mama!” floated down to me as she headed to a seat at the front of the bus. I don’t typically get emotional about things like this but my eyes watered a bit as I walked from the bus stop back to our house.
I wasn’t sad that my one and only child is off to kindergarten. I don’t long for the baby days of diapers and bottles or even the toddler days of potty training and “Dora the Explorer.” I’m eager to see what this little person becomes. Will she be an artist? A scientist? A veterinarian? Or all some combination of the three as she professes in that way children do when they dream of the future.
I didn’t feel tears of sadness for days gone by but tears of hope for all that’s yet to come. In the same moment, though, my heart weighed heavy in my chest, knowing we have a big responsibility ahead of us to train up our child and keep her on the right path. We can’t protect her from “the world” with its mean girls and teasing boys and eventual adolescent peer pressure and big decisions. That world awaits all of us and, for all the struggles it brings, it’s also how we learn and grow.
So, I took a deep breath, dried the corners of my eyes and said a prayer for the precious little girl and the incredible woman she’s destined to become.
For the last few weeks, I’ve been repeating this phrase: “It’s just a house.” I mean four walls, a roof, a backyard … these things are just, well, “things” and don’t comprise the essence of my life. And, yet, they are a part of my life and have been for the last seven years. It’s hard to give them up.
This spring, Clint and I started talking about making some lifestyle changes. He wanted to change careers and jump on an opportunity to be a full-time CrossFit coach (his real passion) while doing some IT consulting on the side. To more easily implement all these changes we decided to put our house up for sale and look for something that ate up less of our income.
We bought this house seven years ago and redid almost the entire inside. The house was in hideous condition – awful paint, terrible carpet, cheap fixtures. It was a DIY project like none other. We did the work ourselves and put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into this place. It’s not easy to let it go.
It’s the only house our daughter has known. The walls have witnessed first words, first steps and a first Christmas. And yet like all homes, the memories are mixed. These same walls also shielded us during my job layoff, months of postpartum depression and the difficult year Clint was gone working in Africa.
When the house went under contract in just two days, I wept. “It’s just a house,” I told myself. And over the last couple weeks, I turned my focus to packing and how we’ll set up the new house. I was doing quite well until this week when I sold my dining room set. It wasn’t an antique or a family heirloom. It was a table and china cabinet we purchased about 12 years ago for our first house. I’d filled the cabinet with dishes and china sets passed down from family members.
I loved that table and cabinet – not the pieces themselves, necessarily, but what they represented. I didn’t grow up with a lot of fancy and fluff so, for me, that dining room set marked an arrival that I had worked my tail off to achieve.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not regretting these decisions. I’m delighted to move into our new house and excited for Clint to start his new job. But I do need to let myself reflect on – and even mourn – this passage from one phase into another. We don’t always give ourselves time to do that when we make a life change. So if you see me carrying boxes with tears in my eyes, know they are blend of happy and sad and I’m probably reminding myself, “It’s just a house.”
I’ve spent the last several months working on the 10th annual Moms’ Run + Family Fun Day. It’s the largest fundraiser for a local nonprofit, Postpartum Support Charleston, of which I serve as board president.
It’s been a ton of work but rewarding and if it helps just one woman through her struggle with postpartum depression, then it’s well worth it. It’s not always easy to share my own story of PPD but then I think of all the women suffering silently and I have to speak up.
So, I’m sharing here a guest column I wrote for The Post and Courier.
“On my very first Mother’s Day, I felt like a fraud. My daughter wasn’t yet 4 months old and I already was completely certain I’d failed as a mother. I was consumed by sadness, depression and a certainty I had made a very grave mistake. And because of all that, I was ashamed and overcome with guilt. Surely, I was the only mother to have ever felt this way. People would be horrified if they knew.
In truth, I wasn’t a fraud and I wasn’t a failure. I was simply a new mom going through postpartum depression. That diagnosis wouldn’t come until my daughter was 9 months old when, finally, in a place of utter despair, I asked for help.
By no means is my story unique. Some 20 percent of women experience postpartum depression in the first year after their baby’s birth. Postpartum depression is often confused with the baby blues – those feelings of weepiness and sadness that 80 percent of women go through in those couple weeks after giving birth. Here’s the difference: the baby blues go away after a couple weeks. Postpartum depression doesn’t. It lingers on and worsens until treated.
The good news is that it’s treatable and suffering mothers will feel better. Fast forward a few years and my daughter is 5 years old and full of spunk and energy. I’m so thankful to have healed from postpartum depression so I can appreciate my time with her.
Unfortunately, our society holds new mothers to an impossible standard. They are quickly sent home from the hospital and expected to care for a newborn while recovering from the trauma of childbirth – whether naturally or via C-section. Thankfully, I have a wonderful husband and family came to visit and help with our new baby. But not all women have that and even with help, we are expected to be immediately transformed into Super Mom, able to change diapers with one hand, soothe a fussy baby in a matter of seconds and keep the house spotless and the laundry done all on two hours of sleep. And let’s not even get started on the pressures to get back that pre-baby body before the little munchkin is even sleeping through the night.
With those kinds of expectations, who’s going to step up and admit she’s not feeling so motherly? I certainly wasn’t. I put on a happy face and gave the obligatory “it’s wonderful” when people asked about my life with a new baby. They saw a well-adjusted happy new mom not the woman who cried every night after her husband fell asleep.
On this Mother’s Day, can we give moms a break? Can we encourage them to ask for help and to let them know it’s OK if they aren’t in love with motherhood or even their own baby? If there’s a new mom in your life who just doesn’t seem like herself, talk to her and give her a safe place to open up. If she is really struggling with depression, encourage her to seek medical help or make the appointment yourself.
One of our great local resources is Postpartum Support Charleston, an organization dedicated to education, support and healing. We provide support groups for women going through postpartum depression, education for the public and medical professionals as well as grants for women who need financial assistance getting treatment for postpartum depression.
The biggest annual fundraiser for Postpartum Support Charleston is coming up Mother’s Day weekend. Join us May 11 for the 10th annual Moms’ Run + Family Fun Day. What better way to celebrate Mother’s Day than by joining with others in our community to bring a message of hope and healing to mothers going through PPD. Learn more or register at www.ppdsupport.org.”
I have officially reached the age where I have to pause and really think about how old I am. (Hope I’m not the only one who does this.) Since becoming sandwiched between 35 and 40, all the birthdays just sort of run together in a blur of “late 30s” sliding (sometimes a little too quickly) to 40. Plus, in my head, I’m only 25 so that also confuses the situation.
Over the last two to three years, May 3 has given me a gift of happiness and a sense of accomplishment. “Hey, I’ve done pretty well for myself,” I think. Then, I pause to tick off my successes – both personal and professional – and feel like I haven’t left too much on the table.
And then May 3 hands me her second gift. It’s small but heavy – a sense that there’s still so much to do. I haven’t yet been to Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming and Maine. I haven’t traveled to Spain or Paris. I still need to get an article published in O magazine. Aren’t birthdays the perfect time to root around in your bucket list, trying to find one exciting – and yet reasonable – goal for the coming year?
So today I’ll think about what’s to come but mostly I’ll pause for a long grateful moment and think about my incredible husband, daughter and family, my two sweet dogs, my stellar group of friends, the fact I’m in the best shape of my life (thanks, CrossFit), a successful businesses and a Lord who loves me.
And that’s not too shabby for a woman who just turned … wait, how old am I? Well, let’s just say I’m in my late 30s.
As an only child and an only grandchild (on both sides!), our daughter gets a lot of stuff. She receives more than enough gifts for Christmas, birthdays and, well, just about any holiday.
Last year she received plenty of great Christmas gifts, including a new bike, tons of art supplies and clothing. Her birthday comes less than six weeks after Christmas and we always end up with more “stuff.” I was up to my ears in “stuff.”
So for her fifth birthday, I decided we’d ask the friends coming to her birthday party to bring a donation for The Art Bus Project, a mobile art studio. I read an article about the Art Bus and thought it sounded neat. Plus, it falls right in line with Kate’s love of art. The friends who came to her birthday (at the studio where she takes art classes) brought art supplies instead of donations.
A couple friends brought gifts anyway but that was fine. We ended up with a nice bag of supplies that Kate and I delivered to Margaret Crane – the art teacher behind the bus idea. She gave Kate her own Art Bus smock and they posed for this photo.
It was a small step toward trying to teach Kate life isn’t about “stuff” and that birthdays aren’t just about presents but about celebrating another year of life and the people who are in it.
In the blogging world especially everyone is picking a word of the year. So, in an effort to be trendy, I’m picking one too. Just kidding … I really like the concept, the idea that I can find a word to encompass where I am in my life and where I want to be over the next 12 months.
After mulling over some great words like grow, dream and peace, I have settled on my word for 2013: strength. For me this word captured essentially all the areas of my life and works for the dreams I have in the coming year.
Here’s how I’ll be channeling the word “strength:”
I felt as if last year I finally recovered from some significant challenges that started in 2008. It may have taken four years, but I made it to a place where I felt good about my life again. That comes from not only being strong in all the areas outlined above but also believing in that strength and where it can take you. So, look out, 2013, because I’m coming on strong!
I tend to approach the end of one year and the launch of another with mixed feelings. There’s the excitement of a new year filled with opportunities, experiences and successes. There’s the bittersweet feeling that another year has passed and maybe I missed out on some key piece of the last 12 months.
But overall, when I reflect on 2012, I feel blessed. My business exploded. My relationship with God was strengthened. My marriage is solid. My daughter is brilliant (of course!). I noticed a few more gray hairs and stressed (probably too much) over work that needed to be done. I drank a lot of coffee. I’m sure I didn’t take enough time for myself or simply to enjoy life (do we ever?). I lost a precious family member and yet rejoiced knowing he’s in heaven.
And that is life – a mixture of blessing and burden, a cocktail of joy and sorrow, a blend of beautiful and brave. I enter a new year with thanksgiving in my heart and a resolve to embrace my season of life, seize opportunities and live as a blessing to those around me. For if I can achieve that in 2013, I will deem the year a success. ….Well, that and master the 65-pound thruster in CrossFit but that’s for another post.