Since I write under the name “Jubilant Jessi,” you can guess I’m usually a pretty happy-go-lucky person. It’s my mission in life to find the good, no, the GREAT in everything around me. I’m that girl who smiles at strangers. I am easily amused and easily charmed at life. Existence shouldn’t be a war you’re locked in. Living should be a joyful romp through the flowers, even if you trip on a rock from time to time.

It’s taken me a lot of years to develop this attitude. I’m not a perfect example of humanity. No one is and they shouldn’t be. It’s taken me a lot of time, effort and stern talks with myself to get to the point where I can be proud of who I am and my philosophy on life. I’ve always been an oddball and it’s often been hard to reconcile who I want to be with how I want to be. There’s a bit of background that you need to understand about me if you want to understand why I feel life should be jubilant.

I was an absolutely content child growing up in a small Idaho town where the population didn’t exceed four digits. I ran through the grass barefoot. I played in apple trees and went to dance camps. I loved to attend school, did well, played tea party and mud pies with my friends, went to church, and felt absolutely that I was loved and cherished. I didn’t have any hardships to deal with like so many other children. I was naïve in the best possible way.

That changed the year I turned 11. No one likes divorce. As my parents broke the news, my idyllic life shattered. I’ve never been the same. It’s taken decades of self-torment and anger to realize that divorce was the best option my parents had. I could have handled it better. I could have looked outside my anger that my friends no longer called or played. I could have used school as a solace instead of a weapon where I was receiving the first D’s and F’s of my life. I could have accepted help and attended counseling instead of locking myself in the car screaming. I could have done a lot of things. My only excuse is that I was young and suddenly the world didn’t seem to be easy anymore. I was pissed that my life was forever changed. I fought it. I hurt myself. I hurt my parents. I didn’t care.

Fast forward a few years to an angry, depressed teenager. One who had started getting good grades again, was involved in several school activities, but fought with her mother over every single thing. I still felt no control and would use every means necessary to find it. I thought I was so jaded. So old. Looking back, I realize I was driving a wedge between the world and me. It is cliché, really, how I blamed everything that was black inside me on the rest of the world. I’m not going to detail every fight and stupid decision, but needless to say, I didn’t graduate on time, though I did graduate with my class. I didn’t have the friends you brought home to meet Mom and Dad. Though there were a few jewels here and there, I often found myself outside looking in or getting taken advantage of because hey, weren’t people ultimately good?

College was more of the same. I was accepted to a private school with a high price tag, the kind that gets you places. I never went to class. The only papers I wrote were for money. I went to concerts and parties, had a boyfriend who was older than me, and hung out with frat guys. I could never sleep at night and was so anxious all the time that I physically shook. Depressed was too clinical a word for what I felt. I went one semester and by the end of it I knew with a cold, terrifying realization that another semester meant I was not going to make it. I still carry scars on my body from that time because I was so desolate and confused that I tried to cut the pain out of my body.

I left school, couldn’t move in at home because I’d pissed off everyone there, so I moved in with the guy who would become my first husband and my own divorce. I’m not going to trash talk the guy. That’s not fair when he can’t give his own version, but I can tell you that I felt like I had no support and no understanding and no hope when I found myself pregnant and later raising a baby who would turn out to be the saving grace of my life.

It took a few more years. It took that baby who grew into a little girl who is now about to start third grade and is the smartest, prettiest girl I know. Parents are allowed to believe that about their children. I found my next and last husband who never fails to amaze me with the faith and pride he has in me. It took a miscarriage and a new baby girl, who is currently attempting to draw on the T.V. screen as I type this. It took mending of relationships, especially with my mother. It took returning to college and the raw courage to believe I could get through it without paralyzing anxiety. It took believing in my brain and my heart. It took proving that I could set a goal and achieve it over and over. I wasn’t and am not a failure. I am, as Barney Stinson would say, legend-wait-for-it…dary.

In about a year, I’ll have graduated with honors and have not one, but two, degrees. I’ll be a teacher and a historian and on all accounts, I’m excellent at what I do. Besides two B’s and one C received while I was either pregnant or attending school during the time I had my baby, I’ll have had straight A’s. I have hobbies (if you follow my blog, you’ll know I’m a yarn addict) and valuable, cherished friends. I have a husband who has been through his own hell and lived to tell the tale. He understands me and believes in me. He yells at me to believe in myself when I start to think things aren’t so grand. I have two beautiful children who keep me balanced when I start to feel sad every once in a while. I have goals and a bucket list. I am going to do great things with life. Sure, I still consider myself to have depression and no small amount of anxiety, but I’ve learned that living life with a happy attitude can often overcome that particular blackness. I’m not afraid to ask for help if it gets out of control. Sure, I’m tattooed with dreadlocks, still a little awkward and stand out in a group of regular people. I’m still weird, and my mother would be the first to tell you so, but I’m content in my skin and in my eccentric nature. I’m different, and that makes me awesome.

I don’t know that any of this motivates you. I hope if you’re troubled that perhaps my own story of woe gives you a measure of hope. My best advice is that you have to realize that you’re never going to be perfect. Celebrate your flaws. They are what make you separate and special. Use them and go beyond special into amazing. Realize that you’re often your own worst enemy or your best advocate. I’ve been both, and I can tell you the second is better. Impress yourself because you are your own worst audience. When you can do that, you’ll realize that life should be celebrated in a serious way because we can all overcome darkness if we find the key in ourselves. I’m still working on it, but I’ve learned enough to be thankful I have this beautiful life. That’s why I’m Jubilant Jessi. I’m going to dance through life with party cannons, even if I’m on the sad side some days, because I know that it can be so much worse. I can only hope that you have or will find your own version of beautiful, whatever it may be. 

Our Journey together!!!

Jared is a proud husband and father. He makes his home in Pocatello, Idaho and is a true outdoorsman. Go check out his blog here http://www.thepursuitoutdoors.com/ 

Ob·sta·cle: something that impedes progress or achievement.  The verb in that sentence is impedes.  Not prohibits, not halts - it impedes.  Implicitly, obstacles are by definition meant to be overcome.  Were this not the case, an argument could be made for the wisdom of not acting when faced with obstacles.  Fortunately, the term impedes isn't an absolute term.  There is a way around it. Over it. Under it.  And often - right through it.  

It has been my experience that success and failure in life - or in business - is cyclical in nature.  The only constant is change - for better or for worse.  The heart wrenching down turns and the thrilling bursts of success are connected by periods of time when life is relatively simple.  Not necessarily easy, but purposeful and straightforward.  Our path is decided, the goals clear.  It is, in my opinion, the down turns that both create and expose the fabric of our character. 

As an entrepreneur, I've never desired to live a life of comfortable predictability beneath the safe wing of commonplace employment.  The accountability of this lifestyle can be brutally inescapable on one hand, and yet immensely liberating on the other.  It is a life of polarity, and it's rarely boring.  I have felt the validation success can bring when I tripled my income in a few short months, and felt the bitter sting of failure when I was laid off while expecting our first child during the economic crash of 2008 and unable to find employment.  I have lost everything many times over, and have managed to claw and scramble my way back up just as many times.  

For me, my trip on the roller coaster began the same year I married the girl of dreams.  She was (and still is!) beautiful, caring, and funny - and for the first time in my life, at 20 years old I was financially responsible for someone other than myself.  I was making a comfortable income for my needs as a department manager in a retail store and anxious to continue my college education when mere months after our marriage I was presented with an opportunity for a pure commission sales position in a distant state.  I caught the vision of it, and where others saw risk - I saw opportunity.  Against the pleadings of both our parents, I submitted my two weeks notice and walked away from a steady paycheck and into a whole different realm of thinking.  I loved the idea of making exactly what I earned, and not a penny less.

My first year in direct sales I found myself 1,200 miles from a home that I loved and missed dearly.  I moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota for a 5 month sales program with a group of people I had only recently met.  Early on, I struggled immensely with sales.  My income plummeted.  I began to rethink the wisdom in staying there.  To complicate things further,  I received the news that my wife and I were expecting our first child.  I knew that I could sell, and I knew I worked hard - harder than almost anyone, but the results just weren't coming in.  I woke up early before the work day and studied sales books, I wrote down my sales approach over and over and over.  Constantly reworking it, improving it.  I was determined to make this work, not only because I knew it could pay off financially, but because I had to prove to myself that I could do it.  I simply had to make this work, and not just for myself, but for my future family.  There were many days I would come home choking back a lump in my throat - overwhelmed by the long hours full of disappointment and rejection, unsure how I could tell my lovely wife during our late night dinner of Ramen noodles and sandwiches that in spite of my efforts, I had failed again that day.  

By our 3rd month into the program, it began to click.  It seemed to happen all at once, as if the scales had finally tipped in my favor.  I remember vividly coming into work on a Friday morning of my best sales week to date, my spirits high.  I was greeted by the office assistant informing me that our company had received some bad press reports that aired the evening before due to a pushy salesperson in our office - and that over 75% of my sales had cancelled that week, and that several from the previous week had cancelled as well.  I wouldn't be receiving a paycheck that week; in fact, due to several sales I had already been paid on that cancelled - I actually owed the company money.  I was devastated.  It seemed as if all my work had been for nothing.  I had been living on prayer for months, and now that it had looked like it was getting better - it turned upside down.  

For a good hour I sat, contemplating my next move.  Did I really want to continue down this road?  Was I just imagining my own success?  Could I even sell?  Could I even provide a living for my family?  After much deliberation, I resolved to give it another week - to stay the course.  Just as I was going to my first sales call of the day, I received a terrifying call from my wife.  Something was wrong.  I rushed home to her side to find her laying on the couch, grimacing in pain.  We rushed to the ER, where our worst nightmare was confirmed - Jen had miscarried.  I will remember that date the rest of my life, it was July 3rd, 2007.  As a 21 year old kid, I had never been around around pregnancy and had no concept of miscarriage.  The thought of it happening had never even entered my mind.  From the moment that I first saw that tiny heartbeat on a Ultrasound Monitor, I loved that child - and now that was gone.  It was as if a miracle had been snuffed out of existence, leaving us with what might have been.  We sat holding each other sobbing in a cold and strange hospital room, far away from any friends and family.  We were completely alone.

We resolved to take it one day at a time, together.  When I think of this trying time, I have one image burned into my mind forever.  I remember sitting on the patio of our apartment on the evening of Independence Day, wrapped up in a blanket together watching fireworks in the distance.  While the world celebrated around us, we were on our knees - praying for strength to continue forward.  In my heart I knew that to give up then and go home would mean that I was unable to conquer my circumstances - and that would have somehow made the pain worse.  For several days I felt like I was at rock bottom, and I spent many hours in quiet introspection - trying to determine exactly what I could and could not do.

In the lowest points in life, when the deck is stacked against you and there seems to be no respite from the storm, no safe place to find solace - there can still be hope.  We found that hope together when we had nothing but each other, and what a blessing that was.  Through love, prayer, and hard work anything can be overcome.  When these times come, you have a choice.  You can let your circumstances define you, and no one will blame you.  After all, it's easy to do nothing and be the victim.  Life will continue one way or another - and just by existing, you will get through it.  But you have another choice - you can be the survivor.  You can be the one that finds humility in the ashes of tribulation or failure, and take the higher road.  You can work your way out of it.  I am convinced of one thing, the answer to any problem is simple: it takes hard work.  Whether that is hard work to keep your marriage together, hard work to rebuild your self image, hard work to rebuild your financial foundation, or hard work to just make it through the day with a positive attitude - do it.  Work hard at it.  When you shoulder the burden squarely on your shoulders and dig in, determined to climb out of the pit you find yourself in - you are making a choice that will effect the rest of your life.  You'll become stronger, smarter, and kinder.  The day will come when you reach a height that had appeared unattainable, and you will revel in the view of your accomplishments.

I stayed in Minnesota when it would have been so much easier to come home.  I worked my way through it.  The lessons that I learned from that decision are so much more valuable than comfort I could have had back home.  The challenges I faced were not road blocks - they were obstacles, and therefore by definition - were meant to be overcome.  Often times the best way around an obstacle is to simply lower your shoulder and hit it straight on.  

Years later, while working for a large nationwide telecommunications organization, I was offered a remarkable opportunity and promotion.  The company had a failing location in Fresno, California that hadn't turned a profit in 2 years.  The previous general manager had grossly mismanaged resources and left the office in disarray.  I was given the opportunity to take his place.  It would require me to move to a place that I had never been and knew no one, replace the entire staff, learn an entirely new industry and product that I had never dealt with before, and make it profitable quickly.  Had my resolve not been tested several years before, I would have never accepted.  With a grin, I packed up  my bags and moved to California.  This time, the cycle turned in my favor.  We turned our first profit the second month, quadrupled production in month 3, and went on to become one of the most profitable branches in the company.  Sure there were obstacles, almost too many to number - but where everyone saw risk, I saw opportunity and I had the experience to know it was possible.  Obstacles are not road blocks - they are opportunities.  Opportunities to learn, grow, adapt, and test your resolve.  They are meant to be overcome.  And in my opinion, if you haven't lost it all a time or two - you're probably not trying hard enough.