Journals and Letters (Oh My)

I've been thinking a lot about writing lately. By this, I mean writing with a pen and paper, versus using the laptop. Years ago, on a coffee date with a friend, we discussed our relationship with writing.  Specifically, we were talking about writing for yourself and not writing related to a profession. We talked about how the simple act of writing can bring about a Zen-like moment that involves being fully in the moment.

I've been a journal writer off and on since I was young. I remember getting my first diary when I was in 1st grade. I was just learning to read and write on my own and I wanted to fill the diary with secret stories. I tried for the first few entries to keep my musings to the prescribed amount of space but found, even then, that once any real writing began, I could not predict the amount of space that would be required. 

I still believe there are benefits to keeping a journal. There are no hard and fast rules. It is a tool you can choose to pick up when you want or need it. 

As I think about my relationship to writing, I remember I was once an avid letter writer. I first became a "letter writer" in the summer after 6th grade. That summer I made friends with Darla who lived in Virginia. this seemed like a long way away to my 6th-grade mind. she was two years older than me and I thought she was quite mature. We decided to stay friends by being pen pals. I don't remember what we wrote, but I remember the joy of getting a letter back from her. There is nothing quite like getting a real letter in the real mailbox.

As an adult, I began to write letters diligently after leaving Virginia Beach. Hubster and I lived there for three years. Our daughter was born there and we moved when she was 18 months. I did not know anyone in the new NC town. (It was not my hometown.) I was lonely for the friendships that I had recently cemented. So, I would write letters or postcards. I found two things to be true. #1: Letter writing can deepen a friendship more deeply than a phone call. One of my friends continued with our deep friendship writing for many years. The letter-writing friendship was also kept fresh by several visits back to see her. I still consider her as a very deep friend. And, #2: I was driven to find fun and exciting things to do during my "regular" non-working life so that I would have something fun and interesting to write about. The adventures made me a better writer AND the writing made me a better adventurer.  This became a key to getting acclimated and finding my niche in this new town.

Looking For Home

I have a friend who doesn't understand why I like to look at houses. I'm not in the market for a house so why do I look at them? I actually go to open houses.  I love to see homes that are staged for sale. I love the minimalism of it. The staging makes me think, "Ah. This is what it would be like to live here. This is what a fresh start looks like." 

Of course, a staged home looks nothing like a house that is lived in. But in a glossy magazine type presentation, the house whispers, "But I could look like this". 

Do I want to live in such a home?  A staged one that wants me to think I could be happy there. Truly, the answer is "no". The homes that make me happy are not perfect. They are beautifully lived in.  I enjoy being in the homes of friends. I like to get a glimpse of how they make a life.

I have a girlfriend who I love to visit. She's an amazing cook and when I'm at her house, we spend a lot of time in her kitchen. I love the open shelving above her stove where her spices live. I love watching her create in the kitchen. She makes it look seamless. She's usually cooking something for later or even just cooking something for me. It's a gift to spend time with her and talk with her while she is cooking. The everyday-ness of our time together is anything but mundane. 

Another friend comes to mind when I think about "home". I met Lynn when our daughters were in the same daycare. The first Christmas we were at the daycare, Lynn had a cookie party and Danielle and I were invited. When we arrived, tables were set with plates of sugar cookies just waiting for kids to adorn. The tables had all kinds of sugars and icings set out so the kids could decorate (and eat) cookies to their hearts' content. Parents were not expected to stay. But, of course, I stayed. I wanted to watch the fun and I wanted to get to know Lynn. 

My cuz is also great at making you feel at home. I remember sitting on her couch one Thanksgiving evening. The big meal had come and gone. We were all snacking with plates on her laps and watching a football game. I fell in love with Cathy's snacks, especially the pigs in a blanket. She made them with cornbread and link sausages. That kind of yumminess feels like home. We curled up on the couch and visited. it was just that kind of day.

My own kitchen feels like I'm a nomad. I only have enough snacks to get through the next football game. 

This is my first apartment without my love. He has never seen it. The apartment is filled with things I bought after the move. Things like a new couch, a new TV, a new table. Jordan would have liked it. When I first moved in I couldn't stop crying. I ached as I started to build some sort of life alone.

I love this apartment. It's the perfect size and layout. Oddly, I never completely made it home. I came close...but never hung a single picture.  I did get excellent help to organize which went a super long way to making a home. But, I just didn't finish. 

Next month I will move again. Just two years after moving into this apartment.  This move is another milestone of sorts. I'm moving much closer to work. This is something I resisted. I will be in a town I've never lived in before. This should ease the stress of commuting.  I will need more help to feel settled.  And, I really must hang my pictures. 

Thanksgiving Celebrations

Today was glorious. The sun was out, the sky was blue, and the leaves on the ground were crunchy underneath my feet. It is Fall. It is still Fall, by God, NOT winter, but Fall. And it's Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving as it should be.

Many, many years ago, a little over thirty years, to be exact, my husband and I enjoyed Thanksgiving in our Virginia Beach townhouse.  I think it was our first Thanksgiving in Tidewater. Both our families were several hours away. So our family traditions were always nuclear. That Thanksgiving we had all of the trimmings, turkey, and stuffing and cranberry sauce and gravy and sweet iced tea. Everything you could want for a Thanksgiving celebration. 

My husband loved making videos back then, and he made a video of our celebratory preparation. As we sat down to begin to eat, Jordan asked me to tell the camera about our special Thanksgiving. As I was glowing about what a feast we were going to have, I said it's our last Thanksgiving for just the two of us. Then pushed back my chair to expose my very pregnant belly, and said, "Because we're going to have a baby".

The baby came less than a week later. Today she is just as pregnant as I was. She will have a sweet baby girl before Christmas. Oh, and today is her 30th birthday. She and Sam came to spend the day with me. Our last holiday before they are parents. They made me incredibly happy. We recreated a tradition that we had when we lived in Seattle. 

In Seattle, we started the Thanksgiving tradition of eating at Maggiano's. They offer a family-style traditional meal. Ham, turkey, sweet potatoes, stuffing. We enjoyed hearing other families enjoying their day as we enjoyed ours.  Danielle's birthday is always very close to Thanksgiving. We enjoyed celebrating her special day at Maggiano's. And today Sam and Danielle gave me the gift of recreating our tradition, one last time before everything becomes new.

A Little Flow Helps

This is what I spent my Sunday doing....decorating just a little. It's really very little but somehow gives me joy. And it gave me joy while I was putting it together. 

I don't think I'll put up a tree this year. I did last year and thought it was a milestone of sorts. It's an odd place that I live in now. I'm still trying to actually figure out how to live alone. Some days I wake up and think, "Yes, this will be a good day". [ Side note: for some reason when it's not the weekend, I wake up and think, "Why is my body saying, 'No!'?" But this isn't really the point.] 

That feeling of emptiness is growing fainter. Right this minute, I'm sitting on the couch with the pre-game show on. [Tonight is Greenbay vs. San Fran.] Thank goodness for football. I like the beauty of a perfect pass and the thrill of a TD. I like that a play can surprise me. Football is festive. When I have it on I am hearing a tiny party in my living room.  I need a little frivolity in my life. Any time I hear (or say) the word "frivolity" I think of my friend Janis. Goodness, I miss her.

Some moments I find my flow and I'm content. Today it came while hanging twinkle lights. Sometimes I mourn not being a part of a "We". Finding my way in this life~in this moment~ is awkward. I am awkward. It's all part of my new reality.

Moment to Moment

It's almost a year since I created this new space. It's a good thing I've given myself permission to post irregularly, erratically, even.

I have so many special experiences that I have not written about. Lots of firsts. Lots of things I had never really done "on my own" before.  Lots of "look at me", "I did that" moments. My vision, a year ago, was that this would be where I tell those sorts of stories. 

I enjoy looking back at my first blog...the one that was "BEFORE". I just looked back to remind myself of the type of things I talked about. My memory was that it included small moments. In my mind, it's the small moments that make up a life. It's in the small moments that, if you are lucky, and you pay attention, you can recognize happiness, contentedness, joy. 

It's a beautiful thing when you can recognize happiness in the actual moment. 

I emphasize the happy moments because they can be so easily missed. I don't know if that is true for everyone. I do know that times of grief or depression can be overwhelming. Grief has been a backdrop in my life for a while now. I'm learning to live through grief. 

I mentioned depression too. I might as well say I have suffered from severe depression. Depression that feels like a dark abyss with no end. I rarely talk about this, because I'm "in remission", and I've been in remission for a very long time. I'm mentioning it now in case it helps anyone out there reading this.  Please know that depression CAN be managed. While in the depths of depression our minds (and hearts) can play tricks on us. We can believe that this is the best that we will feel for the rest of our lives. You have to have faith to get through that. --I don't mean (necessarily) a spiritual faith -- although that can absolutely help. What I mean is a faith that this is not the rest of your life. That one day you'll be able to feel good things again. 

Since I'm sharing about depression, I will also say that, for me, depression comes with a large dose of guilt. Guilt that you are feeling "down" when you have been given so many things in this life. Guilt that you know you are loved and yet, it doesn't feel like enough to sustain you. Guilt that you are a burden to the people you love so much. Guilt because you can look at your life and recognize that it is beautiful...but you feel unworthy. 

If you are feeling any of those things, ask for help. If the first person you ask to help you doesn't see your pain and give you permission to feel it, then ask for help from someone else. Ask until you are heard. Ask until you believe that you can be helped. 

I remember it was little moments that helped me know that I was coming out of depression. I had felt so bad for so long I didn't think I would ever feel joy again. It started small. One day I was walking to the car and heard a bird sing, and for that brief moment, I did not feel sad. The depression was nowhere near lifted at that point. But that small moment gave me hope. Gradually, small moments of joy weaved themselves into longer moments. Moments bled into other joyful moments. It happened so slowly that I was not able to pinpoint the exact moment depression lifted.  

I do not take my mental state for granted. It's only been in the last several years that I could let go of the fear that the darkness of depression would return. Depression has bled through at times. But I am diligent in recognizing my symptoms. I can acknowledge it before it gets out of control and I can use healthy strategies to get through.  

I Write Therefore....

Seen on a Rural Walk With a Friend

I created this new space on the web thinking I would sort of have a "re-start" for writing. Yet, I see that it has been woefully neglected. I keep thinking about writing...we all know how that is. But, the actual writing has caused me a little angst. 

As I wonder "why" that is, I have simply not written, and I am missing something that I really do enjoy.

I decided to stop paying for the web addresses to host my blog. This means that the URLs are different, and I've basically lost what little audience I had. Which begs the question, is having an audience a requirement for writing? Is having an audience that you actually know about required? 

Ultimately, I have to say that writing has intrinsic value in and of itself. An audience is nice. I would LOVE to have one...but it's not the reason for writing. --I have to think about that more.

The riddle of "If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, did it make a sound?" may apply here. 

I once told a friend that the answer is that yes, a sound was made. --I understand the science that the sound-wave has to reach someone to hear it to be a valid sound. But, I'm skeptical of the definition. My answer is that there is always "someone" there to hear it. The woods are filled with hearing someones, be they rabbits or deer or ladybugs. I preached "aren't we humans egotistical"... to infer that the sound wave must reach a human ear to be defined as sound. 

I digress. 

This was not at all what I thought I would write about. But that is the beauty of extemporaneous expression. 

Lately, I've been examining the importance of human connection in my life. It's not a new exploration. I'm so lucky because I have deep connections that make the painful times a little easier and make happy times richer. What I've been examining is the "how" of these connections. It is possible that the examination is a pursuit that distracts from the beauty of the "It Just Is" declaration. It is possible that the mere attempt to dissect such a thing is missing the point. 

For today, I will end with the thought that I am lucky for ALL that "IS" in my life right now.

I'll be back.

It's My Birthday .... And I feel like singing

Hello, again dear friends on the internet. I'm writing because that is what I do. I may not post or "publish" often...but I write none the less. This is my favorite place to write. I have a few blank books that I've used as journals...but this is better.  Why? Well, having an actual space adds the "boundaries" of space and time. That may not make sense. Let me try again. Writing in a journal is always something I intend to do. But when I sit down, pen and book in hand...I don't seem to get at the crux of my moment. The heart of it all.

Coming here, to the Blog, is not always ideal either.  --The whole get the computer open and up and running...At night when I'm home I'll think, "It's too late to turn the computer on, isn't it?". You know, I remember "older" people saying things like, "It's too late to put a pot of coffee on, isn't it". --And just like that, I'm old.

But not really.  Look at me! I'm not old. I don't accept that truth. Although, my knees like to remind me that I'm not 21 anymore.

My life is so rich. I just have to reflect on that a bit. Sometimes my grief for Jordan overshadows my mood. But, when I relax and "sit with it", I find that my life is very full and rich. (Aside: Jordan is doing well. He is happy! He still knows me. He smiles all the time. He LOVES ice cream and gets it every day! He has a true sense of community. When he's in the parlor and he sees a nurse walk by he happily waves... something one would do when sitting on a front porch in a small town.)

Today is the second (most likely annual) birthday trip. Last year was Costa Rica. It was big...but my sadness was big too. Going to such a beautiful place and seeing the lush jungle landscape and hearing the birds and feeling the wind...all perfect things to remind me that THIS, this right here, is life.

Today I am sitting on the front porch of a historic house in Wilmington. I'm so lucky it's not crazy hot yet. Just breezy. Airbnb came through for me again. I'm staying at a real B&B, the Taylor House. My room is precious. This morning our wonderful host prepared a delicious hot breakfast. It was an egg, cheese, and broccoli omelet, so light and delicious. And there were link sausages. So savory. Eating in the dining room of this home feels very festive. Such a good birthday morning.

Happily, another couple was staying last night, so I had company at breakfast. They were so easy to talk to and were smart and creative and amazing. The couple is gone now...it was a one night stop for them. So today it's me. Which is actually what I want it to be. I'm sitting on the front porch. There is a huge, old tree in front of me. The street is lined with old homes like the one I'm staying in.

The porch is the best. We used to sit on Grandma's front porch.  Every Sunday and any other day we wanted. Sit...rock in the rocking chair...drink ice tea. Perfection.

This porch looks the same. Well, maybe a little higher-end facade. The neat thing, though, is the home is street level. The house sits on a cobblestone road...but with brick.  The town has done a good job of protecting its history.

The Taylor House B&B

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to see my daughter. Happy Day to One and All!

The photo is from the B&B's website.

Resilient Heart

I had dinner with a good friend on Sunday night. I love it when she spontaneously pings me for some girl time. I can't even express how important friends are to me. I mentioned to her that I've started blogging again. ~I told her that the few posts I've put out there are probably not all that happy or uplifting. Other than the parental musing post, I think it's been a little mournful.  I don't mean for the posts to be downers. 

My reason for starting a new blog was to give myself space to think about this new life. Writing is how I process. I don't know what this new life of mine will grow into. I'm optimistic, though. Optimistic that joy and happy moments will outnumber the sad moments. 

Writing here, expecting to document happiness feels audacious. Both bold and brave as well as brazen. Two years ago it was unthinkable that I would ever feel joy again. But the heart is resilient. 

My friends are a huge reason I've been able to pull through heartache. Girls' night resumed. Staying involved did more than "take my mind off" my own situation. Staying involved allowed me to continue to be part of someone else's story. I stayed connected with people who mean the world to me. 

Work has also been therapeutic for me.  It is more than a distraction. Work gives me opportunities to learn and deepen my skillset. I'm lucky to have a job that gives me the opportunity to keep learning.

My daughter continues to be a touchstone for me. She is an amazing caregiver. Her dad responds so well to her. She has always had a special relationship with him. We both vacillate between strong, confusing and sometimes conflicting emotions. Her dad is still here. He still knows her and exudes incredible love for her. We are grateful that we were able to get a placement that provides such good care. We are so lucky to see that he is able to continue to feel joy. And yet...

She and I both continue to find our way.

As I sit here, listening to the clothes dryer tumble this week's dresses, I realize that I'm feeling content, happy even. It turns out it is possible to be happy.

There are still days that I struggle with grief. That is just part of it. Yet, I am grateful that my heart allows sunshine to break through.

The past year has been a year of firsts for me. Things like going to Costa Rica. Things like buying a new car where all the research and decisions were mine alone. Things like buying a new television. 

Parental Moments

Yesterday morning, I heard a father in our courtyard as he counted to 20. He finished his count with "Ready or not, here I come". It was the proverbial hide and seek game. I wanted to see this parent-child interaction, but I didn't want to intrude. So, I walked over to the balcony to peek. I expected to see a dad walking around "looking" for his "hidden" child. What I saw was a man in shorts and a tee-shirt, sitting at a picnic table reading his phone. I guess he felt he had time before actually beginning the search for his offspring.

I snuck away, unseen, but I couldn't stifle my giggles. I love seeing the intimate moments of parental play. Especially on such a beautiful sunny Saturday morning. Parental moments are somewhat unexpected for me as I live in an apartment complex. I somehow don't expect to see a young family here.

I don't know why I'm surprised, our building has two-bedroom units as well as one-bedroom. The complex even has a few three-bedroom units. Family living here is not inconceivable. It's also possible that I was observing a single dad parenting on his weekend. I don't know why I feel the need to speculate. All I know for sure is that he is a young dad who cares enough for his child to play and entertain his kid on a beautiful weekend morning. At this musing, I feel the need to say, "If that's not love, I don't know what is".