Mood: annoyed
Didn't everyone's parents tell them this as children. Have people always been as hateful and mean as we are now? And if not, then when did we become such a mean culture? When did we decide that the best way to begin feeling better about ourselves was to tear others down? When did the need to constantly feel superior to the other begin? Why do we continue this even when we know how harmful and hurtful this behavior is?
For the past few days I've been mulling over a few posts I've seen on Facebook or Pinterest recently that bash women who wear makeup when going to the gym. Full disclosure because we're all friends here, I am that woman. I wear mascara to the gym.
I kind of let go of these posts because they really didn't upset me that much but then, I started thinking about Panera jerk from this past fall. For full details on what I'm talking about, read here.
Then today, as I'm browsing a style/beauty book in the Amazon eBook store I read a comment that states "women need to read this book before ever leaving the house in jeans because it would save me from seeing so much public ugliness." Really? REALLY? I'm pretty sure the public ugliness is your comment.
After reading that these feelings of inadequacy turned into an incensed anger. Why is this okay behavior?
Honestly, when did it become acceptable and normal to be so rude to each other?
Maybe I wear makeup to the gym not because I want to look good for anyone there, but because without it I feel too insecure to leave my house some days. Maybe I wear makeup to the gym because it helps me to feel more powerful and increases the amount of work I do there. Maybe the reason I wear makeup to the gym is none of your damn business.
Or maybe, just maybe, if we lived in a less judgmental and hateful world, I wouldn't feel so "ugly in public" and I could cart my yoga pants wearing fat ass to the gym, makeup free, but with a genuine smile on my face.
There is a quote that has made the rounds online by Jennifer Lawrence about how people veil this horrendous behavior by saying "welcome to the real world" and her retort was "that shouldn't be the real world" and I cannot applaud her enough for saying that. It shouldn't be acceptable to bash and hate and bully and belittle and then just tell people to suck it up.
I know that one of my resolutions in this new year is to do more good. To start leaving more encouraging messages randomly on cars or in public restrooms. I started this blog as a way to impact change in my own world and while it has served that purpose, it has strayed as well. I hope, this year, to blog more intentionally about making a positive change in the world. As my favorite artist, Andrew McMahon sings, "this world can be ugly, but isn't it beautiful?"
Yes, Andrew. Yes it is. If there is one thing I learned from cancer it is that the world is full of generosity and beauty and truly amazing people, even when things seem to be at their most hopeless. And I vow to do my part this year to help others see the beauty that I now do each and every day. I hope you'll join me.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
2013/11/07
The Sun Will Forever Keep Rising
Mood: keep rising
A few weeks ago as Jeff and I drove the hour to pick up Malcolm I was singing along in the car to Andrew McMahon and his Jack's Mannequin music. If you know me personally, you will have heard me fangirl about Andrew previously, either I forced you to listen to him, became incredulous that you didn't know who he was or spouted a million reasons why your life would be a million times better with Andrew in it.
Well, not much has changed for me since I was 18 where Andrew is concerned. I still fangirl when I go to his shows (Jeff was greatly amused this summer when we saw him) and his music is still what I listen to when I need to sort out the really big things in my life.
Something Corporate got me through college and the portions of graduate school that I made it through. And his lyrics were there when the program proved just too much for me. My faith shaken, Andrew reminded me that my life had a purpose, and it was okay to spend some time figuring it out. (By the way, I'm STILL working on that).
Something Corporate was the soundtrack to my life the summer I finally left a mentally and physically abusive relationship. Andrew's voice and melodies and words soothed the wounds that were, and some days still are, raw and hurting.
Jack's Mannequin has seen me through several horrendous bouts of depression, some of which I truly did not want to come out of on the other side. Andrew has said that it's always really heavy for him when people tell him that he saved their lives, and I can only imagine what hearing that must be like. He's said that it's those people that saved themselves and he's glad to have been there, but truly I am not positive I'd be typing this today if it were not for some of his lyrics.
Anyway, as we were driving Jeff joked that I loved Andrew McMahon more than him. Without pausing I said, "No, it's just that he's been in my life for a lot longer than you have."
And that is true. 11 years of music and inspiration later I still feel like I just discovered this man.
Tonight, I'm writing from a lonely place.
Jeff got news that he needs a fourth round of chemotherapy. While we are grateful that he'll celebrate Christmas cancer free, it's a scary time for us. His job put him (without allowing him a choice) on unpaid leave and my freelance writing doesn't exactly bring in the big bucks. Medical bills pile up, regular bills pile up...life does not stop because you get cancer. A cancer expert my dad looked up has been in touch with Jeff to say that the fourth round is unnecessary, so we face a difficult decision. Well, Jeff does at least. I'm here to support him regardless of the decision.
I've been filling my days with taking care of Jeff, Malcolm, the dogs and the day to day things that need to get done. I stay plenty busy. And I'm happy to report that I actually have been making a concerted effort in the weight loss front. It's my nights that are impossible. Jeff is asleep, too tired to sit up for a minute so that he can take his medications. Malcolm is asleep. The dogs are asleep. And I am alone with my thoughts and my fears and my insecurities. And the scariest thing of all: the fear of death. Of Jeff's. Of my husband's. Mourning my grandfather's passing. My professor's life being cut short by his battle with cancer.
I sit alone, night after night in a house filled with noise as I try to cancel out these feelings. These thoughts. The loss and sadness weighs so heavily some nights that I cannot breath without pain in my chest. I know, and 100%, that Jeff will make a full recovery and we will live long and healthy lives.
But at night, when I'm all alone, when the noise can't distract me, I wonder...what it...what if the happy ending looks completely different for Jeff and I? What if my husband dies? Cancer is a really hard thing for people close to you to handle. I am reminded of my infertility struggles. Often, when people don't know what to say, they simply say nothing. And that hurts worse than anything. When you desperately want to know you are not alone, but are far too exhausted and drained to reach out, and all you hear is radio silence. That is the worst.
These nights are lonely. And endless.
But I have Andrew. And the sun will rise and push the loneliness and fear away.
I have written this post several times. And I always end up deleting it for fear of coming across too depressed or too negative. And that is truly not my disposition. Tonight I am feeling scared, but also a little brave. I promised to blog my experience with cancer and I would be remiss if I did not admit that there are moments of the utmost weakness and terror. There are moments where I can simply not hold the tears any longer and I fall to my knees weeping. And there are moments of laughter and happiness and joy.
If you want a small taste of the range of emotions, beautifully composed, listen to "Keep Rising" by Jack's Mannequin. The lyrics follow.
*Lyrics from www.azlyrics.com
Jeff's Fundraising Page at Give Forward:
http://gfwd.at/19AoOzG
A few weeks ago as Jeff and I drove the hour to pick up Malcolm I was singing along in the car to Andrew McMahon and his Jack's Mannequin music. If you know me personally, you will have heard me fangirl about Andrew previously, either I forced you to listen to him, became incredulous that you didn't know who he was or spouted a million reasons why your life would be a million times better with Andrew in it.
Well, not much has changed for me since I was 18 where Andrew is concerned. I still fangirl when I go to his shows (Jeff was greatly amused this summer when we saw him) and his music is still what I listen to when I need to sort out the really big things in my life.
Something Corporate got me through college and the portions of graduate school that I made it through. And his lyrics were there when the program proved just too much for me. My faith shaken, Andrew reminded me that my life had a purpose, and it was okay to spend some time figuring it out. (By the way, I'm STILL working on that).
Something Corporate was the soundtrack to my life the summer I finally left a mentally and physically abusive relationship. Andrew's voice and melodies and words soothed the wounds that were, and some days still are, raw and hurting.
Jack's Mannequin has seen me through several horrendous bouts of depression, some of which I truly did not want to come out of on the other side. Andrew has said that it's always really heavy for him when people tell him that he saved their lives, and I can only imagine what hearing that must be like. He's said that it's those people that saved themselves and he's glad to have been there, but truly I am not positive I'd be typing this today if it were not for some of his lyrics.
Anyway, as we were driving Jeff joked that I loved Andrew McMahon more than him. Without pausing I said, "No, it's just that he's been in my life for a lot longer than you have."
And that is true. 11 years of music and inspiration later I still feel like I just discovered this man.
Tonight, I'm writing from a lonely place.
Jeff got news that he needs a fourth round of chemotherapy. While we are grateful that he'll celebrate Christmas cancer free, it's a scary time for us. His job put him (without allowing him a choice) on unpaid leave and my freelance writing doesn't exactly bring in the big bucks. Medical bills pile up, regular bills pile up...life does not stop because you get cancer. A cancer expert my dad looked up has been in touch with Jeff to say that the fourth round is unnecessary, so we face a difficult decision. Well, Jeff does at least. I'm here to support him regardless of the decision.
I've been filling my days with taking care of Jeff, Malcolm, the dogs and the day to day things that need to get done. I stay plenty busy. And I'm happy to report that I actually have been making a concerted effort in the weight loss front. It's my nights that are impossible. Jeff is asleep, too tired to sit up for a minute so that he can take his medications. Malcolm is asleep. The dogs are asleep. And I am alone with my thoughts and my fears and my insecurities. And the scariest thing of all: the fear of death. Of Jeff's. Of my husband's. Mourning my grandfather's passing. My professor's life being cut short by his battle with cancer.
I sit alone, night after night in a house filled with noise as I try to cancel out these feelings. These thoughts. The loss and sadness weighs so heavily some nights that I cannot breath without pain in my chest. I know, and 100%, that Jeff will make a full recovery and we will live long and healthy lives.
But at night, when I'm all alone, when the noise can't distract me, I wonder...what it...what if the happy ending looks completely different for Jeff and I? What if my husband dies? Cancer is a really hard thing for people close to you to handle. I am reminded of my infertility struggles. Often, when people don't know what to say, they simply say nothing. And that hurts worse than anything. When you desperately want to know you are not alone, but are far too exhausted and drained to reach out, and all you hear is radio silence. That is the worst.
These nights are lonely. And endless.
But I have Andrew. And the sun will rise and push the loneliness and fear away.
I have written this post several times. And I always end up deleting it for fear of coming across too depressed or too negative. And that is truly not my disposition. Tonight I am feeling scared, but also a little brave. I promised to blog my experience with cancer and I would be remiss if I did not admit that there are moments of the utmost weakness and terror. There are moments where I can simply not hold the tears any longer and I fall to my knees weeping. And there are moments of laughter and happiness and joy.
If you want a small taste of the range of emotions, beautifully composed, listen to "Keep Rising" by Jack's Mannequin. The lyrics follow.
"Keep Rising (Passenger Demo)"
I could feel the pressure drop
And hope was just a broken bridge
And when the clouds refused to stop
They said you'd find the plan for this
And there was no place I could run
Just days without the sun
I was a ghost in waiting
Sleep to dream and hear you saying
Don't be afraid
The rain will make us what we are
And I will keep you sane
Just waiting with me in the dark
Cause this feels a whole lot like living dead
If it's just this song
To keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing
With the night so long
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
So they plugged my wires in
And told me I was born to fight
(Maybe you were born to, maybe you were born to die)
Sometimes the best machines don't win
Could you stay and get me through the night
Cause I'm so afraid.
The rain will make us what we are
Don't let me fade just waited with me in the dark
Cause this feels a whole lot like living dead
It's just this song to keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing?
With the night so long?
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
And we sing
Till we watch the streetlights all fall fast asleep
Yeah we sing till the sun rains down on everything
It's just this song to keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing
With a night so long
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
Keep rising
Keep rising, yeah
The sun will forever keep rising
Keep rising
Keep rising, yeah
The sun will forever keep rising
And hope was just a broken bridge
And when the clouds refused to stop
They said you'd find the plan for this
And there was no place I could run
Just days without the sun
I was a ghost in waiting
Sleep to dream and hear you saying
Don't be afraid
The rain will make us what we are
And I will keep you sane
Just waiting with me in the dark
Cause this feels a whole lot like living dead
If it's just this song
To keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing
With the night so long
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
So they plugged my wires in
And told me I was born to fight
(Maybe you were born to, maybe you were born to die)
Sometimes the best machines don't win
Could you stay and get me through the night
Cause I'm so afraid.
The rain will make us what we are
Don't let me fade just waited with me in the dark
Cause this feels a whole lot like living dead
It's just this song to keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing?
With the night so long?
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
And we sing
Till we watch the streetlights all fall fast asleep
Yeah we sing till the sun rains down on everything
It's just this song to keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing
With a night so long
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
Keep rising
Keep rising, yeah
The sun will forever keep rising
Keep rising
Keep rising, yeah
The sun will forever keep rising
Jeff's Fundraising Page at Give Forward:
http://gfwd.at/19AoOzG
2013/10/31
Namaste
Mood: it's good to be alive
I traveled to India in January of 2008. That trip changed my life. It not only gave me a broader worldview, it made me face truths and fears and it forced me to forge new relationships. It helped shape me into the person I am today. Compassionate. Empathetic. Judgement free. While many, many people contributed to making that trip spectacular for me, one man in particular deserves my thanks.
This man is Frank Stalfa. He was laid to rest yesterday in Lancaster, Pennsylvania and my heart is still breaking that I was unable to attend. This wise, gentle man that we referred to as our "fearless leader" showed me how to live. He taught me many things, but I think the most important and the one foremost in my heart today, is to find the moments of quiet joy in each day. His wife taught me to celebrate the simple act of living, one that Frank's teachings reinforced. The two of them are a model for living a grateful, joyous life.
Frank passed after a short, but brave battle against cancer. I've been largely avoiding social media as Jeff battles his cancer for a myriad of reasons. One, I am exhausted much of the time and just don't feel the energy at the end of the day for Facebook. Two, I am a chronic comparer. I think I made that word up. Here's what it means. I see the posts, the pictures, the food, the travels, the whatever my friends post and I compare where I am at and wallow in pity or self-loathing. As friends of mine work in professional sports, in important media positions, overseas, or even as high school teachers I think of how I am freelance writing and have no steady paycheck. As friends of mine post their beautiful babies I see the empty space in my arms where I can not put a child, because my body is not able to carry one. As friends post their homes....you get the idea.
So. I've been away long enough that I didn't even know Frank was ill. When he passed I sent an e-mail to my mother. When her reply came a few minutes later, I wept. I wept because I didn't get a chance to share with him what he taught me. I wept because I did not have the chance to offer words of encouragement to friends who were suffering in light of Frank's illness. And lastly, I wept because he touched my life and a beautiful soul left this earth.
Yesterday his funeral was on my mind. I ached to be in Pennsylvania, crying in my mother's arms at the loss of Frank. But with Jeff fighting an infection and cancer, it was not to be. As Jeff was sick I was responsible for taking Malcolm trick-or-treating. And I didn't want to. Because as I compare myself to others on Facebook, so do I do it in real life. And I felt vulnerable and weak, not able to handle public scrutiny or mingling with strangers. But Malcolm is 4 and he deserved to go, so I headed out into the night as Princess Mom with Malcolm as Black Spiderman. And somewhere between the fifth and tenth house, I felt light as air. I was smiling. I was interacting with people. I was happy. I was not comparing my size to other mothers. I was not comparing my living space to other's homes. I simply was. I was in the moment. With Malcolm and a gentle breeze ushering in the smell of fall and rain and leaves.
Frank's death has forced me to be grateful that Jeff has the chance to fight his cancer. That Jeff has a future to face. And that I get to be by his side through it. There are so many ugly moments during a cancer fight. So many heinous thoughts and emotions that remain hidden and eat away at you. Sometimes it is hard to be fully in the present as Jeff and I worry so much about the future. When he comes out of this our medical bills will set us back for years. When he comes out of this, we will worry that it still isn't over.
But last night, as I walked with Malcolm, Frank's message of joy and thanks filled me and I came home with a renewed sense of gratitude for the life I live.
I will miss Frank, but his teachings will never leave me. His teachings will live in the hearts and minds of those he touched near and far. Today, I will remember him. And the simple pleasure of finding a little bar in India to grab a cocktail and share conversation. And I will give thanks for all that I do have, rather than focusing on what I don't.
Life truly is good. And a gift. Give thanks. Namaste.
I traveled to India in January of 2008. That trip changed my life. It not only gave me a broader worldview, it made me face truths and fears and it forced me to forge new relationships. It helped shape me into the person I am today. Compassionate. Empathetic. Judgement free. While many, many people contributed to making that trip spectacular for me, one man in particular deserves my thanks.
This man is Frank Stalfa. He was laid to rest yesterday in Lancaster, Pennsylvania and my heart is still breaking that I was unable to attend. This wise, gentle man that we referred to as our "fearless leader" showed me how to live. He taught me many things, but I think the most important and the one foremost in my heart today, is to find the moments of quiet joy in each day. His wife taught me to celebrate the simple act of living, one that Frank's teachings reinforced. The two of them are a model for living a grateful, joyous life.
Frank passed after a short, but brave battle against cancer. I've been largely avoiding social media as Jeff battles his cancer for a myriad of reasons. One, I am exhausted much of the time and just don't feel the energy at the end of the day for Facebook. Two, I am a chronic comparer. I think I made that word up. Here's what it means. I see the posts, the pictures, the food, the travels, the whatever my friends post and I compare where I am at and wallow in pity or self-loathing. As friends of mine work in professional sports, in important media positions, overseas, or even as high school teachers I think of how I am freelance writing and have no steady paycheck. As friends of mine post their beautiful babies I see the empty space in my arms where I can not put a child, because my body is not able to carry one. As friends post their homes....you get the idea.
So. I've been away long enough that I didn't even know Frank was ill. When he passed I sent an e-mail to my mother. When her reply came a few minutes later, I wept. I wept because I didn't get a chance to share with him what he taught me. I wept because I did not have the chance to offer words of encouragement to friends who were suffering in light of Frank's illness. And lastly, I wept because he touched my life and a beautiful soul left this earth.
Yesterday his funeral was on my mind. I ached to be in Pennsylvania, crying in my mother's arms at the loss of Frank. But with Jeff fighting an infection and cancer, it was not to be. As Jeff was sick I was responsible for taking Malcolm trick-or-treating. And I didn't want to. Because as I compare myself to others on Facebook, so do I do it in real life. And I felt vulnerable and weak, not able to handle public scrutiny or mingling with strangers. But Malcolm is 4 and he deserved to go, so I headed out into the night as Princess Mom with Malcolm as Black Spiderman. And somewhere between the fifth and tenth house, I felt light as air. I was smiling. I was interacting with people. I was happy. I was not comparing my size to other mothers. I was not comparing my living space to other's homes. I simply was. I was in the moment. With Malcolm and a gentle breeze ushering in the smell of fall and rain and leaves.
Frank's death has forced me to be grateful that Jeff has the chance to fight his cancer. That Jeff has a future to face. And that I get to be by his side through it. There are so many ugly moments during a cancer fight. So many heinous thoughts and emotions that remain hidden and eat away at you. Sometimes it is hard to be fully in the present as Jeff and I worry so much about the future. When he comes out of this our medical bills will set us back for years. When he comes out of this, we will worry that it still isn't over.
But last night, as I walked with Malcolm, Frank's message of joy and thanks filled me and I came home with a renewed sense of gratitude for the life I live.
I will miss Frank, but his teachings will never leave me. His teachings will live in the hearts and minds of those he touched near and far. Today, I will remember him. And the simple pleasure of finding a little bar in India to grab a cocktail and share conversation. And I will give thanks for all that I do have, rather than focusing on what I don't.
2013/09/20
Storms
Mood: numb
It's been dark on and off all day and I have been patiently waiting for a thunderstorm.
The timing of the ominous thunder and lighting and dark sky is truly impressive. Really, very poetic. Sixteen minutes ago my husband called me from work. He never calls, we just text all day.
His cancer is back. The mass in his lung is cancerous.
And the heavens have opened up in response.
As I watch the trees whip back and forth and the rain pound the street outside, all I can think is that the current climate inside is what I should feel like on the inside.
But I don't. Where there should be tears, my face is dry. The sobs are not coming, but instead are stuck in my throat. I feel nothing. I want to feel pain or anger or hope, anything. But all I can manage is staring out the window in complete and utter shock. I am sure the tears will come, just as the rain is now. I know I will be angry as I watch my husband fight for his life. But right now, I feel nothing. My hands shake and my heart feels as heavy as the tree braving the storm outside, but I am numb. I am without words. I am without feeling.
I am not, however, without love. I am not without hope.
As Malcolm bounces on the couch next to me the knowledge that we must tell him how sick Daddy is soon weighs heavily upon me. But no, I am not without hope. He will have to watch as his Daddy fights and is sick and ceases to be the Daddy he is used to. But Jeff will recover. And Malcolm will bounce back. They're both resilient.
And I? I will stand with them. I will hold Jeff's hand and stroke his head and drive him to and from the hospital. I will play with Malcolm and get him to and from school and make cupcakes for Jeff's birthday on Saturday.
I will hope. And I will love. And I know that we will all be alright. The storm will pass, just as the one outside will as well. And when it has passed, there will be a rainbow and sunshine and a brighter tomorrow.
(I wrote this last night....update.....today we will go to the oncologist and discuss his treatment. We are all as okay as possible, and Malcolm is still blissfully unaware that there is anything wrong with his Daddy. The storm last night ended up being a small tornado in Ankeny....there are trees uprooted and split directly in two. The cupcakes I made are bright and colorful and cheerful and today we will all enjoy one together and celebrate Jeff's birthday. And next year, when I make Jeff birthday cupcakes again, we will celebrate the bravery, strength and courgae of Jeff and this small family in the face of cancer.)
It's been dark on and off all day and I have been patiently waiting for a thunderstorm.
The timing of the ominous thunder and lighting and dark sky is truly impressive. Really, very poetic. Sixteen minutes ago my husband called me from work. He never calls, we just text all day.
His cancer is back. The mass in his lung is cancerous.
And the heavens have opened up in response.
As I watch the trees whip back and forth and the rain pound the street outside, all I can think is that the current climate inside is what I should feel like on the inside.
But I don't. Where there should be tears, my face is dry. The sobs are not coming, but instead are stuck in my throat. I feel nothing. I want to feel pain or anger or hope, anything. But all I can manage is staring out the window in complete and utter shock. I am sure the tears will come, just as the rain is now. I know I will be angry as I watch my husband fight for his life. But right now, I feel nothing. My hands shake and my heart feels as heavy as the tree braving the storm outside, but I am numb. I am without words. I am without feeling.
I am not, however, without love. I am not without hope.
As Malcolm bounces on the couch next to me the knowledge that we must tell him how sick Daddy is soon weighs heavily upon me. But no, I am not without hope. He will have to watch as his Daddy fights and is sick and ceases to be the Daddy he is used to. But Jeff will recover. And Malcolm will bounce back. They're both resilient.
And I? I will stand with them. I will hold Jeff's hand and stroke his head and drive him to and from the hospital. I will play with Malcolm and get him to and from school and make cupcakes for Jeff's birthday on Saturday.
I will hope. And I will love. And I know that we will all be alright. The storm will pass, just as the one outside will as well. And when it has passed, there will be a rainbow and sunshine and a brighter tomorrow.
(I wrote this last night....update.....today we will go to the oncologist and discuss his treatment. We are all as okay as possible, and Malcolm is still blissfully unaware that there is anything wrong with his Daddy. The storm last night ended up being a small tornado in Ankeny....there are trees uprooted and split directly in two. The cupcakes I made are bright and colorful and cheerful and today we will all enjoy one together and celebrate Jeff's birthday. And next year, when I make Jeff birthday cupcakes again, we will celebrate the bravery, strength and courgae of Jeff and this small family in the face of cancer.)
2013/09/16
To My Husband, on the Eve of our Anniversary
Mood: thankful, in love
Dear Jeff -
Tonight, we sit in anticipation of the anniversary of our wedding day. Two years ago, we stood for a chilly run-through of our wedding. As my dad and I made our way to the spot where we were to say "I do," I remember him making me laugh because I was so afraid I would cry. While I was a girl that planned a million weddings, I'm not sure I ever truly saw myself as a bride. And in that moment, in my sweater and Uggs as we practiced the walk that would make me your wife, I felt happier and more beautiful than I can remember. Surrounded by family and friends, Malcolm running all over the place and screaming happily into the microphone, that night in totality was one of the best nights of my entire life.
As we laid in bed, too excited to sleep, I remember wishing that this feeling would never end. The excitment, the happy anxiety.
And today, the night before the 2nd anniversary of our wedding, it has faded. All things do. And it is currently replaced with a terrifying anxiety. Tomorrow we will go to a procedure that will give us answers as to the status of your health. I cannot hold your hand through it, but know I will be with you throughout. Tonight, I want you to know that I never imagined marriage would be like this. I knew it would be work and I knew not everything can be happy and sunshine.
We've had our share of horrendous fights and moments that made me fear for our future. And we've fought a battle for your health together. I never in a million years would have guessed that before we made it to our two year anniversary, we would be facing a cancer battle.
But we did. And if cancer is what we're looking at once more, we'll fight it together. I do not have any magic words that will make you less anxious or that make tongight less scary or painful. But I do have a hand for you to hold and a shoulder for you to cry on and a lap where you can rest your head when you are tired. Know that I love you, yesterday, today and tomorrow.
ySo, Yes, the magic of our wedding has faded. The flowers are long dead, the candles melted to nothingness and the dress hanging usless in a closet. And while we don't get to drink from our beautiful, Swaroski crystal flutes on our second anniversary since you will barely be in any shape to move, there is no place I would rather be than supporting you through this.
I love you. You have been a constant source of support and I hope that you think the same of me. I know our marriage isn't what either of us expected, maybe not even what we wanted. But it's what we have and we work together each day to make it better. We grow stronger and I love you more each day.
So tonight, as we wait with anxiety high and Malcolm plays, know I am thinking of all that has lead up to this moment. And that even during our darkest days, there is no one else I would rather wake up with tomorrow. Even when tomorrow means treaking to the hospital for a 5 hour wait as you undergo a procedure that determines your fate. I love you.
Your wife,
Ashley
Tonight, we sit in anticipation of the anniversary of our wedding day. Two years ago, we stood for a chilly run-through of our wedding. As my dad and I made our way to the spot where we were to say "I do," I remember him making me laugh because I was so afraid I would cry. While I was a girl that planned a million weddings, I'm not sure I ever truly saw myself as a bride. And in that moment, in my sweater and Uggs as we practiced the walk that would make me your wife, I felt happier and more beautiful than I can remember. Surrounded by family and friends, Malcolm running all over the place and screaming happily into the microphone, that night in totality was one of the best nights of my entire life.
As we laid in bed, too excited to sleep, I remember wishing that this feeling would never end. The excitment, the happy anxiety.
And today, the night before the 2nd anniversary of our wedding, it has faded. All things do. And it is currently replaced with a terrifying anxiety. Tomorrow we will go to a procedure that will give us answers as to the status of your health. I cannot hold your hand through it, but know I will be with you throughout. Tonight, I want you to know that I never imagined marriage would be like this. I knew it would be work and I knew not everything can be happy and sunshine.
We've had our share of horrendous fights and moments that made me fear for our future. And we've fought a battle for your health together. I never in a million years would have guessed that before we made it to our two year anniversary, we would be facing a cancer battle.
But we did. And if cancer is what we're looking at once more, we'll fight it together. I do not have any magic words that will make you less anxious or that make tongight less scary or painful. But I do have a hand for you to hold and a shoulder for you to cry on and a lap where you can rest your head when you are tired. Know that I love you, yesterday, today and tomorrow.
ySo, Yes, the magic of our wedding has faded. The flowers are long dead, the candles melted to nothingness and the dress hanging usless in a closet. And while we don't get to drink from our beautiful, Swaroski crystal flutes on our second anniversary since you will barely be in any shape to move, there is no place I would rather be than supporting you through this.
I love you. You have been a constant source of support and I hope that you think the same of me. I know our marriage isn't what either of us expected, maybe not even what we wanted. But it's what we have and we work together each day to make it better. We grow stronger and I love you more each day.
So tonight, as we wait with anxiety high and Malcolm plays, know I am thinking of all that has lead up to this moment. And that even during our darkest days, there is no one else I would rather wake up with tomorrow. Even when tomorrow means treaking to the hospital for a 5 hour wait as you undergo a procedure that determines your fate. I love you.
Your wife,
Ashley
2013/09/13
The Day of No Complaining
Mood: thankful
Okay guys. Here's the deal. I spend way too much time on Pinterest. Seriously. It's probably not healthy. I currently work writing keyword content articles which requires me to spend a good chunk of my day in front of the computer, clicking between research and writing tabs. And, of course, Pinterest.
So this morning before I started writing I spent some time browsing looking for nail art I'll never be able to recreate, hairstyles I can't pull off and outfits that look good only on skinny, fit women. I'm seriously addicted, you guys. But I also love looking at the quotes and humor sections just for little pick me ups. Today I happened upon a pin that essentially said:
SPEND ONE DAY NOT COMPLAINING ABOUT A THING AND WATCH YOUR LIFE IMPROVE
I liked it and moved on with my day. Opened my writing tabs, started researching articles on Las Vegas. And yet this pin stuck with me. As I was reading about the luxurious hotels and spa amenities I started to think, ugh...why do I have to write an article about how to score deals on these awesome hotels when Jeff and I won't be able to take a vacation for...um....25 years or so. Maybe then we'll have enough money for a vacation.
And then I got kinda salty. I mean, our 2 year anniversary is on Tuesday. Our plan was to do what we did last year, spend a night in Omaha eating the best sushi ever and hanging out at the lounge where we very first discussed getting married. But. Um. This year. We'll be spending our anniversary in a hospital. And the weekend recovering.
I started to get annoyed and I took a break from research for a minute. As I tabbed to Pinterest I thought about the pin I had read and my mood instantly changed.
And I made myself a promise. I am going to spend all day without complaining one, single time. And then, I'm going to do it again tomorrow. And the next day.
I complain a lot. And I think I probably do it more than I'm aware because I complain all day about really little things. I have a headache, the dogs are annoying, I can't find anything to eat (which really means there's plenty but I don't feel like making anything...) and the list goes on. And over the course of the day that wears on me. And it's got to wear on Jeff who hears it all day.
So today, on Friday the 13th of September 2013 I am going to spend a full day not complaining about a thing. Nothing. Instead I'm going to keep my mouth shut if I have something negative to say and think positive thoughts when I start to feel annoyed or scared or anxious.
Jeff and I are in a very scary place now. Physically as we worry about Jeff's health and financially as Jeff works incredibly hard to keep the family afloat. But focusing on that only paralyzes me. It makes me unable to concentrate on the good that is in my life. It stops me from being able to write and earn money and it stops me from enjoying the happy moments that occur each day.
And even though everything outside of me says right now, things just SUCK for Jeff and I, internally I feel completely calm and at peace. And rather than freak out about that calm, I'm going to embrace it. I'm going to laugh with Jeff and watch horrendously crappy TV all weekend as I write. I'm going to make inappropriate jokes with him and eat supper with him and kiss him and remember that there is so, so much good in our lives. We love each other. We support each other. We have an amazing son who learns new things every single day and loves everything about his life. I'm taking a page from his book and stopping to wonder at things and smile and laugh.
And I'm not complaining. I'm going to just spend at least this one day free from the negativity in my own head. And hopefully, that does improve my outlook. And thus our lives.
Okay guys. Here's the deal. I spend way too much time on Pinterest. Seriously. It's probably not healthy. I currently work writing keyword content articles which requires me to spend a good chunk of my day in front of the computer, clicking between research and writing tabs. And, of course, Pinterest.
So this morning before I started writing I spent some time browsing looking for nail art I'll never be able to recreate, hairstyles I can't pull off and outfits that look good only on skinny, fit women. I'm seriously addicted, you guys. But I also love looking at the quotes and humor sections just for little pick me ups. Today I happened upon a pin that essentially said:
SPEND ONE DAY NOT COMPLAINING ABOUT A THING AND WATCH YOUR LIFE IMPROVE
I liked it and moved on with my day. Opened my writing tabs, started researching articles on Las Vegas. And yet this pin stuck with me. As I was reading about the luxurious hotels and spa amenities I started to think, ugh...why do I have to write an article about how to score deals on these awesome hotels when Jeff and I won't be able to take a vacation for...um....25 years or so. Maybe then we'll have enough money for a vacation.
And then I got kinda salty. I mean, our 2 year anniversary is on Tuesday. Our plan was to do what we did last year, spend a night in Omaha eating the best sushi ever and hanging out at the lounge where we very first discussed getting married. But. Um. This year. We'll be spending our anniversary in a hospital. And the weekend recovering.
I started to get annoyed and I took a break from research for a minute. As I tabbed to Pinterest I thought about the pin I had read and my mood instantly changed.
And I made myself a promise. I am going to spend all day without complaining one, single time. And then, I'm going to do it again tomorrow. And the next day.
I complain a lot. And I think I probably do it more than I'm aware because I complain all day about really little things. I have a headache, the dogs are annoying, I can't find anything to eat (which really means there's plenty but I don't feel like making anything...) and the list goes on. And over the course of the day that wears on me. And it's got to wear on Jeff who hears it all day.
So today, on Friday the 13th of September 2013 I am going to spend a full day not complaining about a thing. Nothing. Instead I'm going to keep my mouth shut if I have something negative to say and think positive thoughts when I start to feel annoyed or scared or anxious.
Jeff and I are in a very scary place now. Physically as we worry about Jeff's health and financially as Jeff works incredibly hard to keep the family afloat. But focusing on that only paralyzes me. It makes me unable to concentrate on the good that is in my life. It stops me from being able to write and earn money and it stops me from enjoying the happy moments that occur each day.
And even though everything outside of me says right now, things just SUCK for Jeff and I, internally I feel completely calm and at peace. And rather than freak out about that calm, I'm going to embrace it. I'm going to laugh with Jeff and watch horrendously crappy TV all weekend as I write. I'm going to make inappropriate jokes with him and eat supper with him and kiss him and remember that there is so, so much good in our lives. We love each other. We support each other. We have an amazing son who learns new things every single day and loves everything about his life. I'm taking a page from his book and stopping to wonder at things and smile and laugh.
And I'm not complaining. I'm going to just spend at least this one day free from the negativity in my own head. And hopefully, that does improve my outlook. And thus our lives.
2013/09/09
Cancer: A Lesson in Humility
Mood: humbled
This post has taken me nearly two weeks to write. So bear with me....
I don't know who reads this blog, I suspect my parents. My sister. Maybe my brother. Close friends from the east coast. A few co-workers from Iowa. Other than that, I have no idea. Many of you probably already know then, that my husband Jeff had a brief battle with testicular cancer in April. We got the all clear and he's been having two month check-ups.
His last one was August 30.
I hate going to the cancer center at the hospital. I hate that we have to go. I hate dragging Malcolm along as he sings and chatters and Jeff and clutch to what little sanity we have left before the appointment. I hate the waiting room.
Last time we walked in, sat down and within two minutes watched a woman have a complete breakdown as she left the office. I've never heard wailing and sobbing so loudly in public before. And it's not at all that I was uncomfortable, but I was completely helpless. I don't know what prompted her tears and it really is irrelevant. I wanted to hug her, to tell her she mattered, to do anything that might momentarily relieve the pain in her heart. All I could do was wipe my own eyes and focus on Malcolm reading the story he had picked up from the front of the office. Jeff and I caught each other's eyes and the heartbreak I felt was mirrored.
To get to the office that Jeff's oncologist is in we have to walk past a pediatric cancer office. The first few times we went it was empty. The last two times we've gone, there have been children, younger than Malcolm, and mothers waiting. Each time we walked past that office or we left the cancer center with only a two month check-up appointment and a bill of all clear I realized how immensely lucky we were/are. Sure, we got the news that Jeff did have cancer at this office, but it was out of his body by the time we needed the oncologist. And at least our child was accompanying us because we didn't have a babysitter and not because he needed an appointment.
With each time that we left I got a little more confidence. It was a little easier. We didn't hear bad news. We weren't taking Malcolm. Maybe, just maybe, one brief battle was all we had to endure and we were now impervious to bad news and the devastation that is cancer. After all, Jeff is in his early 30s. I have yet to hit 30. Malcolm is only 4.
That's the thing about cancer, though. It doesn't care how old you are or who you are or where you're from or what you've done. Cancer attacks without rhyme or reason. And that, is a humbling lesson to learn. You grow up knowing of the horror stories or watching them play out. The first funeral I remember attending was for a very good friend in high school who died at the age of 15 after a horrendous battle with leukemia. My grandfather battled cancer for a large part of my adult life. But, you know, it just doesn't happen to you.
Until it does.
On August 30th we found out that there is a mass in Jeff's lung. Testicular cancer typically reappears in the back, according to the oncologist. That doesn't mean it can't come back in the lungs. So, now we wait for his biopsy. I really don't have coherent thoughts on what is happening now. Except that it sucks. And it's scary. And I hate it. And, I know better than to expect that nothing is wrong because I've learned this year, if nothing else, that nobody is immune to anything. Cancer sucks.
And it can happen to those you love the very most. Those that you've pledged to spend the rest of your life with....and only had 2 years with. It happens. And it sucks.
As we wait, I guess I'll try and keep calm. And laugh as much as possible. And enjoy every second of health that Jeff has at the moment. If the mass is cancerous he's looking at a three month round of chemo. So. I'll take deep breaths when I need to and cry when I have to and laugh every second that I can. And I'll remember above all else to count every blessing I have instead of focusing on what is going wrong. Because positivity matters.
This post has taken me nearly two weeks to write. So bear with me....
I don't know who reads this blog, I suspect my parents. My sister. Maybe my brother. Close friends from the east coast. A few co-workers from Iowa. Other than that, I have no idea. Many of you probably already know then, that my husband Jeff had a brief battle with testicular cancer in April. We got the all clear and he's been having two month check-ups.
His last one was August 30.
I hate going to the cancer center at the hospital. I hate that we have to go. I hate dragging Malcolm along as he sings and chatters and Jeff and clutch to what little sanity we have left before the appointment. I hate the waiting room.
Last time we walked in, sat down and within two minutes watched a woman have a complete breakdown as she left the office. I've never heard wailing and sobbing so loudly in public before. And it's not at all that I was uncomfortable, but I was completely helpless. I don't know what prompted her tears and it really is irrelevant. I wanted to hug her, to tell her she mattered, to do anything that might momentarily relieve the pain in her heart. All I could do was wipe my own eyes and focus on Malcolm reading the story he had picked up from the front of the office. Jeff and I caught each other's eyes and the heartbreak I felt was mirrored.
To get to the office that Jeff's oncologist is in we have to walk past a pediatric cancer office. The first few times we went it was empty. The last two times we've gone, there have been children, younger than Malcolm, and mothers waiting. Each time we walked past that office or we left the cancer center with only a two month check-up appointment and a bill of all clear I realized how immensely lucky we were/are. Sure, we got the news that Jeff did have cancer at this office, but it was out of his body by the time we needed the oncologist. And at least our child was accompanying us because we didn't have a babysitter and not because he needed an appointment.
With each time that we left I got a little more confidence. It was a little easier. We didn't hear bad news. We weren't taking Malcolm. Maybe, just maybe, one brief battle was all we had to endure and we were now impervious to bad news and the devastation that is cancer. After all, Jeff is in his early 30s. I have yet to hit 30. Malcolm is only 4.
That's the thing about cancer, though. It doesn't care how old you are or who you are or where you're from or what you've done. Cancer attacks without rhyme or reason. And that, is a humbling lesson to learn. You grow up knowing of the horror stories or watching them play out. The first funeral I remember attending was for a very good friend in high school who died at the age of 15 after a horrendous battle with leukemia. My grandfather battled cancer for a large part of my adult life. But, you know, it just doesn't happen to you.
Until it does.
On August 30th we found out that there is a mass in Jeff's lung. Testicular cancer typically reappears in the back, according to the oncologist. That doesn't mean it can't come back in the lungs. So, now we wait for his biopsy. I really don't have coherent thoughts on what is happening now. Except that it sucks. And it's scary. And I hate it. And, I know better than to expect that nothing is wrong because I've learned this year, if nothing else, that nobody is immune to anything. Cancer sucks.
And it can happen to those you love the very most. Those that you've pledged to spend the rest of your life with....and only had 2 years with. It happens. And it sucks.
As we wait, I guess I'll try and keep calm. And laugh as much as possible. And enjoy every second of health that Jeff has at the moment. If the mass is cancerous he's looking at a three month round of chemo. So. I'll take deep breaths when I need to and cry when I have to and laugh every second that I can. And I'll remember above all else to count every blessing I have instead of focusing on what is going wrong. Because positivity matters.
2013/07/18
Everybody Starts Somehwere
Mood: old
Guys, I have got to stop blogging once every 6 months or so. I've wanted to write for a while...but I just always feel like somebody else has said anything that I have to write before. And they've said it more eloquently. And if it's somebody super awesome, like Allie Brosh, she's said it with pictures. Sometimes of bears. How can I compete with that?
I've recently become immersed in the world of YouTube, the beauty gurus in particular. Oh how dangerous their voices are when I'm in my local CVS. As I watch them I remember how when I was a teenager I would put my makeup on in front of the mirror and verbally coach an invisible audience through it. I seriously did. I did the same thing with cooking, acting like I was going to be the star of a cooking show. It never occurred to my 16 year old self that when the interwebs became awesome and people started uploading videos that I might have something to say. And that invisible audience might actually be real people one day.
Actually, I gave up on a career in beauty altogether right after I graduated from college and was offered a job for BareMinerals. Stupid Ashley. The thing is, I can't really beat myself up over that. If I had agreed to be the Marketing Rep for the Philadelphia region of their sales force...well...I wouldn't have had a reason to move to Iowa broke and jobless. I wouldn't have met my husband. I wouldn't know my stepson. And I wouldn't have this ball of fluff.
How can I wallow in what might have been with that face staring at me? Um. I can't.
When it comes to doing things I want to, but am too afraid to do, Jeff is always right there cheering me on. Encouraging me to try things that scare me. Blogging. Vlogging. New craft ideas from Pinterest....
"I like your writing."
"It's always fun to read."
"Other people like your writing."
And more recently he's been nagging me to start vlogging...if it's something I want to do of course.
"All the beauty gurus started somewhere." He's right of coure. And all the bloggers did too. I guess that sitting in front of my computer hoping that one day I'll wake up an internet made millionaire isn't going to do me any good. Like a millionaire that gets to roll around naked in money (though that's probably reaaaaaaaaaaally dirty). I know, of course, that making this much money wouldn't make me happy automatically, money is NOT what the whole world is about...but I'd like to make enough money to say, have our own house one day. I wouldn't turn down naked rolling money, but I'd settle for rent money of course. For now....
This horribly connected post is a reintroduction of sorts to the world of blogging and reaching out a bit socially. I've developed an unhealthy relationship with YouTube, my couch and the view from the deck when I'm feeling adventurous.
Jeff's assertion that everybody starts somewhere is true. And I keep thinking about that and while I acknowledge that the statement is true I guess my hang up is that...I'm not a somebody. And I'm not destined to be a somebody. I used to dream of a life of fame on Broadway but when I actually realized that I could not carry a tune to save my live and actually may cause others to take their own lives...well...the whole idea of fame kind of wore off. Then I wanted to be a famous writer...the next J.K. Rowling. Hell, I'd be Stephenie Meyer if I no longer had to worry about money. Maybe not. I want to put out art that I am truly proud of, not that makes quick millions. Although....
Anyway. Discussions on what constitutes good literature (i.e. NOT Twilight) is not at all the point here. The point is that I'm slowly starting to realzie that, damn it, I might be somebody. And I may never be Rowling rich or famous. I may never have over a million subscribers who want to hear what I have to say about Cetaphil face wash (incidentally I quite like it!) and I may have Allie Brosh darling of the internet status. That's fine I guess. My point is that at 29 I'm finally ready to do things like taking risks and failing. I have got to stop never starting for fear of failure. Cause, I mean, that really has gotten me nowhere. And I can't even say I tried.
I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm fairly certain that vlogging as a beauty guru is not what I'm meant to do, but it does look pretty fun. Too bad I'm sure I couldn't edit videos with any skill whatsoever. What I do believe in is my love affair with words. With writing. With connecting to otherss via words and ideas. So for now, I'm going to dip my little toe into the ocean and gently ease back in to writing. Regularly. On this blog. And I hope you're willing to take whatever journey I'm on with me.
Guys, I have got to stop blogging once every 6 months or so. I've wanted to write for a while...but I just always feel like somebody else has said anything that I have to write before. And they've said it more eloquently. And if it's somebody super awesome, like Allie Brosh, she's said it with pictures. Sometimes of bears. How can I compete with that?
I've recently become immersed in the world of YouTube, the beauty gurus in particular. Oh how dangerous their voices are when I'm in my local CVS. As I watch them I remember how when I was a teenager I would put my makeup on in front of the mirror and verbally coach an invisible audience through it. I seriously did. I did the same thing with cooking, acting like I was going to be the star of a cooking show. It never occurred to my 16 year old self that when the interwebs became awesome and people started uploading videos that I might have something to say. And that invisible audience might actually be real people one day.
Actually, I gave up on a career in beauty altogether right after I graduated from college and was offered a job for BareMinerals. Stupid Ashley. The thing is, I can't really beat myself up over that. If I had agreed to be the Marketing Rep for the Philadelphia region of their sales force...well...I wouldn't have had a reason to move to Iowa broke and jobless. I wouldn't have met my husband. I wouldn't know my stepson. And I wouldn't have this ball of fluff.
How can I wallow in what might have been with that face staring at me? Um. I can't.
When it comes to doing things I want to, but am too afraid to do, Jeff is always right there cheering me on. Encouraging me to try things that scare me. Blogging. Vlogging. New craft ideas from Pinterest....
"I like your writing."
"It's always fun to read."
"Other people like your writing."
And more recently he's been nagging me to start vlogging...if it's something I want to do of course.
"All the beauty gurus started somewhere." He's right of coure. And all the bloggers did too. I guess that sitting in front of my computer hoping that one day I'll wake up an internet made millionaire isn't going to do me any good. Like a millionaire that gets to roll around naked in money (though that's probably reaaaaaaaaaaally dirty). I know, of course, that making this much money wouldn't make me happy automatically, money is NOT what the whole world is about...but I'd like to make enough money to say, have our own house one day. I wouldn't turn down naked rolling money, but I'd settle for rent money of course. For now....
This horribly connected post is a reintroduction of sorts to the world of blogging and reaching out a bit socially. I've developed an unhealthy relationship with YouTube, my couch and the view from the deck when I'm feeling adventurous.
Jeff's assertion that everybody starts somewhere is true. And I keep thinking about that and while I acknowledge that the statement is true I guess my hang up is that...I'm not a somebody. And I'm not destined to be a somebody. I used to dream of a life of fame on Broadway but when I actually realized that I could not carry a tune to save my live and actually may cause others to take their own lives...well...the whole idea of fame kind of wore off. Then I wanted to be a famous writer...the next J.K. Rowling. Hell, I'd be Stephenie Meyer if I no longer had to worry about money. Maybe not. I want to put out art that I am truly proud of, not that makes quick millions. Although....
Anyway. Discussions on what constitutes good literature (i.e. NOT Twilight) is not at all the point here. The point is that I'm slowly starting to realzie that, damn it, I might be somebody. And I may never be Rowling rich or famous. I may never have over a million subscribers who want to hear what I have to say about Cetaphil face wash (incidentally I quite like it!) and I may have Allie Brosh darling of the internet status. That's fine I guess. My point is that at 29 I'm finally ready to do things like taking risks and failing. I have got to stop never starting for fear of failure. Cause, I mean, that really has gotten me nowhere. And I can't even say I tried.
I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm fairly certain that vlogging as a beauty guru is not what I'm meant to do, but it does look pretty fun. Too bad I'm sure I couldn't edit videos with any skill whatsoever. What I do believe in is my love affair with words. With writing. With connecting to otherss via words and ideas. So for now, I'm going to dip my little toe into the ocean and gently ease back in to writing. Regularly. On this blog. And I hope you're willing to take whatever journey I'm on with me.
2012/12/20
Okay....Here Goes
Mood: ....
I'm leaving my mood blank. Not because I don't have one, mainly because I have too many at any given time right now.
I haven't blogged in 3 months. I haven't done much of anything I'm proud of in three months. In fact I'm not sure I've really done ANYTHING in three months.
Life has a funny way of getting away from you. I suspect all of us feel this way at some point or another. I certainly feel that way now. In November my graduating high school class celebrated our 10 year reunion. 10 years? How did that time just disappear?
For the past few days I've been doing some pretty serious self reflection. I've made some choices recently which forced my hand in the self examination arena. Which, at my best moments, I am truly thankful for.
I'm probably not a bad person. I'm certainly not the worst person to live...but I don't feel like a good person either. I don't feel good about myself. In the last 8 hours or so I've realized I can continue to feel that way or I can continue to do the painful work of continuing to look at who I am. Who I want to be. And I want to be good. I want to be somebody that my husband and stepson and parents and siblings are proud of. I want to be somebody that I am proud of.
This takes work. And it takes a starting place. I have no idea where to begin. But I am reminded of a quote from an art book I loved reading in college. There was a dog pictured with his face to the second step of a staircase (incidentally the title of the book is Face to Face with the Second Step). The quote below it read...and as I can't find the exact quote this may just be the basic idea behind it...:
I'm leaving my mood blank. Not because I don't have one, mainly because I have too many at any given time right now.
I haven't blogged in 3 months. I haven't done much of anything I'm proud of in three months. In fact I'm not sure I've really done ANYTHING in three months.
Life has a funny way of getting away from you. I suspect all of us feel this way at some point or another. I certainly feel that way now. In November my graduating high school class celebrated our 10 year reunion. 10 years? How did that time just disappear?
For the past few days I've been doing some pretty serious self reflection. I've made some choices recently which forced my hand in the self examination arena. Which, at my best moments, I am truly thankful for.
I'm probably not a bad person. I'm certainly not the worst person to live...but I don't feel like a good person either. I don't feel good about myself. In the last 8 hours or so I've realized I can continue to feel that way or I can continue to do the painful work of continuing to look at who I am. Who I want to be. And I want to be good. I want to be somebody that my husband and stepson and parents and siblings are proud of. I want to be somebody that I am proud of.
This takes work. And it takes a starting place. I have no idea where to begin. But I am reminded of a quote from an art book I loved reading in college. There was a dog pictured with his face to the second step of a staircase (incidentally the title of the book is Face to Face with the Second Step). The quote below it read...and as I can't find the exact quote this may just be the basic idea behind it...:
Still, you know you have to start somewhere. And asking a question is as good a place as any even if you KNOW the for now, silence is all you will hear.
Friends, readers, internet land...that's where I am. I have nothing but questions. Some that I've imposed upon myself. Others that I ponder. Many that may never be met with anything but silence.
I'd like to say that THIS time I will ask all the scary and hard questions. God, life, science, nature, politics...ALL those life questions. I won't. But that's okay. As long as I can start to ask the questions I need to in order to discover my truth...I'm going to be okay. As long as I ask questions that keep leading myself and my family forward in a positive direction I'm okay. And as long as I keep getting up, breathing in and out, and putting one foot in front of the other I'm okay.
I pray you are too during this holiday season. I am going to try to return to my nice things daily routine of blogging. I need that for myself. And it was nice to know others cared and were reading.
Blessings.
2012/09/02
Oh, Baby
Mood: anxious, happy
This may be the most personal post that I have authored to date. It's been a long month being away from the blog. I've wanted to write, but I haven't been able to sit down and write anything coherent. The truth is, I find it hard to write about one thing when in reality I'm thinking about something else. For the past month there has been one thing on my mind and in my heart: babies.
I think it's pretty normal after you've been married for a bit to assume that people are going to ask "soooooo, when are you two having kids?" This question seems to come up a lot. I don't have an answer to it. I wish more than anything in this world that I did, but I just don't.
Anyway. I've been avoiding blogging about having a baby for a whole month. I can't any longer. There is nothing on TV this afternoon and Malcolm is down for a nap. Jeff and I have a thing for Discovery Fit and Health so I flipped to that. On Discovery Fit and Health right now (literally as I type) is a show titled Bio Moms. Naturally I decide to watch. And I was doing fine with the whole show until a birth scene. No, there was nothing ewwwie or gross (since I can be rather squeamis)...it was just utterly heartbreaking.
I can't imagine placing a baby up for adoption and yet that is not why I found my eyes brimming with tears. Rather, my stomach knotted up in pain for the adoptive mother. She was in the birthing suite with the bio mom and as the bio mom screamed in pain, the adoptive mother wept. And I want to cry for her, with her.
Let me state very plainly that I do not want to diminish the role of the birth mother. I do not want to appear callous to the pain that she is suffering, both physical and emotional. But I identify with the adoptive mother. Why? Because that could be me.
Without discussing the level of trying Jeff and I are or are not engaged in....there is a possibility that I may never be a birth mother. I've known this since my sixteenth birthday. Seriously, that's when the OB broke the news to me (uhhh crappy present Dr. H). And at that point in my life it didn't matter. I was 16, I had no boyfriend or sex life...or even the desire to be a mother. I have always been a girly girl (to the extreme) but I never really imagined myself as mother. I played teacher, but I don't remember extensive games of "mother." I liked my American Girl doll because she was pretty and I could change her outfits more than for the fact that I could pretend to be her mommy. So when, at 16, I learned this about myself...it seemed inconsequential.
However, it affected me more than I was willing to admit. I have lived my adult life as if there was an expiration date on my foot regarding my fertility. The age of expiration has come and gone. And now, happily married, I find myself succumbing to the external pressure to have a child. That's out of my control, I know...and I am trying to stay positive. But as that adoptive mother shook with sobs...something in me broke.
Having, or not having a child is such a personal thing. Thus I have stayed away from the topic on this blog as much as possible. But everyday in some form I encounter this question. And the conversation is pretty much always the same.
"So, when are you guys having a child?"
"Oh, we are just adjusting to married life...hopefully some day"
"Well, are you thinking about it" and then there is generally a comment such as "well you know, you're almost 30 and...."
I know that this is never meant as criticism. Nor do people realize that there may be a reason as to why a couple is not having children. These things are so intensely private, especially for one struggling with the knowledge that this conversation may end one day in me having to say "We aren't having a child because I can't."
As I watched this woman...who was unable to conceive...go through this I could not shake the feeling of defeat. To have to stand there watching someone go through labor that they view as an annoyance (the bio mom stated this) when you would have given anything in the world to be the one in that bed....it just broke my heart. Sure there is more to being a mother than carrying and giving birth to a child, but what a distinct honor and blessing it is to be able to do so.
Again, without discussing anything about Jeff and I and where we are...I haven't given up hope that one day when the time is right we will have a child. Until then, I have to continue to believe that we are where we are supposed to be.
This may be the most personal post that I have authored to date. It's been a long month being away from the blog. I've wanted to write, but I haven't been able to sit down and write anything coherent. The truth is, I find it hard to write about one thing when in reality I'm thinking about something else. For the past month there has been one thing on my mind and in my heart: babies.
I think it's pretty normal after you've been married for a bit to assume that people are going to ask "soooooo, when are you two having kids?" This question seems to come up a lot. I don't have an answer to it. I wish more than anything in this world that I did, but I just don't.
Anyway. I've been avoiding blogging about having a baby for a whole month. I can't any longer. There is nothing on TV this afternoon and Malcolm is down for a nap. Jeff and I have a thing for Discovery Fit and Health so I flipped to that. On Discovery Fit and Health right now (literally as I type) is a show titled Bio Moms. Naturally I decide to watch. And I was doing fine with the whole show until a birth scene. No, there was nothing ewwwie or gross (since I can be rather squeamis)...it was just utterly heartbreaking.
I can't imagine placing a baby up for adoption and yet that is not why I found my eyes brimming with tears. Rather, my stomach knotted up in pain for the adoptive mother. She was in the birthing suite with the bio mom and as the bio mom screamed in pain, the adoptive mother wept. And I want to cry for her, with her.
Let me state very plainly that I do not want to diminish the role of the birth mother. I do not want to appear callous to the pain that she is suffering, both physical and emotional. But I identify with the adoptive mother. Why? Because that could be me.
Without discussing the level of trying Jeff and I are or are not engaged in....there is a possibility that I may never be a birth mother. I've known this since my sixteenth birthday. Seriously, that's when the OB broke the news to me (uhhh crappy present Dr. H). And at that point in my life it didn't matter. I was 16, I had no boyfriend or sex life...or even the desire to be a mother. I have always been a girly girl (to the extreme) but I never really imagined myself as mother. I played teacher, but I don't remember extensive games of "mother." I liked my American Girl doll because she was pretty and I could change her outfits more than for the fact that I could pretend to be her mommy. So when, at 16, I learned this about myself...it seemed inconsequential.
However, it affected me more than I was willing to admit. I have lived my adult life as if there was an expiration date on my foot regarding my fertility. The age of expiration has come and gone. And now, happily married, I find myself succumbing to the external pressure to have a child. That's out of my control, I know...and I am trying to stay positive. But as that adoptive mother shook with sobs...something in me broke.
Having, or not having a child is such a personal thing. Thus I have stayed away from the topic on this blog as much as possible. But everyday in some form I encounter this question. And the conversation is pretty much always the same.
"So, when are you guys having a child?"
"Oh, we are just adjusting to married life...hopefully some day"
"Well, are you thinking about it" and then there is generally a comment such as "well you know, you're almost 30 and...."
I know that this is never meant as criticism. Nor do people realize that there may be a reason as to why a couple is not having children. These things are so intensely private, especially for one struggling with the knowledge that this conversation may end one day in me having to say "We aren't having a child because I can't."
As I watched this woman...who was unable to conceive...go through this I could not shake the feeling of defeat. To have to stand there watching someone go through labor that they view as an annoyance (the bio mom stated this) when you would have given anything in the world to be the one in that bed....it just broke my heart. Sure there is more to being a mother than carrying and giving birth to a child, but what a distinct honor and blessing it is to be able to do so.
Again, without discussing anything about Jeff and I and where we are...I haven't given up hope that one day when the time is right we will have a child. Until then, I have to continue to believe that we are where we are supposed to be.
2011/09/04
Happy Anniversary....(Mom and Dad)
Mood: ...awkward pause....
So here's what I've learned during the engagement process. People love a bride. They love a groom. They love seeing a couple in love. People love a wedding and offering advice and congratulations.
And they will ask when the wedding is, sometimes they will ask where the wedding is, and 95% of the time....how long the bride and groom have been together. Thusly I have learned the following: people have no idea whatsoever how to react when they hear the bride and groom will be getting married six months to the day from first setting eyes on each other.
The inevitable response that follows is "well (awkward pause) I guess when you know, you know." It's true. And it would be cooler without the awkward pause...but I can't say that I hate the response. And I can't hold it against people. In a world of extended adolescence and subsequently stunted maturity...it's not unusual to hear of the 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 year relationship that started in or around college and just...never ended. Do those end in marriage? Some do. Some don't.
I'm not saying that's wrong. But either is getting married in a short period of time. My parents made it from first date to altar in 5 months. Is their marriage perfect? Far from it. But today, 13 days before Jeff and I commit to a life together my parents are celebrating 28 years of marriage. I admire that. And I hope that Jeff and I will celebrate 28 years....well....28 years from now.
There is certainly more that I've learned from the engagement process. I've loved every (okay...almost every) second of it. And I can't wait to be a bride...but mostly...I can't wait to be officially married and be Jeff's wife. It's completely surreal at this moment that this IS all happening...but I couldn't be happier.
So here's what I've learned during the engagement process. People love a bride. They love a groom. They love seeing a couple in love. People love a wedding and offering advice and congratulations.
And they will ask when the wedding is, sometimes they will ask where the wedding is, and 95% of the time....how long the bride and groom have been together. Thusly I have learned the following: people have no idea whatsoever how to react when they hear the bride and groom will be getting married six months to the day from first setting eyes on each other.
The inevitable response that follows is "well (awkward pause) I guess when you know, you know." It's true. And it would be cooler without the awkward pause...but I can't say that I hate the response. And I can't hold it against people. In a world of extended adolescence and subsequently stunted maturity...it's not unusual to hear of the 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 year relationship that started in or around college and just...never ended. Do those end in marriage? Some do. Some don't.
I'm not saying that's wrong. But either is getting married in a short period of time. My parents made it from first date to altar in 5 months. Is their marriage perfect? Far from it. But today, 13 days before Jeff and I commit to a life together my parents are celebrating 28 years of marriage. I admire that. And I hope that Jeff and I will celebrate 28 years....well....28 years from now.
There is certainly more that I've learned from the engagement process. I've loved every (okay...almost every) second of it. And I can't wait to be a bride...but mostly...I can't wait to be officially married and be Jeff's wife. It's completely surreal at this moment that this IS all happening...but I couldn't be happier.
2011/08/17
What's in a Name?
Mood: excited....sick...scared....content
So...this morning I posted on Jeff's fb wall....as he was posting on mine...that we get married in 31 days. 31 days!!!!!!
This past weekend, Jeff and I met up with Mommy and Daddy (mine) and picked up pretty much everything they had for the wedding. Including the dress. The dress!!!!! This is all so exciting and humbling and amazing.
One year...and a few days ago...I started this blog. Thinking about that, I remember where I was. What I was doing. What I was hoping I would be doing. I was praying that I would soon be a Director of Christian Education. I currently am.
And this year? I'm looking forward to a new title:
While gaining the title of wife, (step)mother, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law...I'm losing some.
I have resigned from my position as Director of Christian Education. While there have been a multitude of events and happenings that led to my decision...the only one that I need to discuss here is that it's part of my new life. Moving forward. Leaving some things behind. But taking the most important things with me.
It's so odd how we identify ourselves by names and titles and roles that we play. We are workers. We are friends. Above all, we are human. And all we can ask for on any given day is that we do our best given what we've got. And that we find the joy in what we have, what we want, and what we're willing to make happen.
As I leave behind my professional title (and office with my own stained glass windows...) I find that I'm sad...but content. I take with me the most satisfying and important part of my job: the relationships I formed with the youth here. And I leave behind the drama and the anxiety and the negative feelings.
Moving on isn't always about moving up...sometimes it's just the movement that's important. The change of a name. The letting go of a defining role. The understanding that you still exist even if a change in title makes you unsure that you do.
Today's better thing? The thing that makes me feel good and happy? Looking at the cosmetic case I purchased for myself for the honeymoon. Grieving the loss of my professional title (uh...not to mention the CB from my last name....eeek!) while remembering that I'm still me. I'm the person who started this blog last August, the CE position in October...only now I'm a bit wiser, far healthier, certainly less single (YAY)...and I have an impending name change.
So...this morning I posted on Jeff's fb wall....as he was posting on mine...that we get married in 31 days. 31 days!!!!!!
This past weekend, Jeff and I met up with Mommy and Daddy (mine) and picked up pretty much everything they had for the wedding. Including the dress. The dress!!!!! This is all so exciting and humbling and amazing.
One year...and a few days ago...I started this blog. Thinking about that, I remember where I was. What I was doing. What I was hoping I would be doing. I was praying that I would soon be a Director of Christian Education. I currently am.
And this year? I'm looking forward to a new title:
While gaining the title of wife, (step)mother, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law...I'm losing some.
I have resigned from my position as Director of Christian Education. While there have been a multitude of events and happenings that led to my decision...the only one that I need to discuss here is that it's part of my new life. Moving forward. Leaving some things behind. But taking the most important things with me.
It's so odd how we identify ourselves by names and titles and roles that we play. We are workers. We are friends. Above all, we are human. And all we can ask for on any given day is that we do our best given what we've got. And that we find the joy in what we have, what we want, and what we're willing to make happen.
As I leave behind my professional title (and office with my own stained glass windows...) I find that I'm sad...but content. I take with me the most satisfying and important part of my job: the relationships I formed with the youth here. And I leave behind the drama and the anxiety and the negative feelings.
Moving on isn't always about moving up...sometimes it's just the movement that's important. The change of a name. The letting go of a defining role. The understanding that you still exist even if a change in title makes you unsure that you do.
Today's better thing? The thing that makes me feel good and happy? Looking at the cosmetic case I purchased for myself for the honeymoon. Grieving the loss of my professional title (uh...not to mention the CB from my last name....eeek!) while remembering that I'm still me. I'm the person who started this blog last August, the CE position in October...only now I'm a bit wiser, far healthier, certainly less single (YAY)...and I have an impending name change.
2011/05/17
You Gotta Swim...
Mood: ....swim when it hurts....
So as an avid (and slightly obsessive) watcher of ANY show that involves the word "wedding," I understand the process of planning one is stressful. And that attempting to plan one in 5 months....YIPES. But at least Jeff and I have the support of our friends and family, and I have an awesome network of friends who work in the business (okay so like...2 people really) that have been beyond helpful in making some pretty amazing stuff happen in under one month of the official engagement.
Venue for ceremony/reception? Check. Photographer? Check. Colors? Check. Dress? Check. So we're missing some super important stuff like...food and beverages and a dj and cake and flowers...but we'll totally get there. It's just...
Weddings are emotional. It's inherent. I think it's one of the reasons I would totally love to work in event (particularly wedding) planning. There is so much creativity, thought, love, and individualization that goes into every wedding that it's a truly amazing thing to see. Even when they're the ugly redneck weddings that make me want to bash my head in....I mean...they're nothing if not original.
The thing about emotion is...well...there's good and bad. And wedding planning brings out the extremes of both. When you're working, planning from a distance via e-mail and Skype, and living 2.5 hours away from your future husband...things are bound to get stressful. It's just...the stress from the middle of last week to today....ASTRONOMICAL. I can't even describe it. I've felt stress...and I've had my fair share of anxiety battles and bouts of depression...but....this is a totally new kinda feeling. Because I don't want to allow myself to be stressed about it. I want it just to be this magical and happy time. Nothing sad or hard to deal with...
And as I was sitting here feeling kinda sorry for myself (not JUST about wedding stress) I realized that there are people going through things a million times harder. And I'm not even talking famine, war, persecution, enslavement. I'm talking people that I talk to on a daily basis. It's hard for some of us to just wake up in the morning and get out of the damn bed.
Last week when I was super stressed I did what I always do. I pouted. Cried. Called Mommy, Caitlyn, and the womans (Christie...she does have a name). Then I listened to music. And it's almost always Something Corporate or Jack's Mannequin that I go to first. There's something so soothing about having all your emotions described in a song. And their songs aren't particularly happy. But they are hopeful. Last week the song that was in my head was Swim by Jack's Mannequin. So I listened. And cried. And listened again. Then I did my other go to move when I'm stressed and sad and don't know what else to do. I colored.
You've gotta swim
Swim for your life
Swim for the music
That saves you
When you're not so sure you'll survive
You gotta swim
And swim when it hurts
The whole world is watching
You haven't come this far
To fall off the earth
The currents will pull you
Away from your love
Just keep your head above
I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
A crack in the armor
I swim to brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
I swim
You gotta swim
Through nights that won't end
Swim for your families
Your lovers your sisters
And brothers and friends
Yeah you've gotta swim
Through wars without cause
Swim for the lost politicians
Who don't see their greed as a flaw
The currents will pull us
Away from our love
Just keep your head above
I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
Cracking me open now
I swim for brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
Well I'm not giving in
I swim
You gotta swim
Swim in the dark
There's no shame in drifting
Feel the tide shifting and wait for the spark
Yeah you've gotta swim
Don't let yourself sink
Just find the horizon
I promise you it's not as far as you think
The currents will drag us away from our love
Just keep your head above
Just keep your head above
Swim
Just keep your head above
Swim, swim
Just keep your head above
Swim
So as an avid (and slightly obsessive) watcher of ANY show that involves the word "wedding," I understand the process of planning one is stressful. And that attempting to plan one in 5 months....YIPES. But at least Jeff and I have the support of our friends and family, and I have an awesome network of friends who work in the business (okay so like...2 people really) that have been beyond helpful in making some pretty amazing stuff happen in under one month of the official engagement.
Venue for ceremony/reception? Check. Photographer? Check. Colors? Check. Dress? Check. So we're missing some super important stuff like...food and beverages and a dj and cake and flowers...but we'll totally get there. It's just...
Weddings are emotional. It's inherent. I think it's one of the reasons I would totally love to work in event (particularly wedding) planning. There is so much creativity, thought, love, and individualization that goes into every wedding that it's a truly amazing thing to see. Even when they're the ugly redneck weddings that make me want to bash my head in....I mean...they're nothing if not original.
The thing about emotion is...well...there's good and bad. And wedding planning brings out the extremes of both. When you're working, planning from a distance via e-mail and Skype, and living 2.5 hours away from your future husband...things are bound to get stressful. It's just...the stress from the middle of last week to today....ASTRONOMICAL. I can't even describe it. I've felt stress...and I've had my fair share of anxiety battles and bouts of depression...but....this is a totally new kinda feeling. Because I don't want to allow myself to be stressed about it. I want it just to be this magical and happy time. Nothing sad or hard to deal with...
And as I was sitting here feeling kinda sorry for myself (not JUST about wedding stress) I realized that there are people going through things a million times harder. And I'm not even talking famine, war, persecution, enslavement. I'm talking people that I talk to on a daily basis. It's hard for some of us to just wake up in the morning and get out of the damn bed.
Last week when I was super stressed I did what I always do. I pouted. Cried. Called Mommy, Caitlyn, and the womans (Christie...she does have a name). Then I listened to music. And it's almost always Something Corporate or Jack's Mannequin that I go to first. There's something so soothing about having all your emotions described in a song. And their songs aren't particularly happy. But they are hopeful. Last week the song that was in my head was Swim by Jack's Mannequin. So I listened. And cried. And listened again. Then I did my other go to move when I'm stressed and sad and don't know what else to do. I colored.
The song is about...well...swimming. But it's really about just managing to keep living. And to not give up. The lead singer was diagnosed with cancer at 23...super serious leukemia type cancer (and that's the technical term!)....and this song came out of that. There's always some beauty in suffering. And our trials make us who we are and who we will become.
So allow your heart to get broken. Breakdown when you need to. Move across the country. Make mistakes...and make tons of them. But NEVER give up. It always gets better. ALWAYS. If you can just find the strength to keep moving...or swimming...it GETS BETTER. As I write this I think of last year around summertime when I blogged about just keeping on and having hope that everything would get better. I wrote right after I realized that ending my life would NOT be the solution to whatever crappy shit was plaguing me at that time. So I did the only thing I could do...I kept going...and it hurt. And I hurt for a long time, a lot. And I still do some days....but today I'm writing stressed but happy and...engaged. Healthy...and above all else...alive.
My nice thing in this blog? Being brutally honest. It's something I'm learning as an engaged woman. Apparently it's important to the whole communication thing. Here are the lyrics to the song. I'm posting the video too...but if you don't dig Jack's then just read the lyrics. They're beautiful, inspiring, and they're honest.
Back to wedding planning via e-mail and text...but I've got my Jack's playing in the background and my picture in front of me. A support system in place, and a smile on my face...
You've gotta swim
Swim for your life
Swim for the music
That saves you
When you're not so sure you'll survive
You gotta swim
And swim when it hurts
The whole world is watching
You haven't come this far
To fall off the earth
The currents will pull you
Away from your love
Just keep your head above
I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
A crack in the armor
I swim to brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
I swim
You gotta swim
Through nights that won't end
Swim for your families
Your lovers your sisters
And brothers and friends
Yeah you've gotta swim
Through wars without cause
Swim for the lost politicians
Who don't see their greed as a flaw
The currents will pull us
Away from our love
Just keep your head above
I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
Cracking me open now
I swim for brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
Well I'm not giving in
I swim
You gotta swim
Swim in the dark
There's no shame in drifting
Feel the tide shifting and wait for the spark
Yeah you've gotta swim
Don't let yourself sink
Just find the horizon
I promise you it's not as far as you think
The currents will drag us away from our love
Just keep your head above
Just keep your head above
Swim
Just keep your head above
Swim, swim
Just keep your head above
Swim
2011/04/26
Friday is Forever
Mood: ...we belong together...
It's now Easter Tuesday. Is that even an official way of describing it? I'm not sure. But here we are. Major news friends...and I don't care if I don't have a clue who you are nor you I...if you're reading this you are certainly a friend. At least for the next few paragraphs.
As I wrote previously working in a church during Holy Week....ugh. So, I took Good Friday off....as I take every Friday off...and in addition, I wanted to spend the evening/Saturday with the boyfriend and his awesome son. And in a completely unblasphemous way...it was a great Friday. Jeff proposed. Jeff = the boyfriend....or husband to be rather. Yes...we went from dating...to couple...to in love couple...to engaged in under 2 months. We couldn't be happier.
The picture does not do the ring justice...but I mean...he liked it so he put a ring on it...and you all had to see it.
As I went about my Easter morning (the Sunrise service, the breakfast, the egg hunt/Sunday School lesson, worship...) I couldn't help but think about how far I've come in the past year. I went about my Easter morning in a state or wonder, yes...but with a reflective wonder. I prayed...I rejoiced...I thought...and I spoke. As the day wound down, Jeff and I continued a tradition I had started last year...watching Shaun of the Dead on Easter. This year, though, we started it as OUR tradition...with champagne to celebrate the engagement of course.
Yesterday, as I was trying to take all that has happened in the past 2 months in...I reread the blog I wrote Easter Monday last year (because nothing helps you try to understand two months like adding another 10 months worth of crap to the mix...). I spent Easter completely alone (with the exception of Maddie's company...and her puppy love is exceptional) last year...but this year...I was with a new family, a future husband and a future stepson and I am honestly in awe. I feel so incredibly privileged to be living this life. My nice thing for today? Allowing myself to KNOW that I do deserve all the happiness that has come to me...and the lifetime of awesomeness that awaits Jeff and I.
The title of this blog is the title of my new fav We the Kings song. And it's kind of perfect for the day. I still am not sure, even though I'm staring at the ring, that the hugeness of this situation has hit me yet. Or maybe it has and I'm just so ready to start this new life that it wasn't what I thought it would be. It seems to me though, that very rarely are things what I was anticipating. Last year I blogged about how I was going to leave Iowa with a smile on my face in a short period of time. And at the same holiday this year? I'm keeping Friday in my heart every single day for the rest of my life...and you know...Iowa isn't THAT bad.
I hope you and yours had a happy Easter or passover celebration!
It's now Easter Tuesday. Is that even an official way of describing it? I'm not sure. But here we are. Major news friends...and I don't care if I don't have a clue who you are nor you I...if you're reading this you are certainly a friend. At least for the next few paragraphs.
As I wrote previously working in a church during Holy Week....ugh. So, I took Good Friday off....as I take every Friday off...and in addition, I wanted to spend the evening/Saturday with the boyfriend and his awesome son. And in a completely unblasphemous way...it was a great Friday. Jeff proposed. Jeff = the boyfriend....or husband to be rather. Yes...we went from dating...to couple...to in love couple...to engaged in under 2 months. We couldn't be happier.
The picture does not do the ring justice...but I mean...he liked it so he put a ring on it...and you all had to see it.
As I went about my Easter morning (the Sunrise service, the breakfast, the egg hunt/Sunday School lesson, worship...) I couldn't help but think about how far I've come in the past year. I went about my Easter morning in a state or wonder, yes...but with a reflective wonder. I prayed...I rejoiced...I thought...and I spoke. As the day wound down, Jeff and I continued a tradition I had started last year...watching Shaun of the Dead on Easter. This year, though, we started it as OUR tradition...with champagne to celebrate the engagement of course.
Yesterday, as I was trying to take all that has happened in the past 2 months in...I reread the blog I wrote Easter Monday last year (because nothing helps you try to understand two months like adding another 10 months worth of crap to the mix...). I spent Easter completely alone (with the exception of Maddie's company...and her puppy love is exceptional) last year...but this year...I was with a new family, a future husband and a future stepson and I am honestly in awe. I feel so incredibly privileged to be living this life. My nice thing for today? Allowing myself to KNOW that I do deserve all the happiness that has come to me...and the lifetime of awesomeness that awaits Jeff and I.
The title of this blog is the title of my new fav We the Kings song. And it's kind of perfect for the day. I still am not sure, even though I'm staring at the ring, that the hugeness of this situation has hit me yet. Or maybe it has and I'm just so ready to start this new life that it wasn't what I thought it would be. It seems to me though, that very rarely are things what I was anticipating. Last year I blogged about how I was going to leave Iowa with a smile on my face in a short period of time. And at the same holiday this year? I'm keeping Friday in my heart every single day for the rest of my life...and you know...Iowa isn't THAT bad.
I hope you and yours had a happy Easter or passover celebration!
2011/04/10
Crazy Little Thing
Mood: ....called love....
I have a confession. I don't think I have ever been in love before. I've loved people...I've cared for people...but actually having been in love? Nah. Apparently not.
With a 6 year relationship in my past...and a person I did care deeply for...I have to admit that I'm slightly surprised by this realization. I mean...obviously I knew I wasn't in love or I'd still be with the ex...but it's weird when your head and your heart decide to get along.
And honestly, mine rarely do. Like....practically never. I had an issue today searching the internet for the PERFECT shoe. I looked for almost 4 hours straight...still haven't found it...and am more frustrated than I was before starting a search.
The thing the shoe hunt taught me...and my nice thing for today...is that there is NO SUCH THING AS PERFECT. Of course I know this. And I remind myself of it on a daily basis. True story. I am constantly telling this to myself. In 4th grade, when I got my very first "B" ever on a report card I sobbed for 3 hours in my mom and dad's bed while they told me how proud they were of me. And that just because I hadn't performed up to my usual standards didn't mean I was a horrible person. Their 3 hour pep talk during my meltdown (one of very very many during my childhood and adolescence) amounted to the fact that every "A" represented my potential. While anything else just represented where I was. And that was neither a good, nor bad thing...though they weren't crazy about the near "FAIL" in my senior year Calculus class (I redeemed myself in college). The thing is...my parents raised me in this insane "you can do anything and be whoever you want" way. It is only recently that they have become aware of how successful their nurturing was. I truly believe I can do almost anything. At least...the things I dare to allow myself to do.
Anyway. I realize that I'm not perfect. And nobody is. But the whole being in love thing? It's it's own unique brand of perfection. I don't believe in perfection anymore...attempting to obtain what I thought was perfect for me nearly killed me. What I do believe in...is a perfection that is so imperfect...it stops making any kind of sense. Stephen King once said that often we don't say the things that are the most difficult to say, because words diminish the power of our thoughts. I doubt he was talking about being in insane love...and more about his dark and macabre stories (that I love...) but it works just the same.
And the whole perfect thing? I thought I found THE shoe about 900 times today. And every single time I found it...I found fault with it. Too sparkly (okay....that actually WAS one which surprised me given my love for anything shiny)...to expensive...too high...too blue...too tacky looking...the list goes on for about 4 hours worth of looking for shoes. What astounds me about this is I fell in love with this amazing man after being around him for maybe 12 hours. I don't honestly remember how long the first date lasted. All I recall is that I felt this undeniable connection...and it's only gotten stronger every single day since. Shoes will come and go...I'm hoping he doesn't (and BOTH head and heart KNOW this is my person).
There truly are no words for the thrill that is being in love. Not loving...but in an actual state of BEING. Words are awesome. I love them. Writing is such an integral part of my life that I'd be lost without words. But it IS frustrating when no matter what...there are no words that do justice to how you feel. One day there will be. And I'll look back and go...damn I should have said THAT. Until then...I'll just keep working with what does come to me. In all it's imperfect and crazy glory.
back to looking for shoes...and enjoy some Queen....it'll make your day so much better!
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