All That And More

I don't know how it happens, but another year has slipped, skipped, skidded, screamed, scrambled and slid by. How do you sum up your year? How do you weigh the joys against the sorrows? How do you find the grace and navigate the grief. 

I keep thinking one of these years will be without the challenges of transition. Maybe I'm delusional. I say it only adds to my charm. Transition is hard. Life is hard. And yet, life can be so beautiful it takes your breath away. I sometimes think, wow, life didn't take me where I wanted. But life took me where I needed to be. 

This year I resigned one position because it didn't fit, wasn't going to fit, was an awful fit and I chose to go a new direction. I am not a quitter. In the past I would have just worked harder to make it fit. Not this year. I've learned you can try things on and sometimes they just don't fit. Kudos for trying, but the brilliance is in saying no thanks, I'll go another direction. We all have the option to go a new direction.

That's not to say I don't wish for other things in my life. Even blanketed in gratitude we can long for other things. The key, I think is how much time we lose to longing, to anger, to dissatisfaction, and how much time we invest in gratitude. One harvests so much growth and grace. The other breeds discontent. 

I'm not saying there weren't hard times. Times I questioned the path unfolding before me. Times my eyes leaked with sorrow. Times I doubted. Times I wrestled with what was mine, and what was someone else's burden to carry. There were also times I was blessed with the company of friends who helped me pull shrubs from the yard, who invited me to tea, who met me in store parking lots to trade groceries items one needed and the other purchased. Times with my kids. Times with my country family. Times talking dogs, times renewing old relationships and building new ones. We could all say it was the best of times and the worst of times. Because life is just like that.

For those who pushed me, knowingly or unknowingly, in new directions. Thank you. For those who held my head above water, knowingly or unknowingly, thank you. For those who laughed with me, thank you, thank you, thank you. For those who take time to check in on me, I can't thank you enough. For the dogs I've loved and lost this year, I give thanks for how they loved me, which is more than I could ever love them. For faith that grows in leaps and bounds, as well as in increments difficult to measure. Amen and thank you. For health of body and mind. Thank you. For Friday night tequila shots and weekends, for days off and days at work. For old friends and new. Thank you.

It's been a year. For all of us. I give thanks for that, and I wish you that. A year that meets your needs and exceeds your expectations. A year that pushes you new directions, and pulls you close to the love available to you. A year that sustains and delights you. A year that gives you much to ponder as it draws to a close. A year that wraps you in blessings. A year that strengthens you and softens you. All that and more....yes, all that and more. 

 

You Need Only Just Ask

I was thinking of days gone by when you were cooking or baking and realized you didn't quite have enough eggs, or baking soda, or brown sugar. You didn't just jump in the car and run to the grocery store. You didn't log on to Aisles On-Line. You just didn't. You called someone close and you asked for what you needed. Then you popped over to get it because they were happy to help. Because they had extra and a willingness to share.

Where did we lose that "I have extra and I'm willing to share?" I'm not saying we've lost it entirely. I'm saying it's diminished, or evolved into something else. I'm also suggesting we struggle with the ability to ask for help. 

We all need to ask for help. We all need to be the one giving it. I remember years ago, I was home with a broken ankle, my Mother-in-law came and cleaned house for me. I was immobilized and mortified. I felt like she would see (and judge) all my flaws and deficiencies, at least in the housekeeping department. None of us like others to see our flaws and deficiencies yet all of us have them. I would never have asked for that help, but she had the good sense of offer and follow through on it. Years later she likely didn't even remember she did that. I remember that instead of embracing the blessing, it felt uncomfortable for me. I missed a lesson that day, but over time those seeds of generosity grew and blossomed. I needed help but was afraid to ask for it.  That was a fairly simple need, no wonder it's hard to ask for help with a bigger need. 

We are born with gifts to give, hands to reach out, hearts to hold and give love. We need connection. We need to both give and receive. We know the pain of isolation. We try to hide our parts that aren't strong, attractive, healthy. We give up rather than show up in our moments of weakness. We push away when we really need to embrace.

Why this message on Christmas? This season of giving and receiving. When we bend over backwards to make everything festive, bright and beautiful. A season where we sometimes feel compelled to connect only with things wrapped in pretty paper topped with bows. What if we connected on a different level. One more basic. One in awe of a baby in a manger. One humbled by the light of a star. One open enough to ask for help with a project, problem or need. Let our connections be the gift. I'm pretty sure when the Angel said be not afraid, I bring you good tidings of great joy, they meant come as you are flaws and all, build connections, and yes, I've got as many eggs as you need. You need only just ask.

Teams, Teams and More Teams

What do you take with you when you go? I mean more than hand bags, wallets, keys and coffee cups. I've been noticing, remembering, pondering all the places I have been and what I've taken with me when I left. Some of it is knowledge, memories, joys, sorrows. Some is pain, longing, regret. 

But there is also something much larger I take with. It is the people I've been in relationship with along the way. It's a wonderful tribe of people who have walked different parts of life with me. I'm not talking thousands of people, I'm talking those cherished ones who enter your life, make a difference, build a strong bond, and change you in the process. You may only reach out to them at Christmas time, or you may connect with them regularly. Either way the ties that bind you hold fast and true. 

With these people I could create a dream team of crazy dog people. A dream team to run the world's most fun (read - irreverent, yet highly productive) flower shop. A dream team of friends who hold your head above water. A dream team who lift you in prayer. A dream team of people who walk with you in grief, and in celebration. A dream team of kids, and their amazing friends. A country living, life is good team. A gardening team, cooking team, comedy team, cocktail connoisseur team and porch sittin team. Let us not forget the car pool team of long ago. Saints on wheels I tell you. So many teams, so little time.

Then there are the hard life lesson teams. The let's never go there again team. The what the hell was I thinking team. The, oh shit, that didn't go as planned team. The I'm learning healthy boundaries team. The well.....single looks pretty good team. Life is a mixed bag of education, in the classroom, and in daily life. In good times and in bad.

There is only one way to take them with you. You tuck them into your heart and walk into new adventures. Tuck them safely in, savor them, give thanks for them, and pray your paths cross again. Because they are part of what makes you, you. God bless them for that.

What Are You Thankful For

Life is hard. Need I say more? Well, yes, or this would be a very short blog. Life is hard. It is the hardness that enhances the softer things in life. We are celebrating Thanksgiving, but perhaps we should just be thankful for things to celebrate.

As we go into the holiday season, many are struggling, worrying, wondering how they will get by. Some are waiting for test results, wondering if life as they know it is about to change. Some are grieving....and will be for the rest of their days. Some are expecting and filled with wonder. Some are full of happy anticipation. Some are full of fear. Some are thrilled to be decorating, some are trying to muster the energy to decorate. Some are just trying to make it through the next ten minutes. Which camp are you in? It's okay if you have a foot on one side, and one on the other, all the while tap dancing, juggling and faking it until you make it. We aren't just one thing....we are many facets of a complicated life.

While Thanksgiving centers around family and food, it is possible to take that down to more simple realities. We can take it from the larger picture, the "perfect" holiday image, to small bites of our real life. This is the second year I've placed an interactive sign on the sidewalk for comments about "what are you thankful for". I post what I am thankful for, although I could cover the whole sign with just my own gratitude's. Then I leave sticky notes, and tape for passers by to add their own. I have considered the possibility that no one will comment. If that was the case, it would be okay. This sign is an invitation to pause and ponder. To find some good, no matter how small, to wrap our hearts around. There are about 10 messages on it as I write. From people who are thankful for their faith, family, flowers and birds, health, good neighbors, for being Grandma's, for having friends who are more like sisters. The FedEx guy is thankful for his/her family and faith, our country and the opportunity to post on my sign. They weren't even delivering to my house, but stopped to be grateful. I love that one! I suspect that some paused in gratitude even if they didn't post. That's a win right there.

We can take the most awful life event...and somewhere down the road find a reason, find some clarity, and be grateful. We can take a leap of faith trusting all will be well. In that wellness, in that reality, we can dig deep and embrace thanksgiving.

Where ever you are in life, pause....... Find a hundred reasons to be thankful. Or, if life is hard, dig deep to find one small nugget of gratitude. If life is really, really, hard, trust that gratitude is growing, manifesting and will break out of the darkness into light.  Know that I am grateful for you. I'm grateful for the blessed, and the bumpy path that led me to this place in life. For the courage to put out a sign that invites you to say "What Are You Thankful For". 

P.S I'm thankful for my health, home, kiddos, old dogs, family/friends, for the opportunity to pay forward for the times I was carried by the love of others. This, and about a thousand other things. I may just need a larger sign.

Gratitude, Gifts and Gravy

It is that time of year, holidays approaching, the end of the year on the horizon. The season shifts, our mood swings, expectations ramp up because of holiday mania. 

I'll break it down. For Thanksgiving all we really need to do is find one reason, or a million reasons if you can, to give thanks. It can be as simple as I have coffee in my cup. It could be I am thankful that I am not who and where I was 365 days ago, or ten days ago, or even yesterday. I am thankful for answered prayers. I am thankful for lessons learned and the events that pushed me to learn them. I am thankful for food on my table. It could be I am thankful I have enough food to share with others who are struggling. It could be I am thankful for a dear one recovering from illness. Perhaps it is the renewed decision that I choose life. Each and every day I choose life.

For Christmas the only gift we really need to give is that of our love, time, faith, encouragement, support. There is no supply chain shortage there. Anything else is gravy. And yes, I do love gravy, but gravy manifests in many ways.

There is also sadness, anxiety, a feeling of regret and grief that shadows this time of the year. We are not alone in this. You are not alone in this. Grief feels heavier during the holidays. Try as we might to ignore it, stuff it, forget it. It's there. The brightness of the holidays dim because of it.

It's okay to feel a little off during this season. To feel our losses deeper. It's okay if the holly isn't as jolly as it used to be. It's okay if this is my reality, maybe your's too. Own it, shed some light on it and trust the process. We have reasons to be grateful. We are a gift to others just as we are. Grief and all. P.S. Enjoy the gravy.

 

In The Moment

There is something sacred about sharing time with a beloved pet. Especially when their days are limited. Yes, I know all our days are limited. We just don't know where we are in the countdown. 

Knowing they are close to the finish line, makes the time with them all the more precious. That knowledge pulls us into the moment. Time is short and precious. Animals are always in the moment. They are way ahead of us that way.

I am slowing down to savor time with one of mine. More gentle touches, smooches, cuddles. A greater appreciation for the bond and journey shared. Walks take on new meaning. Yes, of course you can stand and sniff some scent that is bliss to you and undetected by me. Yes, you can have soft food instead of kibble. Yes, I will gaze at you and marvel at how lucky I am to share life with you. No, I will never understand how someone could give you up. Their loss, totally my gain.

I wish I could spend all day with you instead of leaving to spend hours away at work. I would gladly watch you nap the day away. Or watch you lick the couch cover the way old dogs will sometimes do. Or watch your paws twitch as you dream. If only we could see what you dream. I know I'm not nearly as cute when I sleep as you are. You forgive my snoring and I adore your cuddling. Thankfully I am as fascinated with you as you are with me.

So we slow down to take each day as a gift. To be unwrapped and savored. To give thanks that someone decided you were dispensable, so I could discover you were indispensable. I celebrate when you meet me at the door because each day is cause for celebration. You know that instinctively, I need to be reminded. I will meet your needs as they change and love you home when I need to. Until that moment, I will cherish this moment. I am as grateful as you are faithful. You will always give me more than I can give you. In a way, we are both lucky dogs.

XYZ

I am trying to find grace and gratitude for where I am in life, because Lord knows alone is never where I wanted to be. A survivor of suicide loss is never what I wanted to be. I never wanted to be divorced, and I never wanted to be widowed. I never wanted to suffer from a multitude of things that came with this life I have been blessed with. Yes, blessed, even when parts of it were a total shit show. Owning it, the messy, complicated, dysfunctional person I am, and the journey it's taken me on.

There it is. I am imperfect. I am human. I find some people irritating, and others delightful. Pretty sure I am both irritating and delightful. Hopefully, 80% delightful and 20%, give or take, irritating. But hey, numbers and percentages? Not my gig.

It is completely possible to live a life filled with gratitude and at the same time wrestle with being grateful. I wouldn't be here without XYZ having happened. In the case of my children XYZ was the greatest blessing of my life. XYZ also led me to being a single Mother and a crazy dog lady. Not sure those were on my list of life goals, but I've rocked that out by the grace of God.

XYZ led me to a second marriage, life in rural Nebraska and a sense of belonging in a place I never new I needed. It came with trials and triumphs. Life just does. XYZ led me down a rugged path full of stigma, regrets and grief. It led me out of the country and back to what was once home. I'd be lying if I didn't say I long for gravel roads and country living. It led me to being alone, which is exactly what I never ever wanted. Obviously, though what I needed. XYZ also led me to the constant four footed companions that bring me such joy. It pushed me to put their needs first and in return I soak in their devotion. It moved me to taking them out for walks nearly every day of the year for their bliss, which also became mine. We don't always go far, but we go. Today we walked in the rain. Yes, it would have been easier to stay in. To say, not today, not in the rain, maybe later. But all the XYZ's led me to say why not in the rain? Why not? 

Why not show up for life in the rain, and in the shine? Why not laugh at the incongruity of it all? Why not get wet and why not cherish soft towels to dry us off? If XYZ hadn't occurred, the walk we took today would never have happened. The rain added a new layer of memories. A new experience of gratitude, a new sense of adventure. XYZ is full of grace, and soft towels to dry off with come in a myriad of shapes. Many we could never imagine. We just have to stay the course. Whatever your XYZ is, know it's exactly where you need to be. Know it's blessed, even when it's rugged. Know you will be provided with soft towels as needed. Be open to them, use them and give thanks. And maybe, just maybe, those towels should be monogrammed with XYZ.

A Mixed Bag

Most every day, on my way home, I get a brief glimpse of a bright red barn and a lovely new home under construction. It is in the rolling hills, with a stunning view. And I imagine, no, I know this is someone's dream home. They dreamed of the red barn, they wished, worked, hoped and loved this home, on this acreage, into existence. Daily it progresses, dreams to fruition.

Most days I get my glimpse and send good wishes and blessings into the universe for them. For their dream coming true. We see other's dreams come true. We see it in newlyweds, we see it for graduates, we see it in job promotions, in new babies, when people retire, those who travel the world. We see dreams come true. And, we may just have some mixed feelings. 

Life changes sometimes shatter our dreams. Just as life changes can also bring our dreams into reality. It's a mixed bag, this life we live. The view from the distance can be stunning, and perhaps it is. Or, perhaps it isn't as shiny as it looks.

I don't know how long the road has been for the people building this house. But I'd be lying if I didn't wish that was my house, my land, my dream come true. It calls to my country heart and touches on tattered dreams along the way. 

At this junction the temptation is to say, hey now. Look at how blessed you are, how lovely your home is. There are people who would love to have my home, my life, the luxuries of food, clothing, garden, employment, pets, personal freedom....you get my drift. I can be completely grateful for the life I live, and still wish for the house being built in the rolling hills. I can wish for someone to share the process and the end results with. I can even envy them a little. Owning it is the first step. I can plant one foot firmly in gratitude and the other in wishful dreaming with a dash of envy mixed in. That makes me a more honest me. But it also makes me wonder if I've used up all of my dreams come true. Time will tell. Please tell me I'm not alone in this.

So there you have it. A mixture of awe and envy. Both valid feelings. Part of life. So I give myself permission to own all the feelings, and to send good wishes into the universe as someone else's dream comes true. Especially when they include red barns and country homes. 

 

#outofthedarkness

Four years ago today life changed. One life died. Life after began. In the years since I've participated in several groups that support those who have lost someone to suicide. It has been eye opening and heartbreaking. Each story is different, only the end result is the same. None of us chose to be in a group like this. All of us are horrified to belong. Each of us are changed by it. Each of us suffers the loss daily as we try to rebuild a new life.

Some might wonder if there were signs leading up to his choice. Some were subtle, some not so subtle. He had lost a sister to suicide which doubled his risk. He'd had a stroke but was recovering well from it. Our marriage was failing. There was help available, help offered, our prayer community prayed for him, people reached out to him, medication was taken sporadically and then quit entirely. He denied that he was at risk. He mostly did not let on that he was lost and struggling. I knew of his struggle by the ways he took his pain out on me. We are sometimes most hurtful to those we care about. His family knew and reached out. Sadly, one cannot control another persons choice/actions.

In that darkness of his last day he met with his friends from the coffee cult at the Co-op. He did not let them know of his tenuous hold on life. He let himself into the house where the rage, pain and hopelessness overtook him. He expressed rage in the form of vandalizing the house with hateful graffiti written on the walls, art work, cabinets. He damaged personal items, he destroyed a list of daily gratitude's I kept. He shot a hole in the bath tub because he could. In a manner he shared his pain tangibly before he ended it. He expressed his last F-you. He called 911 and while talking to the dispatcher he fired his gun. There is small comfort in knowing he was not entirely alone as he completed his choice. 

In all of this I know he loved his children and grandchildren with his whole heart and soul. He loved his friends. He loved the Oklahoma Sooner's and the Steeler's, cigars, scotch, fishing, hunting and life in the country. He loved to shoot the shit with anyone willing to chat. He was an expert at that. He knew the pain of suicide loss and yet succumbed to it himself. He struggled with mental health and chose not to treat it. As a man, particularly, the stigma of that illness factored in. He didn't like doctors to begin with. He was not great at owning mistakes in life. And face it, we all make mistakes in life. We are humans who experience human moments of error, hurtful actions, painful mistakes. We all have opportunities to grow. We all have regrets.

Afterwards I clearly remember repeatedly saying "it didn't have to be like this". Trying to wrap my head around this new reality and the enormity of his actions.  I cannot stress this enough. It didn't have to be like this. If we are able to take one step toward mental health and suicide awareness let it be this. It does not have to be like this. It begins with one step, sometimes just one short phrase saying I am not okay. I am not okay is the most okay truth we can own. I am not okay is not a death sentence.  I am not okay is not a shameful thing to say. I am not okay is a life affirming step towards help.

Yesterday I attending the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention Out Of The Darkness Walk. I stood with thousands of other grieving people who lost someone to mental illness. I stood for hope and for mental health. I stood for a man who suffered and lost the battle. I stood with the compassionate understanding that it is okay to not be okay. I stood understanding that life is hard, that we all suffer at some point in our life, we all make mistakes. Our challenge is to grow through our struggles. To be a light for others. To seek out the light when we fight the darkness. Speak of the darkness, own the darkness. Step out of the darkness. It doesn't have to be like this. Your life matters. 

Between Here and There

 A lot of life is spent between here and there. Here and there happens in relationships, on the job, on the road, in retrospect, in the future. 

This time of year I spend a lot of time between here, and there. There being the days leading up to my husband's choice to end his life. And, here, being where I am now. I have a journal I look back at to remember details of what "there" looked like at the time. Honestly, there was pretty ugly. It was worse than I realized at the time. Because I didn't know what I now know about mental health, about relationships, about making different choices. We look at the outside and think "they" have it all. You may have thought that about us. I may have thought that about us. What looks like all is not everything. Inside can be so very different. Our "there" would appall most of you, often it still appalls me. 

Which leads me to here. Here is what I make of it, being led by faith, sustained by people who love me, healing day-by-day. Here is building a new life. Yes, it takes years to build a new life. Building a new life means facing fears. Rational fears, irrational fears, and moments of anxiety. It involves leaving what you know and trusting you'll be okay. Case in point, I've been walking at a lovely park for almost a year, staying safely on the cement path. Surrounded by lovely hills complete with dirt walking paths I've been afraid of venturing onto. Why? Because I don't know where the path goes. Not knowing escalates my anxiety. It is hard to feel safe after experiencing trauma. 

Today, the dogs and I left the safe path and took the path unknown. Now, if I was more directionally gifted, I would worry less. I'm not that person. Still we meandered the path. Next time I'll even let myself enjoy it. I trusted my scant directional instincts and got us back to where I wanted to be. I did breathe a sigh of relief.

Here includes reclaiming my sense of adventure. Here includes building resilience. Here includes both honoring and letting go of the past. There happened, and one of us survived. I wish it was both of us. Here knows life is a process, sometimes pretty, sometimes painful. Here knows we have to push through to grow. We have to keep pushing. Between here and there may involve a dirt path. Take it. Then next time take it and let yourself enjoy it.

Messy Recipes

Last year I moved three times. Yes, it was a personal record, one I hope I never repeat or break. It was done with lot's of help, for which I am grateful. In the process and in retrospect, I discovered some regrets. I regret donating that bag of skinny clothes I never thought I'd wear again. Could have used them, however, there is an unlimited supply of clothing in the world. I'm not running around nekkid. I regret that life took me out of the country, but am happy it didn't take the country out of me. I regret thinking I would never need an appliance dolly or a wheel barrow again. Duh, what was I thinking? You don't need them often, but sometimes they come in dang handy. 

You know, when you move you are bound to lose something in the process. No exception here. It wasn't anything critical, like car keys. Or irritating like TV remote controls. Actually I could have dispensed with those for as often as I use them. What was lost, much to my regret, was my box of cookbooks. Yes, I'm from the era that used cookbooks. Losing that box bothered me. It was history that I cherished. It defined me as a young bride, a new Mom, a pot luck participant. It contained the only recipe for apple pie I could make with guaranteed success. Cookbooks can be a messy things. Sure there are pages of neatly typed and organized recipes. But there are also random pieces of paper, clippings from news papers, messy notes from a recipe shared in the office, cooking magazines. Recipes with my Mother's handwriting. Recipes I wanted to try but hadn't gotten to. There were church cookbooks, fund raiser cookbooks, and boozy recipe cookbooks. Life is not neat and tidy and neither are cookbooks. Sometimes you just have to touch them, feel them, share them and spill some ingredients on them. It adds to their value.

The missing books turned up when my daughter cleaned out her storage unit. We'd looked for them there. We looked twice, but they were hiding. We find what we need when the time is right. Not on our timeline, but when the universe and the good Lord wants light to shine upon them. Some of the best things in life will be lost, found, or are lying in wait. It's messy, it's frustrating, it's surprising and it's a delight when it comes into the light. Life is like that. 

....feel like we belong

Do you ever wonder why you go through each and every day blessed, grateful and yet still feel sad. Feel lost. Feel like you missed the boat somewhere? Why is it difficult to look forward with happy anticipation? Maybe you know nothing of this reality, and if so I salute you. Maybe sometimes it's easier to chose isolation. Maybe the shadow of grief depletes your supply of inertia. 

For me it's a struggle sometimes. I long for changes, for connection and feel anxious when they happen. I did step outside of my introverted comfort zone recently. I invited the whole block over, okay, it was more like two blocks. My street is all one long block on my side, with a couple of intersections on the other. So it was hard to tell who lived on my block, so I went with who lives on my street. I don't really "know" anyone on my street, other than a casual hello when passing them while I'm out walking the dogs. But National Neighbor's Night Out was August 3rd. It seemed like a good time to reach out to my "neighbors".

I have to say I struggled with actually following through with the plan. I can talk a good talk and still abort the mission. I printed the invitations. And then anxiety stymied me. In the end, I had to pull up my big girl panties and walk the walk to follow up the talk. I compromised though. I did it after it was dark so no one saw me. Is that cheating? I don't think so. It was like a stealth mission. I'll admit to considering how the post office doesn't much appreciate putting non-official mail in mail boxes. I took my chances. I put 21 invitations out. I told you I have a long street. Good thing all the mail boxes are on the street or it never would have happened.

I figured, worst case scenario I'd sit on my driveway and drink alone. I drink alone every day. In the morning I drink coffee alone. When I'm thirsty I drink water alone. During happy hour I drink the beverage of the day alone. I'm a pro at this. But sometimes I like to enjoy the company of others. So I pushed past my fears and invited the whole block/street/neighborhood.

I had 7 people and a 4 month old kitten in a stroller attend. The kitten hogged all the attention, but I'm calling it a win. I met a couple who used to live in the neighborhood I lived in as a child. I met a fellow quilter. I met a single Mother with two boys. I met 3 gals on the way to book club who wanted to say a quick hi. I met my fears and pushed passed them.

Did it cure my angst of looking forward with anticipation? Not entirely. But it was a small victory that yielded deeper connections. I feel a bit more like I belong now. And, don't we all need to feel like we belong?

No Such Thing As A Coincidence...or is there?

I had a weird thing happen recently. Life is full of them. Sometimes we laugh them off, sometimes they stop us in our tracks. Sometimes we noodle them in our heads until we figure them out. Other times, they seem beyond coincidental. 

Let me preface it with this....I don't usually believe in signs from our dearly departed. Call me a skeptic, call me jaded, call me whatever. Others do and find great comfort in them. I'm all for great comfort. Who couldn't use more of that? 

Here is the scenario. I was driving through a city recently, not my home town. First I noticed a car with Oklahoma plates pass me. Hmmmm, Oklahoma? My late husband was born there and was a Sooner fan to the core. A bit down the road a car with Nevada plates passed me. He lived most of his life in Nevada. Now maybe the obvious part is that cars pass me constantly, maybe I need to put the pedal to the metal. My kids would probably say yes, absolutely yes. However, I thought it odd I'd see license plates from those two states close together. Next up, to my surprise, was a street exit bearing his name. Okay, now I'm thinking what are the odds??? Odds, clearly beyond my mathematical ability to calculate. This next "coincidence" was a corker. The one that made me think this is way past a random incident. Next was a bill board that read: "63 People Die From Gun Shot Suicide A Day". If I used the F-bomb I would have inserted it there. 

Coincidence or not, it went from amusing to eerie. Like his choice to take his life, I will never make sense of it. I'm not sure why all those pieces fell into place like that. Who know's the if's, the why's, the how's of life?

Strange things happen. Stranger things will happen. Pretty sure this made my top 10 list of strange things. All I know is it has me thinking. Each of us will make of it what we will. Each of us may be right. I don't have to be able to clearly define why that sequence took place. I can simply sit back and say Wow, I can't even begin fathom that. And....that is okay.

Introvert, Extrovert, Acceptance

There was a time when I never wanted to be alone, was afraid if I didn't do things just right, I would be alone. That alone was a sort of punishment. Now I realize you can be in a large gathering of people and feel alone, or even with one other person and feel alone. More importantly, you can be alone and be quite comfortable with it. I have learned large groups aren't my gig, but small gatherings are. In large groups I default into observer, not participant mode. No harm or foul there, you can learn a lot, and be most entertained, in the observer mode. It can also make you feel a bit invisible. 

When I was married it felt different, I had a safe connection with me in large social events. As I widow I find it much harder. I slide into listener/observer mode and then feel unseen. Partly because it's not comfortable to put myself out there. Then I feel I must be lacking in social skills. The whole you're at a party, you should be having fun, what's wrong with you? I'll circle back to this.

I'm gonna own it's been a hard week. What would have been our 10th wedding anniversary was on the 1st. As usual that triggered some tears. This one felt extra hard. Next it is a holiday weekend. Holidays tap into feelings of loss as well. Double whammy there. And finally, one of my pups is struggling, so I know another goodbye is somewhere down the road. Cue the waterworks. Then that whole anticipation of fireworks, that I used to enjoy, but don't so much anymore because I know it stresses the dogs. It used to be a day of great anticipation and active participation. Maybe July 4th is for children, and children at heart. My adult has taken a beating over they years, and I've lost some of the child at heart joy. 

So it gets to a point where I feel the need for the quiet of my home, the comfort of my dogs, the kinship I have with my sofa and a tasty beverage. Even though I long for deeper connections. It's a conundrum.

So let me circle back to my "what's wrong with you" question. Nothing. I need to erase that phrase, and honor what feels comfortable for me. It won't be the same for everyone. Some people can work a crowd like nobodies business. Some people can seek out and talk to anyone at a party. Some party hard until the last guest goes home. Others, like me don't have that skill set. It doesn't mean something's wrong with me. I may have to psych myself up to go even when I know some of my favorite people will be there. I may struggle with the interaction, I may choose to leave before others. I am an latent introvert at an extroverts event. Perhaps the losses in life have made me more introverted. I am keenly aware of being a widow in a couples world. Keenly aware that I am not just a widow, but a widow by tragic, stigma ridden loss. 

But, and there is always a but, I can be aware of when it's time to seek out the quiet of home and be okay with that. It is my reality. It comes with a myriad of feelings. All of them valid. This week the feelings are especially overwhelming. Owning them, honoring them, processing them. Accepting this is where and who I am in life. 

A $2 Moment....

Two to three weeks ago, at work, the customer I was ringing up for a $16 purchase got that appalled look on his face. He realized his debit card was at home and all he had was a $2 bill in his wallet. Pretty sure it was his lucky $2 bill. We've all been in his shoes. We forgot our wallet, we forgot our debit card, we thought we had $20 in our purse only to discover one of the kids used it. The look on our face says it all. Sometimes it's followed by oh crap, or oh shit, or son-of-a-biscuit eater. In his case it was simple disbelief and owning he did not have the money he needed for the gift he was buying and a small grab-and-go meal. Nor did he live close by.

It was a simple fix. I said I've got this, and I did. My coworker said she'd get his food, and she did. He insisted he'd pay us back. I said look at it this way, you can pay us back or you can pay it forward, or we can call it all good. Easy peasy. Then he handed me the $2 bill from his wallet. It seemed an odd exchange, but sometimes the most priceless events are really just odd moments.

I tucked the $2 away in my wallet in a place that I wouldn't use it. Holding on to it seemed important. There are times when we recognize something is important, but have no idea why. We trust we'll figure it out eventually. I was grateful to pay his bill, and honored, albeit amused to accept his $2. 

Today the young man showed up and reminded me that I'd waited on him several weeks ago. He said you paid my bill. I replied I worried you'd given me your lucky $2 bill, would you like it back? He absolutely did. I grabbed my wallet only to discover I'd hidden it quite well and was concerned it was gone. It was still there though. I think to the relief of all of us. He paid us back, I returned his $2. Hugs, thank you's and God bless you's ensued. It was good. More than good.

Sometimes when we come up short, we need someone to hold on to what little we have. Sometimes we plant a seed of faith and it greatly resembles a $2 bill. Sometime we have enough in our heart to give without expectation. Full stop. Gratitude in action.

It was a blessed beyond measure moment. With a value far far greater than the price of his purchase or his $2 deposit. It was trusting in it's purest form. Paying it forward and holding something priceless at the same time. We were changed by the moment, and it was good.

Measuring and Analyzing...

Years ago (many many years ago) I participated in speech club. I'm pretty certain the only thing I remember from that is this line from Emily Dickinson.....  "I measure every grief I meet with analytic eyes. I wonder if it weighs like mine or has an easier size." How ironic that a line about grief would plant a seed that resonates to this day? Emily, you've had a lasting affect.

A friend commented today about adjusting to new normal's. No one applies the term "new normal" to an event that is full of joy. New normal usually involves some form of radical acceptance. And, man, does the process of radical acceptance suck. New normal involves letting go of what we'd hoped, shaking out the broken pieces, and building a new life. Letting go can be brutal, the broke pieces come in shapes we never anticipate and building a new life is no walk in the park. None of us get through life without the experience of "new normal". Granted, some hide it very well with a facade that convinces almost all of us. I find that part sad, because there is light to be found in our dark and broken places. 

Some new normal's are easier to assimilate and move on from. Some evolve over years, with growth being hard to measure. Some come with obvious victories, some batter us because there is no logical reason for the sudden turmoil cast upon us.

But, and there is always a but, if we measure every grief, could we not also measure every grace? Seems to me they are two parts of a whole. A whole lot of acceptance, a whole lot of faith, and a whole lot of growth. Measure the grief as best you can, on any give day, and accept it. Measure the grace, each and every day and embrace it. I believe grace will outweigh the grief given time. Not an easy path to be sure, but one we can find our footing on. One that leads us to our new life.

Self Talk

Long time no blog. Have I wanted to, yup. Have I, nope. Mostly I've been working. I resigned one job, worked an interim job, transitioned into a new position and hit the ground running. And running, and running.

Truthfully, I've run myself ragged. After long days at work I face the "I should's". I should walk the dogs (and most days I do). I should mow, I should do laundry. I should eat, I should clean up the kitchen. For a solitary person I have a lot of dirty dishes. Mostly cups, and spoons. Okay, plates too. I can "I should" myself day and night.

I'd like to erase "I Should" and replace it with I'd like, I need, I want, I will. Then make sure some of those involve, rest, laughter, and in general slowing down enough to breathe. To be in the moment.

I'd like to feel my feelings. Pull them out of the basket, examine them and release what I'm done with, what isn't mine to carry. I'd like to remove my "mask" of strength, and just be. Be able to connect, to ask for what I need, to be fully supported. I want to sit in my grieving moments, acknowledging all the big losses and little losses, so I can move forward with a life that fills me with hope.

I will talk to myself more. Self, you did good today. Self, life has been so so hard, and yet you survived. Self, it was not your fault. Self, I love you. Self, it's okay to cry. Self it's okay to make mistakes. Self, use your words. Self, it's okay to laugh. Self adopt another dog. Self, follow your bliss. Self, rest. That one bears repeating. Self, rest. Self, live!

When you falter, and we all do, ask your self, how you feel, what you need, how to find rest. Then run in that direction. You can thank yourself later. 

Take A Flying Leap

Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith. You need to say this doesn't work for me any more. You need to say, yes, I'm open to that. I won't, or I will, I'm in, or I'm out, whatever the case may be.

Then you wait for the outcome. Of course, the waiting is the hard part. You know you made the right choice deep in your heart. But the result is so different than you planned. That's because all we can do is our part, the rest is beyond our control. We can hope, dream, wish and pray. Often the picture looks, in fact very much is, different than the life we imagined. 

It's a tough pill to swallow. It involves letting go and letting God. It involves trusting that whatever comes, or doesn't come to pass is part of the bigger plan. We're talking growth here, growth is hard. Not though, as hard as holding growth in. Not as hard as looking the other way, not as hard as giving up because we won't step up.

Which takes us back to that leap of faith. Take it. Because what if it works out better than we ever dreamed?  And if not, because sometimes it doesn't, you learn a lesson, give thanks for the journey and chose another path. Not easy, but necessary. Chose to grow, chose to shift, trust it will unfold according to the plan. Take a flying leap....

You Just Never Know

People are always willing to talk about suicide, just not intentionally to the people who have lost someone to it. Maybe it feels safer to talk to a stranger about it, I get that. It's safe because it's less personal. You are privy to something tragic, but it's not your tragedy. You can express your shock, your bewilderment, your knowledge about what happened, even if it's only pieces of the story. Most times it is only pieces of the story. 

Working in retail I've had this happen several times. People need help in selecting a gift to comfort someone grieving. First they just mention, for example, a friend lost her husband, or a neighbor lost a son. Then as the conversation continues they begin to throw out other details. It was a suicide. I can't believe it happened. They never saw it coming. You just never know do you? No, you don't. Can you imagine how horrible that is? Yes, I can. Even with affirmative answers like that they never consider they might be talking to someone who has suffered such a loss. They have a need to share because they are grateful it's not them and because it's catastrophic. But not their catastrophe. I get they are trying to make sense of what happened.

Perhaps I'm missing opportunities by not sharing my reality at that point. I find it more amusing than uncomfortable when discussions unfold this way. They wouldn't be so eager to talk about it if they knew my history. A few times I've shared my truth. Most times I hold back because it's not about me. Every time I grab a pen and paper and share the names of a couple books to recommend. They don't ask how I know, but are grateful to have something tangible they can do to help their friend. I hope they follow through and buy the books. I hope they give the books, find the words to talk, ways to listen, and are there for their friends. 

If they do that, in a way, I've helped another survivor. For that reason alone I give thanks for being in the right place at the right time. I find peace in those conversations rather than resentment. We just never know what another has gone through, do we? No we don't. 

Let There Be Light

How is it that the rain on the roof, which is a sound I love, sounds very lonely sometimes. How is it standing my ground, choosing my battles, and establishing boundaries sometimes feels like a loss instead of a win. How do I step out in faith only to wait, and then wait some more. How do I live my best life. Full stop.

Okay, I don't have answers to any of these questions. I trust the answers will come. But I will own it's uncomfortable to wonder when. I long for easy as I wrestle with the hard. I'd prefer not to have to be strong. Couldn't I just be soft, content and fully supported? Why do I struggle to have a strong decisive voice, when in fact I am slow to process so I miss the immediate opportunities to ask questions, to be clear and upfront. I do get around to the heart of the matter, but not right away. I wish I was faster, but I'm not. I do sometimes have a quick wit, but otherwise I take the long way around the thinking process.  I'm on the scenic route while others are on the fast track. Things like this make us who we are, and yet we struggle with being who we are.

I don't know about you, but I am just weary. I long for hugs. I miss what was normal and I'm not sure what normal will look like again. I wonder if I'm learning the lessons I am supposed to be learning with the journeys life has taken me on. We have lost a year they say, but have we gained a greater perspective? I am glad that the worst is over. Well, at least I hope the worst is over. I think I can safely say the worst of winter is over and seeing growth in the garden is such a sign of hope. We need more signs of hope. We need more light, more points of light, more lightness in our hearts.

When in doubt I dig deeper for gratitude. I could complain, bitch, gripe and moan. Okay, sometimes I do complain, bitch, gripe and moan. But it doesn't take me as quite as far as counting blessings does. But we long to be heard. We long to be heard in our frustrations, worries and our joys. So sometimes we have to do the bitching to find the release, which gives us space to find our gratitude. Which lets the light in. Letting the light in it gives us light to share with others. So...if you are the light, I thank you. If I am the light, may I share it with you. 

 

Juggling

 Do you ever wonder if life will get easier? Do you wonder if the worst is over, or is it yet to come. I know that sounds pessimistic and full of worry. Do you ever wonder how others juggle all the balls and keep them neatly in the air? I wonder, sometimes, where my motivation went, and will it ever return. Will there always be a hollow spot that joy never quite finds?

I pause and remember that life has been hard. I've been juggling for a long time, bobbling some, saving some, and completely dropping some of the balls. I bet I'm not alone. Honestly, I'm about all widowed out, all pandemic'd out, all grieved out. Except, some of those thing never go away. Hopefully, the pandemic will pass and life, sort of, as we knew it will return. 

However, we have been changed, so life has been changed. It will be different and yet one can hope some familiar things remain. It will be different and I hope we are molded into something kinder, wiser, smarter. 

I had this grand idea when I moved back here that my lonely days would be over. Sometimes we are beautifully naive. Or hopeful, or both. I also never envisioned I'd be divorced once, widowed once and in a world wide pandemic. I was just hoping to have fries with my burger, a milkshake for dessert and live happily ever after. Maybe it is a good thing I was naive and hopeful. 

Which leaves me with the challenge of finding my way again. Sorting out what feels good in my life, what makes my heart feel whole. What baggage to cast aside. Or at least unpack an item at a time, examine and release. In the midst of all this I strive to find peace in being alone. Not alone, alone...you know. Because I have deep connections that sustain me. Just alone to a degree every day. And I chuckle, because I know some people would love to have more alone time. They would love to have my baggage instead of their own. They'd be thrilled with the burger and fries and never wish for the milkshake. Life is funny that way.

So while I wonder if life will ever get easier, I need to count the thousands of ways it has. I need to gather my blessings in a gentle embrace. I need to give thanks, and I need to feed my faith. I need to be gentle with myself as I heal. Life is a mix of bitter and sweet. And...as we juggle we drop some balls along the way. That makes us human. In those most human moments we learn. We heal, we grow, and we move on. We find our way back, we create a new life.

Self...I love you.

Feeling love is one of the most important emotions in life. Now, I used to consider romantic love as the be all and end all. Until I became a parent, and then love took on a whole new meaning. I used to love animals in a generic manner, until I owned a dog, then another dog, and another....you get my drift. They deepened my love in a whole different way. Then there is love from my friends that has evolved over the years. The love of my faith and how it sustains me.

Learning to love is both simple and complex. Learning to love yourself is the same. I can think of a hundred things I love, my kids, dogs (put on your surprised face), flowers, home grown tomatoes, candles, adult beverages, pizza, campfires, watching thunder storms roll in. I love flannel sheets and cool breezes. I love cooking and entertaining. I love the gift of words that God puts in my heart and nudges me to share. I love how blessed I am. I love hugs.

Somewhere in the mix I have to love me. Not only love me, but tell me. Self? I love you. Self, you are a good person. Self, you made a mistake and you are still a good person and I still love you. Self, it's okay to dance in the kitchen to Love Shack. Self, we can do this. Self, it is okay to cry. Self, you are okay. Self, tequila in moderation. 

Now I know, because I'm a florist, that Valentines Day is a huge romantic push. I cherish the times I've enjoyed celebrating that way. But, and there is always a but, I'm learning to move past the romantic view of love, to a more realistic view of love. It is not limited, it is not only for some and not for others. It is not just for couples. It is a gift we give and receive. It comes in many shapes and sizes. It grows from small seeds scattered seemingly by the wind in places we would never expect. 

So I offer you this gift. Tell yourself. Self...I love you. Then spread that love everywhere. 

Light For Our Dark Places

Things we wonder, in our heads, but may never say out loud.

I'll never get it right. I failed at this.... I am not succeeding at that. I will always be alone. I'm dumb. I am unlovable. I could have done better, I should have done better. I'm not smart enough. I'm afraid. No one will love me. C'mon people. I can't be the only one who has mental tapes that play like this. Maybe your tape says you are too fat, or too tall, or not pretty enough. Maybe yours is a dialog of comparison, they are more, have more, their life is perfect. 

These are uncomfortable feelings. Feelings that we define ourselves by. Sometimes deliberately sometimes subconsciously. So remember, a feeling is not a fact. We get tripped up by that. I know by opening up this conversation that I'm going out on a limb. It's a vulnerable limb. I'm hanging in the balance here. Will I hold on to these fallacies. Will I be dismissed because I'm sharing them? Will I reduce the scope of my world by holding on to them? Will I be judged by them. Which leads me to this question, who is the harsher judge? Kinda thinking it is me. It is way easier to blame myself, berate myself. Okay, in simpler terms, I'm pretty hard on myself. Are you?

Funny, sad funny, not ha-ha funny how much easier it is to tally what we didn't get right instead of what we did. What we aren't instead of what we are. What we haven't got instead of what we have. Do I know an easy path to heal all of this? Ummm, no easy path, but not an impossible task. All I can figure is I've been gifted with these words so I can share them. Share the feelings, share the faith, share being open to shedding light on our inner struggles. Giving some light to our dark places. 

We all have some dark places, am I right? We are not singularly flawed. That's the good news. Opening up and peering into our "flaw" box is humbling, and healing. Scary as hell too, so we resist doing it. But, what if I'm not all wrong? What if I get it right some of the time, and because I'm human I get it wrong some of the time. Could that be okay? What if I'm not bad, or stupid, or worthless, but someone told me I was so I believed it. What if I have a voice, but was shamed into not using it. What if I breathed out instead of holding it all in. That would be a weight off my shoulders. What if I am enough just the way I am? Wise enough, capable enough, safe enough, strong enough. Could that be my truth? That friends, that is the seed to plant, to nurture, to bring into the light. Trusting we find new light for our dark places.

 

Ask For Help, Get The Ice Cream

I've realized grief comes in more shades than there are paint chips at Sherwin Williams. Grace does too. I had an emotional day recently, which triggered some grief. Each time through a wave of grief I am moved further down the road to a softer place. That doesn't negate the pain of getting through it.

I had some dental work done the other day. There was pain in the beginning of the procedure, but after that part there was no physical pain involved. I was taken back at how emotionally uncomfortable the process was. How anxiety filled. I knew I could get through it because I told myself in my head (at least a 100 times) I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. It did not occur to me to stop and ask for help "doing this" making the procedure less stressful. That's an important lesson. Ask for help when you need it. I didn't need to suffer through it and yet I did.  

So naturally following the procedure I was a bit emotional. Okay, so saying I'm "a bit emotional" is always a stretch of imagination. Here's your visual, emotionally charged woman, with half her face completely numb. Wanting ice cream to comfort the stress, but knowing she doesn't have enough lip control to manage consuming it. Again, I could have gotten some for later when my lips came back. Again, I went without when I didn't actually need to. Raising hand....slow learner here.

I pull up to a stop light and am sitting behind the vehicle of a company that does damage restoration, including trauma clean up. It takes me right back. This same company did the trauma clean up after my husband took his life. This time seeing the company name tapped into the loss and pain. Now I dealt with this company as they did restoration work in my home. I've seen their vehicles many times since then with no emotional response. But this day I had emotions that needed to be cried through. This day I was in a place I could do that. We can't process all of a loss at once, that's why grieving is a long process. As we are ready, life presents the situations that draw us through grief to the other side. These hurdles have to be crossed. They can however be shared, either during, or afterwards. While we may feel pain, discomfort, anxiety we don't have to suffer alone. We can ask for the help/comfort to get through it and we can have the ice cream afterwards. Be gentle with yourself, ask for help, get the ice cream. Heal.