Where do we go from here? How do we get through the moments or surreal living and unconscionable events. The world feels heavy: whether local and national news, or job happenings, or personal life events. It feels like too much and yet we keep carrying the load. Hoping that someone walks along with us, or offers a helping hand. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, something will make it more bearable.
It’s been a minute since I’ve written. The last year has been full of studying and assignments, applications and licensing requirements. I have been exhausted. But I, as ever, am looking for ways to stay busy, involved, and educated. So I am hopeful that this blog keeps on living and becomes more prevalent in the coming weeks and years.
“Small things such as this have saved me: How much I love my mother – even after all these years. How powerfully I carry her within me. My grief is tremendous but my love is bigger.” Cheryl Strayed
I say this often, but this year feels different. Maybe it’s the whirlwind of everything else that is surrounding it. Maybe it is the wedding. Maybe it’s the fact that I am so.damn.happy. And I just wish she could be here to be a part of it. Maybe I just wish she could still be. But then I have to remind myself, she is. She.is. She is in every moment. She’s in the books I read and the moments I take to slow down and read them. She’s in the things I watch, and the inevitability that I will get tired and stop partway through. She is in the recipes I make and then flipping through of the family book, and trying to do from memory but just needing to remember that one ingredient that makes it *chef’s kiss*. She is in the quiet moments when I wake up and study, before much of the house or the world around me is even aware. In the raucous laughter, side eye glances, and tip-toeing the line. She is in the creative spirit, and the dexterous hands. In the goofy faces and the double jointed finger catches and someday gnarled feet. She is in the way I love my sisters, the way I fight every day for the things I believe in and the people I love. She is in the justice, and the giving back, and the strong will to know, and be, and do better.
But even in all of those ways, and so, so, so many more; she is in here. And sometimes my heart just aches for another moment, another glimpse, another hug, another tête-à-tête, another reminder of her love in the most tangible of ways. Because life just isn’t the same place without her here. And yet…and yet we keep living and working and going about our days. We keep having children, and buying houses (and selling, and buying, and selling). We keep falling in love, and going back to school (again), and progressing in our careers. We keep getting married, and pursuing our dreams. We keep moving.
I’ve come to learn that remembering the good and the bad is the healthiest way for me to process and sit with my grief. It is the best way I know how to travel this path. And as I have shared with countless others, it comes in waves. And maybe in the moments it crashes against you at full force, it is okay to let go, just a little. Not of the person you loved (and love) and lost, but of the grief you hold so dear, so close to your chest. Maybe it is okay to just breathe and let little pieces of that pain and hurt slip through the spaces between your fingers.
I can hear her. I can feel her. I can know, that in her own way, she is present and with me. She knows my joy and sorrow. She knows that through it all, I am okay. I am growing and pursuing my wildest dreams.
She is proud. And that is enough. It humbles my soul.
My plan for last weekend was to lead another mini retreat. However, the first round of school sicks hit me, and I’m working through a head cold/sinus infection. I knew when I planned this retreat that I wanted to focus on the word “move”. It can be finished with so many other words to make unique statements: move on, move up, move in, movement, etc. My retreat ideas always start from a place of things that I have needed in the past. And for me, this one hit a little closer to home than usual. This year, I had to move on from one of my best friends. It was devastating. And something that I am still processing as the ripple effects keep coming through. And so I need to move on.
It’s really hard for me to walk away from things that aren’t serving me. It’s hard when I have spoken my truth and the other person just continues to tell me I am wrong. Admittedly, I shut down. I ignored any of the incoming communications because I just needed time to process (being an HSP and empath means that it often takes me longer to identify which feelings are my own and which are attributed to someone else). Well, this wasn’t received well. And that caused me to shut down even more. I’m a firm believer in “if it isn’t adding to your life, it’s okay to walk away”. And that’s what I did.
I was accused of a lot of things in the process. My character was attacked. I was told how I wasn’t the same person I used to be (no shit, if you aren’t growing and trying to be better, then what are you doing?) I don’t feel like I owe this person an explanation for my actions. I wrote several responses that I never sent. But I realized that they were all just trying to convince this person of things they would never believe. We didn’t see the situations the same way, and we never would. And spending my time and energy trying to make them understand or see my. side just wasn’t worth it. Did I care at that point that they believed I had become a cold-hearted, disrespectful, inconsiderate person? Yes, I did. But also, no I didn’t. I was tired of being treated like an after thought. This was my reality, not theirs. And any time I shared my feelings they were quickly shut down. It felt like gaslighting.
It was hard to move on. It was hard to walk away. There were lots of ripples and other people who were affected by my decisions. But I held true to what I knew to be best for me. And I do not regret that one bit. Moving on meant a grieving period. It meant not being able to pick up the phone and text when something happened that this person would appreciate. It meant sadness with certain shared memories and experiences. And it meant fractures in other relationships. But, it also allowed other friendships to strengthen. It meant more time doing things I love and not sitting in my feels so much. I felt…lighter. And that was worth everything.
And here I am, on the other side. But I know what I needed from my experience (unfortunately one of many). If I can help someone else process and work through a “move” situation, then I want to be able to do so. I truly believe that my experiences should be shared and what I have learned along the way may give helpful perspectives for others. Just like the experiences of others before me have helped me and informed choices that I have made as well.
…they will come. I have a love hate relationship with the movie Field of Dreams. It has some wonderful messages and it is moving. It’s a powerful allegory. However, growing up it was overused in our youth group. There was a month or two stretch where it is the only movie we watched. And I surely got burnt out on it. However, that quote “if you build it, they will come” has always hit hard for me.
I’m a strong believer in community. It’s what inspires me and keeps me running. Good relationships, deep conversations, ample belly laughs, and safe places to be genuinely you no matter when or how you show up. Working at a church it was automatically built in. I had my kids, my youth, the parents, and my volunteers. I had our college student/, our young adult groups, and our month senior group. I had certain staff members over the years that I just clicked with. But when I decided the church (and the Church) was no longer feeding me or serving the growth and direction I wanted in life, many of those communities disappeared.
It’s been rough trying to create those niches in my life post-church ministry. I’ve started book clubs (so have thrived and some have failed). I’ve tried craft nights with friends. I’ve been a part of monthly game nights (and have them seen them continue outside of myself). I’ve invited coworkers for dinners and drinks. Randy and I have started bimonthly dinner parties to bring our friends together. And most recently I’ve dabbled in retreat planning again. I know that I have to lay the ground work for the communities I crave. If I create it, other people are likely to show up.
With my recent surgery I’ve had lots of friends checking in, sending food or gift cards, and just dropping by to be supportive of my healing. This last week one dear friend picked me up for lunch and we talked about life, work, and dreams for the future. She dropped me off at home and our mutual friend showed up to bring me coffee. It was so nice that the three of us had a bit of space and time to catch up, laugh, and just be. I am so thankful for the two of them and how they have invested in our friendship so quickly and deeply. This is the connection I seek. This is the type of community I hope to continually cultivate and keep at the forefront of my life.
This time of year is always makes me feel bittersweet. I’ve been on a hiatus from writing, it hasn’t fed my should the same way that it usually does. But the anniversary of my mom’s passing always inspires me to put words out into the universe. And here we are. This year marks 7 years without my mom. As my sister and I were reminiscing this evening, we both were in shock. It does not feel like that long. But at the same time it feels like forever ago. Somehow this year has felt easier. It feels like a more lived in reality, though nothing about it is easy.
I miss my mom every single day. I miss being able to call her on the phone. I miss our silly moments. I really miss our heart to hearts about the most random shit in the world. I get very sad when I think about my nephew and Randy both not getting to meet her. That’s some of the hardest part. But I do all I can to make her have some place in their lives by keeping her memory alive.
Shelly and I were thinking through the moments of the day when we lost mom. Who answered the phone? Who called Dad? Who called Stacey? Etc, etc. One of the worst days of my life, and there are definitely moments that I locked out and don’t remember. That’s my brain working to protect me. But there are so many little moments I do remember. Some day I am going to have to go through this again, though I try not to think about that too much. It won’t be any easier already having some of it “under my belt”.
Loss, in any form, is hard. I don’t live in a mindset of wishing it hadn’t happened. That’s not my reality and it doesn’t feel very healthy to live there. I will remember her, and share her, and celebrate her, and keep being her mini-me (in some ways) for as long as I can.
I’m a sucker for a good celebration. And this up coming week has quickly become one of my favorites. It’s school counselor week! It helps me connect with other peers, recognize the great things going on in the field, and remember my why. My current school has always done a wonderful job of celebrating and recognizing my work. I don’t always stop to think about the immensity that comes with serving 600 students. It’s a lot. But I wouldn’t trade it. And the job I’m in now is the first place I’ve felt consistently important, recognized, and valued. And it means a lot. Here’s to a great school counseling week! (And if you want to help positively affect the lives of the kids I work with, here’s a link to my Amazon wishlist for school!
I miss some of the communities and opportunities I once had. I miss some of the wild creativity I was allowed, and the retreats and trips I got to plan. And so I’m looking to bring some of those pieces back into my life in new ways. And it starts with a one day retreat I’m leading this spring. Location details are TBD but I have a couple venue possibilities. I hope you’ll consider joining us! More info in the photo below. And link to sign up is below!
Happy Birthday! Let me start by saying not a day goes by without me wishing you were here: for the big and small moments. Holidays feel different without you. Getting together with Dad feels different without you. Hard to realize it has almost been 7 years without you. Where did the time go? You should know that all of us are happy, in our own ways. We’ve grown into people you would be proud of (there are enough friends and family around to remind me of this).
I wish you were here for my graduation and journey through grad school. For the day I told everyone that I wanted to pursue my LMHC and help as many young people as I can because I love my job but want to work with teens in addition to my babies.
I wish you could see how Shelly is thriving. How good she is at her job, and how valued she is at her school. To know the leadership roles she has taken, and the way she has (on her own) come out of her shell, always staying true to herself. It makes me really proud.
I wish you could have moments with Stacey and her little family. To see Sweeps grow up. To give him a better understanding of what a wonderful mom you were, and what a loving Nana you’d be. But I’m ever grateful you met Josh and were able to share in their wedding day. None of us were sure if that would happen.
It will always give me pause to know you won’t be here for my own wedding. Not that I wish life had happened sooner, I truly feel like it is unfolding as it should. And I’m in no rush. But I got a good one, mama. And there’s some of him that’s like Pops (and much of him that is not). One of my biggest longings will always be that the two of you could meet.
And on to your own love. He’s doing “okay”. There are parts of life that are a struggle, and always will be. But he has created several different communities for himself. And for that I am glad. He (and myself as well) needs those communities. That’s where and how he thrives.
We are happy, Mama. We are. But that doesn’t mean today will cease to carry a heaviness. It always will. And I talk about the things I wish you could see and do, as if you aren’t already. I have t0 believe you are still here, in the smallest and biggest ways.
And so we celebrate with grapefruit candies and Saving Grace. And we smile because our hearts are full of you.
My mom and I didn’t have traditional sleepovers. But there are some pretty strong memories of time shared in beds or at bedsides. I remember being a small child and climbing in between she and dad, under the covers. Early mornings flopping on her bed as she did a crossword or logic problem. There is an intimacy about beds, even from a platonic or familial stance.
This week I’ve been flooded by memories of seeing her, and being with her at the bedside of GVS. That was a LONG 5 months, but I’m so thankful for the intentional time it gave us. Even though in the moment it was stressful and draining and, at points, pretty gross. I loved being able to be “us”. We didn’t always get that time in the years after I moved out. But it is, and was, precious time indeed.
This school year has gotten off to a wonderful start. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t hurt, and stress, and diligence, and tough love, and trauma, etc etc at play. It isn’t easy but it’s so worth it. And I’ve found myself returning a bit to my pandemic self—walk each day, be in nature each day, water therapy each day. It’s nice to have these moments to slow down. It’s nice to just be.
Curly Sedge: 