ever shifting
like the deck of a ship
we struggle to maintain
our foothold
amidst the turmoil
and emotion
that is friendship
we adjust to
the storm and the calm
and we embrace landfall
with wobbly legs
knowing that sooner
or later
things will once again
shift
and change
but we love
anyway
because
our friendships
are the wind in our sails.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Head and Heart
Why can't my heart be as strong as my head? Why can't my head move in the right direction, helping my heart to stop hurting? Why aren't we able to just shut down the feelings we know aren't 'good' for us? In struggling with hurt and feelings of betrayal, when we know the best thing is to just stop thinking about it and move on, I wish the heart and the head would just get together, united, and do what is necessary for healing to take place. You know, they could have this little pow-wow:
Head to Heart: "Hey Heart, I'm telling you, none of this is good for us, release those feelings of pain and sadness, let her get on with life."
Heart to Head: "I'd like to, Head, but part of healing is pain. She has to work through it. Besides, you're the one that keeps that endless movie reel going...why can't you just turn the damn thing off. Showing the same thing over and over isn't helping me do my job one bit."
Head to Heart: "You are so right, heart. And every time I think she's gotten past it and we're headed in the right direction, you do that little thing where you jump into her throat or into the pit of her stomach, and it trips the movie reel one more time."
Heart to Head: "Well, hopefully the spinning will stop soon, Head...I mean, it's got to be worn out at this point. The girl needs to be able to sleep and eat again, if not, where will that leave us?"
Head to Heart: "Yeah, Stomach is pretty pissed off at us at this point. You know how much she enjoys food."
Heart to Head: "We need to work together. It's the only way you and I can get back to a normal existence again. Oh wait, I guess pain and joy are part of what is normal. I guess we've just managed to avoid heartache up until now. Damn, I'd forgotten how this feels. I guess you've been working overtime, head, in protecting us."
Head to Heart: "It's true, heart, I have been. It was time for her to feel alive again. It's just a shame that pain is as much a part of being alive as all the other 'good' emotions."
Heart: "Indeed. Well, time to focus, still have some work to do."
Geez, make it stop.
Head to Heart: "Hey Heart, I'm telling you, none of this is good for us, release those feelings of pain and sadness, let her get on with life."
Heart to Head: "I'd like to, Head, but part of healing is pain. She has to work through it. Besides, you're the one that keeps that endless movie reel going...why can't you just turn the damn thing off. Showing the same thing over and over isn't helping me do my job one bit."
Head to Heart: "You are so right, heart. And every time I think she's gotten past it and we're headed in the right direction, you do that little thing where you jump into her throat or into the pit of her stomach, and it trips the movie reel one more time."
Heart to Head: "Well, hopefully the spinning will stop soon, Head...I mean, it's got to be worn out at this point. The girl needs to be able to sleep and eat again, if not, where will that leave us?"
Head to Heart: "Yeah, Stomach is pretty pissed off at us at this point. You know how much she enjoys food."
Heart to Head: "We need to work together. It's the only way you and I can get back to a normal existence again. Oh wait, I guess pain and joy are part of what is normal. I guess we've just managed to avoid heartache up until now. Damn, I'd forgotten how this feels. I guess you've been working overtime, head, in protecting us."
Head to Heart: "It's true, heart, I have been. It was time for her to feel alive again. It's just a shame that pain is as much a part of being alive as all the other 'good' emotions."
Heart: "Indeed. Well, time to focus, still have some work to do."
Geez, make it stop.
Friday, January 29, 2010
de Colores
Got through January. Often the most difficult month of the year for many. Now the light is changing, the birds are beginning to move into migration mode. If you look carefully, you can discern a faint pink to red hue on the trees...buds just waiting for enough warmth before bursting forth with spring colors. Can't help but be a little hopeful.
Been putting new color in my life this past month. Undertaken the task of painting the interior of our townhome, after living there for six plus years. Apartment life and military life prevented or precluded me from bothering to personalize any home with statements of color, but I'm done with that. I had promised Rebecca we would paint her room several years ago, and we have finally accomplished that as well as paint in five other rooms. The project is at a standstill right now, as each room is in a transitional state, waiting for furniture to be moved out, up, or over. Meanwhile, I've been mulling over the color scheme for my kitchen...and it has finally come together. Now, I'm really anxious to get started on that room and make real what has only recently come together in my mind.
For some, painting may not sound like a big deal. But for me, this project has been a challenge on so many levels. I do not like my life disrupted in this manner...things out of place, cleaning kept to a minimum because there's 'stuff' in the way, and the painting itself, which puts my perfectionist-but-not-very-professional painting skills to a real test. However, the last room I did (Rebecca's bathroom) I actually got into it. I mean, it was kind of zen, the experience. And now, sometimes I'll just walk in there and look around, and smile (not when I see Rebecca's dirty clothes stuffed behind the toilet, or the layers of dried soap and hair on the counter...oh, geez...)
So, I'm looking forward to completing this project, and am able to see that it actually will get completed. It's become more than just a painting project, it's become an experience in self-exploration. And it's been good, I can see that now. Ah, de colores...
http://popup.lala.com/popup/1657606198776904380
Been putting new color in my life this past month. Undertaken the task of painting the interior of our townhome, after living there for six plus years. Apartment life and military life prevented or precluded me from bothering to personalize any home with statements of color, but I'm done with that. I had promised Rebecca we would paint her room several years ago, and we have finally accomplished that as well as paint in five other rooms. The project is at a standstill right now, as each room is in a transitional state, waiting for furniture to be moved out, up, or over. Meanwhile, I've been mulling over the color scheme for my kitchen...and it has finally come together. Now, I'm really anxious to get started on that room and make real what has only recently come together in my mind.
For some, painting may not sound like a big deal. But for me, this project has been a challenge on so many levels. I do not like my life disrupted in this manner...things out of place, cleaning kept to a minimum because there's 'stuff' in the way, and the painting itself, which puts my perfectionist-but-not-very-professional painting skills to a real test. However, the last room I did (Rebecca's bathroom) I actually got into it. I mean, it was kind of zen, the experience. And now, sometimes I'll just walk in there and look around, and smile (not when I see Rebecca's dirty clothes stuffed behind the toilet, or the layers of dried soap and hair on the counter...oh, geez...)
So, I'm looking forward to completing this project, and am able to see that it actually will get completed. It's become more than just a painting project, it's become an experience in self-exploration. And it's been good, I can see that now. Ah, de colores...
http://popup.lala.com/popup/1657606198776904380
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Water off a Duck's Back
Two days before Christmas. I read a quote today that seems to sum it up for me: "To perceive Christmas through its wrappings becomes more difficult with every year." (E.B. White) There is a certain pressure to be happy and joyous, and yet it isn't always easy to conjure up those emotions.
No one needs to remind me of all that I have to be grateful for, as I am very aware. I have a good, safe, comfortable home, a steady job that I enjoy and that pays me well enough, I have a terrific almost-15-year-old daughter that continually reminds me of how much she loves me and thinks I'm 'the best', and I have wonderful friendships, old and new. And yet I'm troubled by the fact that a few of those friendships have fallen by the wayside, and largely due to misunderstandings and/or a difference in how to approach the situations life presents us. One's judgments and opinions are only as good as the life experience and perception that they bring to the table at any given moment, and yet relationships are ruined based on that narrow point of view. Despite attempts on my part to bridge the gap, there are a couple of friends who prefer to remain on the fringe.
Of course, this brings me back to the key component of The Four Agreements -- Don't take things personally. It's time to let it go, release whatever ick I'm feeling, and shake it off. No, I'm not a duck, so it won't be as simple as water off the back. But for my own sake, I need to know that I have done what I could and, as long as I can be honest with myself about my intention and attempts, forgive myself and move on.
So, come on Christmas. I embrace the ideas of peace and fellowship of the season, and remain optimistic for the good that will come in the new year. Blessings to all.
No one needs to remind me of all that I have to be grateful for, as I am very aware. I have a good, safe, comfortable home, a steady job that I enjoy and that pays me well enough, I have a terrific almost-15-year-old daughter that continually reminds me of how much she loves me and thinks I'm 'the best', and I have wonderful friendships, old and new. And yet I'm troubled by the fact that a few of those friendships have fallen by the wayside, and largely due to misunderstandings and/or a difference in how to approach the situations life presents us. One's judgments and opinions are only as good as the life experience and perception that they bring to the table at any given moment, and yet relationships are ruined based on that narrow point of view. Despite attempts on my part to bridge the gap, there are a couple of friends who prefer to remain on the fringe.
Of course, this brings me back to the key component of The Four Agreements -- Don't take things personally. It's time to let it go, release whatever ick I'm feeling, and shake it off. No, I'm not a duck, so it won't be as simple as water off the back. But for my own sake, I need to know that I have done what I could and, as long as I can be honest with myself about my intention and attempts, forgive myself and move on.
So, come on Christmas. I embrace the ideas of peace and fellowship of the season, and remain optimistic for the good that will come in the new year. Blessings to all.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Moving through the Melancholy
It's a time of reflection, Thanksgiving...at least for me. When Rebecca was in the first grade (so, eight years ago), she was home sick and missed a trip to Graves' Mountain. We decided to make that up for her and check it out, and so went for a weekend. That trip began an annual tradition, although we moved it up to Thanksgiving so that we could enjoy the abundance of the buffet spread (if you get there in time for lunch and spend the night, you get to enjoy it twice!)...truly some of the best fried oysters I've ever had, country ham, homemade biscuits and apple butter, and so much more.
Anyhow, it was during one of these trips for Thanksgiving I experienced my third miscarriage. It started early in the week, but since we'd made our plans we decided to go ahead. By now I knew all the signs, so it was just a matter of letting nature take its course. But it was a tough weekend, immersed in pain and sadness during a time that should be about gratitude and appreciation for the good things in our lives. And yet, I was able to spend the majority of my time that weekend (thanks to Karl spending time with Rebecca so I could have some solitude) sitting quietly and just absorbing the energy of those around me. It ended up being the best possible thing for me, to be around people but not necessarily have to interact with them.
Nonetheless, every year at this time I find myself feeling a bit melancholy. It usually takes me a while to figure out what's 'wrong', and then it comes back to me. This third miscarriage was my last attempt at trying to have more children, and so I imagine that the finality of that has stuck with me through the years. While I realize that, given what happened over the ensuing years with the end of my marriage, I suppose things do happen for a reason, it is still a difficult time of year. This feeling is compounded by reflection on my life as it is today, having been divorced for six years, middle-aged, and a single mom. Generally I don't dwell on the prospect of aging alone, but at this time of year it all seems to settle around me and it can weigh on me pretty heavily.
So, Rebecca and I are headed to the mountains. We will spend four days and three nights at The Mountain, a Unitarian Universalist retreat center near Highlands, NC. We will be around people but will be free to interact or enjoy solitude as we need to. I hope to get some good hikes in and just enjoy the area and the peace of the surrounding scenery. It will be good for my soul and my psyche, and I am grateful for the opportunity to take this time.
Meanwhile, I realize how much I have to be grateful for, with a loving family, good friends, all the necessities of life as well as a few luxuries, and the good sense to take care of me. It's been a big year for me emotionally, and I am happy to say that I see the year ending in a positive and joyful way, with the knowledge that I have exactly what I need in life already.
Anyhow, it was during one of these trips for Thanksgiving I experienced my third miscarriage. It started early in the week, but since we'd made our plans we decided to go ahead. By now I knew all the signs, so it was just a matter of letting nature take its course. But it was a tough weekend, immersed in pain and sadness during a time that should be about gratitude and appreciation for the good things in our lives. And yet, I was able to spend the majority of my time that weekend (thanks to Karl spending time with Rebecca so I could have some solitude) sitting quietly and just absorbing the energy of those around me. It ended up being the best possible thing for me, to be around people but not necessarily have to interact with them.
Nonetheless, every year at this time I find myself feeling a bit melancholy. It usually takes me a while to figure out what's 'wrong', and then it comes back to me. This third miscarriage was my last attempt at trying to have more children, and so I imagine that the finality of that has stuck with me through the years. While I realize that, given what happened over the ensuing years with the end of my marriage, I suppose things do happen for a reason, it is still a difficult time of year. This feeling is compounded by reflection on my life as it is today, having been divorced for six years, middle-aged, and a single mom. Generally I don't dwell on the prospect of aging alone, but at this time of year it all seems to settle around me and it can weigh on me pretty heavily.
So, Rebecca and I are headed to the mountains. We will spend four days and three nights at The Mountain, a Unitarian Universalist retreat center near Highlands, NC. We will be around people but will be free to interact or enjoy solitude as we need to. I hope to get some good hikes in and just enjoy the area and the peace of the surrounding scenery. It will be good for my soul and my psyche, and I am grateful for the opportunity to take this time.
Meanwhile, I realize how much I have to be grateful for, with a loving family, good friends, all the necessities of life as well as a few luxuries, and the good sense to take care of me. It's been a big year for me emotionally, and I am happy to say that I see the year ending in a positive and joyful way, with the knowledge that I have exactly what I need in life already.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Accepting the Gift
A very dear, sweet soul was lost to us yesterday. Nancy Gilmore lost her battle with cancer of the esophagus, leaving grieving friends and family. Nancy truly was one of the kindest and gentlest people I've known, full of love and had the sweetest voice. She will be sadly missed.
As I contemplate turning 50, I am struck be the timing of life and death events. When someone dies so young and had so much left to give, it is cause for reflection and assessment. I remember when my daughter was due to be born, and my cousin of only 24 lost his battle with cancer. Rebecca was born a few days later. Death and life. I remember when my mother's father died, and the day after I went to school and felt bewildered over the beauty of the fall day in spite of the loss.
And yet I also understand, those who go before us would want us to live fully and to surround ourselves with those we love and who love us. So it is with this thought in mind that I look forward to celebrating my 50th birthday with so many people that I love. I will hold Nancy and her family close in my thoughts and in my heart. And I will celebrate living, because every day truly is a gift, and I accept it with an open and loving heart.
As I contemplate turning 50, I am struck be the timing of life and death events. When someone dies so young and had so much left to give, it is cause for reflection and assessment. I remember when my daughter was due to be born, and my cousin of only 24 lost his battle with cancer. Rebecca was born a few days later. Death and life. I remember when my mother's father died, and the day after I went to school and felt bewildered over the beauty of the fall day in spite of the loss.
And yet I also understand, those who go before us would want us to live fully and to surround ourselves with those we love and who love us. So it is with this thought in mind that I look forward to celebrating my 50th birthday with so many people that I love. I will hold Nancy and her family close in my thoughts and in my heart. And I will celebrate living, because every day truly is a gift, and I accept it with an open and loving heart.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Never Again...?
Rock and Roll Half Marathon Virginia Beach, check. Yup, did it, and did it pretty well, for having hardly trained at all. What a tremendous experience! One of 20,000 who registered to run or walk 13.1 miles from the convention center, over rudee inlet, down General Booth Blvd., through Camp Pendleton, and finishing up on the boardwalk, all the while with residents, cheerleaders, and bands to motivate us, and hundreds of volunteers ready with water, Cytomax, and encouragement pushing us on.
My sense of dread on Saturday just kept building, realizing I hadn't trained near as much as I'd hoped. But the goal had all along been nothing more than to finish and finish uninjured. I would run as much as I could, but listen to my body.
We had eleven folks staying at the house that our friend Chris so generously rented. We all got checked in and enjoyed some of the expo shopping, got a little beach time in, and then enjoyed a spaghetti dinner complete with two delicious salads and yummy bread. A nice walk on the beach under a full moon completed the night. We could hear the music until about 11, and then all got quiet. And I couldn't sleep. All told I may have gotten 2 1/2 hours. I was up at 5:30 and ready to go by 6. We all walked over to the start of the race, and then waited for over 30 minutes as each group of runners started.
Each group (or corral) is staged based on their estimated finish time. Many folks move into different corrals once they get there, based on how they feel and how they've prepared. I was placed in corral 18, but moved myself back to 22. I was not feeling as optimistic as I had been in April.
Finally our corral was off. My friend Amy stuck with me during the entire race, and I am so grateful. She let me set the pace, walked when I walked, ran when I ran, and doesn't like to talk while running...just the perfect race support buddy! The first six miles we mostly ran, with some walking interspersed for recovery and stretching. Even the Rudee Inlet bridge wasn't near as troublesome as I thought it would be. Miles 7 and 8 we mostly walked. This was on Camp Pendleton and was mostly in the sun. The distance between mile markers started to feel longer and longer, so by the time we reached mile 10 I was really losing my enthusiasm. We had allowed ourselves to think we might finish in three hours (and Amy could have) but the last four miles killed that for me. I've heard it said and now believe it to be true, each of those last miles seems longer than the last! Finally, with about 3/4 of a mile to go, Amy sprinted to the finish. I began jogging again, feet burning and lower back aching, and the strains of Tom Petty's "Mary Jane" reaching me from the finish line. I really was going to finish this, I realized!
Crossing the finish line was a bit anticlimactic, but it was enough to get that bottle of water and a medal around my neck...I had done it! I found Amy again, she congratulated me, and we walked to the family area to meet some of the rest of our housemates. We listened to the music for a while (one of the better bands that I heard, Vinyl Headlights) and then headed back toward the beach house. Along the way a church group had set up for free foot wash/massages, so we stopped for that. What a welcome treat that was. Finally, we arrived back at the house to the cheers of the remainder of the group. We sat and received more foot massages from our race support team member (she didn't run, but she cheered and had snacks and rubbed our feet!) and talked about our experiences from the day. All in all, an unforgettable triumph for me. I am so glad I did it. And even though I kept saying yesterday, "Never again!", I find myself now thinking, "What if I actually trained? I could do the Marine Corps Historic Half, couldn't I?" Somebody, slap me!
My sense of dread on Saturday just kept building, realizing I hadn't trained near as much as I'd hoped. But the goal had all along been nothing more than to finish and finish uninjured. I would run as much as I could, but listen to my body.
We had eleven folks staying at the house that our friend Chris so generously rented. We all got checked in and enjoyed some of the expo shopping, got a little beach time in, and then enjoyed a spaghetti dinner complete with two delicious salads and yummy bread. A nice walk on the beach under a full moon completed the night. We could hear the music until about 11, and then all got quiet. And I couldn't sleep. All told I may have gotten 2 1/2 hours. I was up at 5:30 and ready to go by 6. We all walked over to the start of the race, and then waited for over 30 minutes as each group of runners started.
Each group (or corral) is staged based on their estimated finish time. Many folks move into different corrals once they get there, based on how they feel and how they've prepared. I was placed in corral 18, but moved myself back to 22. I was not feeling as optimistic as I had been in April.
Finally our corral was off. My friend Amy stuck with me during the entire race, and I am so grateful. She let me set the pace, walked when I walked, ran when I ran, and doesn't like to talk while running...just the perfect race support buddy! The first six miles we mostly ran, with some walking interspersed for recovery and stretching. Even the Rudee Inlet bridge wasn't near as troublesome as I thought it would be. Miles 7 and 8 we mostly walked. This was on Camp Pendleton and was mostly in the sun. The distance between mile markers started to feel longer and longer, so by the time we reached mile 10 I was really losing my enthusiasm. We had allowed ourselves to think we might finish in three hours (and Amy could have) but the last four miles killed that for me. I've heard it said and now believe it to be true, each of those last miles seems longer than the last! Finally, with about 3/4 of a mile to go, Amy sprinted to the finish. I began jogging again, feet burning and lower back aching, and the strains of Tom Petty's "Mary Jane" reaching me from the finish line. I really was going to finish this, I realized!
Crossing the finish line was a bit anticlimactic, but it was enough to get that bottle of water and a medal around my neck...I had done it! I found Amy again, she congratulated me, and we walked to the family area to meet some of the rest of our housemates. We listened to the music for a while (one of the better bands that I heard, Vinyl Headlights) and then headed back toward the beach house. Along the way a church group had set up for free foot wash/massages, so we stopped for that. What a welcome treat that was. Finally, we arrived back at the house to the cheers of the remainder of the group. We sat and received more foot massages from our race support team member (she didn't run, but she cheered and had snacks and rubbed our feet!) and talked about our experiences from the day. All in all, an unforgettable triumph for me. I am so glad I did it. And even though I kept saying yesterday, "Never again!", I find myself now thinking, "What if I actually trained? I could do the Marine Corps Historic Half, couldn't I?" Somebody, slap me!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)