Author Archives: Pat

Moving on…with your help, please

02 Tuesday Jan 2018

Posted by in Gratitude, Grief, Sabbatical, Transformation

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This Solowingnow blog has been an integral part of my expression of grief and the healing that is ongoing. I started it just over two years ago, which was then one year since my husband Kevin passed away. I got that familiar advice: don’t make any major decisions for at least a year.  So I waited, and then one year to the day I quit my job and started a personal sabbatical to figure out the rest of my life.

That year turned into two, and now I have decided to declare my sabbatical official over and done. It’s the start of a new year and it seems the perfect time for a(nother) fresh start.  I never quite got that Flash of the Blinding Obvious about what my passion is, what I should be doing with my life, but I am definitely moving on. I have figured out what my next thing is, for now, which is to continue Solowingnow in some form, in addition to co-sponsoring an Author’Academy to learn and share what I am learning about writing, publishing, and selling myself as an author. An Information Meeting will be held next week, with the first of 8 classes to start in February.

Your support and encouragement has been amazing, and I am grateful for that. I think it must be a divine sign of some kind when what you do to help yourself ends up helping others. This blog was (is) my outlet for processing my grief, as well as saying out loud  my reflections on the changes going on in me and around my life . For example, it turns out that I had past, unresolved grief that needed to be dealt with, too, and I appreciate how fortunate  I am to have had this time to do that. I have learned a lot about who I am, why I am the way I am, what my default reactions tend to be, how to feel my feelings and let them go. Most of all, I have let go of the pieces of the old me and my old life, and I have opened myself up to the new me and the new normal.

With that in mind, I am asking for a favor, which is for you to help me figure out how else I might better help you.

Please take this short 2-minute survey to give me your ideas. Click here.  I will leave it open for one week, and on January 9 I will compile responses. Shortly after that, I will post my plans.

Thanks so much!

 

Yes? No? Maybe?!!

14 Thursday Dec 2017

Posted by in Dreaming, Grief, Sabbatical, Traditions, Transformation

≈ 1 Comment

It MUST be true, since it is my own experience that not every “yes” is a good answer, and not every “no” is a bad answer. Tyes_no_maybe_white_dice_1600_clr_2630his  post is about the past month, during which I found myself distracted by opportunities, reminded by anniversaries, and presented with new partners. In the end, doors and windows keep opening  while I’ve been busy closing others.

When I left my job two years ago, it was my intent to take one year off of work to figure out what the rest of my life was going to be about. I didn’t know if it would really take a year, but that is what I thought I could afford..in terms of money but also in terms of social acceptability and self image. Ha! It actually took me two years but the doubts are now just fleeting thoughts. I’m ready to step off of the edge of this cliff and make some changes.

The month of November was the watershed. I had been wishy-washy about so many things over the past two years, trying to be open to new ideas, giving lip service to resistance about staying in my same old lane, yet keeping that safety net in place to the point it became my default Easy button. I dipped my toes in the water all summer long about going in a new direction, and now I’m jumping all in.  The “funny” thing is that my decision is finally the culmination of what I even said I would do two years ago but apparently was not committed to, writing a book about my grief experience.  I say “funny” because I have not felt much like laughing; in fact, have done a lot of crying and whining and wallowing and avoiding. This blog was my way of testing the idea.

So why now? Well, November is, first of all, the anniversary of when Kevin died. It’s also when his birthday was. His death created  an opening for me to once and for all give up the obligatory life I had been living (by choice, I admit freely), and live my bliss, so to speak. But I had no idea what that was. Or rather, I ignored the idea that I could really do what I had long fantasized about (at least subconsciously). That’s not the same to me as what I’m passionate about. I kind of hate that concept – find what you’re passionate about and do it! I was deceived into thinking it had to be ONE BIG THING that I was so ga-ga over that it was indisputable and very obvious what it was. But I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

Also, November brought me another crushing blow when my daughter was unable to carry out a pregnancy. It maybe sounds shameful because I have other grandchildren, but for some reason, this one grabbed hold of my heart in a way the others didn’t. I was considering – seriously considering – packing up and moving to the other coast to become the grandma I wasn’t yet. This loss also reinforced for me  (how many times do I need to be hit upside the head????) how fragile life is, what a short time we have on this Earth, and how imperative it is to do NOW whatever it is I can’t figure out I’m supposed to do. This was the first week of November.

Kevin died on November 23, but it was the Sunday before Thanksgiving. This year Sunday was the 19th, so I managed to now activate my sadness genes for an extra 4 days, and then keep the pity party going through his birthday on the 30th. By then Mercury went retrograde, making my life  shmush tightly until I burst out in anger, asking for some help to get clarity once and for all. Finally, I forced up some answers.

A woman I met more than year ago but whom I hadn’t followed through with on a book plan was open to meeting with me again. After a couple of meetings, I felt that it was time I took a risk and put myself out there for something different than the standard fare that is me. And she said yes! We are going to partner up on a project.

By now, you’re probably wondering what in the world I’m talking about? It’s books. Not just my book, although that is on the horizon. It’s how books get made, the road from writer to published author. I used to consider that among the things I kept with me from move to move to move were books on leadership and public speaking, so that must be my thing. What I failed to see is that I keep books, not just the leadership and speaking  kinds but all kinds of books: different genres, buying them here and there, giving them away as gifts, using my library card regularly.  I love to read. I love books. If I have a collection of anything, it’s books. Yes, I have a kindle, but I love the paper, the touch, the notes I make in the margins. All things books. I even know people who have written books. AND I had a conversation with another friend a while back about her idea to set up a publishing business with her sister.  Which is to say that all the dots have been floating around but I couldn’t connect them; until now.

I actually started writing my first book so long ago I can’t remember when, except that it was during the First Husband phase, which means probably 30-40 years ago. I only did two chapters but I still have it  tucked away. Written longhand on a legal pad of yellow paper. I have since had four articles printed in trade journals, the first back in 1988 or 1989, the most recent one this past summer. I’ve even been paid for some writing. So I’m already a writer aside from this blog, and legitimately published. But I want to know more. I want the peek behind the curtain. I want to explore the world of writing and publishing.

Today I was asked about what it is I do. Without forethought, I responded “I help people help themselves with their writing and public speaking.” And I finally felt like I knew who I was. It’s been a long time coming, this decision – or is it just an acknowledgement? I know now that this version of me has been here all along, just buried so far down under the roles of daughter, and mama, and wife..sister..friend..employee..

And wouldn’t you know it? I have been sitting on a chance to do more court work. A proposal is  due tomorrow if I want to bid on the work, but I just can’t get excited about it. The money would be okay but it’s not all that great, and there are a few other detracting elements, like having to travel regularly, getting a supplemental business license, and giving up my rights to the final work product.  It’s an opportunity I would have jumped on in the past, but now I realize that while it’s something I could do, it’s not something I want to do. I’ve just learned this, too: Every “yes” is a “no” to something else. (Kevin Kruse, www.15TimeSecrets.com.)  I’m saying no to that proposal.

So November came and went, bringing with it old reminders and new lessons. Mercury went retrograde and brought with it some shade. Distractions tested my resolve, but opportunities helped me get clear on what I DO want, not just what I don’t want. It’s taken me two years of pushing, but I finally figured that out. And the time it has taken to do all this figuring was the gift from the grief I endured so I could learn to let go of the past, craft a new normal, and open myself to receiving the next part of my amazing life.

I’ll end with photos of two  vision boards I made for myself nearly a year ago, with the goal of manifesting my future – the one I couldn’t see, that I struggled to find. I couldn’t even interpret these then, but I can see now how they were showing me a way. I made 7 boards in about a one-week span, and all I was looking to include were things that resonated with me, even if they didn’t quite make sense. It’s  now crystal clear. visionboard2visionboard

 

 

 

Opening myself up further

31 Tuesday Oct 2017

Posted by in Gratitude, Traditions, Transformation

≈ 2 Comments

I sometimes find it incredibly hard/difficult/challenging to acknowledge that I am enough. Just me. All by myself. I am enough. I am smart enough, kind enough, successful enough, generous enough, pretty enough, rich enough.   I have enough – money, time, education, resources, friendships, opportunities, things, ideas, food, work, love.  I do enough: volunteering, reading, resting, appreciating, cooking, talking, sharing, listening, thinking, cleaning, shopping, crying, laughing, learning.  So why do I keep trying so damn much to prove this to – of all people – myself??? It’s time to give myself a break; even I know that. So….

This past August I welcomed into my home a young Chinese woman who is here to work on her doctoral program at the local college.

Yawei halloween

Haloween decorating

Yawei is of the generation in China in which couples were only permitted to have one child, meaning she has lead the life of an only and somewhat spoiled girl in her small family.  She had never been to the United States before she came for school a few months ago. I have occasionally thought I was brave, but this woman is something else. Already I have learned much from her that I almost feel bad accepting the rent money!

Having her here has stopped me in my tracks to think about what I take for granted every day. I try to express gratitude daily, ever since I read somewhere this question: What if you woke up tomorrow and all you had was what you gave thanks for yesterday?  So anyway, I even had a gratitude challenge of sorts going on with my daughter for the past few months. Every day, we text each other 3 things we are grateful for. I try to stay away from just the material things, which  isn’t always easy.  Sometimes we mix it up and come  up with one thing we did well that day. That’s one way to remind ourselves that we are enough.  It’s similar to something else I read about recently called “praise work.” It has to do with when we seek approval outside ourselves, from others, which can border on neediness or co-dependency in the extreme.  If you Google “Praise work” it’s likely you’ll get results about praising others (especially employees), so why I haven’t heard of this or thought of it like this is just one more thing I am behind the times on, apparently.

Anyway, I am constantly reminded of how many things are great about my life, my house, my friends, my dogs, my community, my family, my country.  Yawei is like a child in some ways, full of  questions and unfiltered comments.  She is an industrious woman. She cooks all of her meals and takes them with her to school, meaning sometimes it’s late at night or early in the morning when she is clanging pots or the microwave is beeping. She is wide open to trying vegetables she has not seen before and can’t pronounce the names of.  Yawei cookingShe has been to every grocery store around to check out what each has to offer. She goes to the Outlet Mall several times a week. And she is diligent about her classes and homework, spending longs days at the college and signing up for tutors and taking recommended (but not required) English classes.

And she is learning about living with me, too. I recently had the opportunity to show her how I want the stove cleaned when she is done. Have you ever thought of how you explain something that seems so routine to you? Explaining why a shower needs to be cleaned when she says she  only uses clean water to wash with, or that scented aerosol spray doesn’t sanitize the toilet bowl, or that rugs can be “cleaned” by  shaking them out  or washing them. These  are just some of the things I have talked to her about.  Showing her what she does that is “teasing” to the dogs is another example of something I struggled with at first. Luckily, I didn’t have to teach her to drive but I have had to ask her to move her car that is parked too far into the road or in the middle of the driveway.

I am still at the laughing stage, as in “really?!??”  Sometimes it feels like I’m playing Scrabble and can’t come up with the right word because a letter is missing. I know she has good intentions and simply has not had to do these things before now. I love how open she is to learning, though, and it reminds me that I don’t know everything either. I imagine I would be in the same position if I were going to school in China and living with someone whose habits I did not understand.

About the time I wonder if I’m being played by her, I will hear her shout from upstairs, thanking me because the house looks so new and clean, and exclaiming how lucky she is to live here, and that she loves me…. I stop right in my thought and give thanks for her innocence and this chance for a do-over of sorts. A chance for me to let go of feelings of inadequacy, or of loneliness, or being taken advantage of. I am reminded that I have been given a place of honor to teach her what life is like in the USA that is not what you see on F-R-I-E-N-D-S on tv (which is where she learned her American “slanguage”). Whatever she tells her friends back in China will largely depend on what I have represented to her.

She has taught me to use chopsticks (I need more lessons), and to eat more vegetables, and to limit my sugar intake. She is a lesson in counting my blessings. She is an example of how joyful life is, and it’s not just limited to youth. She is curious, quirky, and competent at 27, a time when I was already a mother of 3 and acting all responsible all the time. It’s pretty cool that she is here to help me remember to be curious, quirky and competent today as well. We have a lot in common being two women on our own. Her life has changed dramatically in the past few months, as has mine in the past couple of years, and I daresay she is ahead of me in a few ways in accepting the changes and courting a positive future. poster (1)

It’s is freeing to open myself up as much as I have opened my home up, to let the love in, to share my day, to give of my blessings. I am so grateful for this opportunity, this detour from the plateau I had found myself on.  I have this sign on my desk, and it’s so spot on!

Feelings, oh, oh, oh, feelings!

25 Wednesday Oct 2017

Posted by in Grief, Transformation

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This is a post about feelings and trusting my intuition. I give a few examples of not listening to myself, both in a personal situation with dog grooming yesterday and a business experience that still isn’t totally resolved. It all has a happy ending, though! 😉

I’m sitting here trying to type in that hunt-and-peck way, with one hand, and mostly one finger.  Sasha is on my lap and just does not want to get off of me. Yesterday was a bit traumatic for her…and me, too. It was grooming day for her and Harley. She has been quite needy since I picked her up from the groomer. Harley did just fine and has remained his usual self. But that cut is horrible. There is no other good way to say it.  And unfortunately, that goes for both of them.  The good news is that it has been a learning experience for me. I not only immediately started to trust my own non-tested clipping skills, but I know that I have grown and refined my ways of handling stress in a more productive way lately, which I am proud of.

Grooming 101 and 102 and 201.

I have combed Sasha almost every single night since I got her.  I have bathed her, cleaned her ears, clipped her nails. The vet clipped  a few  nails also when I took her in for shots 2 weeks ago. I have scissors-trimmed her eyes and tail area. It was the back and tummy I was worried about cutting or shaving, so I didn’t.  Harley has longer, silky, thin (sparse) hair, so I guessed a clippers was not the way to go with him, but scissors on his skinny legs intimidated me. I scoured Pinterest for pictures of cute Yorkie cuts and made up my mind what I wanted.  I thought the groomer could do that better than I could myself, but Geez-Louise, uneven, choppy cuts must be her specialty. Poor Harley; it will grow back, I promise!

Harley behaved just fine for the groomer, but Sasha apparently did not like her. Truth be told, neither did I – like her, I mean. I should have trusted myself  more. It’s highly unusual for me to make a snap judgment, but I had a feeling when I first talked to her on the phone, which became stronger when I met her yesterday and was solidified when she called me to pick them up. This must be my intuition at work, and I suppose I deserve what I got for not listening to it. It’s not fair to the dogs, though. Good thing they don’t have mirrors in their kennels!

Now, to be fair, when I got Sasha, I was told to expect possessive behavior from her, especially related to her toys. That has not been my experience with her at all. Not with me, Bo, Harley, or my friend Jackie and her dogs, or the neighbors we meet on the street. Once when she  escaped my fenced back, she was easily picked up and brought home without incident. So for the groomer to tell me a story of a somewhat mean dog who tried to bite her, well, I was very surprised.  Don’t worry, Sasha; Mama will figure out a way to clean it up for you.

Intuition at work

So back to my intuition. I heard it said a long time ago (I think it was Wayne Dyer, the motivational speaker) that prayer is you talking to God, and intuition is God talking to you. I have always wanted for the messages to be crystal clear – like a true “calling,” as when the phone rings  and there is a definite voice to be heard! But now I am finally recognizing my intuition for what it is, those sixth-sense feelings. Too bad it’s in retrospect, but I’m learning.

Feelings Run Amuck

A similar thing happened to me in quasi-work scenario recently. I volunteer for a local non-profit, membership-based organization. I have heard stories of the “leaders,” which I have discounted as gossip because that hasn’t been my own experience. But again, I ignored my intuition when I got a sour taste about a process being used for converting to a new way of doing business. I thought I could rise above the grumbling and do my own thing my way. Once, and I chalked it up to his having a bad day. Second time, I felt disrespected and said so. The response was that I was “curt” and should have tried harder. Third time, I was downright offended so called him on it and reported it. The response was I was being a tattle-tale! Do you believe this?!? Are we in junior high school??? But then, it still wasn’t over. Now the “leader” called to chew me out for “not staying in my lane.” Never mind that I had double checked, and I did exactly what I was supposed to do, so clearly she was trying to cover her tracks.  I started to get defensive, and anger kicked in, and then I almost gave it up for a minute. This was the apparent culture of the organization, and we all know how hard it is to change culture. But just because it’s hard doesn’t mean it’s impossible.  I reminded myself that I was entitled to have my feelings (something I have learned through my grief process) and to express those feelings (something else I learned in my grief). And I also reminded myself that I have a lot of proven experience in turning around a bad situation.

Bad Leadership??

One of my business philosophies is this: There is no such thing as bad leadership. If it’s bad, it’s not leadership. Now I have finished this statement: It’s bad actors. Yes, I was dealing with a handful of bad actors, and I did not want to be in business with them. So I firmly told the director that I was not going to attend a meeting I was scheduled for. She hung up on me (proof of bad actor, right?).  I was then overwhelmed with all kinds of feelings (disbelief, disappointment, frustration, anger, self-doubt). So I did what any self-respecting woman would do; I vented to two other women, both of whom I highly respect and who know all the actors involved, good and bad. I wanted perspective in case I was being blind to my own piece of this bad-getting-worse situation. (They sided with me, in case you’re wondering.) (And yes, I also went shopping and got a really cute tea table for only $27!)

Personal Philosophy on Life

So in the midst of this, I thought about resigning entirely. But I have another philosophy that came into play here. This comes from Neale Donald Walsh, author of the Conversations with God series of books. He says, The only reason to do anything is as an expression of who you are. I believe in the organization and am committed to its purpose. I believe in the project I am working  on. The person who would be hurt if I walked away would be me. Who I am  (who I want to be known as) is a dedicated, honest person contributing to the improvement of communication and leadership in the world. This means I potentially have an opportunity to help the bad actor(s) improve as well. So I decided to wait it out a little longer.

Early the next morning,  the main bad actor called me with an apology. Which she unfortunately messed up with excuses. But at least she was trying, somehow, in her way. I felt a little vindicated, and I also felt sorry for her, wondering if I had ever done the same when I didn’t know better (and asking the Universe for forgiveness because it’s probable I have). I thanked her for calling, although I did not offer to rescind my objection and attend the meeting, which made me feel proud of myself. (You can teach someone how to treat you, and you can also teach them how not to treat you.)

I felt a bit hesitant, but I offered a healing balm, in the hopes that I could help her. I suggested she was trying to do too much herself, which was stressing her out, and that over-managing or trying to control this issue was something she would better off delegating. This way she wasn’t running herself ragged, and she could teach the others who had their fingers in this mess, a better way. She didn’t immediately accept that notion, but a half hour later, I got an email from someone else asking for a conference call to discuss this issue. At that point, my feelings were calm again, no longer unsettled and tense. How this plays out completely is yet to be seen.

When all is said and done…

It’s been crazy to feel so many feelings lately. A friend said it was due to a strong geomagnetic storm among the planets that has my energy scattered, which it may be. That doesn’t explain the lopsided look of my poor dogs, but by tomorrow, these stars should be back in alignment, and then I may attempt a corrective trim myself. How much worse could it get, right?

Feeling my feelings, letting them surface instead of trying to stuff them, acknowledging them, and airing them out, has been healing. I get stronger when I release them and make room for more sunshine and rainbows and doggie cuddles. I just hope it doesn’t take me as long to edit this post as it did to type it! Sasha is still comfy in my lap.

 

And life goes on…

12 Thursday Oct 2017

Posted by in Gratitude, Grief, Transformation

≈ 2 Comments

How can it be that nearly another month has gone by since my last post? I have all the best intentions to post regularly, but things just get in the way. My writing falls by the wayside, which is unfortunate because I really enjoy and otherwise feel the benefit of being productive and contributory somehow. Naturally (ha!), I have some good reasons this time for the days between posts here.

Pack Animals

Some interesting changes have taken place in my life…which means I have changed as I navigate the transition time from of an “event” until I find the “new normal.”  As you know, I’ve been grieving the death of my 13-year-old beagle Buddy last June. More difficult than my own sense of loss has been watching the effect on my other fur-baby, Bo. He went into a doggie depression, not wanting to get off the bed or the couch, not wanting to even be near me, reducing his food intake, and showing a general lackluster attitude. It is so painful to watch this and feel helpless. It was like watching him slip away even though he was still right here. I scrambled to try several different ways to help him bounce back – and I should have known from my own experience that you can’t make anyone (even a dog) feel and express and “finish” their grieving and mourning. Treats, toys, walks, cuddles, petting, indulging.  I even tried to find another beagle to bring into our home, but strangely enough, all three of those attempts failed for one reason or another: someone else adopted the dog already, I felt no connection, the dog had health ISSUES I didn’t want to deal with, whatever….

Chloe a.k.a. Sasha

And then I got a call from a rescue operation I had put in an adoption application with about a young (2 year old) female Morkie who was available. As cute and playful as she was (is), she wasn’t going to be placed with a family with young children because she had shown some “aggression” tendencies when her toys were taken away from her. My first thought was, “why do you have to take her toys away?” But of course, children would. I said I would consider it. It happened that the current foster parents  had a death out of town and needed to leave, so would I be willing to foster her, introduce her to Bo, and see how she worked out in our own home…a trial run of sorts. And so Chloe (now Sasha) came to stay for a few days that turned into a week and now is permanent.

Bo

Bo wasn’t enamored, to say the least, but he didn’t act out either. Basically, he ignored her, even when she tried to engage him in play time. Ah, indifference; it’s as hard to observe as outright dislike or rejection. Sasha is a lap dog and loves to cuddle and kiss. A few nights after she was here, she jumped off my lap to go slurp some water. Like a flash, Bo was off the couch and onto my lap, where he has not EVER sat in 11 years, and he staked his claim for a full 45 minutes.  As if she had planned it and was now going to bask in her success, Sasha just went and laid on her blanket without protest. Bo hasn’t come back to sit on my lap again, so I guess he feels like he made his point and is okay with things now. They actually walk together quite companionably, but otherwise they mostly ignore each other in some kind of truce.

Well, I love having this little girl to bathe and fluff and comb out. (Beagles get bathed, but there is absolutely no grooming to be had.)  I bought her a few dresses and a new harness.  (Yes, Bo got a new harness and leash just because, too.) A new crate, a booster seat for her in the car, a few new toys. It felt so good to open myself up both as giver and receiver. Truth: I could do without all the licking of my hands and cheeks but we’re all  learning to live together in harmony.

Rascal a.k.a. Harley

Two weeks went by. Barely. Somehow between September 12 and 22, I agreed to foster another dog, a refugee as a result of  the Florida hurricanes. Transport was delayed, but on September 30, I finally greeted Rascal (now Harley) and offered him a safe haven until a new home could be arranged.  Can you say FOSTER FAILURE?? Yes, that would be me! A 12-year old, toothless, partially blind Yorkie stole a piece of my heart and wouldn’t give it back.  Today I signed the adoption agreement so we can be his furever home.

Three is a bit much sometimes, I’ll admit. The good news is that he shows enough spunk to deflect Sasha’s occasional attempts to spark some  interest out of Bo, and Bo has decided to step up and help me train these other two by showing off how to “sit” and to “come,” and to go potty outside.  I have made sure to let them all know Bo is still First Dog (even though I am the Alpha) by feeding him first, harnessing him up first when we get ready for a walk, and letting him be the one to sleep in bed with Mama. He seems to appreciate that, and he shows me so by looking to me for “good boy” signals and not fussing around the little ones when they get too close. His appetite has returned, as has his interest in what’s going on around him. The additional benefit is that I, too, have found more opportunities to laugh, to exercise, to engage with my neighbors when they see the Crazy Dog Lady coming, and to relax and enjoy the moments.

I was raised to be a wife and mother, and my last boy baby has been gone from home for 14 years. Next month it will be 3 years since Kevin died. I don’t mind “Solowingnow” these days; it fits me quite well.  But it also fits me to share my heart and my home again.

Yawei

But wait – there’s more!! Yes, folks, that’s right! In addition to the two new fur babies, 20171007_145127.jpgI have also opened my life up to a 27-year-old Chinese woman who is studying for her Ph.D. at the local University. Her name is Yawei, and I’ll introduce you to her in a future post. Let’s just say for now that I’m seeing some sides of me that have been dormant for too long. It is amazing to me the things  I have said yes to, even when I have been adamant about saying no more often.

What it all means:

My loss three years ago when Kevin died has uncovered other unfinished grief that I am now embracing. My doubts about my future have slowly vanished as I’ve identified and focused on the priorities in my life. Recognizing that I have options and making deliberate choices has become more than an academic exercise of making lists of pros and cons; there is a knowing-in-my-heart confidence that has come from taking time to make meaning, not just take things at face value or be superficial in the effort so I can “just” move on with my life. My discomfort with not having answers all the time has given way to the fun and excitement of discovery – like opening a gift that turns out to be a part of me I had forgotten. The level of understanding I have about how I got the way I am, who I am when I’m alone, what’s truly more and most important, is all a fascinating journey. I feel myself being more generous, more focused, more satisfied because the Me I am is more whole now. The dues I have paid to get to this place have been extraordinarily, outrageously high, and I am grateful to my Higher Power that I recognize myself now.

So, yes, life goes on.  I’m living proof.

 

So, you’re single again??

19 Tuesday Sep 2017

Posted by in Grief, Traditions, Transformation

≈ 2 Comments

No, as a matter of fact, I am not. I probably shouldn’t be offended, but I am, a little.  To most people there are two statuses: single or married. Divorced and widowed each connote the lack of a spouse, but that doesn’t have to mean one is single. In fact, when I was divorced, I had three children at home, ages 7-15, and the youngest was still at home (age 17) when I remarried. Sure, I dated in those 10 years, but I was only unmarried, not single. No one with children at home is single, IMHO. I was most definitely in a relationship with them, and if you don’t know, raising teenagers is a time consuming and highly prioritized activity, not to mention financially challenging. I did it willingly then, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but really? No, I was most definitely NOT single.

My actual singlehood up until now was short-lived and lacking in experience. I graduated high school at the end of May of 1976, and was off to US Army Basic Training in early August that same year. Uncle Sam took over where my parents left off. But even if you consider that I was unattached and otherwise available for a romantic relationship, by February of 1977 I was pregnant, and in April I was married.

So marriage #1, three babies, divorce, parenting, and then remarriage in 2002 until his death in 2014. It’s only the past almost-3 years I would consider myself single again, although I still have those 3 kids and a handful of grandchildren. And the dogs. It’s been 41 years since I was so footloose and fancy-free.

But an interesting lunch conversation today with someone who I had not met before had me even rethinking that. She asked me about my life these days, and there was I was again, tearing up over my salad. Two years and 10 months, and I’m still prone to crying. Here’s the thing she said, though, that made so much sense to me. She said that I was still in a relationship with my husband. Which is completely right; I am. I talk to him all the time. I feel his presence every now and then, sometimes stronger than others. I’m mostly okay about this, but I do have times when I very much miss him being physically present, and it is those times when I get angry at him.

You might remember when I couldn’t get the BBQ grill hooked up because the valve was overtightened. Well, a similar thing happened last Saturday, and I’m still feeling these feelings. I decided rather spontaneously (yay, Me!) to go camping. I made a reservation, started packing, made arrangements for mail pickup, watered the house plants, and headed off to the hitch up the camper.  But no-can-do. No power on the tongue jack to raise the camper to set it on the ball hitch. I assumed it was a battery issue, even though I had connected the electrical cord to the car. I left the car run for about 15 minutes, thinking I would at least get a flicker of juice. Nada. So plan A didn’t work; I was on to Plan B: You Tube it. I learned where the manual override was, and I tried that. Except I didn’t have the physical strength (nor the desire) to do this up, down (to hook it up), then up, down (at the campground), then up, down (hook it up to come home), and up, down to store it again at the RV lot. And I wasn’t even sure it was the battery that was the problem.

Plan C was to catch one of my neighbors (the male kind) to verify it was a battery issue and help me figure out if I should replace the battery. Neither one I would be comfortable asking were home. So Plan D was a call to a local friend to see if I could borrow her husband, but I got voicemail. On to Plan E, call my brother and cry. Usually when we talk and I have a problem, I tell him he is not supposed to fix my problem; he is supposed to agree with and commiserate with me. This time in between tears, I asked for advice. But as we got started talking, friend with husband called back, so I hung up on my brother and called the husband, who willingly agreed to come over. Then I called back my brother to tell him I thought I had a work-around for now. He gave me a few options to consider, including going to his shed to get another battery. The problem with that is he lives about 1200 miles away, give or take a few hundred miles.

Tom came over, he zippity-do-dah twirled the manual override thingy, and I was hooked up in a few minutes. By which time the damn electric tongue jack was powered up..enough!  He agreed it was probably battery issue, and since I have a battery charger, suggested I bring it along on my trip and hook up the battery before I prepare to leave again to go home. 

Once he left, I cried again, mad that I couldn’t do it myself, and therefore must be weak and inadequate and incompetent, and mad that Kevin wasn’t here to take care of this. If he was here, the battery probably would have been already in the garage being trickle-charged until needed anyway, thus avoiding this kind of problem in the first place.

So yes, when I was describing this scenario to Marilen today, and she said I was still in a relationship with Kevin, she was absolutely right. Do you ever feel that way? I guess that’s why “breaking up is hard to do.” At least then the person is probably still around somewhere so you can choose to call him or not when the car dies and you need it pushed off the street or have a flat tire (yes, been there, done that with ex-husband; now I am a AAA member).

The reality is that I may have been standing alone in the RV lot for a while, fuming while watching the guy on You Tube show me where the manual override was), but I did have neighbors I was willing to ask if they had been home, I have a friend whose husband was willing to help, I have a brother who was only a phone call away, and I have a friend who met me at the campground to set up the camper in case the jack (and/or battery) failed again. We are only as alone as we want to be, and only as unmarried as we feel. I may have wanted someone else to be all those people at once, but he’s not of the physical world any longer. And I suppose I could have asked him to use his energy to power that battery for me so I could just hit the retract/extract switch on the jack, but I didn’t think of that. That he maybe could have done. Even if I did not know anyone else to ask, there are people I could have asked that I just didn’t know yet.

Bottom line, I’m Solowingnow….solo, widowed, single, all mixed up, for now. I’m actually okay with that status; I wish it was an official option on government forms. And when it stops raining, I’m going to disconnect the battery and put it on the charger for a while….

3 Little Words

21 Monday Aug 2017

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Of course, you know I love you.  That’s what we expect to hear when someone hints at “3 little words.” Usually we want someone else to say those words to us. Or we say them to someone else.  But what about saying it to yourself? I’m trying to do that every day, by way of coming up with one thing I’ve done well today.  Here are some more that have been on my mind.

License and registration.  (That one because I was driving past the State Police HQ when I was thinking of sentences with only 3 little words. Really! It’s been years since those words were said to me.)

I am enough.  (I have been telling this to myself quite often lately. When I don’t have any paying work lined up, it helps to remind myself that I get to make up my own rules about work and naps and expectations and all that jazz.)

Can I help? (Good enough, but if I were doing 4 words, it would read How can I help? When I need to feel useful, or when I see someone in need, although I have to be careful to avoid going from helping to interfering.  Listening is actually a skill and one that is often overlooked. I’m trying to do more of it.)

Yes, you can. (Accepting help is sometimes hard for me. And it also works when supporting others and helping them give themselves permission for whatever.)

I like it! (Another way to approve of myself, to reinforce that I have made a good decision or that my opinion counts.)

You showed courage. (When I don’t have another response to someone else’s openness and honesty, or when I need to bolster my own self esteem.)

That looks good. (A way to build my confidence when I’ve already managed to knock myself about my weight, or a troublesome haircut, or a new recipe, or any number of things.)

I am enough. (Worth repeating multiple times. When I feel insecure, when I think I am lacking something, when I feel like someone bought into my b.s. and I am a fraud and they will find out.)

Home, sweet home. (When I have to make another mortgage payment and funds are getting low so I’m thinking I should consider downsizing. Or it looks like a water stain on the ceiling that could mean a leak somewhere, and I let my imagination go wild about the cost when I’m not yet even sure of the cause. I have to live somewhere, so why not here in this lovely house that I have worked hard to make a home.)

Thank you, God … or Thank you, Whoever.  (It’s not just a common courtesy expression. I mean for it to be an expression of true gratitude. Sometimes it comes out “Oh, my God!” I used to only thank God for the BIG things that happened, or didn’t happen. But I heard someone ask “what if you woke up tomorrow with only the things you thanked God for last night?” So now I am thankful for much much much more! And it seems to help me be positive, calm, and more sure that I will continue to receive because I have already received and am receiving, all the time.)

WTF or WTH??!?  (‘Nuff said about that. Usually means I’m not focusing.)

Just do it.  (When I am floundering, wavering, scared. Often followed with, “What’s the worst that could happen?)  (The corollary is Just say No! which I use when I’m feeling overwhelmed, or when I want to be free and lazy and unencumbered and I just don’t want to. It turns out that “No” is a complete sentence. You don’t even need to give an explanation if you don’t want to.)

Work in Progress.  (That’s me in a nutshell. I remind myself of this every single day. I even wrote it on a few Post-It notes and stuck them around the house so I can see it as well as hear it.)

And finally: Bless your heart!  (A common phrase here in the South, and it means just what you think it does. When it is said like Bless your little ol’ heart, that means the same thing but more of it.  In Minnesota, we might say: Well, that’s interesting! It’s noncommittal, but it carries a lot of intention, especially when accompanied by rolling one’s eyes.)

Three-syllable words, sentences with more than three words, paragraphs with more than three sentences…yeah, I’m trying to simplify my life right now, so I’m working on little-izing instead of supersizing. Do you have any particular 3-little-words you want to share? I bet it would be fun and maybe useful to know yours.

 

 

The best day!

08 Tuesday Aug 2017

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When is the last time you had one of those days, the kind where After All That’s Happened, you had a simply peaceful, just-right, nothing-is-going-to-stop-me-from-feeing-this-good kind of day?  It’s like having a sore muscle or pinched nerve relieved with a massage, and now you can’t remember what the discomfort was like. It feels that right. It’s a bit of a it’s-finally-coming-together kind of day.

Today is one of those days for me, just simply fabulous. The funny thing is, there is nothing exotic about it except for its fabulousness. It’s not even 3:00 in the afternoon yet, but let me tell you about it.

I was awakened by the sound of the Recycling Co. truck in the distance, so I hurried to get my bin out to the curb. You just never know what time of day they are coming by, and it had rained hard off and on yesterday, so I kind of forgot about it last night.  But out I went, in my pajamas, which is really a light pink, sleeveless shorty nightgown. Mission accomplished with no neighbors outside – although for all I know they were peeking out their windows and waiting for me, since I seem to usually be the last one on the street to get my bins out there.

I felt a little bit of guilty pleasure for my pj escapade, and when I got back in the house, I did check quick and see if I had on dark underwear that might have shown through, but I was safe.  It was so beautiful out, though. I wanted to stay out and enjoy more of it.  Alas,  the cushions on my deck chairs were soaked from yesterday’s rain. One of these days I have GOT to get covers or one of those Rubbermaid chest things to keep them in.

So I made my coffee and sat in the living room with the back door open. It smelled earthy and fresh and promising somehow, like a secret waiting to be told. The birds were chatting about it, probably commenting to each other how all the flowers and bushes and plants were so perky this morning. The light breeze not only felt like breath on my shoulders, but the deck flag floated back and forth, like it was a Royal giving a wave. It was just so perfect in that moment.

I realized that Something Was Happening. In me.  I was totally free. For no reason except that I wasn’t just seeing some distant silver lining, it was within reach and inviting me to touch it.  That fleeting feeling stayed with me, though, and became a long minute, and then it was several minutes.  I actually checked the clock to see if time was standing still for me, but it wasn’t. Nothing out-of-body going on, just that for once I was truly In The Moment. And it was amazing.

I started wondering: how does this happen? Why wasn’t there a notice of this upcoming special day? If I had been given an opportunity get ready, would I have done so? Where do I put in my order for another such day? And when I did that, when I got into my analytic mode, I could literally sense it slipping away. So I stopped. Just like that. I stopped asking anything, and I just reveled in the perfectness. It was a few minutes after 9, and the lightness has stayed with me all day. I feel open, and happy. It’s inexplicable. And fabulous!!

I’ve heard it said that when something like this  happens – and this was really really good  for me – people tend to say that that they are in the heart of God at that moment. I think, though, that God was in the heart of me. I was in Ray Steven’s old song, everything is beautiful in it’s own way.  I have been given a gift today.

I remember one Sunday afternoon  when Kevin and I were motorcycle riding in South Dakota; we were out by the Oahe Dam. There were some darkening clouds in the West but we thought we had time yet to make a quick run up to the bluffs past the overflow thing.  I was in the lead, and as I came up the hill and took the last curve to the West, it was like a door to the world had opened up in a movie scene.  I had to pull over because the awesomeness of it, the raw natural beauty, was overwhelming. I felt my soul filling up and I was totally in the moment. Kevin pulled up beside me and we both just took it all in. The only words spoken were when  he said  “My God,” and it was a prayer.  I was totally connected to him in that moment as well.  We were both dressed in full leathers, but trust me, that was one of the most intimate moments we ever shared.

This morning was almost like that. I wasn’t meditating, I hadn’t been drinking, I had no particular musical or other inspiration.  But it was a perfect moment. I’d like to think I’ve had many of these kinds of perfect moments, and now that I’m giving my memory a workout, a few others are coming to mind, once in Germany, that afternoon  in Indianapolis, several in Santa Fe, outside Charlottesville; yes, I’ve know I’ve been blessed. In over 21,500 days of my lifetime, I must have had many more I just don’t recall. I can’t make up for lost time, but I can and will start paying better attention.

Please tell me about your perfect (or near-perfect, or even just-pretty-damn-good) moments. I’d love to hear them. I think that by sharing them, we can spread a little more joy and prime ourselves to find more of them.

It’s about 4 pm now, and I have probably 6-8 more hours of this fabulous day left to me. I wonder what’s next!

 

 

 

Reprioritizing the busy work

02 Wednesday Aug 2017

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It seems that no matter how much I try to streamline my life and keep things simple, I somehow find myself practically meeting myself in the driveway just coming and going.  It’s not that life is hard but that there seems to be a lot going on. For a semi-retired woman who is not working a lot, I surprise myself with how little I am home.

Today I was supposed to start training to become a tutor for Literacy for Life. I have been thinking about  volunteering, and since I love to read, I thought that helping others learn to read would be a good thing. I signed up months ago, and finally today at 1:00 the training would start. So at 8:30 a.m. I notified the coordinator that I was postponing my involvement for a while. I felt bad, but the weight of the idea of doing it was too heavy. The program wants a commitment of 1 hour a week for 1 year. That doesn’t include travel time, preparation time, reading, paperwork, phone calls, or anything else. I know a few people who are saying Yes to everything; I’m learning how to say No.

In fact, I belong to three professional organizations right now, and a fourth if I pay my dues which are overdue. One of these is Toastmasters, which I have been a member of since 1990. I just completed a one-year term as president of my club on June 30. I figured that was good timing for me to accept an invitation to become Membership Chair of the Virginia Chapter of the National Speakers Association. I didn’t know at the time, though, that Toastmasters would be rolling out its new Pathways educational program and would be needing “guides” for about 6-9 months. Guess who applied to be a guide? Yeppers, that would be me. And of course, I’m still Immediate Past President of my club, which keeps me on the board for one more year.

Then there are the networking and business-building groups I have joined.  Solopreneur Success Connection, my bank’s Power Women group, and e-Women Networking (which has been inactive but now has a new director, so maybe something will happen) are three women-centric organizations. I am stalling about joining the Peninsula Women’s Network.  There is also the Unread Book Club I just went to for the first time. As it sounds, you don’t read the (business-related) book unless you are the one who is doing the “report” for the month to tell the others about it and make a recommendation yea/nay for others to consider reading.  Umm, yeah, I agreed to do the September book. (Sounds fun, though, doesn’t it?!?)  And then there is the Cobbler’s Collective, a local group of diverse small business owners who get together every Thursday morning to talk about issues they are facing and to seek or share some perspective or ideas or help.

And let’s not forget the personal groups or events that I want to make time for: my neighborhood ladies go to lunch once a month, but that is going to conflict with the once-a-month Unread Book Club. So we’ll see…  And I play Bunco once a month in my neighborhood. I have recently been invited to join a group of other semi-retired folks who fell into consulting work and have coffee downtown almost every morning at 8:00 a.m. Yeah, I have only been to one of those so far.

It’s time to evaluate my priorities again, or I won’t have any time left for afternoon naps,  lazy morning phone calls with distant friends,  long lunches at a new restaurant, bargain hunting at the Habitat ReStore, camping during the week, reading, and organizing and reorganization and other sprucing up that keeps my house my home. Never mind things like getting the oil changed in the car, getting the annual state vehicle inspection done (both due now!), balancing my checkbook, walking the dog, getting groceries, etc.

Most importantly, though (get ready – it’s a cliff hanger!), I have recently made a commitment to myself to engage in some serious personal development. In May I joined Al Anon and have been attending meetings about twice a week, albeit somewhat irregularly until now due to travel. In July I also joined Adult Children of Alcoholics, and that also is twice a week right now, but will drop to once a week maybe after a particular “introduction” program I’m doing. I’m tired of feeling unsettled and unsure, believe it or not. Dysfunction is dysfunction, regardless of how or why it originated, and I’m ready to find answers to questions I don’t even know how to ask. You can expect to hear more about my continuing transformation as time goes on.

Something’s gotta give, as they say.  I don’t know yet how it will play out, but changes are a’comin’.  And since I’m a believer in “physical clutter office closetmakes for mental clutter,” today I invested about 5 hours in retrofitting the closet in my office and rearranging a few other things so I’ll have clean space in which to do the workbooks and other assignments, which ultimately should help my revenue-generating work as well. And yes, I still do some work for pay.  I have a 90 minute workshop coming up next month, among other things….lots of other things, as you can tell.

Til next time, I’m enjoying the new look of my office, basking in the security of knowing I made a good decision, and giving myself a pat on the back for the hard labor of moving and lifting and schlepping things around and around this afternoon.

deskOh, yeah, and if any of my kids read this, please let the grandkids know that Grandma is interested in some artwork for the wall in her office now that I can actually see the wall!  Nikos’ painting looks a little lonely all by itself…

 

Brave Woman is back!

21 Friday Jul 2017

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It’s July and I haven’t had the camper out yet except to clean her last weekend. That’s about to change as I get ready to head to the Eastern Shore and see “the ponies swim” at Assateague and Chincoteague. Wild horses are moved from one to the other island, I guess similar to how the buffalo roundup is done in the Black Hills of South Dakota. So I’m going to go watch. We will miss our Buddy.

From last camper

Except for possible extreme heat and humidity (it is July, after all), it should be a good time. Oh, and bugs. I’m told it is a haven for skeeters and other such annoyances.  Not to worry –  I have 40-proof DEET.

What I like most about camping can’t be narrowed down much, but here is my Top 5 List.

1. The very idea of camping, in the woods or near the water, conjures up images of relaxing and slowing down. It’s a break from the psychological pressure (self-imposed) to do the laundry that is waiting, or mop the dirty floor, or pull weeds, or pay bills, or vacuum up dog hair that is ALWAYS in the back of mind a home. I have NEVER vacuumed dog hair while camping, I’m happy to report. And mopping is limited to once a year – when opening for the season.

2. Getting back to nature. For some reason, I almost get in those elusive 10,000 daily steps when I’m camping. I walk at least 2-3 times a day. I usually take the dogs twice, and then I gift myself one solo walk where I don’t have to worry about ticks hitchhiking or piggybacking on my boys, or other dogs to tease and bark at. I breathe deeply and just let my mind wander. And I see such amazing sights. Water, wildlife, wildflowers, secret paths, and history leaving its mark someway, somehow. Wide open spaces. Ah, the vistas and views.

3.  Food cooked over a fire…even though I admit I enjoyed that more when Kevin did the cooking. Now I tend to use the stove inside  more than I ever did before. But food tastes more succulent, more flavorful, more natural. I don’t overeat, and except for trail mix when playing a board game maybe, I eat only when I’m hungry. It’s a great connector to meet the neighbors, too. No one is shy about saying that something smells good, and the conversation just takes off from there.  My favorite – which I haven’t had since SD days – was oven baked oatmeal for breakfast, which Kevin would fix in a special Dutch oven he got just for me and my oatmeal. (He wasn’t a fan.)

4. Memories are made here. I remember Don making margaritas in a blender that had a lawnmower motor or something. The storm that sent me to the nearest hotel. The Scrabble games. The buffalo that was so large we didn’t see it! Or maybe we just didn’t believe it was real. That humongous turtle. Climbing that ladder while geocaching. Gabe and the ax in his foot. Mt Rushmore lit up at night. Molly chasing Buddy around the campsite. The rattlesnake in Nebraska. Waking up to snow. Being pushed around the campground  in a wheelchair on my 50th birthday. Kevin, Jeff, Gabe, and Andrew fishing in the fog and rain. The never-ending sunlight in Saskatoon. When the water heater started on fire. The garage sale where we got those bags of books for $1 and spent the entire summer reading every chance we got. And more….sunsets in the Badlands, melodrama at Medora, the Peace Gardens at ND/Canada border, Truman house in Missouri, Little House on the Prairie in DeSmet, Lake of the Ozarks, Custer State Park in the  Black Hills.  And the Piankatank – just saying that name of the river is fun!

5. The stuff! GPS for geocaching. Hats. Walking sticks. Special lawn chairs. Hammocks. Dutch ovens. Colored lights for the awning. Signposts. Outdoor rugs. North Woods or western-themed mugs and other décor. (Right now I’m into Bohemian, so….new stuff!).

Bonus! I know I said 5, but I just thought of another really cool thing.

6.  A chance for my inner child to play and create and dream. Judgment gets left behind. Ideas spring up. Crafts are begun and abandoned without regret. Acceptance is high. Observing and daydreaming is encouraged. All pretense is gone. For a few days, I get to be Brave Woman again, living off the land so-to-speak. I believe I can do things I don’t normally get called on to do out here. All things are possible, or at least worth trying. And that’s a feeling I’m in need of. Lately, my body is telling me I need this time for introspection and reflection, to remember who I was and figure out who I am and envision who I want to be.

So, yeah, Brave Woman is going camping for a few days.  I might usually look and act and sound like a city girl (or at least a townie), and I don’t exactly “rough it” while I’m out there. I don’t need to explain it; it makes perfect sense to me.  This time ocean, next time maybe mountains.  Here I go!