Category Archives: Dreaming

Something MORE

16 Thursday Aug 2018

Posted by in Connecting the Dots, Dreaming, Gratitude, Grief, Making progress, Sabbatical, Transformation

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Have you ever felt SO-O-O excited and scared and nervous and sure all at the same time? That’s what I’m going through right now. Oh, it’s rather fabulous to be me right now! It’s only taken 60 years for me, and it’s only been the last year or so during which my potential is being revealed.

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Remember the Personal Sabbatical I gave myself – one year to figure out my life, the year after the year after Kevin died? That was nearly three years ago. The first year after he died, I kept on working and trying to fit back into my old normal life, which was impossible. The job wasn’t living up to my expectations anyway, and I was smack-dab in the middle of mourning and grieving. The advice I kept getting was “don’t make any major decisions for one year.” It turns out that was good advice…for several reasons, but mostly because I was completely discombobulated and didn’t trust my own judgment about future decisions that would be needed to be made.

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The second year was the year of the sabbatical. I thought I could sit quietly and wait for God to call me on the phone and tell me what to do next, where and how to do it, and who to do it with. Instead of giving myself time and waiting for that call, I quickly (too quickly I think) started my own consulting biz and distracted myself from the grieving process. I listened to well-intentioned friends guide me back to their version of solid ground. What I really wanted to do was float and fly and drift for a while, but still not trusting myself, I let myself get involved in something I couldn’t really put my heart into. My heart was already busy, you see. That year flew by. So I agonized a bit about going back to work, getting a real job. In the end, I decided I needed another year.

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The third year that call still hadn’t come. I wasn’t any more clear about my work direction, but I was finding myself. I didn’t know if I had ever – in all my life – really known myself and committed to ME. I figured this out when I discovered that I hadn’t  really been happy in my life. Content, yes; satisfied, yes; accomplished, yes. But happy? I felt like I had sort of fallen into my life and hadn’t deliberately planned it out or said “I want this, and then went for it. So when people said to me now, “What do you want?”, I didn’t know.  I was frustrated that I didn’t know because I felt like I should. I felt guilty for not having figured it out sooner.

It was at that point I started my real grieving. Losing Kevin was one thing; losing myself was an extension of that. But losing our dreams when I didn’t have any of my own to plug into play was a different kind of sadness. I knew in my heart that his life was about him. Now, I had to face the reality that my life was about me, and I did not have my own dreams, my own plans, my own vision.

However, I had a new awareness that even if I wasn’t exactly happy, I certainly wasn’t unhappy. I was okay just as I was. In fact, I was getting happier than I could remember being, and I knew in my heart of hearts that there was something more waiting for me. I didn’t have to go in search, I just had to be ready. So I started to work on ME instead of working at a job for money. The pay was nil but the benefits are great!!!

Because of my philosophy about life after life, and that life goes forward, and that our children are Life’s longing for itself (thanks, Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet), I decided to stop being the grieving widow. Yes, I did just that – I made a decision to stop.  Besides, I was only doing a mediocre job at it anyway. Instead, I started to study my life and figure out what could make me happier, what events or people had influenced me in childhood and beyond, what forks in the road had I taken that made a difference to me. Then I talked to people who knew-me-when. My sister Peggy is only a year younger than I am, so we had a lot to talk about. My parents are both gone, but I talked to an aunt who was around all of my childhood. I talked to friends I’ve had for much of my adult life. I talked to my kids, too.  And I read dozens of old journals, books, magazine articles and blog posts, listened to music, watched movies, met new people who didn’t know me as a child or mother or wife.

I started a different kind of journal that has turned out kind of cool. I drew a family tree of sorts (more of a diagram with labels) and pasted in pictures of my mom and dad from when they were young and again about the time I was born, up through the years. I added pictures of me from infancy to today. I included pictures of my husbands and my kids as youngsters to today, plus my grandbabies. Then I described each person, somewhat objectively based on my “research.” Finally, I  followed what is the commonly known as the Fourth Step in AA, but I used the Adult Children of Alcoholics model, to do a “searching and fearless moral inventory” of myself, my parents, and my life then and now.

The more I opened myself to what I was discovering, the more light bulbs clicked on, the more puzzle pieces started to fall into place, the more the past came alive. I started finally to make sense of my life with a 10,000 foot view (or 60-year telescope):  why I am the way I am, why I do the (some of the) things I do, what my values are, how I stored my feelings, what behaviors have changed, the results of decisions I made. The good news is that as I began to understand myself, I fell in LIKE with Me and we became great friends! Slowly over the last year, I have been letting go of old unresolved hurts, feeling old feelings and saying goodbye to them, learning to be kinder and gentler with my new BFF, Me.

It wasn’t an afternoon at the beach, to be sure. I laid the cards on the table – really, I made up  index cards for my feelings – and I played them one by one. Abandonment. Fear. Shame. Guilt. Embarrassment. Betrayal. Loss. Insecurity. Anger. Love. Confidence. Hope. Safety. Pleasure. Inspiration. Excitement. Smart. And more. I would pick up a card and question myself about when I had felt that. I would try to remember a childhood experience related to that emotion. Many times I was unsure of what that emotion felt like; I had learned too well how to stuff it away, so identifying it and getting comfortable with it was a process, like defrosting old mystery meat so I could decide to cook it or throw it away. Fortunately, I was able to let go of many of my frozen feelings, which in turn lightened me up, which in turn made me happier. It was like Mario Bros. and I was jumping over the trolls and taking elevators to higher levels. Who knew this is what life was supposed to be about?!?

I still have to sit with my feelings and reflect by replaying old scenes, which now is a 60 year repository to go through. I have learned that living is truly an art; there is no one right way to do it. Social acceptability is worth less to me than it used to be. Praising myself and affirming my choices and decisions is actually more fun than I thought it would be.

I’m not done yet. But I know there is Something MORE for me yet in this lifetime. I was asked yesterday if I ever wish I could have Kevin back again. The obvious (and expected) answer is Of Course! But the courageous and honest answer is, Maybe. I have changed a lot in the past four years, and right now I  seem to be in a fast-forward phase of growth. Would he come back as he was then, or would he, too, have changed from his experiences wherever he is/was? I am not ready to really think about that too much, since it’s such a hypothetical question anyway. I’ve moved on, truly, madly, deeply. And I know I have more moving to do.

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Freedom of the Open Road

09 Saturday Jun 2018

Posted by in Dreaming, Gratitude, Making progress, Sabbatical, Uncategorized

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The gas gauge indicated there should be half a tank of gas, on a truck that that has about a 25-gallon tank. Yet, the “Low Fuel Level” message lit up. A wind gust buffeted the side of the camper. Although finding a gas station would undoubtedly lower my stress level, still we sat still in the line waiting for the emergency responders to clear the roadway from of the semi-tractor that had jack-knifed ahead of us. There was no telling how long we might be there, and the need for air conditioning was competing with the need to avoid walking when I ran out of gas. Such was the dilemma of that moment.

Wouldn’t you know it? I made safely to a gas station not long after that, and I gave my thirsty truck a big (BIG) drink of fuel. I wasn’t in a hurry as far as the clock was concerned, and we were on our way again shortly. But then the Check Engine light came on, and at the next exit ramp, we were off again to figure a plan of action. Luckily, there was a truck stop with a 24-hour maintenance shop. Except they only serviced big rigs. However, they referred me to a 24-hour wrecker and auto repair shop nearby. Tommy, the technician, guessed it was a loose fuel cap, and hooked up a sensor to the truck’s computer. Yep. A quick reset, and we were on our way once again.

By the way, “we” is me and three dogs – who are unsurprisingly useless in a crisis, but at least they didn’t cause any further stress by howling and growling. They were much more patient than I was, thankfully.

This was the second leg of my adventure. I spent the first day traveling to Elkin NC and survived a wicked thunderstorm in 5:00 Friday night traffic in Winston-Salem. Yeah, I know, good planning on my part, right? Anyway, I had an absolutely wonderful time Saturday on the Blue Ridge Parkway, revisiting Blowing Rock, and getting the feel of my camper and truck on a cross-country trip. So making it through Nashville’s spaghetti system of interstate interchanges was done by a fortified driver.

I was relieved to make it to Memphis, anticipating Graceland’s tour scheduled for Monday. It was too bad some jerk parked his truck quite close to my campsite, making backing it and setting up harder than it should have been in the dark. But two women from Ontario, Canada, Dawn and Louise, were very helpful, so all was right again in the world. (If their names had been Thelma and Louise I might have had second thoughts about letting them guide me.)

The next day would be a long-awaited visit to Graceland, but as I finally laid in bed that night, my mind was filled with thoughts about how I was living out the Solowingnow name I had given myself. Of course, we are never fully alone. I did have my dogs, but I also am certain I had divine help in the form of angels helping me along the way. How else do you explain that I never once had a close-call with merging onto interstate traffic because the lane was clear a mile back? Or that I made it to a gas station in the nick of time, and that I found not one but two 24-hour service stations on a Sunday night? I think we often think we are alone because we don’t see anyone else, but I was not unaccompanied either physically or spiritually.

Other thoughts also kept my mind entertained for a while that night. I remember thinking that Kevin would have loved this trip. He would have loved the scenery, the challenge, the upcoming sights to see, the freedom of the open road. And then this bright thought occurred to me: as much as he would have loved it, I also loved it. I promised myself right then that I would start now to put myself first. It is all well and good to think of others, but my first responsibility now is me. I can invite his spirit to come along for the ride, but the realization that it is indeed an invitation means that I have completed another phase of adjustment toward this new life I am living. I am no longer waiting for it to be my turn; I am claiming my place at the fire of the strong, brave, wise women of the world. I have my own stories to tell now, and this trip is just one more collection of memories that comfort me.

I am blessed – and I know that I am blessed – to have this opportunity to travel. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as “they” say. I have been to the ocean, to the mountains, across the prairie. I do not have to choose one over another. That is freedom.

 

We go where you go, Mom!
Blue Ridge Mountains in NC
A Shriner’s parade welcomed me in Blowing Rock NC
Why, hello, Elvis!
Oklahoma – last stop before New Mexico
My home in Santa Fe for a the next while

Here are some sights along my way so far. More to come as I settle in.

Yes? No? Maybe?!!

14 Thursday Dec 2017

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

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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

 

 

 

The grief bone is connected to the…

25 Thursday May 2017

Posted by in Dreaming, Grief, Traditions, Transformation

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The more I process my grief, the more I realize that peeling back these layers reveals the usual suspect feelings but also opens the way for other unanticipated issues to come up that can be (have to be?) dealt with. What I have discovered so far about grief is that it has little enough to do with Kevin, except for the obvious loss of his physical presence, and everything to do with who I am and who I choose to be now.

I have recently started back on the path of how I got the way I am, trying to understand myself differently so I can refine or change some things I don’t like about myself. My post from back in January 2016 (Remembering Dad) is one I go back to time after time, thinking about how my parents’ grief over the death of my baby brother affected me then and continuing while I was growing up, and how that is a prime ingredient in the make-up of who I am so far.  And how all that might have influenced how I parented my children, who are now parenting their own children.  This is how cycles get rolling.

So why now? Well, here I am trying to figure out my future, make sense of the options I have. I am conflicted about calling myself an entrepreneur, since I don’t really have a business with products to sell. I am a trainer (underemployed at that) with services to offer.  I haven’t marketed myself much, though, so I feel sort of like a starving artist, living on principle and principal. Even though it’s been a year and a half since I left my last job, I’m still unsettled about what’s next.  And I still cry, but I am making new friends and developing a strong support network. Now I just need to find more meaning and make some money.

An alternative that could solve my financial insecurities showed up in my Inbox recently. I applied for a job back in Minnesota, one I hadn’t made up my mind I really wanted but was interested in enough to apply.  I got a first interview, and I started making up reasons why this was a good idea.  The prime factor was the salary and the stability of a regular paycheck with fringe benefits like health insurance.  A strong but secondary factor was that I would be geographically close to three of my siblings and two of my very best friends.  But my heart just couldn’t get excited about Minnesota winters, nor especially the structure of a Monday-Friday, 8-5, 50 weeks a year job, carrying out someone else’s priorities and directives.  I kept hearing in my head that saying, “If money weren’t the issue, what would you do?”  No clear answers yet, in case you’re wondering.

While I was waiting to hear about a second interview, I decided it was time to put my house in order, so to speak. Not just physically clean and well-maintained, which I would have to do if I were potentially going to list it for sale; more importantly, I wanted to mentally prepare myself for giving up the freedoms I have now. I rationalized like a champ all the positives of a move, and discounted the hassles of moving and starting over again. Suffice it to say that I want my roots to go deeper instead of broader now.  And I wanted peace of mind, whichever way the cookie crumbled.

My friend Rosanne once asked me while I was packing for a move what it was I was running from, and I told her I wasn’t running from but toward, except I didn’t know what toward either.  I still don’t know.  Or rather, I don’t know yet but I’m getting closer. Note to self: what I have been doing all along is making money, not making a life. That’s going to change.

Yeah, so that cookie crumbled, and I didn’t get the job. I didn’t even get the second interview. And I still don’t have peace of mind (although the anxiety of moving has subsided, which must be a good sign).  I’m very okay with this, because I didn’t really want to go (and my Spirit Self didn’t want to go either, I’m sure of it).  But if not this, then what??? This is my time, right? Finally? No kids to worry about, no husband to convince, not even any bills except the mortgage and monthly utilities and other living expenses.  Not the next thing, but the last thing, a legacy act.

I have often said to myself, I wonder what I’d be capable of if I just applied myself?  I have had significant achievements in my life, which I am proud of, but if I really tried, imagine that!  So I hired a coach/business start-up strategist to help me.  The first thing she had me do was fill out a questionnaire about my job history.  Which got me to thinking about how many times I have moved, how many jobs I have held, how many times I had that fresh start. Those Millenial kids have got nothing on me! I have held 12 positions in the past 40 years, always chasing more money, but eventually climbing a career ladder.  I have had 13 addresses in six cities in four states (not counting the Army).  Looking at that list laid out in black and white was an eye-opener. Having to articulate what my ideal day would look like, and define what success looked like so I’d recognize it when I hit that mark…those were tougher tasks. Trying to align all these bits and pieces into a vision and voice is going to be some work.

I know I would get along okay if I didn’t do all this thinking and analyzing and conjuring and … whatever else I am doing.  I know I would be just fine if I put away the questions and reverted to “normal,” albeit a new normal, and society would readily accept that without question. People I know would probably be relieved I have finally settled down.   I think I have done a swell job with processing the early stages of grief – the loss and doubt, the discomfort and discovery, even the understanding. But there’s more for me.  I’m seeking full integration in this new life, fuller satisfaction, and confidence in the new me.

I have started something that won’t let go of me now. In this past month’s time, I’ve turned inside out. Move over, Alice, I have to go down this rabbit hole and see what there is to see. I just know that the door marked Grief is not the only one that has opened. I’m curious about what labyrinth I will find myself walking on this journey.

 

 

All because of a gun cabinet

13 Thursday Apr 2017

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

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Recently my friend Rosanne asked me if I had done anything with the gun cabinet I inherited when Kevin died. I had once said I was going to paint it and repurpose it.  The bottom door grabs are deer heads and it also has shotgun shell decorative touches; plenty of Kevin memories will stay attached to this piece. gun cabinetI thought I might be able to add some glass shelves and use it for books or cds or dvds … or something, maybe just use it as a curio cabinet. I might even be able to put a mirror backing.  Paint it up shabby-chic like and I would have an unusual piece that might become the envy of my friends.  Anyway, the answer is no, not yet. It’s just sitting in my hallway. At least I have moved it out of the closet where it has been hiding from chalk paint and all its glory for the past two years.

That conversation reminded me of one we had had several years ago. Rosanne and I were shopping in a consignment store (Phyllis might have been there, too, that day in Alex, remember?), and I found something I liked. She asked why I didn’t buy it, and I remember telling her that it just wouldn’t go in our house. I also said that if I lived by myself, I would have a totally different style, more eclectic, less matchy-watchy, with all kinds of comfy shabby-chic things; one-of-a-kind pieces that would have my personal touches all over them. I remember that conversation so clearly!

It’s been almost 2-1/2 years now that I’ve been living by myself, and I haven’t done much about that hidden desire except to paint walls and rearrange my living room furniture.  I did paint this “classic” style Hall tablehall table I’ve had for about 20 years and that used to be dark cherry colored. Phyllis also helped me paint a window my sister gave me, so I must have a little flair hiding in me somewhere, right?

Now, I have decided, is the time.  I’m ready.  And Fortune is smiling upon me.  Another friend, Betty, made a bit of an offhand comment one night at Bunco at my house about my kitchen table, saying if I ever wanted tableto sell it, to let her know.  I had wanted a bistro-style tall table and counter stools in my kitchen when we moved in, but Kevin wasn’t a fan, so this was our compromise. It’s a lovely look, sturdy for him, with enough feminine curves to please my eye. So I called Betty last week and said I did want to sell it. Pictures and measurements were sent, but, she told me, she wanted it for her daughter and it was too large for the small alcove she has. Another friend, Armen, overheard our conversation and immediately said, “I’ll take it. I’ll bring you a check tomorrow.” She said she had wanted to say something the night Betty expressed interest but was too late.  So it looks like I can start shopping!

Truth be told, I already found some stools. It was when I saw them that the wheels started turning and I made up my mind. counter stoolOur neighborhood ladies were having lunch together last week near a consignment shop. I got there early so I could have a peek – this was before I even called Betty.   They aren’t exactly what I thought I would want, but with a little paint, they could be fun. And the price is right.  I wonder if a cross-style of Mary Engelbreit and Kelly Rae Roberts would work? Definitely some kind of splash needed. Would depend on the table style I find, and if these stools are still available.

Then I had another idea. What if I only got the stools, waited on the table (I have a dining room with a table already), and either moved the hall table here nookand made a baby solarium or put one of my rocking chairs here and made a peaceful place to sit and meditate or read? I have a great outdoor bench that could work here, bench.jpgtoo, if I put a little elbow grease into sanding the rough and rusted edges.  And then I could just put an outdoor table on the deck – which I don’t have right now. Still get to shop!! Oh, the options! :o)

I really can do anything I want now. It’s totally up to me. The fact that that makes me happy instead of sad is a sign of my progress in healing from the grief.

I don’t know how you’d define my style exactly. I just know that when I see something I like, I know it.  I’m going to find out what else I like!

Oh, and about that light fixture hanging over the table. I think a chandelier might be better…and wouldn’t a chandelier over the Jacuzzi tub in the master bath be fun, too? Does anyone know a good local electrician?

 

 

 

Sabbatical v. Marching

23 Monday Jan 2017

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

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This past weekend, January 21, 2017, there was a significant demonstration of solidarity for human rights, not just in Washington DC but across the USA and around the world.  It was a focused time to think about what really, really, really matters, and to do something about it.  I had 2 nieces, 2 sisters, 2 granddaughters, one daughter, and several friends attend in Washington DC, Los Angeles, St. Petersburg FL, Fargo ND, and even here in Williamsburg…these are the ones that I know of.  I did not attend, and I’m not even sure how I feel about it after the fact….I don’t regret not attending but I am very proud of those who did.

I stayed away deliberately, because I don’t like huge crowds and, frankly, I was concerned about it turning ugly. The criminal protests and damage that was done on Friday for the inauguration was deplorable. I also don’t attend concerts because of overcrowding, and the anticipated gridlock on the interstates and city roads also was a deterrent. It seems to me that my preference for solitude is growing, and that too is food for thought. I am comfortable with my choice and I am comfortable with the choice others made. That is one of the benefits of living in the USA – the right to make these choices for myself.

It’s not that I want to have others speak for me, or that I am unwilling to stand up for what I believe in. In the past, this Mama Bear has been known to not only defend but to attack priests, the medical profession, family members, bosses, and even basketball coaches, among others, when I felt thwarted, threatened, or demeaned. It’s just not my style if I have other options these days. The option I chose this weekend was prayer, for those marching, as well as for our country and the people in charge of it. I even attended church on Sunday, which those who know me will be (pleasantly?) surprised about, and then several of us talked about the marches for a few hours afterwards. One had been to DC and two others had participated right here in town (which I hadn’t known about). No judgments were made on either side; it was a true time of simply sharing experiences.

I am also proud of those I know who did go. I got tears when I saw the pictures of my daughter and granddaughters dressed in Superwoman and Wonder Woman capes, holding signs and smiling. They are learning that they have a voice and are using it, and that they are not alone. I was happy to see my nieces also taking risks and making statements with their clothing and signs to stand up for what they feel strongly about, not to just attend because it was a thing to do on a Saturday. My sisters are on vacation but still took time to join in a march near where they are. Making time for what is important, instead of making excuses for what is inconvenient, is a valuable skillset we can  all learn from. We all do what we can, when we can, with what we have, in our own ways.

What I’ve been thinking about is how I took the past year as a sabbatical to recalculate what is important to me now. It is too easy to get lost in the everydayness of our lives, to stay on autopilot because we don’t know what else to do, to wait for a better time to do what needs to be done.  I spent many months thinking about my values, religious, political, and otherwise, and I still can’t recite them, but I feel more whole for having gone into the weeds and through the vast fields of doubt and uncertainty to find myself again.

Going within, taking the time to do this, relearning how to take care of myself, and coming up with a plan for being true to myself has been a priceless opportunity for me. I think everyone should take a sabbatical to do this because a single-day march, even for a cause as big as this one, is not enough to sustain new thoughts and ideas. We need action, planned, deliberate, sustainable action. Maybe this is where I can help. We have not begun anything new yet; we have declared the ending of what was. Now is the time to prepare for a new beginning. That is what my sabbatical did for me. It helped me let go of the old ways, the old ideas, the old relationships, the old dreams, and it gave me time to process the change that had occurred and ushered in the necessary space for rethinking these ideals. I am just now sprouting a new beginning.

An Open Letter to my Children on Inauguration

16 Monday Jan 2017

Posted by in Dreaming, Gratitude, Traditions, Transformation, Uncategorized

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Dear Children, One of the posts I saw on Facebook this morning was from a friend who shared a “good read for those who are afraid, upset and disquieted by what will take place this coming Friday…”  Both she and I are in a Speaker’s Academy, and this Friday is when we have our final “showcase” speech and graduation.  She actually was going to withdraw a week ago, feeling unprepared for the event, but she has reconsidered.  Imagine my amusement when I opened the article and discovered it was about Donald Trump’s inauguration set for this Friday also! It was 10 Acts of Resistance on Inauguration Day, and one of them struck a chord with me.

I am writing this letter in response to idea #7, Reassure Your Children, by nurturing their hope.  I urge you to remember that as dramatic as things seem right now, as impossible as the future seems, as opposite the ideals are of the incoming Administration from what you think you would like to see, please know that it will be okay. You have to trust me on this. I don’t mean things are going to be easy, or feel good, or that all the streets will turn to gold and love and peace will overflow.  But I have walked through some parts of hell already in my life, and I do know there is always something else ahead.

You may not think of it this way, but here are a few things that have happened in my time…things I remember for myself.

Collage

  • JFK was assassinated. I was in kindergarten, and I remember the announcement, the crying, being sent home. I didn’t know what it was about, but I knew it was BIG.  I also remember MLK being shot when I 9 years old, and Grandpa’s reaction (one I’m not proud of, but then, it was him, not me), and RFK too.
  • Viet Nam.  Grandpa’s cousin, Bernie, served, so it always seemed personal, although I didn’t really understand it. I was still young.
  • Nixon and Watergate.  I was 16, and we were all in the car driving to Utah for vacation when Nixon resigned. I heard it on the radio, and Grandpa was so angry about it. I remember a fleeting thought of how bad it was going to get if no one was in charge, and wondering if it could be worse than having a crook in charge.
  • Reagan’s victory. I remember standing in a line at the school polling place when it was announced he had won, and we hadn’t even voted yet. It wasn’t long after that I paid 10% interest on a car we bought, and 16% mortgage interest on our home in Cuyamunge. I was making $1850/month working for the state. We survived that, and look at us now.
  • Clarence Thomas hearings, and the Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky scandal. I know where I was, I remember watching the broadcasts.  Same with Oliver North. President Bush and the Gulf War, which my cousin Rick served in, and the next President Bush…’nuff said.
  • 9-11 I was at work, and got a call from Auntie Di asking me if Renae was okay. Renae was, in fact, visiting in my home in Brookings (divine intervention?). I rushed home so we could watch CNN together. What was a last-minute weekend trip became a week, and nothing has really been the same since then.
  • Yada-yada-yada.  Suffice it to say, it’s always something. And yet, here we are.

In the midst of the political angst over the past 40 or 50 years, I also had some personal shit in my life that helped make the politics less important.

  • I buried both my parents and a husband. I also witnessed several good relatives and some friends being laid to rest.
  • I divorced, and moved 6 times after that, trying to provide for my family while completing my college degree, raising teenagers and helping them into college.
  • Tino broke his knee, Renae had endometriosis, Gabe broke his wrist, Brandy rolled a car, Ethan shot out a window in Gabe’s truck, Heather had a baby, Renae got divorced.
  • I loved people who suffered through cancer, had an abortion, were foreclosed on their home, lost a job, went to jail, had surgeries, got divorced, fought with children, were abused, committed suicide, were hospitalized, lost their reputation, buried their children or spouses, and otherwise started over again.

On the other hand, while all this (and more) was going on in my world and other people’s lives, good things happened, and are still happening.

  • I brought up amazing children, who themselves have amazing children.  As my hero Kahlil Gibran reminds us, life goes forward, not backward.  (Donald Trump is already 70; you and your children are the future.) I was able to give each of you an education, a respect for nature, and a strong familial relationship. You are good, kind, hard-working, responsible, nurturing, and loving people. That’s what the world needs. Pass that on to your children, and to your friends and their children. Life is an evolution, not an event. Keep trying to make it better.
  • All my children found and give mature love as adults, and they have made meaningful lives with wonderful partners. They also show love to their families, their friends, their neighbors. I am so proud of each of you.
  • Despite whoever was in the Oval Office, I was able to mend a broken heart, more than once. I know what’s really important to me, and I don’t get so caught in the drama of the news cycle.  It’s good to know that this is possible. Life goes on, and it is worth the effort to see what’s next, to know new people, to try new things, to go new places. There is life after life as you knew it, and there will be life after Donald Trump goes home again.
  • Despite whatever was going on in city hall, or the state capitol, or the Capitol Beltway, I always believed that what I did mattered. Not because I had a select or elite position, but because I know that the everyday little things add up.  All politics are local, and I focused on what I could manage in my own way. Starting at home, always.
  • I still have access to new ideas, books, movies, music, and art. I can avoid the “real” world and all its drama by the diet I feed my mind. I choose to read positive stories with happy endings, I listen to uplifting music, I surround myself with the stuff that makes me feel good. I know people who have lost all that and had to flee their homes in a communist country, and they still survive; they live better now. Be a role model to your children, give them hope.
  • I still had time to experience life, absent the stream of bad news trying to assault me. The Little League games, the indoor soccer matches, the hockey games I still don’t understand, the basketball trips, the Disneyland days, that bus trip to Duluth, the chanting of a choir, the sun in Jamaica, the wine in Italy, country music line-dancing, the cross-country road trips, camping, geo-caching for treasures, hugs and smiles from granddarlings, the singing birds in my own backyard, the antics of puppies and old dogs, good coffee. The mental breaks are vital to my health. I want to see happiness in pictures and videos, share in the moments you think are important, stay in touch with my friends. There is little room for political drama, except West Wing on Netflix!

I don’t think I am abdicating any personal responsibility by not publicly voicing my displeasure at the state of the world and contributing to that negative noise. I have chosen another way, and I do take full responsibility for my personal condition.  Every week at Toastmasters I join like-minded people who are interested in making the world a better place by improving their communication and leadership sTMkills. As I see it, the world is desperately in need of these attributes. Last fall I had the incredible opportunity to see 144 counties sharing a weekend in the pursuit of a better world, at a Toastmasters International conference.  Proof that we can live in a different world. That’s how I serve,  what I choose to be a part of.  As John Lennon said, you may say I’m dreamer, but I’m not the only one.

Right now there is uncertainty because everything is changing.  Remember, not all change is bad, and in the final analysis, at least we are in the USA, not some third world country or communist regime. It’s never been a perfect world, and it likely won’t be while we live on this earth. That’s what heaven is for. And there is always hope for a better, different tomorrow, because you are here and I am here. We can make a difference, we can make choices, we can prove the naysayers wrong about how bad it is. And with my rose-colored glasses on, just think what it might be like if Donald actually does some good!

I challenge you to continue to be grateful for what you have, and to not dwell on what you don’t have. I am grateful that you all are in my life. You and your partners, your children, your friends. 20160627_165608Keep on loving your children, encouraging them, playing with them, nurturing their positive spirits.  Someday probably we will look back on this week and all we feared, but for now I will remember that January 20, 2017, is my son’s birthday, and the day I graduate from the National Speaker’s Association Speaker Academy.  I don’t have any inclination to cast a shadow on this day by worrying about other things.

With everlasting love, Mom

 

Going “home” for Christmas

30 Friday Dec 2016

Posted by in Dreaming, Gratitude, Grief, Traditions

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I spent Christmas 2016 in Santa Fe with all three of my adult children and their families, plus some of their extended families (in-laws, cousins), and my brother. I have spent the last three Christmases now with some of my kids, but this was the first time we have all been together in over 2 years, and it’s maybe 10 years since we all celebrated Christmas together.  I am adapting to the holidays without Kevin, but it’s not just about having distractions to keep me from thinking about him.  I found more of me this year, which I suppose is another step along my grief path to the rest of my life .  It was an awesome holiday vacation, and they just keep getting better.

family-2016

I lived in Santa Fe for 17 years as a young woman, wife and mother. We moved there when our daughter was 2 months old, and both of our boys were born there.  I’ve been back a few times since I left over 20 years ago, especially since the youngest son moved back there. When I left, it was a few years after my divorce from my kids’ dad, who still lives there.  I had always struggled to fit in, never quite feeling like I belonged there; not unaccepted but not embraced.  It was always a nice enough place to visit after the divorce, yet I never wanted to move back.  But now I think about it, partly because I have found some peace within myself about that the relationship he and I used to have and the one we have now.  Now I am more sensitive to the shortness of a life span, more aware of what makes me happy, more interested in thinking and being than doing. This trip I even went to see him for a few minutes and wish him and his girlfriend a Happy New Year.  (It wasn’t creepy; she had already given me a Christmas present, and my kids and brother were there also.)  How I feel about him is fodder for another story someday. Suffice it to say that I can now appreciate my own life differently.

Anyway, in these intervening years, I went back to college and completed a both an undergrad and graduate degree. I moved three more times, always for more progressive employment opportunities. I married and buried a second husband. I lost both my parents and a stepmother. I have traveled to nearly all 50 states, and been to Europe, Canada, and Jamaica. I learned how to drive a motorcycle, and I adopted two furry four-legged boys. I have read probably a thousand books. I’m now starting my own business. In other words, I have expanded my world view significantly, reprioritized my life a few times, and changed a lot. I like myself and the life I have created, and I have released old ideas of who I was and what my role was supposed to be. I had more confidence about this visit to Santa Fe than I have ever had.

I

kids-2016

Gabe & Kelsyn, Renae & Andrew, Tino & Jenna Olivia, Ava, Isla, Mayzie, & Nikos

 

always hate to leave my kids and tear up when it’s time to say our goodbyes.  I fantasize about moving to be with them all the time.  I scope out real estate ads and contemplate other job options. I daydream about a Waltons kind of close family (ironically, Waltons Mountain is here in Virginia). I imagine the kids think about it some, too, for me.

 

And then when I get on the plane, I feel myself relax, already anticipating the peace and quiet of my own home, with my own stuff around me, making the mental move back to my regular life. The freedom of not having to be in full-on parental mode and the independence of coming and going as I please without having to be accountable to anyone else.  When I get in the door, I breathe a sigh that comes from deep within and says “you’re home now.”  Is it the lure of Virginia and my house? I don’t think so; it’s my lifestyle. Which is portable. As am I. Portable, I mean. I would bet the kids are also happy to get back to their own lives.

I don’t think I am ready to move, and for sure the idea of packing and doing all it would take to make another cross-country move is daunting. So it’s time for a little transition or compromise of sorts on my part.  One easy thing I can do is to initiate more contact with my kids by phone and email, or preferably by Face-time or Skype. I also can re-evaluate my budget and see about more trips to see them. Although I whined that my flight yesterday left at 6 am, I was home by 2:30 local time, so a bit less than an 8 hour trip door to door. I have driven further than that and not been anywhere! I also introduced a tiny bit more Santa Fe style to the house.

pottery

Acoma on left, Jemez on right

I added a gift piece of Acoma pottery to my little collection that includes Jemez and Santa Clara Pueblo pieces already.  I bought two colorful ceramic light switch covers and installed them.

lightswitch

Lightswitch

And I brought a Native American wool blanket out to my family room so I can enjoy it daily. I can have it all, in a way…it’s not eccentric, it’s just me.

The “reason for the season” reminds us of the goal for peace on earth, which begins with me.  I think I have finally achieved that, or at least I can see it.  I don’t have to GO home again, I take the sense of home with me where I go.  I felt at home there, and I feel that now here.  The best gift I got this Christmas is knowing that.

 

4 Days and counting

16 Wednesday Nov 2016

Posted by in Dreaming, Sabbatical, Transformation

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It’s hard to believe that in 4 more days, my sabbatical will be officially over…according to me.  And since it is my sabbatical, I get to decide!

What this means is that I will now discipline myself to get up every day and go to my home office and “work.”  I have plenty to do in terms of writing, developing content for my new business, building a client base and marketing my services, and all the other and sundry things that support a business.  And I’m ready to do that.

What it doesn’t mean is that I will go out and get a “real job” now. My income won’t change…yet…so I will still subsidize my spending from what’s left of my savings.  Being frugal on the home front isn’t so bad after all. I have actually considered a seasonal retail job, but I do also have plans with the kids for Christmas, so that might be a problem. And I’m not the kind of person who could start a job without making a commitment to give it a good faith go for the long term. So until I have to, I’m not going to consider that route.

When I started this sabbatical, I gave myself some rules, which were based on my own definition of what a (self-sponsored) sabbatical is.  First and foremost, it was to be a time of rest and recovery so I could process my grief in a way that was productive for me. I didn’t know exactly what that would be, but I deal with things on an active level, so this time off wasn’t intended to just be a long nap.  In fact, my rules were basically to get out of bed every day and make the bed so I wouldn’t be tempted to get back in, get dressed before noon each day, and get out of the house in some quasi-social way to be around other people at least once a week.  I’m proud to say I was successful in that.

I also considered my sabbatical to be a time of growth and opportunity, and I pursued that through reading and travel.  It turned out that I also have done quite a bit of formal “learning” through attending workshops, information sessions, and conferences. I studied not only grief and grieving, change and transition, and writing, but I also enrolled in a Speaker Academy and worked on developing my skills as an solopreneur in the business of speaking to make money. My former employer’s request for me to teach some classes became an earlier-than-expected return to the working world, but it has given me a head-start on my Next Big Thing which it turns out is speaking, teaching, coaching, and consulting.  All things considered, that purpose of my sabbatical has also been fulfilled.

The primary goal I had, though, was to sort out all the feelings I had over Kevin’s passing, and to discover and get comfortable with Solowingnow, not as a hobby or business endeavor, but as a way of life.  I’m still not a fan of the word “widow,” and I still don’t consider myself “single.”  I am on my own in a mix of those two worlds, but even if I were to engage in a new romantic relationship, being in this space will have its mark on my identity.

The other day a new friend since I’ve moved to Williamsburg commented to me that she hadn’t known this version of me and liked the changes she was seeing, that I smile a lot more these days, and I am optimistic and positive.  A friend who has known me a very long time also said that she noticed I seem to be the “old Pat” again.  No better testimonial than those as to my acceptance of my new life.  Of course, this assumes I was happy with the “old Pat,” which I am, although it’s also fair to say I am still moving forward and prefer the “new old Pat.”

Making the shift now from Sabbatical As A Time For Me to working from home will require some new rules. After all, one of my goals now is to make enough money to support me and my business, which will mean consistently making sales, creating a support team, and putting some systems in place.  I have devised a “3 month hustle” plan to get me out of the starting block. And I will refine my 1, 2, and 3-year plans as I get those business formalities in place and the foundation solidified. New rules include having a work schedule, following a plan for when I will do the tasks of running a business (such as admin work on Monday and Friday afternoons, 1-a-day marketing, networking at least twice a week for now, reading/learning on Wednesdays, appointment/call days, etc.).

I am also going to shift away from personal email and facebook during my prime working hours (which may well include hours after 5 pm since I find evening work time to be more productive for me than early mornings), using my business email address more consistently, changing my voice mail on the phone to reflect it is a business people have reached, and answering it with professional greeting instead of just “hello.”  And I will track where I spend my time (or not) so I can continue to make progress toward the lifestyle I desire.  After all, if it turns out that I don’t spend any time caring for me, or doing the things I say I want to do, then my lifestyle will not be reflective of how I envision it being. Who wants that? Been there, done that.

This sabbatical year also has been a time for shaking off the intense work structure I had adopted, and while I haven’t been exactly loosey-goosey lately, I have been very flexible with how and when I do things. This includes when I eat breakfast, when I get groceries, when I do housework, how long my lunch-hour is, when I sit at my desk, how many times I walk around the neighborhood, and where I go on spontaneous road trips.  Now I have to get back into a routine, because I know that will serve me and my business goals, but I will be alert to how it impacts my Self and my life. No longer am I aiming for balance, which implies equal time for work and non-work. Now I am after integration of my personal and professional personas, with a lifestyle (including work and how I contribute to my world) that is of my choosing and my making.

I am Solowingnow and more than content with that….more than accepting….certainly not settling.  I am embracing, I am flying, I am feeling momentum build. I feel strong again, I feel prepared, I feel grateful for having been able to live this sabbatical year on my terms. It’s great to be me again, and I’m looking forward to the next best version of me, too.

September is the new January

13 Tuesday Sep 2016

Posted by in Dreaming, Gratitude, Sabbatical

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I read on Facebook or Pinterest recently that “September is the new January.” It was in connection with a back to school promotion maybe, or planning or a fall house cleaning concept or something.  For me, it resonated because Fall has always been my favorite time of year, and while many are reaping and harvesting, for me it has always been a time of planning and planting.  There is the mounting excitement for the upcoming holidays, and the subtle end-of-year pressure to finish what I have started, or start what I have yet to get done.

A couple of the bigger things I have not gotten to in the preceding 8 months of this year include going through Kevin’s hunting or fishing gear and finding new homes for it; power-washing the garage floor; and getting a fence up in the back yard. Some of the smaller things include …. well, actually, there aren’t any smaller things left undone. I have done most of what I set out to do, and a few more.  Like developing some friendships here in the neighborhood and in town in general, getting more involved in Toastmasters, camping, and visiting my extended family. What I hadn’t planned on was starting my business, which had consumed most of the past four months.  This is my sabbatical year, and I am happy to say I have also reset my internal clock, lost a few pounds, read dozens of books, walked miles and miles, and let go of my old dreams to make way for new ones. All things being equal (which I know they are not), I’d have to declare the year a success, even though it’s not over yet.

The turning leaves remind me of how I am also turning around. My own color has gone from bluesy nostalgia to sunshine yellow and blushing pink. The crisper air is in balance with my own fresh perspective these days.  The early arrival of pumpkin-everything is in sync with how I am also accelerating my work plans.  The general anticipation in the air is contagious, as I prepare for yet another meeting with potential clients.

I will still write down my 2017 goals around the time of the New Year. But for now, I’m happy that I still have the autumn to enjoy.  It’s comforting to know that the best is yet to come. My life cycle for my new year is starting again.