Category Archives: Transformation

Hitting the Pause Button

22 Sunday Mar 2026

Posted by in Connecting the Dots, DOWNSIZING, Making progress, SIMPLIFYING, Transformation

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

The Work of Decluttering

I don’t know anyone who would disagree that decluttering is a LOT of work. It doesn’t matter if you are simply decluttering to weed out the no-longer-important things, to make room for new things, you just need a change, or you’ve got that Swedish Death Cleaning thing going on where you think you have an obligation to make life even easier for your kids someday so you’re going to stop living your own life right now. (You can probably guess I’m not a fan of that last bit.)

And, of course, if you are planning a downsize post-decluttering or even mid-decluttering/packing, you are doing a different kind of decluttering anyway. It’s physical when you move and lift boxes or whatever; it’s mental when you have to think of what to do and in what order, and then to gather relevant information like who will take donations or who can come help; it’s administrative in that you have to organize your house and your life to move around and still find things in the midst of clearing and rearranging your life; and it’s emotional when you start remembering the boy that wrote those cute letters, or the old home videos you can’t watch because you no longer have the equipment anyway, or you look at the empty scrapbook and the boxes of pictures you haven’t gotten around to yet. And so on and on and on.

All-In… for a Month or So

I am an all-in kind of woman. Once I decide to do something (or go somewhere, or change something), I’m gung ho! I started with the “easy” stuff, like business books I no longer need to refer to and other books that have served their purpose for me and now are available to help someone else. I have packed up and donated about 8 boxes to the local library, the Habitat for Humanity ReStore, and my neighborhood Little Free Library. I then attacked the kitchen cupboards and packed up Christmas dishes I no longer use that take up space, and large serving bowls and extra pots and pans and mugs and glassware. Off to ReStore with another 7-8 boxes. DAV was coming around, so after the kitchen, out went several bags and a few boxes of towels, sheets, curtains and other linens, along with some decor.

A Staging Area – NOT YET

I wanted a staging area for the big job that was coming – the Christmas decorations in the attic. The focus was on a guest room, affectionately called my Diva Den, where it looks like I exercise but I don’t really, and where I sew and do crafts, but I haven’t in a long time. There is a small closet that has been collecting things. I figured if I could clear out that closet, the room would be a good staging place. Well! Let me tell you what an efficiency expert I must be!! I pulled things out of that closet like 2 dozen clowns exiting a VW Bug. My stash for craft projects, “good” boxes, wrapping paper (?) and bows and ribbons, a 4 shelf-bookcase with 2 shelves of more books, plus some exercise gadgets. And those spongy floor tile things for working out. An ironing board and iron. A small, unassembled glass-topped tripod table. A few blankets and one of those old Snuggi wrap things that were popular 20 years ago. And three old cushions from a couch I no longer have that I used for a mattress on a cot when the grandkids came for Christmas 3 years ago. And four boxes of pictures, newspaper clippings, and old cards I had received.

At that point, I hit a wall. Not literally, but yes, there were times I felt like it. I was completely overwhelmed. I cleared a small space and sat down on the floor and started browsing the pictures. I traveled back in time to when I had a career. When my babies were indeed babies. When I was married. When I lived in New Mexico, or Minnesota, or South Dakota. An hour later, in tears, I had managed to get through one box. Nothing left it. It was closed up just like I had found it. My back was not happy I had been sitting like that, and I could have sat in my massage chair for a 15-minute cycle but the chair was covered with other stuff. I shut the door and didn’t go back in that room for two weeks.

Instead, I packed a suitcase and went to Florida for a week for a sibling get-together. Although us four sisters were together twice last year, adding in my brother and the brothers-in-law hadn’t happened for quite a few years. I got repeated messages about how cathartic it was to move – my brother has moved twice in the past five years or so, and so the natural slimming down of possessions had occurred “naturally” for him. He admitted there were things he wished he had kept, but overall, he was happy with the new trimmer lifestyle.

Try, try, try again

Once home, I went to the Diva Den to start up again. Didn’t happen! I walked in and then out of that room a few times before I had collected enough energy to do the job. Two trash bags of things went out. One box is ready for donation. Another donation box has been started but blankets need to be washed first. And those couch cushions? Only one fit in the trash bin, so each week for the past three weeks, one has been stowed away at a time, and they are now all gone. The photo boxes are intact but in another place for now, with other memorabilia. I’m not sure what will happen to them yet. You know, once I started up again, it only took me about 45 minutes to decide what stays and what goes, and for what goes, to where it goes, and then pitch or put away. That two-week pause was what I needed to recharge.

Doing these things solo is not for the faint of heart. My friends are not in any better shape than I am to crawl into the attic, which is under the eaves, accessed through a pony door in my clothes closet. Upon recommendation of my Silver Sherpa, I have hired a young man, high school age, to come and do some heavy lifting for me and to drag out ALL the Christmas decor. There must be two dozen boxes and tubs of various sizes. I ordered new see-through tubs of a consistent size, small enough for me to eventually carry and lift but big enough to help me consolidate some things. I also ordered large colored sticky notes so I can list the contents on each tub. I also got tape, newspaper sheets for packing fragile things, and bubble wrap for things like my collection of tree topper finials, which I already know are NOT leaving my possession any time soon. But I may never again decorate trees with styrofoam balls covered with pheasant pin feathers, or if I move, have room for wooden snowmen and nutcrackers. And I probably don’t need three Christmas trees either! Or old outdoor lights that heat up and only work for a few minutes at a time.

The Dance – three steps forward and one step back

A funny thing happened on the way to collect all the packing aids. I usually keep what I have on hand in a closet in my laundry room. I had already done a once-over on the laundry room a couple of months ago. But seeing my brother’s fresh new spaces also gave me some fresh perspective. So yesterday, I took some colored storage boxes I came across when straightening up my garage and reorganized my laundry room again. This time I didn’t need to make any major decisions; I just needed to hide things in now labeled boxes. The result is a more streamlined set of boxes on shelves over my washer and dryer, instead of rows of dozens of bottles of detergent, dog bath items, dog grooming items, extension cords and timers, refrigerator water filters, tools, and a few small kitchen appliances, like an electric knife and the vacuum sealer and the meat grinder, and several mason jars. Wouldn’t you know it? Under the kitchen sink also got basket treatment, and it looks so much more manageable!

But here’s the funny part. I was up and down the footstool for over an hour, reaching and lifting and repositioning. The bedroom closet would have to wait, as I needed another break. But I also had used up my pretty boxes, so off to the thrift store I went. I found exactly what I was looking for to organize scarves, purses, pajamas, etc. And I also found five books on home design for $1 each, and one book on Portugal (for when I need a real break). And a new springy tablecloth and a nice valance for my kitchen window, and a spare set of curtains for $1.99 in case the valance didn’t work (oops – more decluttering in my future, for sure!). And three baskets plus a file stacker thing for organizing my office. And a set of drawer pulls for the dresser in my foyer (and someone will probably suggest now that I should immediately dispose of the old drawer pulls….which I know, but this is a process). Do I have a thrifting sickness? It’s like a magnet the way those items call to me. I may need an innoculation if I ever get to the point where I think I’m done.

Anyway, the desk is partly organized already, the drawer pulls are installed, and the new boxes are in my closet, at least ready to be put to use. It’s funny to me how one thing leads to another, not necessarily the way you planned.

Lessons Learned to Date

Here’s what I’ve learned (or remembered) lately:

  1. My reason for doing this is primarily to simplify my life (dusting, cleaning, protecting, etc.), and secondarily, to reduce the visual clutter (organizing, finding, mellowing, refreshing). If I happen to pull together a deal on a different house and move, that will be made easier by having already started the in-house process, so the next-house move can be a smooth one.
  2. Progress over perfection. Three steps forward and one step backward is still forward movement. So I have away 8 boxes of books… when I bought 6 books, I had room for them. And I still love to read and to buy books; I’m not giving up my joy, just refining it here and there.
  3. The changes I am making are for me, not the next owner of my house, or for my kids to someday deal with when I go to The Next Place. Home maintenance is needed regardless of who lives here. Paint color is my choice as long as I am the one buying paint or lifting the paint brush. And sometimes bulk deals are good deals (like toilet paper at Costco), so don’t expect instant personality changes. I won’t be living like a miser any time soon.
  4. It’s helpful to have a plan and a list of things to do, but it’s also important to take care of yourself. If I’m physically tired, I take a break, which might mean ice cream or a massage or a walk on the trails or sipping iced tea on the deck. If I’m mentally tired, the break might be longer, like watching a movie or driving to Florida for a week with family. My creativity is sparked by being refreshed, and that might happen by visiting someone else’s house or a museum or Home Goods or a thrift store, or browsing a magazine or watching HGTV or looking pictures of former homes I’ve lived in.
  5. It’s satisfying to spend time looking through old photos, reading notes from your kids or grandkids or nieces and nephews, or your mom, remembering why your name was in the newspaper, flipping through that magazine your article was published in, finding a banner from a memorable trip you took 35 years ago. I am retired now, but I got the warm fuzzies reading notes from former colleagues and remembering I had a great career. I don’t live near my family now but it was heartening to look at drawings from my grandkids or nieces and nephews proclaiming I was the best grandma or aunt when they were little and to think I may have influenced them positively. That’s why I kept these things in the first place, to help me remember, especially when I am caught up in the routine or drama of daily living.
  6. What works for me is what works for me; it might not be what works for anyone else. But this is MY life. And I get to choose. That’s empowering. I get to define what brings me joy. In the midst of all this decluttering and shifting around, I took in a foster dog last week. She was a 7-month old puppy (read: more work). I already have three of my own dogs. But when I get feeling like I can’t do this, like I’m on the verge, when I am tired, it’s healthy for me to let my cup runneth over in the best way, by helping someone else. It keeps me focused on my purpose in life, which I’ve decided is to learn how to love better, both by giving and receiving. So I loved on this abused pup, and I let her cling to me for a few days. I shared my lap with my own dogs, also all three rescues. And I was happy to do it. It levels the playing field for me, and the heaviness is lifted. My friends think I’m a little crazy, but I’m blessed to know what I need and to find it.
  7. I didn’t expect this decluttering thing to be so introspective. I am revisiting WHO I am now and who I was; WHAT my goals are; WHY these things were important enough to keep or to let go of now; WHERE is the most attention needed now and next; WHEN is a reasonable time to do this and how flexible am I with this so I can still live the rest of my life now; HOW can I do it good enough and am I willing to ask for help if I need it? This is a good way to weave a golden thread through the years, something the career Me used to do regularly, but which I have largely abandoned since I retired. Not too much caught up in the past but acknowledging my personal history and appreciating the life I have now, while preparing for the rest of my life.

That Was Easy!

I think my Pause button should be more prominent, not hidden away under layers of shoulds and duties and lists. When I was working and still kept a Day Planner, I used to write NO in yellow highlighter in time blocks each week. I could override it if I wanted to, but I was reminded that I needed time for me, for reading, for Yoga, whatever. I don’t do that anymore, but I’m going to start scheduling time for me again. Turn off the ringer on the phone. Stock up on ice cream and Oreo cookies and iced tea. Pull a few books from my To Be Read pile and make them more ready to be picked up. I have one of those old red Easy buttons from Staples from back in the day. I think I’m also going to put it on my kitchen counter, and when I pass by I’m going to hit it to remind myself that life can be easy (easier) if I let it.

Resiliency 101

12 Monday Nov 2018

Posted by in Connecting the Dots, Gratitude, Making progress, Transformation

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Resiliency:  Some dictionary and online definitions include phrases like “adapting well,”  mental reservoir of strength,” “recovering quickly from illness or misfortune.” Related words include buoyancy, flexibility, pliability, springiness, and bounce. Hmm…..

It sounds like some quality you either have or don’t have, which is inaccurate and incomplete, in my opinion. My description of resiliency is the ability to bounce back from challenges of all kinds-personal and professional, whether from a minor or major problem, mishap, setback, or tragedy, due to having engaged in processing my feelings, thoughts, and behaviors to gain perspective and experience. Whew!  That’s a mouthful, I know.

Let me simplify it a little bit…to be resilient or have resiliency means that you have not only taken in data (by reading or being told or doing something or having it happen to you) but that you have processed that to turn it into information you can use in the present and the future. It is an active effort rather than a passive one. This results in an ability to make sense of things quicker and manage them better  each time you encounter something similar after that, although if you tried to take a shortcut or for some reason didn’t or weren’t able to fully deal with the problem/tragedy, you will likely force a do-over at some point in time. Which may make that time worse or deeper, taking longer to handle because of the backtracking and overdue realizations.

The past two weeks have provided ample opportunity for me to test my resiliency. November is the anniversary of my husband’s passing four years ago, a few days before Thanksgiving, and it is also the month of his birthday. I truly think I have done my grief work, having relived or reimagined past losses (his and others) , turning caution into skepticism, and then becoming resourceful and taking action to construct a new normal. I still have my moments (which I expect will continue to happen) but overall, I am a relatively happy person these days, satisfied with my lifestyle, content with my economic forecast, and optimistic and hopeful about the future.

Political elections caused me to evaluate and defend my values against the drama and reality of the community, state, and country I live in. It was a little more emotional than normal because I have vested myself in some volunteerism surrounding the polls.I feel somewhat more affected  individually than usual, maybe because I feel my mortality differently, I have health insurance concerns now that I am not employed, the seemingly constant weather scares due to climate change, and the discontent that has turned into hateful unrest around us.  I have a new concept of how time works, and people who think there is plenty of time for “fixing” things at the federal level have a different perspective. So I am focusing on the local impact and doing what I can. The fact that I am being active about anything is a sign of some resiliency, since it involves being willing to take risks.

Last week my oldest child had her 41st birthday, giving me pause and plenty of rewinds of my past. I spent a day in pajamas moving from one end of the couch to the other, replaying the day I delivered her and other milestones in her life, but mostly about all the turns my life took since then. It sounds selfish in retrospect, since it should have been a day of joy for her, but yet, I am a firm believer that one doesn’t stop having a life because she becomes a mother, particularly as the child is an adult now and we live 3000 miles apart. So, yes, I did obsess (and maybe wallow a little) over how quickly time has gone by and the decisions I made along the way that changed the direction of my/our life/lives along the way.

And then the fires in California created a measurable anxiety, as two of my children live in CA, one in the mandatory evacuation zone of the Woolsey Fire. That prompted a tiny bit of PTSD for me from when my house flooded in 1997 and I had to evacuate. My boys and I stayed in a hotel or with friends for about two weeks, and then began the cleaning and remodeling work that consumed the next six months. But here I am, feeling strong again, in awe that it was 21 years ago, and also proud that that experience helped me prepare for potential evacuation when the hurricane season threatened me for the first time this year.

Rereading this while editing it has me thinking I sound a little selfish….everything is about me. Yes, it is, and I’m okay with that right now. I have discovered lately that if I take time to figure out why something resonates or pricks at me, I can release some stress and turn resentment into acceptance, and anxiety into anticipation. Because I have had these various experiences, and of course, plenty of others, I have stored away snippets of past feelings, thoughts, and behaviors to call on as needed. It is why I know in my heart (not just in my head) that I can survive whatever life throws at me…because I have survived everything that has come at me so far. I wouldn’t want to go down those roads again in real time and wouldn’t wish my storehouse of calamities on anyone, but I am eternally grateful that because of them, I have become more resilient. I can choose my battles and make better decisions because I am not stuck in a rut or clueless and fearful about what’s coming next.

Dictionary.com says that resiliency is “the power or ability to return to the original form, position, etc., after being bent, compressed, or stretched.” That’s silly, because there is NO WAY that anyone can return to “original form” after having gone through said bending or compression or stretching. Life changes us  and at the same time things change around us. We can’t avoid losses, or having doubts, or feeling uncomfortable, or making discoveries, or gaining new understandings that we integrate into our being.  We might joke and say we want things to go back to the way they were, but do we really? I don’t see how that is possible, because once we know, we can’t un-know.  We can’t unring the bell.

I saw a quote recently that is similar to the one on my masthead of this blog.  It read: A good education can change anyone, but a good teacher can change everything.  I have updated it a few times, like this: A good marriage can change anyone, and Kevin changed everything. And, My life with Kevin changed me, and his death changed everything. And, I changed because of Kevin, and then his death changed me again.  I’m sure you could think of other ways to frame this. The bottom line for me is that I have had a terrific (as in terror-ific) life so far; I wonder what else is in store for me? Luckily, I am gaining even more resiliency, so I am ready for it!

 

Something MORE

16 Thursday Aug 2018

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

≈ 5 Comments

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.

solowingnow (1)

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.

solowingnow (1)

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.

solowingnow (1)

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.

solowingnow (1)

Love is blind

16 Tuesday Jan 2018

Posted by in Gratitude, Transformation

≈ 1 Comment

My fur baby Harley is around 12 years old. I adopted him as a rescue 3 months ago. Harley hair cutHe has no teeth, and was undernourished. He suffered from some stress, too, as evidenced by his lackluster and very thin coat of fur. Most problematic was the vet’s diagnosis that he was nearly blind, due to cataracts. I didn’t think it could be as bad as she suggested because he seemed fearless, jumping up onto my lap, hopping down off furniture, taking stairs without hesitation. There was the occasional drift to the side when we walked around the neighborhood, and once in a while, he turned a corner too short and bumped into a wall. I loved him anyway and was blind to the issue.

But it was happening a little more often lately. And then this morning, I had all the proof I needed. We were leaving the bedroom and heading downstairs. He was right behind me, as usual, or so I thought. I happened to glance to my right when I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. chair landingOh My God!! Harley had walked over to the banister that overlooks the entryway foyer. It’s got to be about 10′ down. He thought it was the steps, I guess. He is pretty small at about 5#. He had his head and shoulder through the spindles and was ready to put his paw down on the first stair – which wasn’t there – so he would have flown instead of walked.

I screamed and lunged, and by the grace of God, I grabbed his back legs. He was ready to fly when I swooped him up into my arms and nearly suffocated him. He was shaking and so was I. He didn’t cry but I sure did.

An hour later I had measured the banisters, put dogs in crates, and took off on a mission. It felt good to have a strong purpose, even given the circumstances. I went to Habitat ReStore, but no chic ideas came to me. Ace Hardware had lumber butlanding (1) that was not what I wanted. Danny’s Glass wanted almost $80 for one piece of Plexiglass, and I needed two.  Home Depot had options! There was a young man named Mike who was more than happy to cut a stock piece of thin clear plastic (whatever version of Plexi they carry) for me. When I got home, I gave quick thanks to the Angels in the Hardware Department of Heaven and drilled holes in the plastic sheeting without cracking it. I fastened it to the spindles with zip ties, and Voila! I have a solution to the dog-through-the-railing problem.

Then I rearranged the three baby gates and gatesthe aluminum shelf I use as a barrier to the stairwell, top AND bottom now. It would be nice if they had doors so I wouldn’t have to step over … since I took a fall a few weeks ago when I misjudged the height of one of them. Yes, I know I could buy the door kind but let’s say it’s not a priority. I’d prefer to think I’m young enough and agile enough that this is not a necessity…yet.

Now that I am calmed down (meaning I ate healing cookies and cinnamon rolls), I also have Googled how to care for a blind dog. Step 1 is to admit there is a problem. (Sound familiar?)  The vet says it’s cataracts, which may be surgically corrected or at least improved, but $2500 and no guarantee. Step 2 is to help him  use his  other senses, like smell and sound and touch. It’s unlikely I’m going to put bells on my shoes or the other dogs so he can find us, but I will talk to him more.

In fact, there are a series of things to do, some of which will be easier to implement than others. For example, I like to rearrange my furniture, but the advice is to leave it be so that the dog can learn his patterns. Use textured rugs to alert the dog to doors and stairs. Put scented oils on the rug under his food bowl and on his bed so he can find them easier. These are some of the to-do things.

Then there are the don’t-do things. He is so tiny that I love to scoop him up and cuddle him. But since he can’t see me or maybe always hear me, I need to be careful to not startle him. And carrying him from place to place is also a no-no, since he can become disoriented if he doesn’t recognize where I’ve put him down.

What it means is that we both have to adapt. Which is so obvious. I can’t believe I have never thought of me having to do the adjusting. How selfish is that of me?  I have never had to accommodate anyone (or anything) like this.  There was the time my son broke his knee and was on crutches and in a brace, but all I had to do really was to pick UP the throw rugs on the floor so he wouldn’t trip. He was the one who had to manage getting around. Am I a bad mama?

I’ve been blind about a few things apparently. I have a new appreciation for those with limited or no sight and how they adapt. I also have a new respect for those who live with or care for the blind or deaf. It may or may not be a hardship but it certainly takes compassion and selflessness.

I am going to be grateful that all I had was a close call today, one that could be fixed easily enough. I will be better prepared if ever I have the chance to help someone who has found themselves in need of help or understanding.  There are all kinds of blindness, and it’s up to me to figure them out and overcome or adjust to my own.

In the meantime, it’s probably safe to put the dog down now. It’s kind of hard to type with him on my lap and his paws tapping the wrong keys occasionally.  I will go read more on taking care of my nearly-blind dog. And if you see me in the store and I’ve forgotten to take off one of the bells on my shoe, just quietly point it out so I can stop jingling around.

Moving on…with your help, please

02 Tuesday Jan 2018

Posted by in Gratitude, Grief, Sabbatical, Transformation

≈ Leave a comment

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

≈ 1 Comment

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….