Not Perfectly Choreographed, Edited and Filtered...Yet

I'm ready to make another focus shift in my writing....

This blog began in 2011 as a chronicle of my happenstance home educating my children...and country life in rural Vermont.  I posted things we cooked, places we went.

I find it interesting that I began it when my marriage began to be really strained in 2011. It was a creative outlet for me to  share with someone...anyone out there... fun and interesting things in my life with some humor.  I felt less lonely as isolated as I was on a farm with chickens and a sled team of Siberian huskies.  It was a way for me to feel like I had adult social connections.

Writing became really useful and therapeutic to later chronicle about the hard things.  It was reflective of my deep processing of massive change in my life and how it impacted day to day activity for me.

Adjusting during transition....well..there is no adjusting...it's more like...surviving... writing and publishing became something I clung on to.  I had a lot of feedback during this time that my willingness to be vulnerable and raw was refreshing to people -- in an online world of carefully choreographed, edited and filtered lifestyles that make many wonder why they can't be edited, filtered, choreographed and fabulous like so many bloggers appear.

For those who are just peeking in now... my marriage fell apart...my children and I moved from rural Vermont to suburban/urban Utah... and my Mother acquired a terminal illness during this time and passed away ~ all in the last two years.

In a nutshell, my coping mechanisms were...

Year 1:
I committed to monthly random acts of Service, monthly visits to the temple and perfect tithing.  I posted a chart of Ben Franklin's 13 virtues  on the inside of my pantry door and checked off the virtues I embodied each week and marked the ones I botched.  I did these things and logged them every month.  I wish I had blogged more about the service things I did and my struggles and successes with Ben Franklin, but if I published them, that would kind of negate the random and often anonymous acts I performed.  And truthfully, I probably faltered more than thrived with Ben and wasn't up for sharing the details of that.  But I got good at stocking up on tinfoil pans and always had ingredients of  lasagna ready to go and drop at someone's door at a moments notice from church that a need was there.  I left small gifts on front porches.  I shoveled the elderly lady's driveway next-door or took out her trash.  I was trying to build new habits that transcended myself and my own situation.

The idea behind these things was to get the focus off of myself during some deep grief periods.  But I also walked and unloaded frequently with girlfriends.  I would visit and cry and laugh and vent with them.  They were kind to hold space for me during this time and offer a empathetic ears as my life changed.  I had that one friend, though, who masters the art of calling me on the carpet with my own behavior.  Everyone needs just one person in their life like this.  It's transformative.  She's the one that still stands as close friends and confidants come and go.  That, is deep friendship and love. If you don't have one of these in your arsenal of friends or family, I recommend finding one. This peculiar and very valuable relationship deserves an entry of its own.

I took a ten week workshop on Brene Brown's Shame and Vulnerability.  I knew I needed help when I felt my heart closing, hardening up.... and felt shame as I looked longingly at the wedding bands on women I passed in the store...feeling like something must be wrong with me that I couldn't hang on to my husband and 15 year marriage.  I had to sit in that shame puddle and really feel it fully before I could stand back up and brush myself off.  It was hard work.

I also experimented with a ton of chaste dating. I had to throw that word "chaste" in there, because in modern dating culture, "lots of dating" garners eye brow raises and implies...well...physical intimacy.  No, no.  I went on lots of first and a small handful of second or third dates but was absolutely not ready for any thing more committed than that.  One lovely man flitted in and out for about five months  - around the time a relationship is evaluated for the next level of commitment.  Wasn't ready.

Year 2

Following my mother's illness and death, I ceased rapid fire dating, trimmed in my social circle, and really circled the wagons around my children.  The Littles and I returned to home schooling after a one year positive experiment with public school.  The eldest two children really spread their wings with their athletics and took off.  With intention I've been working to make space for a relationship in my life.  Glimpses of that has been healing and fun.  I really just want some fun.  I head to Maui in a week!  I think that's going to be fun.

I also ruthlessly abandoned serving others during this time and turned the focus more on myself.  I wanted to build more confidence, stand taller, and be comfortable in my own skin.  I hired a personal trainer and have been hitting the gym 3-4 times a week for nine months, I weaned my toddler, got him his own bed, I got regular pedicures, Invisalign, skin care and started washing my face at night - I inherited great skin from my mother and neither of us ever bothered to take our makeup off at the end of the day - this had to change.  The last two years had aged me a bit.  This all worked well.  I feel better.  Next time I drop a lasagna off.. I can do it with a brighter smile and glowing skin.

So what's next?

Year 3 will be about financial independence.  Every ounce of my energy will likely go into actions that make me more financially independent, secure and have the ability to save.  I've been doing midwifery and birth work for other midwives - most recently the Birthwise group - but I have always maintained my own boutique midwifery practice.  I plan to expand this.  I'm contemplating a fun investment project with some new friends.  My future writing will likely be discussing some of these new things.

We just had our first professional session of family photos done.  I bartered with a friend who is talented behind the camera but hasn't launched her own photog shop yet  - I helped her at the birth of her second child and she took some incredible photos of us.  I actually love how choreographed, edited and maybe filtered it looks.  Expect more like this!

Follow me on Instagram @shabbyski or my midwife page @segolilymidwife for daily glimpses into our lives.

Ciao!

Losing and Finding My Inner Child

Two months after my mother's passing, I'm still in heavy processing.  It's really REALLY strange to lose a parent.  The people who moved closer to me during this time have been people who have lost a parent or someone close to them.  I have felt them lean in toward me as I swim in grief.  It feels really good to not feel alone or abandoned and feel like loved ones are carrying me a little.  A man bearing his testimony in church described what we do for each other as drafting like in cycling.  We each have our moments in life where we can step in, take the lead with the headwind and let others just draft behind us.  I like being able to do this for others, but it's just my season to draft.   I am grateful to be pulled along for now and am eager to accept emotional support during my season of resilience-building.

I'm pretty sure I have changed a bit after my mother's passing.  It's like I stepped more fully into adulthood - at age 40.  I've done some remarkable things in my adult life, but there was always a part of my mother who could not see me older than eight years old, I'm fairly certain.  So my eight-year old approval-seeking, whiny self, with little credibility as an adult no longer has a place at the table now that my mother is gone.  It's really interesting, but there is a part of me that left with my mother.  Some of my inner child.

I've evaluated this and panicked a little thinking, Wait...can I still be FUN?!? I've always been a fun girl.  Okay, maybe there were a few years inside my marriage where I wasn't so fun, but darn it, I think most people who have known me throughout my life would describe me as fun in a childish playful way. Where did that girl go?  

A friend came for a visit the other evening and to lighten up a heavy conversation, I dragged him on the trampoline.  We jumped and laughed, jumped and laughed until my face hurt.  I think I found her, sulking on the trampoline wondering if she can come back to the table.

Ciao!

Life's Beautiful Surfing Mess

I have been in deep thought about my mother's passing on July 3.  This piece is an attempt to organize my thoughts.  If you knew what a jumbled chaotic mess my brain is at any given moment, you would realize what a smoke screen my exterior is.

My mother died of liver disease.  Cirrhosis.  The kind related to misuse of alcohol perhaps combined with too much acetaminophen.  It is a ten or 15 year progressive illness, so this history of hers dates back to almost when I left home for University.  Her drinking began also close to the time her own mother - the family matriarch - passed away.  Her diagnosis however, only came into my awareness about a year and a half ago.  Precisely the time when I was home with a newborn and came to understand my husband had chosen a different course for himself and the family that would lead to divorce. I have handled both of these events primarily alone or sometimes with close friends to whom I am grateful they were willing to simply bear witness to my suffering.

We all have different coping mechanisms when we are faced with grief, loss or really intense emotions.  My mother was an incredibly sensitive woman, and I believe life on Earth was emotionally painful for her.  She chose a couple different vices to cope with the intense feelings that she did not have the tools to process or understand.  

I believe addiction touches every single American family in one way other another.  We each handle the perceived shame of it differently.  Where some families want to push it under the rug or keep it discreet, I'd prefer to blow the lid right off the sucker and call it for what it is.  In this season of my life, I wield a very large metaphoric floodlight and shine it on that which wants to remain hidden.  Shining light on it reduces its power over one's life.  

Pushing emotionally charged things under the rug, killed my marriage and my own family.  That in and of itself is some people's coping mechanism - pretending an issue does not exist.  I believe we give it more power, though, when we try to deny it or push it away.  Eventually it will find a way to rear it's head.  It will find a way to surface.  And in that extra time, lies suffering and reduced relationships with others.  

I realize my mother's tendencies to deny and cope by dulling with substances, followed by my own marrying into a family with substance abuse issues, must have subconsciously created a need in me to FULLY FEEL EVERYTHING.  I gave natural birth to my children  - one of the most intense forms of suffering a human can experience on this earth - and then I became a midwife, so that I could bear witness to others' suffering on a regular basis.  I am articulate about my feelings, and then publish them.  I give power to my emotions and feelings rather than seek to dull and chase them away. It is in this process that I find some semblance or order in my life and bring order to my feelings.  

As a youth, I was never overly drawn to experiment with drugs and alcohol - okay there was that one season....  but for the most part, I'm fascinated enough with the intricacies and mysteries of my own mind, emotions, and heart that it actually scared me to alter my natural state at all.  The experiences I had when I was offered and partook in alcohol or other means of coping - really frightened me.  I was aware at a young age that I was interesting enough as it is, if I just spent enough time with myself naturally.... it was like a recreational activity or adventure. 

My feelings and emotions are always shifting, never the same for more than a few days or even hours.  Much like in childbirth, the less we meddle with our body's natural chemistry, the sooner the feeling passes and we emerge slightly changed.  Different.  Herein lies spiritual and emotional resilience and growth.

I have never surfed, but I imagine how I feel as I ride the waves of my own human emotions, and I think this is how surfing might feel. 

Grief

Over the past year, I've gotten to know myself better through grief.  I have had moments where my entire body - especially my heart -  hurts and aches.  On my darkest days, precisely at the point where many people in our culture might have sought an addiction to cope and avoid, I pulled the covers over my head for a few hours and just let it ride over my body.  After observing myself and this powerful feeling that originated outside of me yet occupied my total being, I learned that it would reliably pass in 4-6 hours.  I grew to the point where rather than run to my bedroom, I could notice the grief when the wave washed over me.  I'd stop whatever I was doing and just notice it and then close my eyes and feel it.  I learned to deeply breathe, placed my focus on where it felt strongest in my body.... and then focus all the love for myself I could muster right there - to that spot.  And it would pass.  

I grew resilient enough that when grief came knocking, I could stop what I was doing, actually speak its presence out loud to whoever happened to be with me or just to myself, and notice how it took my breath away for a few moments.... Since it's desire was to choke and paralyze me, I instead started to deeply breathe in and out when it came.  And sometimes within moments, it would pass.  My coping skills became sharper, as was my ability to feel and put words around the feeling.  This is how I moved through the grief of my divorce and my mother's illness and passing simultaneously.  

Anger

This is a tricky one... Anger is one of the more complex feelings for me to comprehend.  My understanding of it though, is what lies beneath anger, is grief.  Something unmet.  I have had some anger.  Some normal and related directly to the events in my life over the past year.  Sometimes I feel anger with people I love when their words or actions elicit frustration.  I feel frustrated sometimes, by circumstances and situations.   I'm learning what best cancels it, is patience and faith.  With anger and frustration comes a great deal of passion.  Passion - in it's bridled form - is something I'd like to hang onto.  Someday, when I am married, I will have significant physical expressions of my grief and anger to manifest intimately, with a man who is equally in touch with his emotions or wants me to help him get in touch with them.  I'm curious if this will equal fireworks. 

Love

I am on a walk to be able to love someone correctly, and be able to receive love willingly.  I am learning to establish greater boundaries and manage expectations.  I feel love every single day.  I feel love for my children and for my friends.  Following the horrific grief that I have allowed to work change in me, my heart today feels like this open and expanding canvass upon which my future will be written.  It has no bounds.  Love knows no bounds.  

I realize that my intense feelings, emotions and expressions of them will be too much for most men to handle.  It may take a some time to partner with the one emotionally and physically available man who fits with me like a puzzle piece at precisely the right time for both of us, and who wants to go surfing with me.  I can wait.  God is suggesting that I wait a bit longer - not to rush.  

Joy

Sometimes I get glimpses of joy.  More and more moments are coming every day, where the joy overrides the sorrow.  I love and appreciate my life, my moments with my children.  Moments with my friends.  I can feel the permanent joy filling up my heart as things are observed, heard, smelled, felt and I guess you can say even tasted.  I believe all five or six senses are to be used to feel joy.  It's that sixth sense I am most interested in listening to and developing further.  It's pretty active in me. 

Gratitude

I have gratitude to my mother, whose own vices and life choices have ironically made me the woman I am today.  Without her particular life course, I might not want to fully feel life as I do.  Every day I open my eyes feeling gratitude for a new day and a new shot at Life and feeling it all.  

This... is Life's Beautiful Surfing Mess.

Ciao!