Okay with me

I want to be okay with me
I want to be okay with feeling lonely
I want to love my company as much as I love yours
I want to dust myself off and try again, and not judge myself for falling
I want the way you see me to reflect how I see me, and not vice versa
I want to be okay with feeling afraid
I want to be my biggest advocate
I want to stop filling the spaces

Trust

Trusting in you, as you trust in me
Lean into this need
Know it will be
Okay in the end
All of us whole
Better than now
With a story half told

Awakening

(People)

The woman goes mad.

We don't know what to do.

She moves outside structures built for her.

She speaks unpredictably and off book.

We must explain, define, label this unraveling.

Alternate plans, alternate structures must be born to contain her.

She can not be trusted.

(Woman)

I am feeling, I am honest, I am human, I am you.

I am awake, I am alive, I am here, I am now.

I am pleasure, I am pain, I am love, I am betrayal.

There is nothing to know, no plan to construct.

We do not know the beginning from the end.

(She sings)

We can run with the dawn, and make love to the night

We can dance with the beasts, and pray to the light

We can hope for our children, and give so it hurts

But one human can not keep another on earth.

Community

One of my favorite things about Holden is the narrowed disconnect between us and our daily needs.  We live in community, and everyone contributes.  Everyone stokes the fires that keep us warm.  Everyone does Garbology at least once a month and sorts landfill, recycle, burn, and compost.  You gain understanding and respect for the full life cycle of garbage.  Our electricity comes from the river, so if the river is low, everyone contributes by not using dryers and hang drying through the winter.  There is ownership, and each contribution is a tangible presence in the community.

Next time we do Garbology, Eli will join me.  He'll benefit from understanding trash, packaging, recycle, and food scraps do not simply disappear.  The respect I gained for our resources and the earth by participating in the process is immeasurable.  How many societal problems would be amended by closing the gap between us and the arts that keep our bodies warm, clean, and full?

When you're connected to what sustains you, the processes which sustain you, you're connected to life.  Being connected may be the greatest gift Holden has given me thus far.  It feels like a slow, methodical, organic, awakening.

Each of us has a contribution to make, a part to play.  This holds true creatively.  I feel aware of what is mine to give, and the lack that exists if I do not fully engage in living. 

Home

We are home.  We are finding our rhythm.  Yesterday I ran 11 miles.  Every day the heavy snowfall holds off, feels like a final invitation to run.

Sofia's twirly skirt is almost finished, I'm working on the I cord and seams.

Today is All Saints day.  The craft project (if you chose to participate), was to make a shrine in remembrance of a loved one.  Subsequently, I spent several hours today thinking of Ben, honoring him, and connecting with others who have lost a saint.

That evening at Eucharist we brought our shrines forward and placed them around the fire pit.  It was wonderful.  

 
Repeatedly this week people surprised me.  I made assumptions (judgments), and neatly filed them away.  Only to discover (in a very undramatic fashion) I was wrong.  People are full of surprises, we are diverse, complex, and connected in more ways than we're broken.

Wherever I go, there I am

This blog is something of an ice breaker.  Between upending our lives, and settling in half way across the state, over a month has passed since my last post.

Truth be told, I am experiencing a roller coaster of emotions.  If the first week is shock, the second week is grief, fear, and sometimes joy.  I am uncertain what most people experience upon moving, but this move involved leaving most of my support system: my therapist, friends, and mom (although “mommy” seems more appropriate in this context).  Some days I know it was a good idea, some days I am tempted to find a sweet little home in West Seattle and move back.

Inevitably I underestimated a few things.  I underestimated how lonely I would feel.  I underestimated how comforting the familiar is.  I underestimated how much this place would remind me of my father, and how many negative emotions would be triggered.  Even while typing, I am reminded not to judge my emotions too harshly.

Wherever I go, there I am.  It seems I am still me, even here.  I still have PTSD, I still need to write, I still want a confidant, I still need to work out to stay sane, I still love silence, red wine, my family, and coffee (in no particular order).

Eli and Sofia adore it here.  They get to adventure outside every day, make new friends, play with their peers, and be adored by countless adults.

The beauty is incomparable.  Walking outside each morning, I am taken aback at the spectacular place we are privileged to live.  Wednesday after work I ran through Glacier Peak Wilderness, with wind raging through the valley.  The only sounds being that of my feet pushing through leaves already on the ground, and the wind which sounded more like a beast.  First warning me not to go deeper into the wilderness and then chasing me back to the village.  By the time I was within 2 miles of the village I felt like I was flying, part wind and part beast myself. 

Our living space is perfect.  A lot of thought went into making us feel welcome and at home.  I’m thankful for that.  Inside my closet door, the previous tenant left a gift.  Large black letters formed by electrical tape say, “BREATHE”.  Next to those letters is a small note card: 

“Breathing in I calm my body, breathing out I smile. 

Dwelling in the present moment, I know this is a wonderful moment.”

It appears the previous occupant and I have more in common than this bedroom.  I silently repeat the mantra several times a day.

Parenting is

Crying on the living room floor isn't going to get me my Americano.  Moments like this I know stopping at two kids is the right decision.

This morning I found myself cursing under my breath, hoping to god my 4 year old would finish his breakfast so I could let him watch cartoons, thus allowing me to get my coffee.  He did 1 hour 45 minutes, a naughty spot, and all my sanity later.  This is parenting.

Parenting is your 1 year old concertedly frowning at her blubbering heap of a mother.  Then climbing on top of said mess to give kisses until giggles erupt.

Parenting is requiring your 4 year old to rephrase in the form of a question fifty times a day, until he understands you're not his servant.
Parenting is realizing he learned it from you, and changing the way you speak to your spouse.

Parenting is apologizing to your child for yelling, and acting like a 4 year old yourself.

Parenting is giving up on a clean kitchen and reading Violet the Pilot for the hundredth time.

Parenting is learning to have compassion for yourself, so your children will grow up knowing how to have compassion towards themselves and others.

Parenting is vulnerability.  Unparalleled joy and simultaneous sadness that these moments won't last forever.

Parenting is knowing you will have regrets but trying your best anyways.

What is parenting to you?