ready to burn

My fragile yet steely heart burns like a phoenix
Regenerating from the ashes
Never ending—eternal
Always in a state of change
Growth or tearing down
In order to grow more

My unconquerable soul ever beckons like the seashore
Calling the waves back again
Ever present ebb and flow
Always in a state of change
Learning how to connect
In order to learn more

My winding journey twists and turns like switchbacks
Breaking me of expectations
Other than my path will be unknown
Always watching the horizon
For the next corner to turn and change
Ready to burn and grow again

elementary school lessons

Something Positive
First Grade: Butter churning and birthday letters

Something Negative
Fifth Grade: Crush on Matt Gondini

Something Else (funny? scary? legendary?)
Fifth Grade: Monkey Bars Champ

Just by typing out his name, I make the embarrassment new like fresh baked bread or probably more like a freshly ripped off bandage that you left on for too long and it rips all the tiny hairs off your arm and you want to cry. Matt Gondini. There it is. The burn.

I liked Matt Gondini. The last name alone takes you away on a trip to Italy while eating spaghetti on the redeye flight. And he was cute and funny. Or so I thought.

Pretty sure it was Tiffannie who found out I liked Matt, which meant my secret wasn't safe, which I learned in hindsight and never truly trusted secrets to a woman again with a few slip ups in junior high and high school. I don't know, maybe I slip up here and there even still. But I digress.

We were all in music class. We were all grabbing recorders. We were all quiet. And somehow it was important for someone to share my secret. And Matt Gondini turned red, I probably turned red, and we both wanted to die.

To this day, some thirty plus years later, I still recall how terrible it felt, so I try not to think about it except for times like this when I'm writing a slice of life supposedly for fun! 

fever pitch

When I began a social media fast nearly ten days ago, I honestly thought I'd spend time writing and writing and writing. That's not what happened though.

I did rediscover my habit of writing in my journal—with pen and actual paper. I'd accidentally let it go in the move when the journal got packed and I couldn't find it for like eight months. I guess I could have/should have started a new journal, but I didn't. It's been nice to reflect each evening on the day's events without any thought of what other people think except for whenever I die. That'll be fun. Or maybe it'll all end up in the garbage. Who even knows.

So anyway. I wrote in my journal. I thought about writing stuff. I even began a quick jotting down of the beginning of a romance novel I am considering writing, but there certainly could have been more time and effort put into that quick jotting down.

Oh, and I played a ton of crossword puzzle games with people. I decided that wasn't part of anything potentially wounding my soul, so I had some fun there. I was reminded how much I love words and word games. So very fun! But I digress.

You know what I really thought would happen? That I'd burn through the completion of my dad's book I'm writing due to be published in DECEMBER. Let's just not talk about how I did absolutely zero of that. Zero. I feel like panicking now even though that's not anything I was planning on discussing.

What I did do is get comfortable with quiet. I sat and thought about things I want to do. I missed sharing some of my thoughts about things I did and accomplished, but overall, the peace and quiet soaked right into my soul. I cancelled plans that ended up not mixing well with my quiet routine. I made fresh plans and did things that felt perfectly aligned with this quietness. I connected with friends and family in additional ways. Spending time thinking about and praying for my family helped me to connect.

I want to recognize that I am always reaching out to others and trying to be a genuine friend and loving family member. This social media fast just rerouted some of my pathways to continue being my caring self. And I loved it.

One of the most wonderful surprises from my social media fast is how I've enjoyed making time for family history work. I've chipped away at it here and there in the past, but this quietness opened up more room for me to get excited about it, to feel for my ancestors, and want to get to know them by connecting them on our family tree.

The intensity of it threw me off actually. I caught myself weeping when I'd see a baby's burial record. I cried allowed with deep sorrow when I first saw the record of one of my ancestors who had gotten divorced. The other divorce records I discovered were hard to bear too, but that first discovery hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt the sorrow within me as if I truly knew each of them. Much of my emotion can be chalked up to putting myself in their shoes and projecting my own experiences with life, but I cannot ignore how very connected I have become with many of the people I've discovered. I took time to read obituaries and birth and death records and various "memories" attached to records by very distant cousins and such.

At this point, I hardly want to slow this fever pitch created by quiet, loving work. Alas, I cannot clear my schedule of all else every single day forever; I do need to keep a job and take care of my children, who are part of this peace I've found. I intend to find ways to make space for this intense quiet. Because of it, I've found my new favorite hobby—loving my family.

things i didn't mean to do

Leave
Stay
Run
Sleep
Love
Hate
Reject
Blindly accept

Trust
Distrust
Cry
Smile
Forget
Backstab
Attack
Snort laugh

Stop to think of
The difference we can make
If we become aware
Intentional
Acting with purpose
We can change the outcome
Of our world
We can become more
Just by doing something differently

this [blank] year

While writing in my journal, I ended the page with, "I am glad this year is nearly over." I set down my pen and thought that I don't think I've written a truer sentence in my life. My next thought was about my word of the year: compassion. At the time, I didn't quite understand why that word found me and needed to be something I come back to throughout the year, but after writing that sentence in my journal, a flood of understanding came.

This year, 2018, has been one of enormous sacrifice and change. I realize how I needed to focus on having compassion for others, most importantly my children, but then also, I needed to focus on showing myself compassion. Many, many times over the past several months, I have stopped myself from pushing so hard to get over and out and through so many hard things. I have had to show myself some compassion and understanding as I lead my family through each new day filled with new challenges and changes. I have allowed myself to just be in these moments and stop worrying about what is so wrong. It just is. And it must be what we need to grow. Or that's what I tell myself.

All the sacrifice and change has been our story. It is truth. We are learning how to love and be loved by giving up things and moving ahead as our family changes. Our family is becoming more sacred to me as I live through and witness all we have come through, scathed and unscathed. It is awe inspiring when compassion and love are my focus.

When I think of this year so far, I could make a negative list of adjectives to describe it, yet I could also make a very positive list as well. However, I keep leaning toward the negative list like an old friend I can count on but who isn't a very good influence. Therefore, I won't even attempt to write out all the words to describe it because I really just want to say crappy and write a poem describing how utterly exhausting it has been and lie down and cry. But none of that! Because I've already done that and more, and it's time to turn that corner and not look back.

Can I just add how difficult it can be to show compassion to yourself? To let yourself slow down and not get things done and stop being the planner and doer and giver all the time? To let yourself heal and learn how to be happy again? It is really difficult. Or, at least, it has been for me.

I am genuinely glad this year is nearly done. I need to turn the page, and I feel very ready for the good things on the horizon, very, very ready.