A Writer's Soul

The humidity is staggering today as I sit confined to my bedroom, one of the only places in our home that actually has air-conditioning.  You have been on my mind a lot, lately.  Yes, YOU.  My lovely, intelligent, sensitive, dynamic, unique blog readers, especially the ones who have stuck with me during my unplanned, unannounced, fade-into-the-ethers blog hiatus.  I love you for sending me private notes, for continuing to check in on my blog, for knowing what I mean when I discuss my "Angel Daughters" in other places on social media.  I adore you for cajoling me, for gently poking at me, and for not forgetting about me.  I am not exactly sure why, but something shut down inside of me about a year ago.  I began to seriously lose/doubt my writing voice and it started to  frighten me…A lot.  I believe that I was born with a "writer's soul" meaning that it feels very natural for me to paint my life in words and for most of my twenties and thirties, I kept that portion of my soul buried deep within my life of domesticated, wedded, maternal, Orange County lifestyle bliss.  I put everything, and I mean everything, into raising my Angel daughters and maintaining a lovely marriage, family and home, but there was definitely a price to be paid for all of that loveliness because when the roles began to shift and I was not needed as much, I did not have a place to turn my attentions to.  I am not at all saying that I would choose a different path if I could go back to those decades when being a wife and mother was more than enough.  I am not even saying that in retrospect, I would have done very much differently because the product of all that I put in is a very successful husband who still loves me deeply after almost thirty years of marriage as much as I do him, and four incredible daughters who really are angels in so many ways.  But, the thing about being in my early(very early) fifties now, is that I do have the luxury of hindsight and reexamination and reconsideration which is forcing me to take inventory as to what worked and what did not work so well.  And one of the things that might not have worked quite so well for me is what I gave up as an individual and as a soul on a singular journey alongside a tribe of other souls whom I adore with all my heart.  It really is not so much about what I gave up because what I gave up in some areas, I gained in other areas tenfold.  It is much more about the things that I did not do for myself.  I allowed myself to get lost in the mix of the lives that surrounded mine(and this includes those outside of my immediate family) in a way that caused me to forget who I am, who I was before I became a devoted wife and mother.  I immersed myself so deeply, so fervently into who I always knew that I wanted to be, that I lost track of my own spirit and the things that called out to me as a singular person.  I lost hold of those other things that define who we are and what we should explore in order to still remain relevant to ourselves.  I completely ignored my writer's soul when I should have taken the time to nurture that part of myself.  I dismissed my own needs as a separate entity when there was someone or something else that seemed more worthy(or more needy) of my time and attention.  I allowed the voices of those around me to drown out that of my own.  I allowed myself to wilt as they blossomed.  None of this was intentional on anybody's part.  It just happened.  I am not placing the blame for this on anyone, including myself.  Self-blame would only continue the pattern and that is something that I do not wish to continue.  I will acknowledge the fact that I became who I am, who I was, because I did not have a proper role model.  My own mother would tell you that she was a "stay-at-home" mother meaning that she stayed at home when my brother and I were in school, and then mysteriously disappeared on the days when we were actually at home.  She would flit around with her friends going shopping or to lunch, never doing anything much of substance.  Or she would send us to camp during the summers, much to my protest…Anything to get us "out of her hair".  It felt like outright rejection to me and although I cannot speak for my brother, I do believe that the effect was even more profound for him than it was for me.  Even my father, who did take the time to show me affection and attention when he was around, often made me feel insignificant by spending so much time away from our family by going on "business trips" and also by pursuing women outside of his marriage to my mother.  He was a very strong father figure but he was(is) also extremely expert at compartmentalizing the different aspects of his life which is something that I realized and understood at an unusually young age.  My earliest memory of this was when I was around eight years old and my dad would bring my brother and I into his office once in a while.  He had a lovely secretary named Jennifer who I was also particularly smitten with.  She was young and beautiful and smiled at my brother and I a whole lot when we would go in to visit.  And even though she was seemingly wonderful, I would get a very strange sensation in the pit of my stomach when she would greet us, for I somehow knew that it wasn't just the fact that my brother and I were exceptionally adorable children that caused her to be so Popsicle-sweet.  She was trying to impress my father.  And as I look back now through much older and wiser eyes, I understand that Jennifer's focus was on my dad and not what pinchable cheeks my little brother had.   I liked her and I felt abject contempt for her all at the same time.  It is sad that an eight year old child was placed in a position that caused so much ambivalence at such an early age.  It is sad that my parental role models taught me more about how I would behave as an adult not through their positive behaviors, but through the selfish behaviors that I would most adamantly try to avoid as an adult, wife and mother.  I became just about everything that my parents, most especially my mother, were not.  Extensibly, I worked very hard to encompass the qualities that my parents lacked the most, so that I would be a good wife, mother, daughter, granddaughter, sister, aunt and friend.  I would include my daughters in my social activities.  I would spend summers participating in outings along with my children.  I would be present and not just pretend that I was.  These were the most mindful years of my life.  And yet, like my parents who successfully failed both my brother and me, I ended up failing someone very important too.  Myself.

I am entering my fifty-third year of life as of about two weeks ago.  Even at fifty-two years old, I know that I still have so many lessons to learn, only during this second half of my life(give or take a few) I believe that the lessons will be meant to be more about fine-tuning myself.  My parents are getting not just older, but old, and with their progressing years they are becoming more like abhorrent teenagers who are definitely not as cute as they used to be.  They are teaching me to be much more self-protective and much, much more forgiving…to myself.  I can no longer languish in the self-serving nature of the expectations that they have set for me without also allowing myself to expect a certain level of respect and honor for me, their only child.  I am, I have been, and I will continue to be a good daughter, step-daughter, wife, mother, daughter-in-law, friend, etc. as long as there is the balance of reciprocation in these relationships.  I am not even requiring that the reciprocation be equal, just present.  There will be a lot for me to muddle through as I decide where, when and how the boundaries will establish and reestablish themselves, time and time again.  And if someone wants to be exceedingly angry with me for no valid or apparent reason I will no longer beg for their forgiveness.  I will only forgive myself for not being the person that they would like to try to make me into.  I will float above the guilt that I used to drown in.  I will let them do them, and I will do me.

I will say it here as it will force me to be much more accountable from now on out.  I am going back to exploring my writer's soul.  Writing brings me clarity and balance and peace.  Seeing my own words reflected back at me on a page allows me to feel validated in a way that nothing else does.  It makes me feel heard and uninterrupted.  I cannot be cut short by spasmodic breaks in my train of thought when I write.  And because I am also a good listener, certain people cannot resist the temptation to take advantage of the spotlight that I seem to provide when they inadvertently interrupt what I might be saying out loud.  Writing allows me to be heard without constant fits and starts that cause me to give up trying.  One of my goals is to write a book.  In order to accomplish this, I will have to honor the part of myself that is a writer.  I will need to become more authentic about how I present my own story and if there are certain people who are a part of my story who might not like or appreciate what I have to write about them, then that will have to become a part of their life-lesson, no longer mine.  Maybe it would have done them some good to have behaved better, kinder, more thoughtfully, or more respectfully.  My story is about me, not about them.  We are all adults here.

*If anyone has any suggestions about how to get started in a regular writing routine, please do share them with me!  I would love some feedback about this as a fledgling writer whose wings are still quite wet!

And now, a few photos of the Four Angel's Momma family to catch everyone up a bit!  I promise more in the near future.  I hope that everyone is well!

So happy together. 

Angel Daughter Number Three and my beloved Angel Husband, Mark.

Angel Daughter Number Two and her sweet boyfriend, Justin.  AD4 is holding their puppy Layla Rose.

Angel Daughter Number One enjoying her 27th Birthday in June!

Angel Daughter Number Four is still dancing her heart out!

And The Final Sun Goes Down on May...

There is something about living right on the beach that makes it so much harder to ignore the moments.  Busy, messy, beautiful life still goes on, but somehow the moments take on a greater meaning, each one with a more singular effect. Maybe it is the constant soundtrack of the sea sounds rising, sometimes softly, sometimes more emphatically in the background of whatever else is happening, that brings the attention back into the moment.  Maybe it is the smell of the sea air, or the balmy breeze, or the chime of the train bell as it chugs gently below our bluff.  It could be the way in which the sunlight reflects off of the water(sometimes causing an unexpected tear of unforeseen emotion), or how the color of the sky is a constantly changing hue, or that the clouds might be there one moment and then not be there in the next.  But then, it could be because this place, this small plot of land overlooking the ocean, this coastal jewel, this piece of heaven on earth, is the closest place to home that my soul has ever really known.  Ever known...And yet whatever it is, these moments, these encapsulates of time, these finite pixels of never-ending grandiosity, cause the breath to stop, cause the moments to freeze, cause the attention to be drawn elsewhere.  And whatever was seemingly so important and crucial before, becomes engulfed back into the moment like the sun being drawn slowly down from its highest heights to where it can no longer be seen. Back down into the horizon.  Back down.  Back down...

Soar high into the month of June, my sweet friends.

My Angel Girls and A Request to Pay it Forward(For Honeydo)

Even when things cannot always be the way we wish for them to be, they can somehow be enough for right now.  Knowing that my Angel Daughters and my Angel Nieces have each other in their lives, once again, is enough for me right now.  I can breathe a bit more deeply knowing that, for this moment, my girls and my brother's girls have each other.  Mark and I have our nieces.  Here are my Angels as they should be.
This little one is quite a spitfire.  Her single goal in life seems to be to make everyone laugh.   Her skin is like porcelain and somehow, even at the age of five, her hair still holds onto that baby smell which is so irresistible.  Angel Daughter Number Three could not stop hugging her.
My youngest, and my brother's oldest sat together chatting throughout our dinner.  They are the closest in age, as far as the cousins go, and they really enjoy each other's company.
In this little girl, I feel so much of my brother's spirit.  She is wise beyond her nine years.  Once I got my arms around her, I did not want to let her go.  She loved her Daddy so much.  He wasn't only her Father, he was also her best friend.  He once told me that no matter how silly or ridiculous his jokes were(and there were some pretty lame ones), he could always count on a belly laugh from her.  I pray that somehow, her laughter will continue.

And now a word about "paying it forward".  In my previous post, Out of the Mouths of Babes or How to Make Amends, I received a painfully honest comment and request from someone who identified themselves as "Honeydo".  This individual commented once before on one of my posts called, I See Charlotte, under the name of "anonymous".   I would be grateful if you would go back to the comment section of these posts to read what this individual wrote and then leave any advice or opinions that you might be willing to offer here in the comment section.  I have the most wonderful readers and blogging friends who have supported me in ways that I cannot even begin to express.  If we could do the same for Honeydo, I think it would be something that this kind, gentle soul would truly appreciate.  Sometimes being brave is the first step towards healing.  I think it took some courage for Honeydo to ask for the help of complete strangers.  If you have a moment, please lend your words of insight, wisdom and support.(Thanks Blue for the heads-up!  I corrected the link.)

May you always find a place that feels safe when you need a place to turn.  May you find comfort and inspiration in the words of others.  May you be gently guided into making the best decisions for yourself.  Your life is ultimately your own... And you are worth it.

Stepping Away From the Chaos

There are times in our lives when it becomes necessary to voluntarily withdraw for a while.  It could be for just a moment in order to catch our breath, or it might take a week of retreat and self-care.  The crucial thing is that we recognize our need to take that time, and that we then honor ourselves by doing something about it.
I am getting better at this.  When I feel like life is pulling me in a direction which I know will drain the very Life-Force out of me, I try to allow myself some extra time to do the things which will recharge and re-nourish my spirit.  I give myself permission to step back from all of the chaos which sometimes surrounds me and I spend some time reconnecting with myself, with quiet and especially, with God.  I find that the older I get, the more that this becomes not an indulgence, but a necessity.

What are some of the things that you do in order to re-connect with your spirit?  Do you find it difficult to allow yourself to step away from things for a while, or is this something which has become a part of your daily routine?  I would love it if you would share your thoughts about this in the "comments" section.  If you haven't commented here before, I would really enjoy hearing from you, as well!  You never know when what you have to add might enhance someone else's life.

On another note:

AD2 is graduating from High School tomorrow!  It definitely has not sunk in yet, but I am sure that it will when I see her in her cap and gown.  It will be bittersweet, as my dad, who is very close to AD2, will not be able to attend.  My father was very ill and was hospitalized last week.   He started out with food poisoning(possibly tomatoes!), and he became so dehydrated that they hospitalized him.  Thank God they did, because he was on the verge of having a stroke.  They found some serious heart problems, which we are addressing right now.  He is home, but the doctors are still trying to stabilize him with some very heavy-duty medications.  He must go in each day for blood-work so that the doctors can check his enzyme levels.  Very, very scary especially right on the heels of my younger brother's death from Heart Failure.  I am very anxious about this, which is why I am in need of some extra downtime right now.  Just trying very hard to keep some of my sanity in check.  Any good thoughts or prayers which you can send my fathers way would be greatly appreciated!

Putting Yourself on Your Own List

There is not really a way to describe what it is like to live inside of a body that is never really quite right. Trying to describe what it feels like to know what it was like to be healthy, and to now live life with a chronic illness, is what I suppose it would be like for someone who is now blind, but once had sight. Difficult on some days, impossible on most. But, when people ask me, and I sense that they earnestly want to know, I describe the way that I feel as having the flu, all of the time.

When this illness came on several years ago for the second time, I fought like hell to deny it access into my consciousness. I told myself that I was still recovering from another virus, that I was run down, that I was exhausted from raising four small children. I lied and lied to myself until finally a doctor looked me in the eyes after six long months of battle, and said to me, "Debbie, you have Fibromyalgia and there's not a damn thing I can do about it." Deep down in my soul, I knew it had returned. The cellular memory of this illness is not something that the body soon forgets, even after a blessed remission of fifteen long years. My denial came from the fact that I was a busy, dedicated mother, wife, daughter, friend, volunteer, etc., and I did not have time to be sick. I had recently become certified to work as a Spiritual Care Volunteer at our local hospital, visiting patients as a Lay-Chaplain. My girls were all in school, and I read about the need for volunteers. It was never something that I had ever thought about doing, but when I read about the position, something inside of my heart spoke out and told me that I was supposed to do this. After three months of training, I was on my own. I went from room to room, visiting with very sick people, people who were often lonely and scared. I sat with them for as long as they needed me to, each individual requiring something different when I was with them. I spoke with their families, I listened to their stories, I laughed with them, I held their hands. Our visits would often end with my offering a non-sectarian prayer, and most accepted. Something that I learned during that time, is that if I could offer myself to be fully present for someone, totally and without any other distractions, that was when the absolutely purest form of human connection could take place. Often, when I held hands with someone and looked into their eyes while saying a healing prayer for them, their immediate reaction would be tears. Interestingly enough, if I was to cause someone to cry in most any other circumstance, I would feel terrible, but the tears of these sacred moments left me feeling fuller and unmistakably connected to each person, to the Universe, to God. I was lucky enough to be able to hold on to my position as Spiritual Care Volunteer for more than three years. I did this while my own body weakened, and fought me. I did it until I could not do it any more without putting my own health into more jeopardy.

For a very long time, I felt guilty for giving up on something that I loved doing so much. I told myself that I would go back to volunteer at the hospital as soon as I could. That was until I began to honor myself in the same way that I had honored and respected the needs of my patients. I knew then, as I know now, that there was no way that I would ever begin to feel better unless I started paying more attention to my own needs. Both physically and emotionally, I was allowing myself to deteriorate by paying closer attention to the needs of everyone else(including strangers), than I was to my own. I began to pare down my life into things that were absolutely necessary, and things that I could release. I continued to evaluate my obligations until I understood the things that were truly important. I put my daughters and my husband at the very top of my list, with myself as a close second. That was about three years ago. Now that my girls are getting older, the physical demands of being a full-time mother are becoming less. I am slowly, very slowly moving myself up to an even higher place on my list. As I do this, my family becomes a bit more independent. They start to view me as someone who also has needs, and who requires time to grow and heal. We are all growing up, together.

Thanksgiving just passed, and so our family traveled up to our Mountain home together. We had time to express our gratitude for each other, and for all of the other wonderful people and things in our lives. We spent time alone, together. This is something that I think keeps a family strong and vital, regardless of how large or how small that family might be. But yesterday, my sweet husband and my angel daughters gave mom what they knew she needed. They drove down the mountain, and left me to renew and refresh by myself. And so, I wanted to share the photo of the fireplace at the top of this page. My body is still physically ill, but my spirit is growing stronger. I am learning to advocate for myself, by admitting that I must have time alone, sometimes. I am taking the time to honor my own need for quiet and for stillness. I will be going back home tomorrow, but until then, I will sit quietly in front of this fireplace allowing myself the space that I need in order to be more for everyone else, including myself.

May you find a quiet corner in your life, where you can balance your own needs for stillness and connection. May you always give as much as you can, while remembering that there must always be something left for yourself.