When Grief is Messy

Warning: if you are family, you may want to stop reading. I love you all, but I needed a place to process, and maybe my process will help others. 

In July we visited family in Victoria, British Columbia. Which is one of the most gorgeous spots in all of Canada. I admit I'm biased because I am Canadian, even if I'm living in the USA. The trip was not for pleasure, though there was much to enjoy. No, this trip was because of the death of my last living grandparent. My grandmother. My mother's mother. A woman who is part of my earliest memories. Memories that I now know were the foundation for some of my neuroses.

I want to say I had a good relationship with her, but honestly, we never connected. She was critical and wanted different things from me than I wanted from myself. She was verbally abusive. She had done a number on my mother. How do I know this? My mom would become this pale shadow of herself whenever Grandma was around. I think I hated the woman because of all the times she reduced my mother to tears. I think the child in me lost some respect for my mother for all the times she wasn't strong.

The adult me knows that trauma untreated will not heal true.  When a broken bone isn't set, it doesn't heal properly. Even if set properly, the healed bone will always be different than if it had never been through the trauma of a break. We are like that. If we are emotionally battered down until we stop seeing ourselves and see only the thing our abuser wants us to see, we are like that broken bone. Even if we get out from under the situation, unless we go through the work to release ourselves from the trauma, we will never be reset. We will live as though the trauma is happening to us right now.

I'm writing this at 3:30 in the morning, otherwise I would take the time to find references for the above paragraph. Please let it be enough to know that I was a therapist for a time, and continue to keep updated with the latest in psychology. And trauma is an area I am very familiar with.

My grandmother had good points. She had a dry sense of humor. She took family seriously. She took on the task of taking care of my grandfather, who she loved fiercely. I don't have a memory where Grandpa wasn't in need of some form of care or pain management. She did that because she loved him. She was the primary caregiver for her mother when Alzheimers stole her independence along with her mind. She worked hard.

But that wasn't enough to erase her cruel side. The side that told a four year old me that I was never going to be good enough. The side that made sure that when my brother and I spoke of our dreams for a future, she would shoot them down, telling us we had champagne taste on a beer budget. Translation: we were over reaching our status. We were from working class people and we would always be working class people. Which is partially true. Dad was a blue collar worker. But who tells children to dream small because life is small?

When I was fifteen or sixteen, I spent two weeks with Grandma and Grandpa. I took the bus to Victoria, rode the ferry from Vancouver on my own. It was a fabulous trip! I loved the adventure. And I tried to be a good guest. I kept my room clean. I helped with meals and dishes. I tried to be small enough that Grandma's cruel side wouldn't notice me. It worked until the day I wore shorts. Then I got the lecture on how by the act of wearing shorts I was sending a message to all males that I want to be raped. I shook my head, it was just Grandma, after all. But something in me started to feel ashamed of my body. Scared that maybe I was responsible for what others think and feel about my presence. Add this to the script of "You're not good enough" and we have a recipe for confusion and years of not believing I was worth anything good that came into my life. All good things were suspect.

It was after this that there was an outward change. In all the pictures taken after that visit I am not smiling, knowing the world is one huge adventure waiting to explore. Instead, I'm withdrawn, even frowning. I didn't want to be near Grandma. Deep down I knew she was toxic for me. But I didn't have the vocabulary to explain this to any one. And therapy wasn't on my radar until college.

I cut the ties after my high school graduation. I wore this beautiful dress that my mom's friend made for me. It was strapless and amazing. I felt like a heroine from a novel when I put it on. I never wanted to take it off. When I stepped into our living room to show my grandparents my dress, she sneered and told me I looked like a slut. What should have been an amazing day became one of the most horrible days in my life. And I told Grandma that other than visits with mom and dad I was done. I was eighteen.

These examples aren't meant to vilify. They are only to illustrate my relationship with Grandma. I eventually started therapy. Got my MS in Psychology. Worked with trauma survivors. Had more therapy. I needed to take out the thorns that were festering in my soul and my psyche, then I had to do the hard work of healing. I'm not all the way there yet. Trauma changes a person. Abuse leaves it's mark. Our experiences become a part of our DNA. They leave us changed from who we might have been.

I left Victoria and my family with mixed feelings. Relief. Sadness. Anger. I was relieved that her suffering was over and her spirit had moved on to somewhere that could heal the trauma and pain she could not, or would not, heal in life. Relieved because maybe in death the stranglehold she had on her daughters would end, so they could breathe and live and heal. Sad because all around my family were the fingerprints of her - the good and the bad. Angry because she never extended to me the type of relationship she extended to younger cousins. She never showed that side of herself to me. Even two years ago when I saw her last, she didn't talk to me without the side of her personality that was critical and cruel.

Maybe some of that is on me. I cut her out of my life because I couldn't grow as a person with her still in it. I hated the pieces of her that were sharp and quick to cut. I loved the parts of her that were wry and loyal. I was sad for the parts of her that were damaged and bleeding.

Maybe it hurt so much when her china went to a younger cousin because I was the oldest and she had told me she would pass it down to the oldest. But I had walked away and my cousin had not.

Maybe it hurt so much when at her funeral I was introduced to this caring, tender woman, a woman I didn't recognize because whatever tenderness she may have shown me was buried under the tsunami of judgement.

Maybe being the oldest grandchild is a lot like being the oldest child, and Grandma made her mistakes with me so she could be a better grandmother to others.

Maybe I reminded her too much of the self she lost along the way. Or maybe not.

It's messy, saying goodbye to someone who has hurt you. It's tricky walking the line between utter relief and compassion for those who are grieving more deeply than myself. My grief is less the loss of a person who's love and light embraced me, and more an ability to finally take a breath. How do you explain that to family? I don't know. If you have the answer, please let me know.

Gratitudes:

1. The wisdom living brings. 
2. My husband, who walks with me, even when I drag him through the messiness of life.
3. The stillness of night. 

Photo by x1klima

Cabins, Audio Books, And Revelations

Gratitudes:

1. With autumn comes cooler weather and less humidity. For this, I am always grateful.
2. Velcro Dog has come to terms with the fact that I can't be consistent when I walk him. I have thanked him for his understanding. He has deigned to allow me to snuggle with him.
3. Psych is leaving US Netflix on October 1st. This is less a gratitude then it is a public service announcement. You're welcome.

Our anniversary was the end of last month. We try to go out of town on or near our anniversary. Usually it's to a cabin here in MN that is owned by Husband's family. And we usually only go up for a long weekend. Two years ago, right after I quit my day job, we started coming up for a week. It's amazing to be away from the city for a week and bask in the silky silence of  nature. This year was almost perfect.

Why wasn't it perfect? Basically because it rained more often then not. It felt rather soggy for the first three days of our vacation. Then the sun did shine. And it was glorious.

Oh glorious, sun filled day!

We spent time just staring at the lake. And listening to the sounds of nature around us. Birds. Breeze. Waves. Wind. Not a jet ski or speed boat in sight! I kinda want to go back  even though the temperatures will require a fire at night. Can anyone say S'Mores!

One of the things I really love to do at the cabin is listen to audio books. Husband knows this and has learned that if he doesn't want me to listen to one of my UF or romance novels, he had best not do anything to piss me off. I always have a romance queued up to one of the hotter sex scenes just so I can play it at a very loud volume just to torture him. I also have audio books that I know he might enjoy. I save these for vacations. Cuz I'm good like that.

For this trip I queued up Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson. If you don't know who this amazing woman is, go ahead and take a moment to peruse her website, Twitter, or Facebook page. Go on, I'll wait.

So Jenny Lawson is a journalist who also lives with mental illness. And is brutally honest about what it's like to live her life. I don't have a diagnosed mental illness, though I do have situational depression. I do have chronic health conditions that attempt to turn my brain against me. I can relate to many of Jenny's stories. Sometimes so much I cry because, dammit, someone gets it!

I had read Furiously Happy when it first came out and I loved it. I wanted to fan girl Ms. Lawson and stalk her on Facebook , but I resisted. Instead I threw money at Jenny by purchasing her book for many people and myself. Including the audio book. Jenny has since thanked me in person for buying so many copies of her book and we are now friends. Oh, wait. That was a dream. And it wasn't Jenny Lawson, it was Nora Roberts. I really need to keep my fandoms straight!

Hubs was so thankful he didn't have to listen to sexy time scenes he actually paid attention to Furiously Happy. He thought Jenny lived a very colorful life and thought she and I would be dangerous if we knew each other. Dangerously cool! (Hubs wishes to let you know that no, he didn't think we would be dangerously cool. More like dangerous to his health. I countered that we would be freaky cool. Hubs agrees we would be freaky. He's less sanguine about cool. I love him despite his lack of vision).

We laughed. I cried. Hubs learned.

There were a few times when we were in the car and Jenny was regaling us with her tales of living her life, and I burst into tears. Jenny was talking about spoons and how life often needs to look different because we don't have the unlimited number of spoons able people seem to have. I was crying because every fucking word she said was brilliant. All those words illustrated what I had been attempting to share with my friends and family (and husband) for years. And he got it. Hubs listened with his whole self. And. He. Got. It.

So I cried some more in relief because trying to explain what it is to live in my body has been like attempting to dance the most beautiful and intricate of modern dances and hoping that my non performing arts husband would magically understand what I was saying without the context of meaning and movement. Jenny was able to be herself as she wrote that chapter, and even more herself as she recorded it for the audio book. And Hubs connected.

He's been asking me about my spoons ever since. Sometimes I want to hit him with a spoon, but I far prefer he ask than ignore or not understand the fact that I have limited spoons every day and that means I have to make the hard choices every minute of every day on how I am going to spend those spoons. Because they don't renew until the next day. And sometimes, not even then.

Thank you, Jenny "Dangerously Cool" Lawson. Thank you! And if you ever want to hang out and discuss the merits of taxidermy animal rodeos, I'm here for you! As long as I have the spoons.

Relationships Are Hard, Man

 Gratitudes:

1. Health care insurance. I have been recently diagnosed with chronic migraines. I have suspected this for a while but didn't want yet another co-morbid diagnosis. That said, I'm very thankful for our insurance. I can get the meds and the PT I need.
2. Knitting. If you knit, you understand.
3. Gluten free ginger cookies. Sometimes tea isn't the same without the ginger cookies.

It's Valentine's Day today. My Facebook feed is full of pictures of wonderful gifts and touching sentiments. And babies. All the precious, perfect babies. 

We don't celebrate Valentine's. Hubs isn't that type of romantic and I've gotten tired of trying to show him in material ways that I love him. Cook him dinner, have some good to great sex and we're good, you know? Of course, this happens all the time since I generally cook dinner and we do enjoy sex. 

In fact, if it hadn't been for a few texts from family and friends, I would have have totally spaced on Valentine's Day at all. So thank you, friends and family, for the reminders. :) 

Relationships are hard. They take work. Give and take. Patience. Compassion. A willingness to know who you are and learn about who your partner is in this moment, instead of living in the past or rushing headlong into the future. Ours has been stretched in the last few years. Renovations alone can destroy a marriage. Add to that work disatisfaction, higher education, health issues, extended family drama, and you have quite the recipe for disaster. 

I won't say we are special, because we aren't. We wake up every day and no matter how angry we may be with the other, we choose in that moment to stay. And in staying, we choose to figure out how to make things work. And whether the expectations we held are worth holding. And that, I think, is the key. As soon as someone stops trying, it's time to ask the really hard questions. One person can pull all the weight for only so long before the self is completely lost. 

I'm not trying to be a downer. I actually feel really positive about what I just wrote. I'm with someone who chooses to get in there and be present in the messiness of our relationship. I'm right there with him. Who carries the most will change from season to season, and we're at a point where once we realize what we're carrying for the other, we talk about it and attempt to work it out, make reparations if necessary, change course if needed. It's hard work. But I wouldn't be anywhere else.

Let it Snow!

 Gratitudes:

1. Hubs took the week off and I'm very glad he did. We've had some great quality time together and he was home to shovel the snow this morning so I didn't have to.
2. My friend's children. They are made of awesome and make me smile.
3. Flowers. They brighten up a room even on the darkest winter's day.

I'm not going to look at when I last posted. I know it's been a while. I haven't had the best of winters so far but thanks to some new herbal therapies, the quality of my sleep may be getting better. Whoop!

It's definitely winter. Snow came last night in large fluffy flakes, which looked beautiful in the headlights as we came home from watching Spectre at a local theater. But didn't look so beautiful as they piled up in the driveway, requiring both the snowblower AND the shovel. Hubs did not ask me to assist in the snow removal, for which I am eternally grateful. The fibro is bad enough right now. Shoveling would push me into a catatonic state.

This afternoon as I ran errands so we would have kid friendly food for tomorrow (my friend's daughters are having a sleepover at our house), the streets were mostly cleared and traffic was light. The picture below was taken on a side street as I was making my way to Starbucks for a much needed green tea latte. 

Christmas day may have been a snowless yet frigid sea of green, but 2016 looks like it will be fluffy and white. As long as it continues to snow when it's convenient for Hubs to take care of the driveway, I'm good. 

In Which I am Thankful for Dancing With the Stars

 Gratitudes:

1. My Ninja blender. It makes morning smoothies so much easier to make. And the food processor attachment makes my life so much easier.
2. Caribou Coffee's crafted press. It's cold press coffee blended with cream and sweetener (or none if you don't want). I add vanilla and yum!
3. Dancing with the Stars (DWTS) season 20. We've only watched season 19 and 20, and the talent has been awesome. Even Mountain Man has gotten into the show. 

It's been a bit of a surprise to me that Mountain Man and I can agree that a dance show is awesome. I can't get him interested in So You Think You Can Dance but the moment he learned Sadie Robertson from Duck Dynasty fame was going to be Dancing With the Stars (DWTS) last season, he willingly jumped down the dance rabbit hole. Only for DWTS mind you. I think it has something to do with the mix of 'stars' and professional dancers. And the judges. Something about the judges resonate with him. 

DWTS has it's season finale tonight and I'm worried. I love Noah Galloway and his story. I swear I cry every time I see him dance. It's beautiful and touches me deeply. That said, as much as I want him to win the mirror ball, he's not the best dancer. That would be Rumer Willis, in my opinion. I want her to win. Ryker Lynch is steep competition, and Noah may be the fan favorite due to his story. And that freestyle. Damn!

No matter who takes home the mirror ball, this is has been an amazing season. And I think Mountian Man and I will continue to watch future seasons. Now, if I could convince Mountain Man he needs to take a ballroom dance class with me...

Well, Hello There!

 Gratitudes:

1. Velcro Dog has transitioned well to walks once a day instead two or even three times a day. It's a sign he's getting old (8-1/2!) but it's much easier for me to manage that single walk. 
2. I'm on a tight budget for books and music so I'm very thankful our library system has a superb selection of both in physical and electronic formats. 
3. Rain. 

Despite my putting my blog on my to-do list, it's been some time since I've spent time here. Time to dust off the cobwebs, I guess. 

Life has been slow days of pain management, reading, cleaning, walking and playing with Velcro Dog, and wondering if there will be a time when I can rejoin those who work for a living. Sometimes I wonder why I would want to go back to deadlines and stress and leaving my house, and then I remember. Because leaving one's house is a GOOD thing. It means I spend time with people who are not married to or otherwise related to me. Socialization is a good thing.

I spend at least one day a week with a good friend and we sit for hours at a café talking life and loves and everything. I love those days. I need more of them. I love my friend. We encourage each other. We amuse each other. And even better, we challenge each other to be our better selves and to reach for things unknown. 

Now that the weather is temperate I spend more time outside with Velcro Dog. He loves the dog parks we visit. I love that he will run and sniff and play while I bring a book or my iPod and relax in the fresh air. Oh, I walk around the park. It's not all sitting on a bench cheerleading from the sidelines. Velcro Dog would never stand for that. We wander and he sniffs while I attempt to bird watch. Or people watch. 

The house is slowly coming along. Mountain Man finished his degree in December so he spends his free time recovering from way too many years of dividing his energies between work, house projects, and school. Some of that recovery time is sitting quietly. I understand. When I finished my graduate degree all I wanted to do was navel gaze for a while. He's slowly coming back to life. I see sparks of the man with a wicked sense of humor and a gentleness that has been missing. We're both in a period of understanding who we are now at this point in time. I'm glad we have each other. 

Life isn't what I expected it to be. I think it's leading to something incredible I could never let myself imagine. 

Of Mountains and Oceans

 Gratitudes:

1. That there are people out there who research and compile said research along with suggestions on how to apply said research, especially when it comes to health and nutrition - it cuts down on all the time I would need to spend trying to figure out my health issues on my own
2. My husband who has been so very kind while I've been horribly busy with work these last months and feeling ill and icky on top of it all
3. Coconut water, a magical elixir, especially when dehydrated and miserable due to a GI virus

A week ago we were in Canada visiting family and enjoying the raw and majestic landscape that is Vancouver Island. I cried a little when it was time to leave for there is nowhere else where I have felt so surrounded by the natural elements that quicken my soul. Mountainy craigs, raw and untamed. Violent and powerful bodies of water, battling and soothing an ever changing shore. It was bliss.

I knew the trip would be amazing after two things occurred: we saw both Mt. Rainer AND Mt. Baker from the plane as we landed at the SeaTac airport in Washington state; a pod of orcas decided to breach the surface and cavort alongside the ferry as we made a windy and choppy voyage from the Olympic Pennisuala to Victoria. Orcas. Breaching. If you know me you know I have a fondness for these great mammals and while I hate seeing them captive, watching them in the wild is nothing short of magical. 

For a week I drank in family, nature, and I felt connected in a way I haven't for some time. I'm taking all of this as a sign that some hard decisions will have positive and rewarding outcomes and that I'm ready a for a new phase in life to begin. 

Gloomies Antidote - Adoration

Gratitudes:

1. Indoor heating in what is apparently the start of a new ice age
2. Roxanne St. Claire and her amazing Barefoot Bay romance/women's fiction series - I have much love for these books as not only great escapes but tenderly written stories that deal with some complex pieces of human nature
3. The delight and exuberance Velcro Dog displays whenever I return home from an absence of minutes to hours to days

I've been working long hours for the last four weeks. While this isn't a horrible thing, it does tend to throw life a little off balance. For example, it's the second week of December and I have exactly one Christmas present purchased. I hope everyone I exchange gifts with will be okay with the concept of Epiphany gifts.

We all need to put in our dues and there will be times I need to put in time at the office than I would like. I'm okay with this. However, the long hours mixed with this near apocalyptic cold snap we're having and the reduced hours of sunlight can make me want to stab something. A pleasure to be around, I'm not. So, I have started sequestering myself in the bedroom or the home office so I don't spread my gloom and doom to anyone else in my household, including the ever exuberant Velcro Dog.

Thankfully, his joy is boundless and even in my grumpiest of states, one look of his adoring eyes and the gloomies start to slip away. Having yourself a case of the gloomies or the grumpies? Take 5 minutes of unconditional adoration, rinse and repeat.

Weekend Round-up, Sort Of

 Gratitudes:

1. Cool breezes in the mornings I walk Velcro Dog. I am not a morning person by nature so these lovely breezes that offset the heat of the day make me very happy.
2. Long weekends. Nuff said.
3. Good friends who are willing to keep me entertained during the work day. Seriously, I love being able to email and Google chat with you during the day. It keeps me sane. 

We were away for the long weekend, even took an extra day off to make it a four day weekend. I could seriously get used to those! When I worked part time, back before the days of cable modems and flash drives, you know, the age of electronic dinosaurs, I worked Monday, Wednesday and Thursday so I always had a three day weekend. I tried to get my schedule changed so I had Mondays off as well, but my boss that that was wrong. I worked 10 hour days three days a week so I did work hard, but boy, did I love those days off. Running errands during the middle of the day is so much easier than running them after work. Or on the weekends. 

Yes, I could get used to three or four day weekends. I don't think that is going to happen for me any time soon so I should be thankful that I have two day weekends, right? 

Our time away wasn't all fun and games, though we did have some nice relaxation times. Not to mention sleeping in. Though someone needs to tell Velcro Dog that vacation means he doesn't need his regular morning walk right at 7am. 

We went to the cabin with the intention of doing some sorely needed maintenance. We mostly focused on two tasks: painting/patching windows and cleaning the attic of all signs of mouse infestation. The attic took about four hours. Four stinky, gross, disgusting hours. Please, Lord, never again. The windows took far more time. I won't get into details but let's just say that if we ever let the exterior of our home get into the shape the windows and doors are at the cabin, I think the city would cite and fine us. Not that we let the cabin get into this state of disrepair. We, or rather Hubs, hasn't co-owned it with his siblings until this year and his father owned it prior to that. No finger pointing here. Just wishing there was a little more help. 

It will come. People are still adjusting to what owning another property really means. When someone else owned it, everyone came up to enjoy the lake and the woods. It was fun and nothing was expected of us. Now, it's a shift in thinking and behaviors. 

We're home and back in the grind. Hubs is back in school. We're both caught up at work. And the kitchen is still in slight chaos due to renovations. In other words, things are back to normal. Now, if only Velcro Dog could learn to walk himself...

Nineteen Years? Seriously?

Gratitudes:

1. Hubs' mad cabinetry skills. He's buidling our kitchen cabinets from scratch and I now have the use of the majority of our new base cabinets. They are amazing.
2. The great staff at my local Barnes & Noble who are knowledgeable, patient and more friendly than any other B&N staff I have ever met. Thank you for helping me out with my replacement nook and getting me the upgrade the other store's staff didn't tell me I needed.
3. Even though it's hotter and more humid  than Satan's arm pit this week, I'm thankful that for the most part summer has been mild, sunny, and quite enjoyable.

Tomorrow will be my 19th wedding anniversary. I will have been married to Hubs for 19 years. I feel like that number should make me feel old. I mean, I remember when my parents celebrated 20 years and I thought they had been together forever at that time. In only 6  years they will celebrate their 50th. When did all that time pass?

I don't have panic attacks around birthdays. I enjoy getting older and I've learned to enjoy celebrating my life. It seems that it is the anniversary that has me gulping back the sensation that I must be getting old. I'm over forty. I see my age and I smile. My 40s are amazing so far. The best years of my life in terms of growth and opportunity. then I see how many years I've been married and I run and check my head for grey hairs and my face for pesky wrinkles.

What is it about a number that can make us feel or act crazy? In stead of feeling pulled down, I can focus on the knowledge that we have survived and thrived together for 19 years. According to some statistic I heard on the radio (and we all know what what you hear on the radio is true!), the average marriage in the USA lasts 8 years. We've more than beat the odds on that. We have much to be proud of.

Honestly, I don't think about how long we've been married. I think that's why the number surprises me. We're married and marriage is a day-by-day thing where you get out of it what you put in and if you're not willing to contribute to the relationship, that's on you. We have our ups and we have our downs, but over all we are happy. So I guess 19 years isn't such a panic inducing number after all. We'll see how I feel about 20.

Rocket Club

 Gratitudes:

1. It may be shallow, but I adore my new Macbook Pro. Having a laptop again is a joy and having a Macbook is a pleasure. I'm so thankful for this amazing piece of technology.
2. Air conditioning. The weather is going to be in the 90s and creeping up toward the 100s and I am so very thankful we have air conditioning. Extreme heat and I do not get along.
3. That my husband loves one of my favorite local bands almost as much as I do, and because of his love for this band, we were able to go see Rocket Club perform last night! I consider it an early anniversary gift. :-)

I have been listening to Rocket Club since I first learned that a former co-worker from a company I used to work for had not only started a country band but was getting some airtime on local radio stations. In December of 2008, after the dreaded layoff from said company, I downloaded Rocket Club's first album and have been a fan ever since.

Now, you need to know that I'm not generally a fan of country music. I tend to skip the country stations when shuffling through the radio presets and the only country music we owned prior to this was Johnny Cash or The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band - both because the husband enjoys them. Rocket Club was my little secret. I listened to them on my computer on iPod and rocked out to their music pumping through my earbuds while I was cleaning or making dinner or walking the dog. 

It wasn't until we dove a little deeper into the 21st century and purchased an iPod dock with speakers that Hubs was introduced to Rocket Club. He recognized one of the vocalists right away as being a morning personality on a radio station he enjoys streaming. And he forgave my taste in all other music once his toe started tapping and he started doing the white man's overbite to a few of the tunes. Okay, maybe not all my musical choices. 

We have every album from iTunes and on CD and we have every single they've released in MP3 format. When they started playing local summer festivals we availed ourselves and become those fans - the ones who will follow their band of choice to as many local venues as humanly possible. Within the budget, of course. 

Rocket Club has had a few singles on the Billboard charts and have caught the attention of some producers down in Nashville. They are the hot new thing...sort of. They aren't your traditional country band. They've dubbed the music they play North Country because they are from the northern midwest. Unlike most bands, they don't have a single front man but have two regular vocalists and a third who has a few special songs of his own. With so many talented vocalists there is this amazing blend of three-part harmonies in their music. Their songs are stories, just like most country, but they are stories pertinent to their lives and the lives of their fans - most of whom live north of the Mason-Dixon line. And as such, they refuse to relocate to the mecca of all that is country, instead blazing their trail as indie artists while continuing to shake up the status quo in the country world. 

This year, Rocket Club decided to try something different, a project they dubbed Lucky 13. Writing, recording and producing one song a month, Rocket Club is in the middle of releasing an album one track at a time, debuting each offering on a local country station on the last Thursday of the month the track was written. By December 26th they will have thirteen singles for their newest album. Thirteen because they will release a bonus track in December. It's a unique way to make music and so far we are nothing but impressed. 

For every new single there is a release party and we were lucky enough to be able to head out and see our boys perform at a sweet little venue Friday night. Hubs was so impressed he is going to make a special effort to be available to attend all future Lucky 13 release parties. Fist pump, y'all! 

Don, Chris, Joe, Brian, Billy and Luke, you may think you've met your biggest fans but trust me when I tell you, getting the husband to go out on a Friday night is a huge deal! Congrats, you've done in one night what I've been trying to do in almost 19. I owe you one!

Give A Little Thanks

It's been an interesting year without my father-in-law. Family dynamics definitely shift when a parent dies. And mourning is unique to each family member. This has caused some tension and has allowed for some opportunities for growth. The anniversary of his death came and went without fanfare, everyone remembering their father, father-in-law, grandfather, uncle in a way that was honoring to both is memory and the mourner. I think this is right. There's no right way to mourn and the only wrong way is to not mourn at all.

As for me, it's been a year of introspection and an evaluation of various relationships in my life. A common theme has been gratitude. I know I have posted before about gratitude and even started posting some things I'm grateful for on this blog. And then I took a hiatus from blogging here in any regular fashion. I won't say I'm back but I'm ready to start blogging more than I have been. And I want to start with regular gratitude posts. My goal is daily but given my schedule I'll be happy if I have four posts a week. :)

When I was a therapist, one of the cognitive techniques we used with clients who were depressive or anxious was to keep a gratitude journal. The purpose was to start to shift thinking away from constant negativity loops so the client could begin to see the world through a different perspective. In other words, this was a cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) exercise. I think everyone can benefit from CBT at different times in their lives. You don't need to be depressed to need a little help in shifting thinking away from something that isn't a positive benefit.

So, I'm considering the next little while my mini-journey into CBT and am using gratitude as a way to help my focus my thoughts on the positive. As Nathan Fillion once said somewhere, I think it was MySpace, take time to spread some positivity into the world. Well, that starts with gratitude. And yes, I just sort of quoted Nathan Fillion. Live with it. *grin*

Three things I'm thankful for today:

1. A local medical group had a mini health fair today and I scored fresh veggies! Roasted corn on the cob is now on the menu for tomorrow.
2. My new copper farmer's sink is in and even though I mistakenly rubbed off the protective wax, it looks so pretty.
3. Someone dreamed up colored highlighters. Whoever you are, thank you for making my work day more fun through color.

What I Did This Weekend

We went to the family cabin this past weekend. Cabins are wonderful things - when you are a visitor. This particular cabin has been in my husband's family for now three generations. When his father owned it, he was in charge of the expenses and maintenance. My husband and his brother would assist with the physical labor, but by and large, other than cabin opening and cabin closing, the work wasn't overly time consuming. The cabin wasn't owned by us. Our usage was always based around my father-in-law's schedule. We were, in essence, visitors. 

Now that my father-in-law has passed away, the cabin is legally owned by my husband and his siblings. The brunt of all the work, all the decisions, all the labor, and all the expenses fall to this collective group. And their families. I was struck anew by the amount of work it takes to maintain a cabin. This past weekend was the first time anyone had been up to the cabin since it was winterized and closed up last fall. There were mice to evict, cobwebs and spiders to destroy, a general closed up odor to air out. Surfaces were scrubbed with Clorox. The sinks, tub and toilet were also scrubbed and de-spidered. Cabinets were emptied and dishes were washed…with Clorox and hot water. Pesky mice - they will pee on anything! Trees that had fallen over the winter were dissected and converted to firewood for next year. The yard was raked. The screened porch assembled and the dock was wrestled into place. Then there was the start of the cabin inventory - what needs to be fixed and in what priority; what items in the cabin can be given away or tossed; what items need to be purchased. 

This took a looooong time. I kid you not. And we're not finished. For years the cabin has been the happy dumping ground for anything that was no longer wanted at my FIL's house. And for his father before him. You can imagine what kind of things we found. Ancient coffee percolators that don't work. A food processor that predates my birth. Plastic Raggedy Anne and Andy place settings that no on uses. Enough lawn chairs to outfit a battalion of parade observers. A set of bathing trunks that have seen better days. And this is just some of what I found in the kitchen and one closet. I lost steam around the time my hands started to permanently prune up due to exposure to water. 

It's going to be a long summer. Every time we come up there will be something to fix, another drawer or closet to inventory, and more wildlife to convince they belong outside. I had a moment when I was inside washing mugs and glasses that have never been used in the eighteen years I've been a part of the family. Is this what cabin ownership is going to mean? We work hard on our own home only to turn around on weekends and head three hours out of town to work on the cabin? Are we never going to be able to relax? Ever again? 

As I was having my private breakdown, I noticed the bird feeder just off the back door and the kitchen. The bird feeder is on a post and is supposed to have two clear panels that are open about an inch on the bottom. Feed fills the feeder and birds are supposed to perch on it and eat the seed. At some point one of the sides had broken and it's now a little cave on a pole. One industrious robin has built her nest in the feeder and has layer several eggs. I watched her as she cared for her eggs, sitting there keeping them warm and safe. Then I noticed some chipmunks roughhousing in the wood pile. And when I sat down to look out at the lake, I saw my nephews, pretending to  help my husband and his brother wrestle with the dock. The joy on their faces was priceless. 

Sure, being a part owner in the cabin is going to mean more work than we're used to. But it's still a retreat for family. It's away from the city and on a clear night, the sky is awash with stars. The only noises you hear are your neighbors and the occasional boat or car. It's peaceful here. And if can also be full of laughter. As it was last weekend. 

Cabins are wonderful things, when they are filled with family and laughter. 

Shiny

My birthday was a week ago and for this joyful occasion I decided to treat myself to something I have been lusting after for quite some time, a shiny new Macbook Pro laptop. 

I started saving money for this beauty about three years ago. Every month I socked away some of my spending money into a "replace the desktop or netbook or both" fund. Once I had enough money pocketed, I started to hem and haw about what to buy. I could save money by getting a netbook, but the processing power in those smaller laptops isn't great. Plus, I would need to get an external DVD drive if I ever wanted to play one of our myriad of DVDs on it. Also, it wouldn't really allow me to replace the Apple G5 desktop that Apple hasn't supported since 2009. 

I though about moving away from Apple products altogether. They are expensive and they have a built in obsolescence of about 5 years. Apple isn't as user friendly when it comes to home upgrades of the computer itself. For example, the husband has built and maintains a computer we use as a media center. He can upgrade all of the guts, including the motherboard. In our apple computers, we can upgrade memory and hard drives and that is about it. There just aren't parts to be had, or at least not parts we've found. 

So, given those cons, which were worth taking into consideration, I reviewed my Windows based options. And nothing appealed to me. Sure, I could get a laptop for less money. But it wouldn't be a Mac. 

I finally decided on what to purchase. I'm a Mac girl, through and through. Have been since 1993 when my husband, then boyfriend, introduced me to the joy of the Apple SE, an all-in-one computer that was also sort of portable. The platform, even then, was so user friendly. And while he is now an affirmed Windows man, I will remain loyal to my Apple roots. At least until I am priced out of the market. 

Still, after deciding on sticking with Apple, I took months agonizing over used versus new, Retina versus glossy versus anti-glare displays, solid state drives versus hard disk drives. And there was that small matter of being willing to actually part with the money I spent so long saving. Watching my account go down that quickly was not easy for me. 

It all boils down to making a choice and just...doing it. So, I decided on a new Macbook pro with the anti-glare screen and a whopping 750GB harddrive. No solid state drive...yet. I can always upgrade later, right? 

I've finally moved over much of the files form the netbook and all the iTunes media from the desktop. There's a lot more to go, along with applications to purchase and layouts to explore. It's like having a shiny new toy. My husband teases me and calls my new Macbook my Precious, complete with Gollum-like intonations. I can't help it if my my laptop is prettier AND more functional than his, now can I? 

Things I'm Thankful For

The seventh book in Patricia Brigg's Mercy Thompson urban fantasy series came out today and the millionth book in J.D. Robb's In Death series came out last week. I'm happily enjoying the later and can't wait to start the former.

My friend's son, who is being treated for cancer, is doing well and all signs point to no more cancer. Fingers crossed this is truly the case!

Work upgraded their servers, making it more difficult to connect remotely. They finally resolved this and I can once again work from home. *happy dance*

My birthday is next week and my present to myself is a shiny new Macbook Pro. She arrived today and is all shiny and pretty and better than any other computer in the house. *squee* And, for those people with Facetime on their iPhones, iPads and iTouches, I can now Facetime with you, from my computer. Once I figure out how to do use it. *grin*

A is going to buy me an MS Office upgrade for my new Macbook. In addition to other birthday goodies he has planned. He's so sweet.

I was able to get my birthday off of work and have planned some fun things for me: a birthday breakfast at a restaurant that has the best GF pancakes; a birthday mani/pedi; birthday lunch with a friend I haven't seen in ages; a massage.

I will be 42 in just over a week. Yes, that makes me happy. I have survived another year and given the events that occurred last year, I don't ever want to relive 41.

I have rekindled my love affair with Doctor Who and am happily not at the EPISODE with Rose. At least, not yet.

It is warm and snowy and sunny out and I have books to read, a dog to cuddle and hot cocoa to drink.

I am loved, not for what I do, but for who I am. And isn't that a wonderful thing.

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Updates and Such

It's been an interesting week. The weather warmed to lovely temperatures - which means it hovered around freezing instead of trying to mimic the Arctic. A huge storm missed us by heading east instead. Sorry, Chicago! The vintage china tea service that was shipped to me from Canada went on a lovely trip bouncing back and forth between Calgary and Louisville. It did finally end up in my possession and all the pieces are in excellent condition.

Husband decided he needed to help me maximize space in my new bookcase so more shelves will be built. Don't tell him this, but I kind of played dumb so he would do the hard work for me. What's a husband for, right? As a reward, I made him a lovely homemade pot roast dinner last night and he has been getting homemade cookies since he decided to dig out my stand mixer a couple of weeks ago. He's my hero. *grin*

Other than than spilling hot cocoa on my lovely grey cardigan this morning, things have been fairly quiet. I'm kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop but crossing my fingers that after ten months of chaos things will settle down if just for a little while. If we can get through my birthday without any serious incidents or illnesses, I will be ever so thankful. Just two weeks. That's all I'm asking. Well, that and an easy way to remove hot cocoa stains from cotton jersey. Maybe world peace. But seriously, hot cocoa stains? Anyone?

Friends and Gentle Reminders

I was out with a friend for lunch and we got to talking, as we do, about marriage. Our conversation moved into the territory of leaving and cleaving, needs and choices.

A healthy marriage consists of communication, positive conflict management and each partner having their needs met.  This is where I'm selfish. I want my needs met but I don't always see my husband's. We have lived in the chaos of renovations and higher education and work and life for so long, I think I've forgotten to really see him and his needs. And I interpret how he makes "requests" of me as attacks, as judgement or as a need to control his world. I forget that he needs structure and a certain level of order to the chaos. Me, I don't see the mess around me. I'm learning this is a coping mechanism and not how I actually function best, but I don't see the chaos. I survive despite it. 

So as my friend and I were talking and I shared with her a story about lemons, a kitchen sink and my husband, she gently but firmly showed me that my reaction to the situation was rather passive aggressive and that my husband likely needs some structure that I haven't been providing for him. She shared with me a different way I could have responded that would have met my need and given my husband what he needed. Instead of the push me pull you of relationship dynamics, I could have responded in a way that would have acknowledged we both have needs and we both know how to compromise in order for those needs to be fulfilled. 

We have a relatively healthy marriage, but even in good marriages there are things that need to be addressed and areas we can improve. Some behaviors that are getting in our way. Every marriage needs check-ups once in a while. A good physical where we can see potential issues or warning signs and head them off before they can take root and eat away at the foundation. 

I was reminded I need to really see my husband. To voice my needs instead of fuming at the status quo, and be willing to have some give and take that isn't all or nothing. That is, instead, partnering. These are not new concepts to me. There have been times I've been very good at these things. And times like now when I choose to act in a less than partnering manner. 

To change the patterns we are forming requires a willingness to change  behavior, and the willingness to have some difficult conversations instead of letting things slide. I can't change my husband's behavior, but I can change mine. I can't change his perspective, but I can work on mine. I can't make him share with me, but I can choose to share my needs, wants, thoughts with him. 

There are choices in every situation. They may not always be great choices, but there are choices. Letting things slide can lead to victim thinking (I had no choice, I can't change things, there's no point), or anger and resentment. Change which choice we make and we can instead work to build a stronger relationship. 

Lunch was good. The firm and gentle reminder was what I needed. I'm very grateful for friends who are willing to speak the truth. It helps me grow. And in turn, I hope it will help me as I continue to nurture and grow my marriage and my other relationships.

Just Ducky

My FIL's house may have just sold. After spending practically every weekend over there since Labour Day, it's nice to know our blood, sweat and tears are paying off. We hauled out so much crap and recycling from the basement and second floor it's not funny. I think the recycling dumpster at my husband's office has had more play in the last two months than it has ever in it's life. Yes, that is how much crap we hauled out. Most of it paper or electronics in nature.

We sorted. We tossed. We brought home little treasures and items to be sorted through later. We cleaned, we tossed some more. Hubby and his brother fixed miscellaneous items. The house never looked this good inside in the entire time I have been a member of this family. I almost wanted to make a bid on it myself!

We're going to miss the place. We haven't spent much time there over the last five years. My FIL and his wife became snowbirds and spent the winters out of state. Which meant they weren't around for Thanksgiving or Christmas. But after spending two months of weekends over there, I was reminded of why this is such a great house and just how unique it is, in this tiny micro-neighborhood where everyone has a huge wooded lot and houses built in a 70's modern style. It's like an oasis inside the city. You can't really hear a highway or traffic. You can't see your neighbors so you feel like you are out in the country. Wildlife is plentiful so if you're into birding or watching deer meander through your yard, this house would be the place for you.

While it hasn't quite hit my husband yet, this is going to be another good-bye. I know he's been saying good-bye to the house he grew up in for years. Life transitions have continued to remove him further and further from the home of his formative years - moving out, rooms being repurposed, renovations, and his father spending less and less time there.  Even cleaning through the house has been an exercise in saying good-bye. But the final farewell was just a theory. Something that was going to happen in the ambiguous future. Until that day, the house - and all it's memories - were still part of the family.

After December 7th, he'll only be able to lay claim to the memories.

I know how that goes. My grandmother's house on Vancouver Island was a place of joy for me. Every summer I would spend weeks there, exploring the house, the fields, the surrounding area. It was always filled with love and acceptance and my grandma's amazing pies. I loved this house and what it represented to me so much I felt I was going to die when both my grandparents passed away and the family sold the remaining property, including the house.

I would go out of my way and drive by the old farmstead every time I would visit, catching glimpses of changes to the house and the property. Once I even went to the door and asked if I could walk around the property. I never asked to step inside the house. Even if they hadn't changed a thing, it wouldn't be grandma's house anymore. And that I couldn't bear. I would take my memories, wrap them tightly about my shoulders and comfort myself with them.

My husband isn't as sentimental as I am, so I don't think he's going to break down in tears over the sale of his family home. I do know when the documents are signed and we have to hand over our keys, he's going to have a moment or two. Just like he did when we closed the cabin for the first time without his dad. Just like he will when a significant date comes and goes and his dad isn't there to share it with him.

Grief is like that. One day we can feel just ducky, life is fine. We have a handle on things. Then WHAM! out of now where we are hit with a memory, a thought, a niggle that reminds us that things have changed, that we have lost something. And that even though we are managing to move forward, there will always be a hole in our lives from our loss. And that's okay. Better than okay. Without his dad, my husband wouldn't be the man he is today. It's okay to ride the waves and ripples of grief and to acknowledge that this hole is never going to be filled. The hole represents his dad. A man who cannot be replaced. The pain associated with that hole will grow fainter. It will always be there in some way, but he will go days, months, years without it's acute ache.

Grief is necessary. And it's okay. I wish our culture was more comfortable with grief and loss. And the need to express the emotions surrounding both. Without grief, we can't fully taste joy. Without joy, we aren't fully alive.

Laughter: The Great Stress Reliever

This past weekend is the first weekend since we got the call that my FIL was dying that we didn't have any obligations. Okay, my husband had homework and we still had to take care of the dog, but we didn't have to be anywhere or do anything.

I did what I always do when I have a moment to relax. I ended up getting sick. I wasn't feeling that terrific all week and I don't get a lot of time off at work so because I wasn't contagious I Ididn't take any time off. Then I got good and achy and feverish on Saturday. Blessing in disguise because I ended up spending the day in bed watching Netflix and Hulu on my nook tablet, catching up on some shows and generally getting in some laughter therapy.

My husband spent Saturday taking care of some of the outdoor things - raking and bagging the copious amount of leaves blowing around the yard, fertilizing the lawn before winter sets in. You know, those adult-like things that must be done, but I prefer to believe the home maintenance fairies take care of while I sleep. For hubby, these things are therapeutic. I don't get it myself but I don't argue with the results. He's more relaxed, more centered and grounded. Now, if I could convince him that I'm more relaxed and centered when someone else takes care of these items on my behalf.

We ordered in pizza for dinner and spent some highly needed time just being with each other. We've been in one problem solving mode after another for the past three months that it was nice to just be. To breathe. To laugh. Was it ever good to laugh.

We release stress in a few different ways: crying, laughing, sweating. I haven't spent much time crying (I'm sure there's going to be a crying jag in my future). I sweat a bit at Pilates but am not really a fan - even during good sex. So we laughed. So hard my belly hurt and I was actually reduced to tears because I was laughing. So. Darn. Hard. I have no idea what I was laughing at, but man, did that release some of the pent up stress I have been experiencing.

A nice side effect was that my rolling-on-the-floor-dying-from-laughter episode was highly entertaining to hubby. Cuz, I live to entertain. *snort*

Laughter therapy. I highly recommend it. I also recommend going out for dinner with a good friend and laughing uproariously when it becomes apparent that the waiter is giving you special attention due to that shirt you wore that shows off your assets quite nicely. Anywhere you can find it, laughter can be great therapy.

Life with a Vacuum

Yeah, you read that right. Life with a vacuum. I don't live in a vacuum. No one can, really. Unless they cut themselves off from everyone and everything and huddle in a cave somewhere. But life in a cave still isn't life in a vacuum because the weather, the wildlife, the cave itself is ever changing.

But that's not my point. My point is that I feel like I live my life with a vacuum cleaner. All I'm doing these days at home are cleaning, keeping the books, and cleaning some more. And I'm ready to kick Dyson back to the stone age. Yet every time I decide I'm done and will clean no more this week, I step on grit the dog dragged in from our poorly manicured yard. Or I find clumps of fur sticking up from the carpet. Or sawdust or cobwebs or...the list goes on. When I think the house is clean, well, then it isn't.

This is life. Messy. Ever changing. And not always working out to plan.

I learned something this week. Yes, I'm vacuuming and cleaning. A lot. If I focus on that I get tired and grumpy and never want to see a cleaning tool again. But, if I focus on the reasons why I'm cleaning, my attitude changes and I'm not as caught up in my personal dramas. There is fur and grit on the floor because we rescued a smart and loving dog who adds a layer of joy to our lives that wasn't quite there before. There is sawdust everywhere because we are in the last phase of renovations and inching closer to a new front door and hardwood floors. There are cobweb remnants scattered hither and yon because we were finally able to remove the old stairs to the basement to make way for the new kitchen.

No, my house isn't Martha Stewart neat and polish by any stretch of the imagination. It is what it is - an ever changing environment of becoming. That takes work. And with work comes a mess. Sometimes a lot of mess.

When life's messes appear I pull out my existential vacuum cleaners and get to work sorting things out and reflecting on just how I got here. Sure, the process of arriving at this point in my life hasn't always been sunshine and rainbows. But without the storms that stir the ocean of my life and blow detritus upon my shore I wouldn't be me.

Today when I started to vacuum I reminded myself that my life is an ever changing environment of becoming. And I smiled. Life with a vacuum isn't so bad after all.