7

 Seven years ago tonight my life stopped being my life.  Well, at least the life that I had been living and the one that I was familiar with.  I don't want to think about that night very much, or the days that followed.  I don't much like to think about the years that followed either.  At least not the first few years.

 There was so much fear.  And bewilderment.  Confusion.  More fear.  Overwhelming sadness that bordered on despair.  Eventually, there was resignation.  Maybe a little desperation.  And guilt.  The guilt was a surprise to me. How come I couldn't fix this, for both myself and my kids?  

Silver linings?  Yeah, there were a few of those too.  I found my independence.  I found strength that I didn't know I possessed.  I started to find authenticity.  

There was so much we lost.  But in the losing, there was so much we learned and gained.  

Life is unfair.  To all of us really, but just in different ways.  We all get our dose of pain.  Every.  Single.  Person.  No one escapes this truth.

I suppose it's what we do with that pain that ultimately matters.  

 

This quote has always resonated with me, both literally and figuratively.  I have tried so hard to keep true to this idea, oftentimes falling so very short of the mark, but trying just the same.  

Imperfection and failure have been my close friends through the years.  I know them well and am not bothered by their insistent presence any longer.  We have a good relationship now.

Seven years is a long time.  Part of who I am exists because of the before.  Part of who I am is a result of the after.  And part of who I am is, thankfully, because of the present.  I will forever be thankful for all of it.  None shall be forgotten.

Not ever.

Two Years.

This year's Christmas tree.

 We have lived in our house for two years now.  We closed on this house the day after Christmas two years ago and immediately began moving our belongings in.  That was a process, let me tell you!

         My favorite farmer plowing my garden.

Me using power tools.  Scary.

This is the eleventh (I think that's right?) house that I have lived in.  And it has definitely earned the honor of being my most favorite.  Want me to admit something silly?  Sometimes I get up in the middle of the night and just wander around the house and feel overwhelming appreciation for exactly where I have landed.  Seriously, not a day goes by that I don't feel a sense of reverence and gratitude for this home and the people who share it with me.  I know, I know, my repeated statement regarding this can be a little nauseating but I truly mean it!  I just admitted to skulking around the house at night...doesn't that alone show my earnestness?

Christmas present clock.

I love how big this house is.  Jake never gets tired of reminding me that when we were looking at houses to buy I told him that 1300 square feet would be sufficient.  Yikes!  In this house, everyone has at least one spot that is just their own.  The kitchen is huge and has plenty of room to bake and cook and visit all at the same time.  I spend an awful lot of time in that kitchen and I just love it.  There is a large portion of the basement that doubles as a family room as well as my own personal gym.  I've never had anything like that before!  The basement also has my craft room/spare bedroom/gun room/camping room/workshop.  So.  Much.  Space.  Jake has his own room down there too, just filled with all his favorite things, and is a quiet place for him to escape.  My bathroom has its retro pink tub and ginormous mirrors that allow me to see the back of my hair when sitting at the built-in vanity.  There are two fireplaces that are so cozy when they're lit.  And cupboards.  There are so many of those things that not all of them are even filled up!  Empty cupboards?!  Who'd have thought that was even possible!  The garden and berries and fruit trees keep my homesteading vibe within reach.  There are even cows and horses in the backyard that I can see from the back patio.  And that patio...I do love it out there!   My list could go on and on.

Cold morning on the patio.  

Our blueberries.  

Cows.  Obviously.

The horseshoe cross that Jon welded for me.

This house has always felt like home to us.  From the first night we moved in, it has always felt like we were meant to be here.  Together.  That feeling hasn't left me yet and I hope it never does.

But do you know what I love best about being here?  More than the house itself?  I love the life that is within its walls.  I grow and learn and create here daily.  

Word.

Many, many years ago I read somewhere that you should choose a word that will be the focus of the new year.  Not exactly a new year's resolution but kinda along the same line.  I try to choose a word each year.  Sometimes it's easy to find the word.  Sometimes it's a lame word, hardly inspiring enough to share.  Sometimes the word I've chosen loses its significance within a few months into the year.  But I usually put some thought into my word and start the new year with that as my focus.

I think my word this year will be presence.

I found this quote by Eckhart Tolle today and it resonated with me.  A lot.  All too often I am too much in my head and thinking about the befores and afters in life.  I end up missing the now stuff.  And now stuff shouldn't be cast aside or ignored.  

Oh, I'll still think about yesterday and tomorrow.  I'll remember something funny that one of the kids said many years ago or a nice time I had with friends several years ago.  I might even think about a lesson I learned from a past experience.  I will think about making sure the coffee pot is ready for tomorrow or that my to-do list is written down.  But right now, at this moment, I will sit in bed watching the snow outside the bedroom window, listening to Jon's TV and Sarah's phone conversation, knowing that Jake is downstairs playing his game, and focus on being right here.  Present.

Catch up.

 I never wrote about my birthday.

It was humbling.  It was relaxing.  It was full.  It was really rather epic.  I wore a crown for a week.  Really.

Aren't we supposed to be introspective on our birthdays?  Certainly, as we get older I think there is a tendency to look at our lives and try to make sense of it or put it categorically into some sort of order.  I felt a little like a voyeur this year, standing outside and looking in.

What did I see?

I saw my kids, all of them, and marveled at where they were and who they were becoming.  It made me a little melancholy to think that none of them "needed" me in the ways they had before.  That's a rough transition for most Moms I would assume.  Bittersweet.  And the guilt that always sits in the back of my mind and whispers about what I could have done differently or better, whatever that even means.  It's a peculiar feeling looking at these people who I made and knowing that ultimately they aren't mine to keep.  

I saw my friends.  There were the ones who dropped everything and took me away for the weekend to celebrate in epic style.  There were the ones who stripped naked with me and partook in our ritual of couples massage (!) and brunch and mimosas.  There were the ones who danced and sang with me to our sad, favorite songs. There were the ones who simply wished me a happy day.  Oh man, my friends, each and every one of them are the most beautiful constant in my life.  Old friends, new friends, doesn't matter, not one went unappreciated.  

Humbled, for sure.

I saw my family, the ones who are biologically mine and the ones who are mine by choice (and so many of my friends can be included in this category too!).  What a strange thing it must be for my parents to see me as a 50-year-old woman.  For my siblings to remember me as a little girl.  I thought about my grandparents and birthday presents from the past; silver dollars and boxes of pudding mix and birthday cakes from "the" book.  Looking back is a strange mixture of both happy and sad.

I saw my Jake.  Always sitting quietly and shying away from the noise that is my people.  I see all of the efforts he put into making my birthday a big deal.  Where I can be loud and frenetic and mercurial, he is grounded and calm and unwavering.  He is the happiest, most unexpected surprise of my life.  Probably the only thing in my life that I can't find the words to write down and express how I feel about him.  Sometimes I try but it always ends up too pedestrian.

I saw my past.  Again, looking backward is a mixture of both happy and sad.  I truly am thankful for what's behind me because it is how I got to where I currently exist.    

I looked in and saw now.  And I like now.  

I am 50.  Half a century, Jake tells me.  Looking at my life, the good and bad and ugly and beautiful and hard and easy elicits so many emotions.  But the one that is at the forefront of it all is contentment.  I've got lots of stuff left to experience and fun to be had and fights to be fought and rough spots to smooth out but contentment will be my consort.

 

Birthday Week Kickoff!

 I've got a big birthday coming up very soon.  

Kinda thought I'd get a good start on it by completing my annual "Run My Age" run today.  This week is going to be pretty busy, between work and volleyball and football and life in general.  And I've got some super exciting plans for the weekend that might include wearing a tiara, eating some nachos and drinking margaritas, and probably eating ridiculous amounts of bread.  There is definitely NO running included in my weekend plans.  Unless it's away from the police.....

So birthday week is now underway.  Could be epic.

                                                                      Before!

        

After!

Unlearning

 I'm going to turn 50 this year. I'm honestly ok with this fact because I feel pretty great, both physically and mentally.  I can still run a few miles and I can do real pushups like a badass.  I do have ridiculous random aches and pains on occasion, but hey, I am almost 50!   

I also feel like by 50 years old a person should have gained a lot of wisdom and experience. I guess that truth is why I'm contented with my mental health right now too. Wisdom and experience...I'm all over that stuff.

So what kind of wisdom can an old crone like me share with the world? What have I learned in the course of my half-century existence?  

Well, first, I don't think we should ever consider ourselves finished with learning. Never. There is always something new that we can learn. There are countless new facts, new people, new ideas, new methods, and new mindsets to assimilate into our current lives. The key is, you must be humble enough to admit that your way isn't always the better way. You also need to embrace the concept of flexibility (I can still do a cartwheel!) and allow yourself to evolve into life.  

Wow. That sounds awfully "woo-woo," doesn't it?

But seriously, being open to change and learning new things is paramount to living a happy life.  

In the past several years I have learned so much. Hell's bells, I think I learn new stuff every day! I've learned how to live life alone and how to create a life with an amazing man. I've learned how to let go of an old mindset and embrace a new reality. I know how to wind hoses the correct way, wrap extension cords so they don't tangle, and fold towels efficiently (instead of just throwing them in a basket). I have mastered the weedeater and driven a tractor. I have learned how to let go of people and things who don't deserve a place in my life. I have discovered the elusive art of boundaries. I have learned how to work full-time and still manage my home well. I have learned how to let my kids start lives of their own. I am (still) learning patience.  

The list of what I have learned is nearly infinite and I couldn't even begin to list a fraction of it all.  Some of it is practical and functional and some are serious and deep with significance.  I'm grateful for all of it.

But you know what I think is the most important bit of wisdom I have learned? The one thing that I really want to share? That thing is the idea of unlearning. 

I  think that unlearning ideas, mindsets, patterns, and even people, is probably the most vital piece of wisdom I have found yet.

Unlearning stuff is hard! It can be uncomfortable too. I think unlearning absolutely requires the notion of flexibility. And probably a good dose of humility as well.

By unlearning, I have learned how to let go. To just let stuff go and allow for something different (and better) to emerge.  

There is a lovely sort of surrender in unlearning. It is the best lesson I have learned. And it just took 50 years to acquire this wisdom.  

Changing sheets and other horrible chores.

 I remember when my kids were all still living at home.  I remember when they all were needing something from me on a daily basis.  Some of those needs were more complex or abstract while others were purely practical.  Diaper changes anyone?  Or maybe even help getting dressed or reminders about brushing teeth?  (Funny side note:  I'm pretty sure that if I were to stay the night at my parent's house today, my Dad would still ask me if my teeth were brushed before I went to bed! True story.)  Those were the days of unending needs.

It occurred to me the other day that I no longer had to change anyone's bedsheets, save for my own.  Seriously, this is my least favorite chore and I'm no longer responsible for another person's sheet's cleanliness or lack thereof.   

And that got me thinking about some other things I no longer need to help with.  Laundry?  Nope.  Not my problem.  Cleaning the bathroom?  Nope, that gets done too.  Mostly.  I haven't wiped a butt in years and everyone makes it to the toilet in time if they're throwing up.  I don't have to worry about the Santa or Easter Bunny facade anymore, though both still visit the house at the appropriate holiday.  I'm not completely heartless.

You know what else?  I don't even have to go to the grocery store anymore!  I've got drivers who can do that for me.  

Yep, I have arrived.  No more bed making and no more grocery shopping.  

To be honest though, there are some things I miss being needed for.  I miss reading books to snuggly littles.  I miss babies in backpacks and strollers.  I miss the smell of freshly washed toddlers when I lifted them from the tub.  I miss choosing adorable outfits.  I guess there's much I can be wistful and nostalgic for.

But life moves on.  And I don't have to drive to the gas station to fill up my car tomorrow.  Yes, I have arrived.