Lessons from the birds and the streams and the forest

I had an up close interaction with a Brown-headed Nuthatch today that left me with a sense of awe and recalibrated my perspective.

I went for a hike this morning at a preserve in the suburbs.  The day was absolutely gorgeous, sunny and in the 60s with just a light breeze.  I started at a lesser used trailhead and didn't even encounter another hiker until I had been walking for about 30 minutes.  When I got close to the popular waterfall and trailhead section, I just passed on by without stopping and found quiet once again as I reached the other extreme end of the park.  

It was in one of these quieter parts of the park with the trail to myself that I came across this little nuthatch.  He foraged for food in a dead tree not more than about five feet from where I stood.  He was completely uninterested in or perhaps oblivious to my presence.

What surprised me the most was how tiny this bird was.  I suppose when I observe them from a distance with my long lens, my sense of scale is off.  But up close its tiny size couldn't be mistaken.  To think such a small bird sings a tune that can be heard through the forest!  I often listen for its unique squeaky exclamations when I hike or explore botanical gardens.  Now I will be able to imagine its tiny size among the towering trees.

I spent almost four hours in the park.  I hiked over five miles among rocks and roots, crossing back and forth across the stream, testing my balance on rocks to avoid getting wet each time I crossed.  I discovered waterfalls I hadn't visited before and trails I had never taken.  

I left my camera behind on this hike and I didn't take many photos or videos with my phone like I so often do.  I wanted to be present.  I spent a lot of time listening to the birds and trying to identify them by their songs and chatter.  I sat down and even laid down on large flat rocks, sometimes in the middle of the stream to more deeply connect myself to this Earth.

I found myself recording voice notes of my thoughts with the sounds of the birds and water in the background.  I had never done that before but I am enjoying playing them back and hope they will be an inspiration for some poetry.

And about 2.5 hours into the hike, a thought crossed my mind that made me stop in my tracks.  A move to LA would mean giving up spaces like this.  Any neighborhood I was looking at was a long ways from some real green space.  Any attempts to connect with nature would be difficult without hours of time getting out of the city.  And maybe that is the most important reason why I probably won't apply for that job.  

I felt lighter after that realization.  All my other pros and cons that have been running through my head this past week hadn't hit at any core of who I am so weren't particularly persuasive either way.  This need to connect with nature is essential to my being.

So although my legs may be sore and I'm still trying to rehydrate from the hike, this immersion into the noisy quiet of the forests and the streams was exactly what I needed.  I think the birds help me drown out all the distractions and listen to the depths of my inner self.  And they remind me that the most important moment is always the present one.

Wasted nurturing

My body is fighting something.  It started with a sore throat and a loss of energy.  I have gone to bed early the last three nights.  The sore throat is gone but I have just a little congestion and I'm still a bit tired.

I skipped choir last night and after the last of my friends declined the plans I had proposed for tonight to go the art museum, I decided to stay home instead.  My body needs rest.

I've written before about how much easier it is to be sick now than it was when I was married.  Without his negative energy, expectations, dependence on me for so much, and walking on eggshells to try and not inconvenience him, I didn't have much energy left to nurture myself back to good health and that definitely wasn't something he was willing to do for me.  He might catch what I have!

I feel a little bitter at all the care I provided for him not only when he was sick but also when he was healthy.  And he has now managed to fool another woman into doing all that for him.  And yet, I sit here not even knowing what it would feel like to have someone nurture me when I am sick.

Why does it seem like charm and manipulation so often seem to go hand in hand with ease and success in this world where honesty and integrity stumble?

I suppose this is grief over the relationship I wanted to have in my marriage but didn't get, the energy I wasted on a man willing to take but not reciprocate.

Sometimes I wonder where I would be if I hadn't married him.  Would I have taken time to grow into who I was before jumping into a relationship?  Would I have found someone capable of building a healthy marriage with?  Would I have had a less bumpy start to my teaching career?  Would I have been better at maintaining a community of friends?  What alternative endings would I find in The Midnight Library?

Whiplash

I opened my Google Drive app on my phone this morning to type up the poem that started forming in my head during my commute.  My old and new accounts are still a bit intertwined so it was files from the old joint account that were listed in the recent documents on the main screen.  This one that I am going to copy and paste below had been last opened in August of 2024 (by me? by him? I don't know) but the title caught my attention so I opened it today.  It's what he wrote me for our 11th wedding anniversary in June of 2016.  It seems quite timely as the circumstances of my last LA job opportunity are fresh in my mind as I try and make a decision about this current opportunity.

For context, he was in the process of interviewing for his dream job (one I doubted would be good for him but there was no stopping him like many things with him, I tried to adjust to make the best of it).  Despite the fact that I wasn't getting the honest discussions about how this would affect our marriage that I had hoped for, a couple weeks prior to our anniversary I had concretely shown my support by applying to jobs in LA and other major cities where this career path would take us.  

My dear,

You are a tree frog to so many people. At work you do everything that’s asked of you and more. With me, I can’t imagine a more supportive person!

I have put you through a lot, between all the cars and a lot of career aspirations. Each time you made sure it was what was the best fit for me and that I truly would be happy. Then you supported me 100%. I couldn’t have asked for more and you could not have been any more supportive!

Overall, you have been through a lot, yet you always have such a positive attitude. I love how you smile at me and like to hold me and how excited you are to see me after work. Even if I don’t always show it, I notice all these things and absolutely love them; don’t stop!

I only hope I can be half as supportive as you have been for me. At work when times get tough remember your tree frog analogy. You are amazing at what you do, but you can’t take it all on. Just do the best you can, put in a hard day’s work and everything will be fine.

It’s hard to believe today marks our 11th Anniversary! On the other hand, it’s hard to remember my life before you.

I love you so much, my little tree frog!! :)

Love,

[ex-husband]

(I don't remember the tree frog analogy.)

Later that summer he learned that he was not selected for that dream job.  It was a hard rejection because that was his last opportunity to apply as the following year he would surpass the age limit.  For the eight years that followed, he silently let resentment build up towards me and as he discarded me he accused me of not supporting him in that career move.  It felt like he blamed me for him not getting the job.

First, I want to say that there is some relief in finding things like this.  There was so much gaslighting at the end that I had really come to doubt my own memories.  Writings like this (whether his writings or mine) demonstrate how much he was re-writing our story to fit his own narrative.  My memory wasn't bad.

Second, writings like this help me understand why I stayed.  This wasn't an isolated note he gave me.  I received countless cards, letters, post-it notes, poems, e-mails, etc. with similar loving language.  Yes, I should have been paying more attention to the fact that his actions didn't align with his words but it was writings like this that sustained my fantasy and fed my sense of loyalty.  How could a man who wrote me such lovely notes be bad?

Side note - I don't recall him saying beautiful things to me verbally.  I hadn't thought about that until this moment.  It makes me wonder if he wanted to make sure his efforts in the relationship were documented somehow so that he could be able to say "see, it wasn't my fault.  I tried."  (Maybe I've gotten too cynical.)

To add just a little more context to this, I suspect he started his one-sided emotional affair (I don't know what to call it) with his boss not too many weeks after he received the rejection from that dream job.  I so quickly went from supportive, positive wife to the reason for his misery and his need to find company elsewhere.  And then when we entered couple's counseling that next February, it was to fix me because he felt I was the problem in our marriage.

The end of our marriage felt like whiplash to me.  But when I review memories like this, I see now that whiplash was just the pattern and rhythm of our marriage.  The difference with the whiplash at the end was that hope disappeared that last time as the illusion began to finally crumble.

How alone I have always been

Eyes glazed over,
I sip my coffee
and savor the way it coats
my sore throat.
Eight hours wasn’t enough sleep.

The birds aren’t singing.
The train tracks are quiet.
Thoughts escape my attention
as I loosely hold that mug of coffee.
Silence overwhelms.

Bundled up tight I head out.
The bitter cold flows right through me.
Each kick of the scooter
seems to require more and more effort.
My breathing is shallow.

With cloudy judgement,
I wind between moving cars
on a busy street,
unsure of how I navigated across.
I am tired.

At a busy corner, I wait.
Movement of a shadow not my own
startles me.
I watch the light turn green
and cross the road.

Arriving at work,
the hum of the heating unit
syncs with the white noise
running through my mind.
I furiously write.

It’s in the silent moments,
like this morning,
that I realize
just how alone
I have always been.

Uncertain times whether I stay or go

There are uncertainties, consequences, and rewards with the decision to stay put just as there are with the decision to  head out on a different path.  And that is no more true than in this very moment with our current political climate.

Sometimes I question whether now is the right time to be considering moving states and joining a different office in a new role with a probationary period.  The stability of even just two years ago is gone.  Last time I made a move, I had no worries about the stability of the next office.  My biggest concerns were whether I would like my new city and whether my co-workers would be nice.  Now those worries are added to worries about shifting office priorities, disappearing funding, layoffs, etc.

But then I have mornings like this one where I have no idea what I'm walking into when I arrive at work.  Our number one in command sent out an e-mail at 4:10 Friday evening (after many had logged off) saying it was her last day.  Our number two in command retired on Friday.  One of our division heads was demoted a week or two ago.  Three people from another division suddenly appeared on my floor this month.  People in my very own office are jumping ship or getting pushed out faster than I can blink.

So if I'm going to face uncertainties no matter which office I'm in, why not do it in a new city with a new adventure and maybe more opportunities?

What a night!

I crashed a 75 year old's birthday party today and walked away with his business card and a challenge that only a tiny percentage of women have ever responded to his business card.  His intrigue of me started when I told him I walked so much I usually didn't remember where my car was parked and then I told him that I'm an Enneagram 5.  (That's when he gave me his card.)  And then my friends were intent on showing him my bird photography.

I know I'm a unicorn.  Maybe we all are.  It is always fun to get noticed.  (Re-reading this I realize I should note that he is married and his wife was present so this wasn't any sort of romantic interest.  It was just a fun chance to meet new friends.)

I should add this was all after my friends told me that they thought someone we had all met at the retreat was interested in me.

What a night this was!

Gratitude for Dads and Friends

I spent some time on my taxes today.  This year is giving me a lesson in qualified vs ordinary dividends.  I followed the rabbit hole to calculate a lower tax on the qualified dividends but it just seemed a bit crazy so I picked up my phone and dialed my parents' number.  

Surprisingly my Mom picked up.  She had a medical procedure yesterday that I figured would make talking really difficult.  She only had a short time before her voice grew hoarse but it was good to hear how well she is doing.  And then she put my Dad on.  

He does their taxes by hand every year and although I didn't think he had dealt with dividends, I knew he had dealt with capital gains.  I talked through what I had done and he pulled up his spreadsheet from 2017, the year he used the same worksheet I was using and confirmed that I was on the right path.  It was really nice to hear his encouragement and his acknowledgement at the end that I had figured it out on my own.  Maybe I didn't need him for specific answers but it sure felt good to be able to turn to him and to get affirmed by him.

Then when I hung up, texts started to roll in from an invitation I had issued to the art museum this Thursday.  None of this group is able to make it but my text invitation got them on my mind and before I knew it I had invitations from two of them to drinks this evening.  As people get so busy, maybe the key is just to find ways to keep in contact so that I'm on peoples' minds.  I probably am guilty of that myself - reaching out to those friends who are highest on my most recent contacts list.

So now, I've sent out an invitation to another friend group.  We'll see what comes of that one.

Slow Mornings

slow mornings
follow restless sleep

snippets of dreams still swirl

I sip my hot coffee.

slow mornings

reading with the Earth's rotation

the simple song of a towhee repeats

I breathe in the smell of fresh rain.

slow mornings 

challenge the silence

distractions put away,

I sit in my joy and sorrow.

slow mornings

fill the empty space

in the quiet after a train passes

I embrace the stillness.

slow mornings

bring me back to me

an authentic, present me

in my nightgown, I gaze out.

Los Angeles

Ten years ago, I applied for and was offered a job in a suburb of Los Angeles.  I can’t help but wonder if there is something about the me of ten years ago that is making me pause longer than I expected on this LA job that was posted yesterday.

I wasn't looking to move until that Atlanta job was posted last August.  And then that activated something in me to dream bigger.  So I have a list at my desk of districts that have lost their investigator and I have been weighing in my mind what it would take to get me to leap to something new.  

California wasn't even on that list.  But it was ten years ago.  And I wonder if this posting this week is a trigger or the right opportunity or both, I suppose.

Ten years ago, LA was about pleasing my ex-husband.  It was about supporting him in a dream that I knew was a terrible fit for him.  It was about shrinking myself to fit into the fantasy he had of himself.  And even a drastic move like getting a job in one of the cities where the job he thought he wanted would send him wasn't enough.  He blamed me to the day we separated for not supporting him in that career path.  That's wild to write it out like that.  That's delusion on top of delusion.  It's a reminder that no good at all came out of shrinking myself for him.  It hurt me and it never was enough for him.

If I had accepted that job ten years ago, it would have been a job I hated in a city that made my ex-husband even more miserable than he already was.  

So how does that relate to today?  I feel like I'm still trying to figure out me and where I fit.  Sometimes my gut reaction is to do the opposite of what the shrunken version of me thought was best because I don't always know where else to start.  But is that always the right path?  It's worked out a lot of times but this is a pretty drastic move.  This isn't quite so low stakes as signing up for improv class.

There might also be a piece of me that wonders where that path would have taken me.  Throughout life, we face so many crossroads and we never get to know where the opposite path would have taken us.  And although this isn't the same path as it was ten years ago, it almost feels like a parallel path.

Finally, sometimes I feel like I have to keep proving my capabilities to myself, as if I don't believe I can navigate a life on my own.  I know that sounds crazy with all I have accomplished in the past year and a half but it's a real feeling that maybe we all have.

Regardless, I need to tease out these other motives and find a way to focus on what might actually be best for me, not because I need to prove anything or explore a parallel path, but because this is the path I should take in this chapter on its own merits.

I didn't need him to choose me. I needed him to be honest with me.

In therapy last night, it came up how some people watch their ex move on with someone new and ask questions about how he can choose her and do things for her when he was not willing to choose me or do those things for me.  I have a lot of questions that keep swirling back to me but that is one I have never asked about my ex-husband.

I didn't need him to choose me.  I needed him to be honest with me so that I could have all the information to make the best choices for me.  Him choosing to marry me, making extensive future plans with me, writing me love letters (he later admitted he didn't mean), etc. all while internally only choosing and investing in himself and letting silent resentment build up left me with really incomplete information.  He made a daily choice for 19 years to keep me in the dark so that I would stay.

As I get news of his new relationship, I'm under no delusion that he is choosing her in any way that is meaningfully different than how he showed up in my relationship with him.  I fully expect she is lacking a transparency she will only later understand was missing all along.  

I see myself in her.  I remember the hope I felt at thinking I found my soulmate.  I remember the intense connection of the beginning.  I remember how fast I fell.  I remember the way he made me feel loved and adored.  I remember all the attention he gave me that first year or so.

Except now, with hindsight, I also see the way he used that intensity to get me attached quickly.  I see the way he manipulated and controlled me even from the beginning.  I see the hesitation in my journal that I was so quick to dismiss that should have made me slow down.

So as I hear about his accelerated relationship with someone new, it's like I'm reliving the cycle again.  It's like I'm re-watching that chapter of my life with the knowledge now of how horribly it ends.  Sadly, I can't stop the cycle from repeating again.  I wish I could but I can't.  

What I can do is look away.  That is why I removed social media from my phone.  If I don't open the apps, I won't see her profile recommended to me and whatever new profile photo she decides to display.  I won't be temped to navigate to his profile.  And without that distraction, I can focus on building this beautiful life I see unfolding in front of me.  I can spend my energy dreaming about where I might move next, where my next chapter might take me.

Social Media Time Out

Today marks Ash Wednesday, a time when many Christians give things up for Lent.  I've never participated in a church that really emphasized that and thus don't usually participate myself but there have always been people around me who voluntarily choose to give something up. 

With this trip my ex-husband is on, I caught myself today navigating to his Instagram profile to see what he was up to and to compare with the life I used to live.  What I saw reminded me of a type of trip we had taken many times and none of it aligned with me or what I enjoy.  So I backed out of the app quickly and opened Facebook where I saw another post (of many today) from someone taking a break from social media for Lent.  I had initially dismissed that idea when I saw earlier posts but now it was sounding like something maybe I should do.

I don't want to be tempted to follow along on his trip, to be reminded of all the compromises I made and ways I found joy in the things he enjoyed which he couldn't be bothered to reciprocate.  I don't want to be reminded of all the times he complained and sulked when we did something I wanted to do yet expected me to be present and happily participating in the things he wanted to do.   I don't want to be tempted to compare then to now.

I just want to enjoy my life for what it is, for what I have built it to be, for what I'm still working for.  I want it to stand on its own.  And I don't want him taking up any more of my headspace.

I also want to stop scrolling so much.  My Threads algorithm right now is a mix of politics and relationship woes.  I'm not sure either of which are a positive space for me right now.

So I deleted Instagram, Facebook, and Threads from my phone and closed those tabs on my laptop.  Can I stay off of them for all of Lent?  That's forty days.  I took a pause last year around Inauguration that lasted a number of weeks but I don't recall exactly how long.

What am I going to do instead?  I've got a puzzle with way too much green that I'm making progress on and a few more puzzles to pick from when it is done.  I started a book that I think is going to be really good so I'll do some reading.  I'll write.  I'll do some practical things like my taxes.  And I would really like to go through my clothes and some of my stuff to see what I can get rid of.  I'll get out and walk, maybe even head to the farmer's market on Saturday.  And I need to plan some things with friends.  Maybe there are even some events I can drop into or a class I can take.

I think this will be really good for me.

The rewards of discomfort

A quick lunchtime thought as my mind still processes last night’s reflections:  Now that my eyes are open and I see him for who he is and our marriage for what it was and now after an intense year and a half of growth and healing, I don’t think I would find any comfort in what used to feel familiar with him.

So as I sit in the discomfort of growth, longing for the comfort of something more familiar, I acknowledge that there is no path back.  It doesn’t exist anymore.  I don’t fit there anymore.  The only path is forward.  And despite the discomfort, I hold onto so much anticipation and hope for this path I’m now on.

Sleep

I slept.  

Not that my sleep has been horrible lately but it has been a bit interrupted and it often takes me a while to fall asleep.  I long for the days when I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow and if I woke at 3 am to use the bathroom (as has been common for years), I would quickly fall back to sleep when I crawled back into bed.

It's interesting, my marriage negatively affected my body in so many ways but it rarely disrupted my sleep until it all ended.  

But back to last night, the classical piano music had been playing for hours that evening as I made good progress on a 1000 piece puzzle with far too much green in it.  It continued playing as I wrote last night's blog post.  Then I took a bath.  I turned off my music intending to read but instead found myself just soaking in the hot water in silence as my mind slowly turned down the pace of the racing thoughts.

I crawled into bed about 8:30.  I had thoughts of reading but my eyes were already drifting closed so I just turned out the light and burrowed in deeper.  

I still woke up once as I always do, about 4:30 am, a little later than normal but the next thing I knew, my 6:00 am alarm was sounding so I must have quickly fallen back asleep.  The alarm confused me at first because rarely does it wake me.  Usually, I'm already up by that point making my lunch or getting ready to step in the shower.

This morning feels different.  I have barely spent any time scrolling.  I made a hot breakfast.  I paused at an e-mail I received last night with readings from a reflection I participated in Sunday morning and so I re-read my favorite of the three.  I'm sitting with my cup of coffee and just letting my mind settle a bit.  I feel more intentional.  I feel more calm.  I feel more settled.

And I can't stop admiring and breathing in the sweet smell of these purple bell-like flowers in the flower arrangement I bought last week.  Google tells me they are Canterbury Bells and that they represent gratitude.

Grieving the loss of the familiar

Why does he occupy so much of my headspace?  He doesn't deserve any.

Logically, I can look around and see everything that has improved.

• the peaceful piano music playing in the background instead of the noise of the tv
• the puzzle sprawled out on the kitchen table without guilt
• the smaller sizes of clothes in my closet from the weight I lost and keep off effortlessly
• the breeze of fresh air from the night flowing in
• the energy still lingering from the weekend
• the travel apps filled with vacation plans that better align with me
• the two vases of flowers that fill the room with a beautiful fragrance
• the solid financial plans I'm working towards
• the growing list of contacts in my phone of my community
• the smile from a friend who commented today "you are a foodie!" as we discussed her weekend at a beach lodge where I had stayed last year
• the pain free body that lays diagonally across the bed
• the joy I find everywhere, in just about every moment

I smile in making that list.  And I know it just scratches the surface.  I feel more peaceful and settled after creating it.

But it still leaves me at a loss for why I feel the way I do.  This vacation with her that he is on now is bothering me more than I understand.  What is it exactly I'm feeling?  I'm sad at the loss of the familiar, a familiar life that disappeared in an instant without warning.  The anticipation of cruise day, the thought of him exploring a ship we explored together, the first dinner of the cruise, etc. reminds me of that familiar life I used to live.  Cruising was our thing.  We took twenty cruises together and had six more booked before it all abruptly ended.

There is a comfort in the familiar.  The journey of the last year and a half has been anything but comfortable.  Maybe I'm craving a little comfort, something that feels a bit more familiar.  Maybe that is why this is hitting me so hard.

Let me go back and re-read my list at the top of this post before I hit publish as a reminder of the rewards of a little discomfort.  It's in the discomfort and the unfamiliar that I grow, heal, build, and eventually let go.

A cruise

I moved my car today after it finished charging and I ended up on a higher level so I walked past his parking space.  His car is parked in his spot.  They board a cruise tomorrow so the fact that his car is parked there means he likely decided to fly.  We would have driven.

I helped pay for this cruise deposit.  We had booked a cruise for January 2025 with a non-refundable deposit.  When we separated, I couldn't conceive of myself being able to afford cruising anymore (a belief I quickly proved wrong) so I let him keep the deposit.  While our finances were still tied, he moved it to a February of 2026 cruise, using marital funds to add to the deposit he moved.  Maybe I should have pushed back or had more confidence in my own ability to travel so I wouldn't be here today watching my money be used for his cruise.  But I didn't have that foresight.  With his Mom's birthday in mid-February, I always imagined he would take her on this cruise.  Considering her role in our break-up, I'm not sure why I was okay with that.

At some point last fall, I saw an updated invoice in our joint e-mail account where he had added her to this cruise.  

It looks like he is finally going to get to Key West, with her.  That was on our wedding itinerary but a tropical storm interfered with that port.

It's the ship where we celebrated our 10th anniversary, although it has been fully renovated.

I'm not jealous of the cruise.  It's only a five night cruise out of South Florida.  But I have feelings.  It's partially my money.  It's the port where we were supposed to snorkel.  It's the ship where we met Captain Kate (he kept that photo of us with her).  So there is a tie to this particular cruise that I don't think there would be had he booked and paid for a random cruise on his own with her.  So it is sitting heavy with me.

And he chose to fly instead of drive.  I don't know what to make of that.  Maybe there is nothing to make of that.  I think I find myself wondering what about me he mirrored vs what about me was authentic to him.  So I ask the question, is he flying because he is mirroring what she wants right now or is he flying because he wished we had done more flying and less driving with me?

It really could be either.  Everything about this new relationship screams he is either mirroring her despite his own preferences or he lied to me about some pretty big things.  Neither outcome feels good because it is either watching him repeat the same toxic cycle again or it requires me to acknowledging how much he lied to me and made me doubt myself or maybe both.

The Retreat

Friday night, we all sat in the chapel in the first session of the retreat.  We had each been given a small flimsy piece of paper and a pen as we walked in.  The theme for the retreat this year was Rest and Resist.  My pastor started the session by acknowledging we were going to start with some heavy stuff first before moving onto the rest part of rest part of the treat.  We took some time to talk in small groups about the burdens we are carrying both from all the heavy stuff going on in our larger world and any personal burdens each of us are carrying as well.

I sat with the couple who I had chatted with on the cabin porch after I arrived and a couple I knew of from church but had never really had a chance to talk to.  There was something just a little healing about naming the struggles we carry.  And although I focused more on those I see in our larger world and how they are impacting me at work, I did briefly talk about my grief journey and ex-husband.

And then we were asked to write our burdens on that small, flimsy piece of paper and towards the end of the evening, we all had a chance to place it in the baptismal font and watch it dissolve, as a way to metaphorically release our burdens.  In addition to the specific struggles I faced both in healing from the divorce and in facing the larger world, at the last minute, I wrote my ex-husband's name in larger letters over the remaining white space.  Sometimes just his name feels more specific and all-encompassing than trying to put to words my grief.

I won't pretend some magic happened in that moment as I watched it all dissolve but maybe it helped a little bit.

That night as I walked back to my cabin, I looked up and was awed by the stars so I stopped, laid down in the grass and dirt on the side of the road, tried to capture a photo with my phone, and then just took in the incredible view.

The next morning's session was about settling in and the tools we needed to do that.  Sometimes we have to recognize that things aren't going to get better soon.  Sometimes we are in for the long-haul.  Focusing too much on the end just makes us anxious and accomplishes little.  

Honestly, I could have lead this session.  Life over the last year and a half has really taught me to just settle in.  Life and the struggles that come with it can be our biggest teacher.  So often, I couldn't see an end in sight to the suffering I was experiencing.  Even today, my grief still sometimes overwhelms me.  And even today, there isn't an end in sight to the shit I'm experiencing at work.  Maybe because so much all hit me at once with so much uncertainty around it all, I couldn't focus too far on the future forcing me to stay in the present.  Or maybe I'm just wired to not miss the present.  Regardless, it has really served me well as it gave me the tools to cope, to grow, to build, and to hope.  

Here were the tools one my pastors shared with us all.  I couldn't have written a better list myself.  These are the tools that have gotten me through the hardest parts.

1. Finding quiet
2. Seeking out awe
3. Leaning into creativity
4. Practicing gratitude
5. Generosity
6. Community

Several times during the retreat, the term "defiant joy" was used.  There is so much power in joy.  I think we really underestimate its power.  Defiant joy is exactly what has helped me personally and what I think this world needs more of.

The last session on Sunday morning was about hope but not hope for a specific outcome as we often view hope.  So often we say "I hope that ...."  We were encouraged to divorce "hope" from "that" and embrace hope as mysterious and open-ended.

As the retreat came to a close, one more time we sang the song Centering Prayer which is about being where our feet are.  As we sang, people started moving together and putting their arms around each other.  There was no one right near me that I knew well and so I just focused on that song.  

Half-way through the song, I felt someone move near me and put her arm around my shoulders.  This was a woman who I had not spoken to at the retreat.  I didn't even know her name as it all happened.  We introduced ourselves after it was all over although we never had a chance to talk any further.  It appears she had stepped away from her husband/partner to make sure I didn't feel alone.  And although, I felt a little awkward, tears welled up in my eyes as it was all happening making me stumble on the lyrics of the song for a moment.

After the song, we ended the retreat with a time of communion.  We all stood in one large circle as the juice and bread passed from person to person, each serving our neighbor.  Once it had passed through our section, people started linking hands and the woman standing next to me offered me her hand.

This is what community is about - inclusivity, growth, consideration, care.  This is why I attended this retreat, to meet and better get to know amazing people like these individuals who remind me of the value of connection and encourage me to find my own ways to do and be more.

A spider

This morning as I was pulling out clean clothes from my bag, I noticed movement on the pile of yesterday's clothes.  It startled me at first until I saw what had caught my eye - a decent sized spider.

Completely recognizing that this is not a typical human response (especially from a woman), I went to grab my phone so I could get a photo.  The macro setting on my iPhone impressed me as I could make out its two larger eyes in the middle staring back at me with a less clear line below them (presumably of more, smaller eyes).  I wished I had my DSLR camera with me which would have captured an even sharper photo of this creature.

I let him be for a moment as I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth.  With the toothbrush in my mouth, I turned around to discover he had followed me into the bathroom.  Now that he was out in the open on the hard floor, I grabbed my folder to try and pick him up to bring him outside where I knew he would be much happier, but he ran from me and went to hide in the baseboards.  

At that point, I was really curious about what kind of spider I was looking at so after I finished brushing my teeth, I sat down on the bed and searched the internet for help identifying him.  He re-appeared then.  He had crossed the room and was looking up at me from the floor between the two beds.   (Or at least I imagine he was looking up at me, I understand they have excellent eyesight.)

I found it fascinating the way he seemed to follow me around.  Most spiders I encounter either stick to the corner where they have set up their web or run and hide from humans.  This one seemed to seek me out.

I tried once more to pick him up with the folder.  I wasn't successful doing that but in doing so, I had encouraged him to move towards the door.  Once we reached the door together, me still in my pajamas, I opened the door and watched him walk outside to freedom.

There was something about this encounter that really stuck with me.  It was a mutual curiosity that was refreshing.  And I felt a peace at being able to take my time with this encounter and enjoy it without interference from anyone else.  One of the lessons from the retreat was to look for the awe in the world, this was a moment where I got to lean into awe.

Am I an extrovert?

That seems like such a weird question to ask myself at the age of 44.  Am I an extrovert?  You would think I would know that about myself by now.  But the story I've been telling myself for the last four decades, that I am a shy introvert, just doesn't feel like it fits anymore and probably it never did.  But it's hard to let go of the person I truly believed I was for so long.  

So this weekend, I put it into practice.  I attended my church's retreat.  I'll have more posts about the weekend because it had a huge impact but I'm going to start on this subject of extroversion.  I decided up front that I wasn't going to let my default be to disappear on my own during free time like I had so often in the past.  That's not to say I wasn't going to listen to myself and what I needed in the moment.  I just wanted to override my default pattern of hiding.  I compare it a bit to my decision to put my shoes on anytime I am getting restless at home or struggling internally - just the act of putting my shoes on gets me to break the pattern and get out.  On this retreat, I was going to put myself in situations to break the pattern of isolation.

I arrived on Friday evening with about an hour and a half to spare before dinner.  There was no one hanging out in the cabin I had been assigned so after dropping off my stuff in my room, I walked the road past some of the other cabins.  I came across two women sitting in rocking chairs on their porch a couple of cabins down.  I asked if I could join them and sat down in a rocking chair.  After introductions, conversation flowed pretty easily.  It felt comfortable.  

Then at every meal and session, I intentionally sat at a different table.  Each time, I tried to find one where I knew at least one person at the table but not everyone.  As the weekend went on, it felt like I was collecting more and more people who I knew and who knew me by name.  I didn't come close to interacting with all 150 or so at the retreat but I had conversations with quite a few of them.

Unlike last year, I even attended the optional group game times.  Friday night, I learned a new card game as I chatted.  On Saturday, I actively helped my team almost solve the mystery.  I even was the representative for one of the mini games where I earned clues for my team.

I sang karaoke Saturday night (my song was "I hope you dance") and even got up on the dance floor to dance and sing along to "I want to dance with somebody" which was a full group song they chose to end the night.

And then when we had free time Saturday afternoon, I joined a small group of people to experience and talk about the labyrinth on the property.  And then as that group dispersed, I discovered many of my cabin mates hanging out on the deck overlooking the lake.  That's when I realized I was the only single person in my cabin.  This was a group of parents with their small children playing among us.  I was pleasantly surprised how they included me so well that I didn't feel out of place at all as the only single, non-parent.

Aside from sleeping and getting ready in the morning, there were only two brief moments where I found myself alone.  I had about 15 minutes before lunch yesterday and then about 20 minutes before breakfast this morning.  I took that time to sit in a rocking chair outside my cabin and write as I soaked in the view of the lake.  I did enjoy those quiet moments, I love my time in nature, but I also felt a bit anxious to get back to the group.

I won't say I never felt awkward or shy throughout the weekend.  I definitely had my moments.  But I really enjoyed all the conversations and interactions.

So here I am Sunday afternoon, back home after a weekend filled with people and my apartment feels really quiet.  My mind is buzzing with all that I experienced over the last approximately 48 hours.  I can still feel the energy running through me.  I think that if I was truly an introvert, I would instead feel exhausted after that experience.

The way I so instinctively focused on building community immediately after my ex-husband called it quits makes me wonder if deep down I knew this about myself.  Not that both introverts and extroverts don't both need community - they absolutely do - I just think it is more instinctive for one group vs the other.  And so as soon as I felt released from pouring everything into my now ex-husband, I finally had energy to follow my own instincts about myself.

Today’s Facebook memory

Five years ago today, my ex-husband made friends with a Canada Goose.  I captured the two of them with my camera.  It was a special moment of awe and joy.  Honestly, I smiled even today as I remembered the moment.

And then when I identified some birds we were looking at as Pine Siskins, he adamantly accused me of making up the name of the birds.  I had been reading about how that winter they were showing up in large numbers in our state, something that doesn’t happen often as they usually don’t winter this far south, so I knew to look for them.  I knew what I was seeing and I tried to explain what I had been reading about them. 

Later that day back at home, after he looked them up himself, he stopped accusing me of being wrong but I never got any sort of acknowledgment or apology from him.

Probably not surprisingly, my Facebook post focused on the first experience.  It is only in hindsight that the single photo (out of 10 photos) of two Pine Siskins triggered the memory of the accusations.

I had never thought about the polarity of those two experiences happening within minutes and feet of each other.  How often did I hang onto the joy I sought out to buffer the ugly moments?  How often was my joy a direct reflection of how I chose to view the world vs things he did to intentionally bring me joy?  

How much did I feed into my own delusions?  In this example none of my joy and buffer came from positive actions on his part towards me.  It was all in my willingness to wear the rose colored glasses.  I suspect this Facebook memory is pretty representative of the way I would hang onto the good I experienced to minimize or even forget the bad.

Although I often wish that characteristic of me hadn’t kept me stuck for so long in a toxic marriage, I do really admire the way I view the world.  So, if I feel a little nostalgia today as I replay the good part of this memory in my mind, I’m okay with that.  

Maybe I even needed a reminder of the good in him (even if it was a goose that was the recipient of his good that day), not because I’m putting the rose colored glasses back on but because maybe when they came off, my focus narrowed too much to just the bad and ugly I had missed or ignored at the expense of the larger picture.

Another dentist appointment come and gone

It felt a bit like I was marking time.  My goodie bag from the last appointment last July was even still sitting in the entryway basket just under my winter hat.  When I had scheduled this one last summer I had pushed it back to get it off the mid-July/mid January schedule.  I didn't want to be reminded of the anniversary every year of the day he so coldly ended it.  But I could still sense his ghost in the space.

Fortunately, it was such a beautiful day and I had the time so I walked to the appointment.  At 1.9 miles one-way, it is in that range where sometimes I drive and sometimes I walk.  On this occasion, I needed the walk.

I ran into a friend on the way there who I hadn't seen in quite a few weeks.  It was nice to get a hug from her.  And then on the way home, before I could even fully register, my feet were walking into one of my favorite restaurants to pick up a sushi burrito for dinner.  When I got home, I found my car and plugged it in so I would have a full charge for the weekend, put my dinner in the fridge and took a nap on the corner of my bed with the windows open and the sun filtering in on me.

So even with the appearance of his ghost, it was a peaceful afternoon.