Still Loving

How do you write a serious-ish post inspired by texts regarding a late-night chocolate cake run? Well, I'll attempt. Justin and I have been married for seventeen years. I've known him longer than I've not known him. In those seventeen years there's been some really great times. There has also been some really difficult times too. We have had to actively welcome and work on love to keep it going at different phases of our marriage, instead of waiting for it to spontaneously happen. We know love takes work, and I love that. I love that we've had times that have made us re-discover what we love about each other. I love that the same guy that happily goes for walks with me, or will do a workout in the basement, is the same guy that I can rope into eating chocolate cake with me at midnight. I love that his tunes are my tunes. I love that he's got smooth moves. I love that he irons my scrubs for me in the morning. I love that he has big, burly man shoulders. I love that he loves my butt and tells me so daily. I love that we've learned how to talk about all the thoughts that bump around in our heads. I love that he is such a hard-worker. I love that he is learning humility. I love so, so much about him. But mostly I love that he is still here with me. Still trying, still working, still loving.

The Past

"As a new year begins and we try to benefit from a proper view of what has gone before, I plead with you not to dwell on days now gone nor to yearn vainly for yesterdays, however good those yesterdays may have been. The past is to be learned from but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not the ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead and remember that faith is always pointed towards the future."

 -Jeffrey R. Holland

Learning to Reconnect

The most amazing thing happened about a month ago. My friend's children had the lead parts in their elementary school production of Peter Pan. So Justin and I decided to load up the girls in the van and go support our friends in their big moment.

While I was there something completely bizarre, and wonderful, and totally unexpected happened. I ran into my very best childhood friend, whom I had lost touch with over the years. I had thought she was still living in Denmark and then suddenly there she was, standing in front of me in a small school gym in my quiet, little town.

Long story short, she wasn't in Denmark, she had moved back to Atlanta after over a decade away. She was there to see her nephew, who happened to go to the same school and was in the same production as my other friend's children. We had lost touch because of distance, because of life, because of me; because when I feel like I've hurt someone, even if it's not on purpose, I don't just step back, I full on retreat.

Such was the case with this friendship. I had pinpointed the estrangement to an e-mail that I had sent her years ago, commenting on how much our lives had changed. The purpose of my email was well-intentioned, and I had hoped to convey to her that no matter where she went, or what she did, or who she became, she would always be so dear to me. Dear to me because my memories of her were so very good. There are so many parts of my growing up years, particularly my teenage years, that I have compartmentalized and forgotten, or care not to remember. But my years with her are some of my most precious. When childhood was it's best. When I felt the most loved, the most understood, the most grounded.

When I penned that e-mail, I was at a very raw stage of life though, trying to rebuild after the carpet had been pulled out from underneath me....again. The one-dimensional view from social-media and blogs had her life pegged as charmed, glossy, and perfect in my eyes. I didn't know how to relate. At that point I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor and praying I could scrape together enough food to make my kids' lunches the next day. I just yearned from all that perfection to just have a day with her the way I remembered her. Someone I could just be my weird, awkward, un-glossy self with.

Something that I must have said must have not translated well though, because I never received a response. Maybe she thought I was criticizing her for changing? For becoming someone who seemed different? I don't know. My way of licking my wounds was the same way it has been with every other failed friendship I've had in life... because I've had a few. It seems like every decade of my life has been punctuated with friends that abandon me. And it seems that there has been a common denominator in all those relationships... me. So I must be the problem.

I've carried the weight on my heart for years that I'm the girl no one ever stuck around for. No one fights for. There must be something about me that is inherently not good enough. So, I disappear. I disappear because rejection hurts; and I disappear because I never want to hurt anyone. Sometimes the surest way to not hurt people is to not open yourselves to them. It's warped, but somehow over the years I've convinced myself that it's a logical solution to the fear of being less than what people need.

Suddenly though, this failed relationship that was so important to me, but that I was so scared of, was standing right in front of me. With nowhere to hide, there was nothing to do but swallow my fear, walk up to her, give her a big hug, and tell her how good it was to see her. Because it was.

I gave her my number before leaving and told her to text me if she wanted to reconnect. On the way home Justin asked if I thought she'd call? I told him I didn't know, but that I put myself out there, even when I was scared, and that's all I could do.

She texted me about a week ago, after getting through the holidays and moving into her house, and invited me to grab a smoothie with her and catch up. I thankfully agreed and walked through a door this morning not knowing what to expect.

We talked for two and a half hours, and probably could have doubled it if we didn't have lives waiting for us outside the rustic walls of that corner coffee shop. I've really spent the last couple of years kind of isolating myself. As I talked to Justin on the phone as I drove home, I told him how good it felt to just talk to someone who knew me. Who knew my backstory. Who has known me since I was six years old. When life was simple and I wasn't yet battered by some of the hurts of life.

Here we were, thirty years later, and I could still just talk to her. I didn't have to put on a face, or only talk about the good parts of my life. I could be real. And that's what I so desperately needed; to just be real.

It made me sad to think that I had convinced myself that being lonely was safe. Because in my isolation I have cheated myself out of connection. I don't care how old you are, how introverted you are, what battle wounds you carry from relationships, we all need to feel connected. And it's worth the fight, it's worth the time, it's worth the fear.

I have some work to do, and I know old patterns, old thoughts, and old lies that I've told myself aren't going to disappear over night. Connection takes bravery and courage and vulnerability, and all those things are hard. But I can feel myself being strong enough to do hard things... and I can't even begin to tell you how good that feels.

Still Water. Still Mind.

The water on the lake was still this morning. It was so beautiful, as it reflected the ever-lightening morning sky. In the past couple of days I've been able to have some conversations I needed to have. Being a listener and being trusted is a gift, and I'm grateful to have access to people like that in my life. It's amazing how sometimes once you can get things out of your brain and out in the open, it frees up all kinds of space inside us for new thoughts and new emotions. It frees up space to let go. I woke up this morning and felt good. My mind was quiet and still, and I could feel the things that were weighing on me ease and lighten. I get to start over today, and that feels really good.

Snow Days, Off Days, & Texts with Mom

I bet you thought I had flaked, right? That my whole desire to blog more lasted a week and then faded?

You're not going to be rid of me quite that easily this time around.

Actually, starting Friday evening we had snow. The magical, once-a-year experience here in the South had the house in a bundle of excitement. Instead of writing I was out walking the streets in the dark with my firstborn, seeing if she could catch any pictures of the flurries of snow in the dim light on her new camera.

This was Maryn's shot of the snow flurries in the glow of the street lamp.

Saturday was sledding, napping, eating, being a bum, and not feeling a morsel of remorse for being off-track. It was glorious.

Then with Sunday came some feelings I needed to sort out, and I didn't feel like writing. Everyone gets mad. But no one wants to be memorialized years from now for what they wrote in anger. At least not me. I want to be real, but not angry.

And that takes me to today. My mom and I were just casually texting back and forth, which I love, because we don't do it nearly often enough, because McLean's are a lovable bunch and some of the absolute worst at keeping in touch, myself fully included, and it just felt so wonderfully normal! It made me wonder why we don't do it more often?!

Between yesterday and today the thoughts percolating in my mind were trying to analyze my feelings over the last couple of days. I take care of people, I love them, I encourage them, it's what I do. It's just a part of me to want to help others, to champion them, support them, and rally around them. I like that part of me. But then on the flip side I feel like I've notoriously put myself on a back burner in terms of what I deserve, what I should expect in others, and so on in life. I don't like that part of me. I'm working on balancing the two, and while standing up for myself feels amazing, I hate that a part of me feels like I'm compromising that nurturer in me too.

So that's where my brain is at. When do I make a point and stand my ground because I deserve it and when do I let it go...

It's easy to get frustrated with ourselves in those areas of our personality that are undergoing renovations. To know who we want to be, but still having to be patient with the dust required as we undergo the work of working on ourselves.

It goes back to my previous post about patience...

I appreciated my mom's words though as we messaged back and forth. I was telling her that I had recently made amends with one of my cousins for some insensitive remarks I had made years earlier. (My brain has the best of intentions, my mouth is slowly in the process of acquiring a filter. Sometimes it gets me in trouble. That adds to the struggle of introversion, because you never know if opening your mouth is worth the risk... Sometimes it's just a lot easier to be a hermit.) Anyways, my lovely mother said...

I told her that one of the very best things about a mom is that they don't see your life in the same snippets that others do. Or even ourselves. We can compartmentalize ourselves or allow ourselves to be compartmentalized by others; but mothers, they see the whole picture, the whole story, before our self-awareness was even developed, and can be our eyes to help us see ourselves more clearly.

It is okay for me to stand up for me and it doesn't have to be a compromise of myself. Because who I am is someone who cares, and always will. Loving myself and championing myself won't get in the way of that. It's not either or, it's not black or white. This is me, in all my varying shades, and that's okay.

I'm really grateful for my mom and her eyes, and their ability to help me see and catch glimpses of my greater, more whole, big picture self.

Morning Walk

My mantra for today is patience. Patience. And faith. When I left for my walk this morning it was dark. I had to look down to see where I was going. But slowly, imperceptibly light came. Rising on the horizon, casting it's hope across the world in oranges and pinks, until the darkness slowly yielded to a glimpse of blue skies. Of a new day. Of new possibilities. Of a new outlook. Good things will come to those who diligently seek patience and faith.

Work...

I've really been having a hard time with the mental drain that is work lately. I have a good job. My boss is fair. It works with my schedule about 75% of the time. The people I work with are good people, and for the most part easy to be around. And yet....being there lately just takes the life out of me.

I've examined my feelings, trying to figure it out. At times I can pinpoint it to certain people. But when I step back and am objective, I know, like I said, that I work with good people, who are just trying to live their lives. It's not as if they lay awake at night trying to conspire ways to zap my energy.

What it is, I think, as grateful as I am for a good job, is knowing I will never have a voice there. Just shut up and work, and smile when you are supposed to. I could go into specifics, but I won't. I will just suffice it to say, some people want to give so little that they aren't concerned that it's at the expense of their team or morale. To overcompensate, others care so much they can't relinquish any control, rendering all others voiceless. Negativity over some situations suck some into a vortex of worry and perceived offenses, that then permeates the work environment. Everything must be fair, even if it's not practical or beneficial. If someone is happy, that means someone else must be unhappy. Smile to ones face and then whisper behind ones back. Above all else, never say how you really feel out loud. Having an opinion is looked down upon, or causes so much drama it's not worth the investment. Offense is so fragile a thing to some that they must be handled as if you may emotionally crack them at any moment. It's exhausting. I just want to be able to go to work and do my job.

I know the only thing I can change is myself, and I know that I am not perfect. But I already have so much on my plate in life, that I struggle with having to give so much mental energy to a situation I really can't control or change. I've tried and nothing ever changes. I'm not in a position to not work right now. So I know that I have to work on the change I can control, and that is me committing to take it all with a grain of salt. But some days it's hard, and I find myself wishing there was some place for me. A place where everyone wanted to be there, and everybody wanted to give their very best, and team was not a word, but an environment in which every person was equally committed to creating. That's what I wish for.