A Year of Change

From snowboarding to scones to fondue and cheesecake it was a weekend of food and memories. I had the pleasure of spending the weekend celebrating a milestone birthday with my guy. We hit the indoor slopes on Friday to snowboard, enjoyed dinners with parents on different nights, family bonding, and plenty of time just as us. I spoiled him with a few of his favorite foods, and he enjoyed, and is still enjoying, discovering penguins hidden throughout his house. Presents were opened and to quote him "It was a perfect weekend."

It was quite the contrast to where we were 1 year ago. A year ago we had just broken up, as our relationship was simply too much for both of us. I was in denial that it was too much, but in truth the traumas that we had both experienced over the past 6+ months were impacting us, and impacting the relationship that we were building. There was a mutual respect for each other and an agreement to stay in touch. We both knew that the other was a person that we still wanted in our life, yet something had to change. His genuine heart, unique perspectives, and ability to make me laugh were not things that I wanted to lose. Even though I did not want to lose contact with him I knew that space was needed for both of us. I needed to grieve this change, find my footing, and more forward in healthy ways. It provided me the opportunity for growth and clarity, demonstrating that I did not collapse, my world did not collapse, when something unexpected occurred.

These lessons came after the spring of 2023 where everything burned and my world appeared to be no more. Only 6 months later arrived the ending of something special, and I found myself sad, upset, and yet still standing with strength I did not have prior. I also had hope. I had hope for the continued friendship of us. While our contact was extremely minimal at first it grew slowly and tentatively. We had to navigate being only friends while still processing our previous traumas and growing into our own. As the time progressed there was still a hesitancy, but glimmers of our connection appeared. And when I opened the discussion of snowboarding the barriers began to fall faster. 

He helped me navigate and plan to take my crew snowboarding for the first time. His generous nature shining through and overwhelming at every turn and text. With a common goal we found ourselves in more frequent communication and our friendship growing. There were some challenging moments, but with the pressure of an intimate relationship removed the communication was easier. Laughter came frequently and the night we went to dinner as friends is one that I like to revisit in my head. While there were a few moments that challenged me the hours we spent chatting and laughing reminded me so much of our previous dates that I was extremely happy to have him back in my life. It was these moments and the ones following that strengthened our friendship and carried us through the holidays of 2023.

Two and half months following our break-up we found ourselves starting again. It was unexpected, and yet it felt right. Slowly we have found our way, and this was a capstone weekend for us. It was a year of change, a year of growth, and a year of falling in love with ourselves and each other.

      

The Other Side of Healing

What no one tells you is that when you are healing from past traumas and experiences is both the fear and the freedom that you experience. Fear and discomfort at the unfamiliarity of the situation, fear that somehow this will change or be taken away, discomfort at breaking new patterns and experiencing new ones. Every step forward away from those traumas and negative experiences breaks the pattern and helps to create new ones, or at least space for new ones. This past year has had a multitude of them for me and I find myself frequently in a space of not knowing what to do. I know ultimately what I want, but the path to achieving what I want, believing that what I want will occur, and making those steps often has me stumped. How do I accept this new place when everything to this point has told me otherwise that it simply is a pipe dream? What do I need to do here to believe otherwise enough to make a change in my own self?

These moments are taxing, they are breaking, but they have been worth it. The moments of "I don't know what to do with this" are usually my first indicator that I'm standing at a precipice with a choice to trudge back down the familiar path or jump forward into this new space and existence. I wish that I could say I have jumped with each of these opportunities but I have not; fear, anxiety, habit, and the safety/comfort of the familiarity of retreat have overtaken some of these. For the times that I do leap I am filled with a nervous energy and excitement, overwhelmed in the moment and sometimes startled to find myself in this new space. Sometimes these are important transitions, and others are simply small ones, but each new one still unknown. What they don't tell you is that these are often scary, they present their own fear. In breaking my patterns, leaving the comfort of the unhealthy I have to face myself, my history, my previous choices and give grace to that woman so that the one in this moment is free.

What no one tells you about healthy and healing is that the path is not linear, nor is it a staircase; it is a trail through the woods and mountains, winding about, often times reversing back on itself. Finding myself continually challenged with ideas, experiences, choices that I think I have changed and accepted, yet they reappear as the trail winds. Making the changes internally is a process, one that is nearly as intense as experiencing the initial traumas. It has a depth and complexity to it that is difficult to explain. In learning to be vulnerable and trust I have to acknowledge the previous moments where I was vulnerable and was left stranded on the path. I have to find the courage to believe and accept that this moment is different, or I find myself retracing steps, repeating, and allowing the fear of healthy overtake the security of unhealthy.

When you have experienced such intense time periods in your life moving into something that is stable and healthy feels unstable, feels unsafe. While it is the thing you crave, the thing you desire, and the thing that society thinks should be an easy acceptance, "simply choose it and it will be so;" those of us who have walked this can speak to the challenge. Moving from a pipe dream to facing the reality that it is no longer a pipe dream is it's own challenge. Grappling with your own sense of worthiness, ability to be loved, and to be seen and accepted for who you are- not what you can provide is difficult. That movement into accepting each of these components it's own journey, it's own path in healing and growth that can be just as violent and life-altering as the times that took those away from you.

welcome to the other side of healing

A Unit Circle

Not that long ago it was told to me that my kids and I were a tight-knit crew, not closed off, just extremely close. I always considered the 5 of us to be close, just not in the manner with what was described. I have used that feedback to sit-back and reflect on who we are. We are close, we are a unit; one forged of love and trust and adventure. We are by no means all friends, my kids are certainly friends with each other, as well as siblings, but I am clearly the parent, at best the leader of the group, at worst the outsider. From this outside perspective I was told it can be intimidating to enter our circle, not because we're not welcoming, but because we are such a unit. Finding a place in the circle when we inherently know our strengths and weaknesses would be a challenge for someone, and I had never considered it; never considered how our unit might appear to others and how that has impacted our social life.

We are the family that hosts bonfires and everyone is welcome. Come over, bring a chair, enjoy the fire and s'mores and simply hang out. We enjoy hosting people, and prior to our crazy lives with 4 teenagers we used to have more frequent gatherings. From college parties with home-cooked food to young adult parties with an extensive menu, the majority of my life I have been a hostess. This all carried over into my adult life with parties and gatherings, simply bringing people together to share food and laughter and make memories.

I want my children to remember the gatherings, the fun, and think of these times when life seems simply too much. I want them to remember that sense of community, and yet as I reflect on the past decade I struggle to see that community. I see us hosting again and again, bringing over friends and neighbors, even complete strangers to enjoy time with us. They have been beautiful moments for us, but ones that are rarely, if ever, reciprocated. I have observed friends and neighbors hosting gatherings of their own, mixes of friends and family, and rarely has an invitation been extended. I wonder now if it's because of our unit. A few years ago I remember driving by a friend's home that was clearly having a party and my children commenting on the party and then asking why we weren't invited. I made some answer, but I remember feeling crushed that my children were starting to notice the differences. Now I look and wonder if it's because we are such a unit, that what I see as a happy, loving family, appears to the outside as closed off, unreachable. I can certainly hope not, but as we close out another holiday and I see the photos of the picnics and gatherings and parties, all I can see is that another has passed without an invitation.

Somewhere along this path when I truly began noticing that we were continuously on our own for holidays I began planning things for us to do together. We have a host of happy memories of camping, hiking, bonfires, all clearly feeding into our closeness. I have broached the subject of our apparent lack of micro-community tentatively with a few people and it often comes back to me as, "well you're usually busy" or "you're always welcome to join us". Busy I understand- we are a busy family, and yes I often plan things these weekends as I do not want to waste time waiting on an invitation that may never arrive. The phrase "you're always welcome to join us" is not an invitation, at least not for one with anxiety like mine, and one who has a history of being invited places, then treated like I was not welcome. I would prefer to avoid repeating those experiences, and would like to prevent my children from experiencing them. I never quite know what to say in response to these statements, so I opt for brief explanations about our schedule or my need for a clear invitation so as not to intrude. All which creates a cycle of us being busy and and bonding and separating ourselves from this community further.

As most parents and caregivers do, I try to do my best by my children, and yet in these moments when I see these micro-communities around us I feel like I have failed them. That in my desire to create memories with them and shield them I have separated them from these microcosms and more. Failed in that they do not have this surrounding community that so many others have. It is more challenging when you do not have local family, and yet having grown up without family nearby I know it can be done. I have fond memories of growing up with my parents and attending parties, arriving with a salad or cookies or something and being welcomed; I feel sad that my children have nearly none of these moments and memories. All I can do is hope that the memories they do have are enough.