Ashes to Ashes

 A little over 2 months ago my life imploded and crumbled to dust. It was the darkest period of my life, even more dark than periods leading up to my divorce and early post divorce. Anxiety and depression assaulted me daily and I began a course of medications to find some balance. The side-effects of the medications became as much of a problem as the anxiety and depression, and it was one more battle I had to try to find the energy to fight and manage. But this story is not about the medications and effects, this story is about the creation of the ashes of my life.

I had a plan.

I had a plan to move to Bend, Oregon and raise my children in a town that better meets our needs and lifestyle. A town where I feel at home, safe, protected, and at peace. A town that values the outdoors, being active and community and connection. A town that strives to care for its own, and while it is not perfect it is trying, more than I see in so many other communities. I had a job in Bend, I had my non-profit in Bend, my best friend in Bend, and a growing community of friends through my job. I had a plan to move there and continue to grow the non-profit and eventually transition to working that full-time as a paid employee and likely a small job on the side to supplement income as needed. I had a plan to create a lifestyle that supported my physical and mental health in ways that are extremely challenging living in my current community. I had a plan.

Having primary custody of my 4 children does not give me the right to just move them across the country, I had to come to an agreement with their father to move them. In brief he was not agreeable to them moving, thus began a year long legal battle for relocation. On April 20th, the day before my birthday, we all attended court, the children spoke to the judge alone and expressed their opinions which were relayed back to me via my attorney. I found myself in the very real and very painful position of continuing my quest for relocation and likely being denied relocation and primary custody of my children, the only option that was guaranteed was to rescind the relocation request and have the battle for change in custody follow due process through the courts. In 10 minutes I was forced to make a decision: fight for my move and potentially win or potentially lose everything, or give up relocation and keep custody until it could proceed through the court. My heart was breaking, I sat in the courtroom hallway fighting back tears, breathing, shaking, trying to find the decision that met my needs and the needs of my children. This move was for me and for them, and I knew that if we moved it would be incredibly challenging for them, I knew that it would strain our relationship, but I also knew that given time and space to heal and move through it we would do well in the end. Having grown up moving I know the resiliency of children and moving, but also the trauma of it. I sat in the hallway battling in myself, the clock ticking, my heart racing and breaking all at once, torn, watching my world finishing burning into ashes. The last important component of my life fuse lit and burning out. I made the decision to pull my relocation request, I simply couldn't take the risk of not moving and losing primary custody. It would break me further than I was already broken at that point.

Earlier in the month of April I lost my best friend. My best friend of the past 3 years simply decided to stop speaking to me, stop being there for me, stop answering calls, texts, anything. Having been as close as we were and having supported them through so many trials and challenges it was killing me to have lost them, lost their support when I needed it most. I needed that person that simply understood me and grasped that this was more than "just a move." They knew what this meant to me, and understood how deeply important to me it was, and I was abandoned by them without explanation. A fight had been had 2 months previous that had not been resolved, but I had been hoping that we were going to move forward as we had in the past. Every other fight, disagreement, and confrontation we had had over the 3 years we worked through, and we always told each other we worked through it because we cared about each other. I still cared about my best friend and I wanted to work through it, but I also desperately needed that support from them. Support that I had received previously, and I could not, and still cannot understand, why it was withheld. Why, when I needed them the most they abandoned me? Left me, ignored me, triggering so many of my trauma responses I swirled and spiraled more. Court loomed closer, there were challenges with the children and court, my birthday loomed, and the person that I had been closest to for 3 years was missing by their choice. My heart broke, my soul adrift, and I began to crumble, to implode, unable to bear anything more, fire burning throughout.

I struggled to sleep, I struggled to eat. I struggled to get out of bed and get to work at the desk next to my bed. I did it though. I got up slowly, I struggled to focus on my tasks, taking double and triple the time to complete tasks as April wore on with the loss of my best friend and court approaching. With the loss of my best friend also came my resignation from my non-profit. The non-profit that I helped create; the organization that I built from the ground up; from the logo and community and website, that was driven primarily by my effort. It was a passion project, one that I poured my heart and soul into. I was proud of the work I did, it brought me much joy and it was such an honor to be a part of it. Yet the organization was changing and the leadership and I were in conflict and I could no longer stay with an organization that did not value my opinion, my work, my time, and did not appear to believe in open and honest communication anymore. The non-profit was the one thing that I still had hopes of, the one thing that was going to be my light in this time of extreme darkness, and it went away. With the loss of my best friend and my non-profit I crumbled, but had little time to grieve those losses. Medication was not working, therapy was still in place and yet it was still not enough. I was unbearably sad, yet also so numb to everything. My body and mind unable to process anymore hurt. Food was a chore, everything was a challenge, from a simple shower to making dinner. I persevered, the kids were fed, chores completed, and life moved on. I was not ok, yet there was no time, no space to fall apart.

I sat in that courtroom hallway with only a small fuse of life left, having burned away so much with the other losses, and now it burned away my job and my move and my future. Ashes, dust, nothing left, no pieces to make a puzzle. No strength. I am not a phoenix to rise from the ashes. I am a woman, nothing more. One who was incredibly broken, not ok, and yet still asked to carry on, to move forward. To grieve quickly and briefly because it's "only a move" "only a job", yet it was never just those things. It was a lifestyle, a safe place, a peaceful place, and a place that provided comfort in the pine tar and smoke tinged air with the snow capped mountains surrounding the town and the river carrying the heartbeat of the mountains within it. It was gone. My chance removed of my own accord. The sacrifice I made for my children that I did not want to make. I made it because of my deep love of them, but this was one that broke me. In a month I lost my future, my best friend, my safe place, my organization, and so much more. It's challenging to put into words all that was lost. 

I have not grieved it all. It seems impossible at times to grieve it all. Where do you start? How do you portion it out? How do you find the time and space and safety to become vulnerable when you are already dust? How do you share this with the world?

Two months later and I still struggle to find the words, to grieve it. Tears come at times, life is moving forward and there have been some incredible moments over the past 2 weeks and amazing people coming into my life, but I know I have more grieving and healing to do. I do not have a path forward, I do not know where I will be in a few weeks, a few months, much less a few years. It's ok not to have those answers, but there is so much instability that I drift. I am thankful for the people that have become anchors, and the new ones that are supporting me with open hearts and empathy. What a challenging time to come into my life, and yet as has happened before people have arrived in my life at challenging points and made such lasting impacts that I have a small amount of hope blooming again.

There have been more smiles and laugher in my life these past 2 weeks than there have in the past 2 months, for which I am thankful. I see and feel parts of me that seemed to have been lost forever. It is not a return of those parts, but an emergence of new. I do not have a path, I do not have a plan, but I find more moments of strength and courage. In this I can take some comfort, and in knowing that anchors are there for me.

Tomorrow begins the start of the next chapter. Tomorrow their dad begins his battle for joint custody and I have to find the strength, courage, and energy to fight for what I believe is best for my children. What is best for me as well. I am scared, I am terrified, I am exhausted, I am sad. Knowing I have a handful of people supporting me is giving me the strength to proceed and I will. 

As I have said so many times before reach out to your friends, to your family. So much of this story has been withheld, and maybe I will write more on it one-day, but without those people texting me in April, giving me hugs, and calling me I would not be where I am today. Without all of you being there despite me not reaching out or reaching out right before I would have fallen further. My heart has gratitude for all of you for being there, even when I told you I was alone, and you told me I wasn't. Thank you for letting me disagree with you and have the space to move through some of this grief safely. 

Turning 43 in the middle of all of this was not what I wanted, not what I envisioned and again I find myself with trauma on and around my birthday. Six years ago I knew my marriage could not be saved on the weekend of my birthday, a turning point in my life, and here I am with a no plan again coming off of a birthday. I love plans, yet at this point I can do no more than walk through each day, each moment, each breath and let things unfold.

Peace, I pray for peace.

Bend October

I stood up at the river, turned my back on the Deschutes, went to pick up my backpack and the tears came instantly. They took me by surprise, yet they should not have as I had been crying intermittently all day. The last day of a momentous trip and the emotions overtook me. I turned back to face the river and allowed the tears to fall as I sobbed quietly. When they slowed I donned my sunglasses and backpack and walked along the gravel path back into downtown Bend, keeping the river on my left. Tears appeared at times as I walked along the path towards my final meal in Bend. I knew that as I walked I was leaving a piece of myself in Bend.

I shortly came upon the pedestrian bridge, my thoughts instantly drawn to the previous Saturday, and I walked on, yet a few steps later I turned, drawn back to stand on the bridge and look out over the river towards the mountains. I stepped on the wooden planks, uneven, studded with screws, and walked to the middle. The sun shone over my shoulder and I stood simply letting the tears gather. I knew I needed to mark that moment, and I recorded some videos, unsure of exactly what I wanted to say. I let the tears fall as I expressed my gratitude, my joy, and even my sorrow. 

Saturday, October 8th marked the completion of the first scouting hike of the American Perimeter Trail. My best friend, my business partner, and one of the most important people in my life walked the pedestrian bridge over the Deschutes River into Drake Park in Bend, OR completing a 3 year journey. As I watched him cross that bridge I smiled, I laughed, I cheered, and I was overwhelmed. With a smile, tears in his eyes and a swing of his flag he completed the loop. I thought I would cry, instead I smiled, we hugged, we laughed, and I was overwhelmed with it all. Another demarcation in my life, one of joy, sweetness, and a lot of dedication and work. A moment made possible by a simple connection on Instagram, an offer to help, and an acceptance.

The past 3 years were not easy for either of us. There were traumatic moments, changes in course, but most importantly there was connection and a willingness to go forward. At the transition points we talked, we argued, and we found a way to move through as friends and business partners. It has been a gift, a privilege, and an honor to accompany him on this journey, and even now, 6 weeks later, the moment he crossed the bridge brings me to tears. They are tears of joy, gratitude, and love for a friend and a project. A project that was not mine but quickly became my passion, my own project; integrating into so much of life I cannot imagine, do not care to imagine, how the past 3 years would have unfolded without it. 

Now the project moves on a new path and I cannot help but grieve some of what was. It was never perfect, but it was familiar and faced with the unfamiliar there is fear as well as excitement. For nearly 3 years we journeyed to this space, and finding ourselves having crossed here I find more tears. They are powerful tears, ones that hold space for the grief of the loss of the familiar while holding hope for the future. Around the bend we find ourselves.

30 Days of Thanks: November 24, 2020

Connection.

In everything that has been 2020, there is still connection. While we may be 6ft or more apart, there has been a growing connection. I have witnessed people reaching out more to others, increased inclusion, and increased love. As I sit here amidst it all I am grateful for connection. For the opportunity to find and interact at spiritual levels, soul levels, not just superficial layers with other individuals. 

For me these connections began before the pandemic, but have intensified throughout it. I have written repeatedly about the gifts that I have received from the pandemic. It is a choice I make, to connect to the gratitude mindset. This to me does not mean always finding the positive, but acknowledging the pain and being thankful for it, experiencing it, so that I accept and move forward. It is about connecting to people, places, experiences to propel myself, heal myself, and find my inner truths. Each connection provides me some form of healing or a community.

I find myself more connected than I started the year, with a larger, but still small community. These relationships are more intimate and fulfilling because of the awareness. Tonight, I am thankful for these connections and all that they have provided for me over the past year.

30 Days of Thanks: November 5, 2020

This evening I sit here and wonder what I am grateful for in this moment, this day. It's not that I don't have a grateful heart, I do, it's just I have no focus. Usually as I sit to craft these posts I have a theme, a reason, something in mind, yet tonight there is no clear reason. My purpose in doing these daily posts is to reflect and find a joy in the day, or peace, and always gratitude. 

Today I find myself grateful to have another day. To be present here on this earth, and experience this life in this body. I am thankful for the experiences I have had until this point, for each has contributed to this path that I am on. It is mine, and mine alone. Separate, yet part of the larger collective of the human and soul experience. I am grateful for having lived in 11 states, experienced life on the I-95 corridor and off of it. Life along the I-75 and I-90 corridors as well. Living in so many unique places within the continental USA has given me a distinct perspective on life and culture and shaped me into who I am. It has connected me with all different people, and all have influenced the person I am becoming.

I believe that we are never fully that person, we should be ever evolving and changing. I chose not to be stagnant, thus in choosing to evolve and enlighten myself I must be grateful for another day full of experiences. Today I am grateful for them. I'm grateful for the time spent connecting with some of my favorite people, even if it was just for a few moments. These connections nourish my soul and brighten my experience. For them I am grateful.