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.

30 Days of Thanks: November 21, 2020

I sit tonight with the blank screen taunting me, what are you going to write tonight dear? There is no inspiration, there are no stories coming to mind at the moment, and yet you still insist on sharing. Why? Why do you insist on sharing?

I share my story, the highs, the lows and everything in between as both a way for me to heal, grow, and shift, but also as a way to find community. The social media world in which we reside often displays the highs, perfection. The photo cropped to show only the happy faces, and not the mess on the floor, or the 20 takes it took to make that single shot. Life is not a reflection of an edited photo; life is messy. I don't live my life in a filter, and yes, while I will crop a photo to hide the basket of socks to be matched or the pile of laundry, there are often photos I'll share with all of that showing. That is my life, there is always a basket of socks waiting to be matched at my house, we do hide it when company comes, so if you've seen it in person you're not company, but family.

I share my stories, my struggles, the grief and the processing so other women especially know it's normal. It's normal to not be ok after a divorce; it's normal to fall apart, but also fly high in new experiences and adventures. It's ok to love your children to pieces and have a life outside of them, and to not feel guilty or sad when they leave. It is ok to want a break from your job as a full-time parent. I share so other parents do not have to experience the guilt I felt as I went through these emotions. When I finally opened up to a few individuals and found they have had similar emotions I was more than relieved, I was ecstatic. 

While there is not a large community that follow me here, and most of these posts are read by family and close friends, I write to share, to create community. At some point there will be someone who will find these posts, my journey and find healing, find a connection, and peace within themselves. I share to this intimate community a glimpse into my mind, my emotions, my journey so I can heal from my own trauma. 

Tonight I find myself thankful for the courage and opportunity to share in this space. 

30 Days of Thanks: November 3, 2020

Tonight I sit here at my computer and reflect on the past 4 years as I have the election coverage in the background. I can't help but reflect on what I was doing 4 years ago on election night. Four years ago, on election night as we all sat watching the contest between Clinton and Trump come to head my life reached a critical moment. It was that evening that I shared with my husband at the time that I was unhappy, miserable, and wanted a separation. Not a divorce, but a separation. Our divorce came months down the road.

I sat that there that night in fear. Fear of his reaction, fear of my choice, fear of the impact of my choice on my children, and feeding on the general public fear that Trump was gaining ground. I was terrified, shaking, but I found the strength and courage to have that conversation. It was not easy, and it took all of me to make it through my statement. That evening as I slept on the couch I found my body depleted in a new way, but also at peace. How could such a traumatic moment in my life give me peace?

As I reflect back to those moments 4 years ago I am thankful for the courage I gained that night, and the courage that has continued to be with me since then. It was one of the most difficult nights of my life, but I found courage among the fear. More importantly, I found myself. I can see now with 4 years of life behind me, that in that moment I found a new love and respect for myself. That courage, love, and respect have fueled these past 4 years in creating this new life. They have given me the strength to keep fighting for a life I love and one that loves me back. I will use these gifts to continue my life less ordinary.

Heart

One month ago, on June 2, I dropped my best friend off in a Kroger parking lot in West Virginia to take the next steps to completing a crazy goal. I drove off in tears, consumed with grief at leaving behind my best friend. Driving the 4.5 hours home intermittently crying tears of grief, sadness, frustration and joy. Yes, joy. For you see when I had driven earlier that week to pick up my friend he wasn't my best friend, certainly fairly close, but those few days together, solidified everything and we were suddenly best friends. Despite the tears of grief, those tears of joy existed amongst them. I was happy to have an amazing friendship, one that challenged me, supported me and one in which I was safe, secure and loved. There was grief at leaving him, knowing that it would be months of grueling work on his part to complete this goal; grief at the short time we had together; fear of the unknown, for hiking does involve danger and we have already had enough dangerous encounters these past few months. 

When I volunteered to assist Rue McKenrick with the American Perimeter Trail project I distinctly remember sending him a message that I sincerely hoped that we would be friends as well as business partners. Little did either of us know that we would quickly become friends and in a few short months develop a deep bond of friendship and gain a lifetime best friend. He and I have had a whirlwind of 6 months, from nearly running out of money, hiking through the initial wave of Covid-19, to creating a logo, storefront and building a community; it has been beautiful and chaotic. We juggle the business aspect of the Trail and our friendship, often switching mid-conversation from business to personal and back to business. While it is highly unconventional it works for us. This is no ordinary business or project. This is a project that requires heart, faith and love. You can't connect people to the land and the land to communities without heart.

Heart, it's something I haven't spoken about much here lately. My heart is fully vested into this project, and in committing myself to something larger than me I find my heart opening in new ways. It's challenged me, challenged the experiences I have had over the past 20 years, and I find new pieces of myself frequently. It's been a beautiful gift that I have been given, though not without painful growth. In volunteering for this project I could have never imagined what I would be doing, where I would grow and how it would change me. I know that this project is not temporary, but a lifelong commitment. It fuels my personal goal to living a life less ordinary; teaching my children to chase dreams and that a cookie-cutter life is not the only option. This project and this beautiful friendship are a blessing and a gift, not only for me, but for them as well. I can reflect back over these past 6 months and see immense changes in myself, and it all stems from the changes in my heart. One of the best surprises of the heart has been to observe my children's hearts. I listen to them reflect on how Rue is doing hiking; is he safe? does he have enough food, money? It's statements like tonight that are made at bedtime, "have you spoken with Rue? Is he ok tonight?" that strike my heart and allow me glimpses into the hearts of my children. 

As I open more, they open more. There is less fear, less uncertainty and a more stable, loving life. As they watch me jump in and dedicate my time, heart and energy to this, they follow of their own accord, but also open their own hearts as well. In those moments it brings me tears of joy and disbelief. As a parent you often hope that your children have the ability to act beyond themselves; within this project and my relationship with Rue, I have I have been able to observe their hearts, actions and intentions. I am beyond grateful for those glimpses. So, as I drove away I cried for myself, for my children and for him; for it was not just a leaving of a best friend, but of a piece of myself. Our meeting had been 5 months in the making, and it's another 4 months to the next. I'll see you in Bend Rue.

Rue and I before the drop-off

Dream Chasing

As some of you might be aware Leilah Grace is at it again.

This time she has partnered with Rue McKenrick, an amazing man designing, creating and hiking America's newest long trail, the American Perimeter Trail. As you all know I don't believe that people come into our lives randomly, but that each individual has a purpose. After a few conversations and a phone call I knew within me that I was being called to help this man. He has big dreams and is chasing a seemingly impossible goal, all the while doing it without consistent support. I have been lucky enough in my life to have the support I needed while I was out chasing my big crazy dreams and goals. This opportunity isn't about paying it back, but about doing what is right and supporting someone in their journey.

In the short time of this partnership I find myself glowing, happy and passionate about something; filled with a fire that hasn't been there in a while. I have a sense of belonging, a purpose. This project is forever bouncing around in my head, so much that I carry a notebook for when inspiration strikes. There is no dread, no fear, just excitement at the opportunities and promises it holds. While I help Rue I am finding my own fire and drive to chase my impossible sounding dreams again. Last year I made a connection that reminded me to dream and strive, but 2020 brings a fire and intensity that is unparalleled. 

Off we go into 2020 creating a life less ordinary.

Faith

I have posted a lot about the emotional changes that I have experienced with my divorce, but I haven't ever really addressed the spiritual changes. I keep my spirituality fairly close to me and it's not something I share about often, but it has been an interesting part of this journey. One of my largest fears was having to tell my pastor that I was getting a divorce. I expected judgement, and possibly harsh treatment, but I was met with the complete opposite: Love and Compassion. He told me he had been praying for a different outcome, but that he (and the church) would support me and my kids in any way possible. I was floored, in fact I believe I started crying in the middle of our meeting. It was so many months ago at this point I don't remember the details. But I will remember the love, compassion and his statement that God wanted me to be happy, that I was created to be happy. It was more than I could have imagined and filled me with love that I desperately needed at the time. In fact, my pastor connected me with two other women also going through a divorce in our church. We have become a small local support system to each other in this storm that is divorce.

Personally, I have struggled with attending church. While my faith has not truly wavered, it has been tested. I would sit in church and hold back the tears watching the families. Or there was the time I inadvertently attended the mass for engaged couples. It took all of my strength and courage to not walk out; to sit there and listen to their love and blessings and know that I no longer had that. It was crushing. I didn't want to return to church for weeks following, but I did for my kids. They have watched me sit and sniffle and wipe at my eyes as we pray and sing in church. I have sat and listened to sermons about the joys and special thing that is marriage and contained myself from crying or walking out. I have listened to the cute little old ladies of the church invite me to marriage encounters and I smile and say I'm getting divorced. Their poor faces say it all, pity and confusion.

I have sat in church unable to contain the tears, and eventually excuse myself for a few minutes. Let me tell you the looks I got leaving 4 kids sitting in a pew as I walk out with tears streaming down my face. It's never one particular thing that may trigger the tears, but sometimes it's just this overwhelming emotion that I can't contain. It's heartbreaking to sit in a pew and cry silently while being surrounded by your loving children and have one of them keep looking at you with this confused face. Even today, listening to the readings about God making Eve from Adam's rib and new testament stories about divorce and remarriage and adultery hurt and brought me close to tears. But a few deep breaths and a focus on my kids and my tracing my tattoo and all was as well as it could be.

I have been blessed to have part of my faith renewed this summer. As you all are aware I made multiple trips to Madison, WI and on that first trip I was seized with a strong desire to pray. If I'm totally honest I was never a daily prayer kind of person, other than at the dinner table. I prayed at times, but since that first trip it has become almost a daily part of my bedtime routine. I give thanks for the blessings I have, ask for blessings on my friends and family, and do my best to single out specific people that have made an impact in my life. I'm sure some of you may be able guess who they are if you know me personally. I pray for continued faith and strength and for healing.

It doesn't mean that some days aren't more challenging than others, and it certainly doesn't mean that there are times that I want to yell and scream Why Me? In fact I've been know to ask many times in my nightly prayers, but as I write in my journal often, I just need to have faith and patience. The faith is usually there, patience not as much. And maybe, it's not so much of patience as it is courage. I never feel like I have enough courage, it's always in short supply. But that's the beauty of faith, believing that I will receive the courage and patience when I most need it. This divorce journey has changed me in so many areas, and been a process of self discovery, but I never imagined it would make my faith grow.