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 24

Today I was part of history. Today I made history.

Today the American Perimeter Trail Conference launched our membership platform. We have moved from a project to a non-profit to a membership-based non-profit in under 2 years. It has been an incredible journey. So much more incredible because of the passion and drive and LOVE that Rue and I have poured into it. There has been so much love, so many tears, blood and sweat from him, and to be truthful there have been fights and incredibly rough moments that had us both wrecked beyond belief, but our passion has pulled at us. It has pulled us apart and drawn us back together to keep at this.

I'm thankful for the effort he has put in, the passion, drive and desire to keep this moving. I'm thankful for my own passion, dedication, and drive to keep this moving. I'm thankful for the community that we have built; for the love they have shown us, for the continual support, and for the family that we all have created out of this.

I'm thankful for the opportunity to present the American Perimeter Trail to the public. It's been a process of putting our hearts on display every day, putting our faith in strangers, and trusting that this what we are supposed to be doing. Today we made history in launching the membership; I made history in becoming a member. I am so proud of what we have done, what we will continue to do, and so thankful for the opportunity. I am thankful for the opportunity to show my children what it means to chase down dreams and turn them into something. To show them how achieving a dream is not a solitary journey, but that of a community. I give thanks for the APT, for the community, for the chance to be a part of history and make history.

30 Days of Thanks: November 6th

It has been an intense week helping a dear friend navigate deep and painful grief, as well as anxiety. It has taken a lot of my own internal tools to keep myself grounded and I am incredibly thankful I have these. What I'm truly grateful for though is the American Perimeter Trail family that we have built. Tonight we had our monthly happy hour and it was much needed medicine for me. I didn't know I even needed that connection, but there it was.

Our members shared stories, supported me, supported us, and ended up telling us what the APT means to them. It was deeply touching. The APT means so much to me; it's this incredible project that I get to be a part of, that I get to facilitate and that I get to make history with. Often our happy hours are light and fun and silly, and we did have that tonight (no I wont share, as what happens at happy hour stays at happy hour), but we also had deep and meaningful connections. Our family grows and it builds and intertwines, connecting all of these people across the country, weaving a thread among us. It's beautiful and tonight these people touched my heart and solidified our family further. Thank you Rue for all that you do and will do for the APT, and thank you to the APT family for being the incredible humans that you are.

Peace, love, and pixie dust.

Single Parent Secrets

There is so much the world doesn't see with single parenting. The parents who feel guilty enjoying their kid-free time and then the guilt that comes when they arrive home and you're secretly wishing for just 1 more hour, 1 more day of quiet before love and chaos resumes. There's juggling the finances around so they can participate in school events, activities and all of those things, while managing 2-3 jobs to make it all work. Then working that much so you're tired A LOT, and feeling guilty when you want to spend a little of that hard-earned money on yourself. All of these are more visible aspects of single parent life.

What no one shares is the tears at night, the tears driving to and from work, and the journals where you share your fears, concerns and emotions that come with single parenting. The moments that you wish someone was there to carry your load for just a moment so you can breathe, give you a hug or hold your hand so you can get through it. I'm often told "I don't know how you do it." I do it because I have to, there is no one else. I have primary custody of my beautiful kids, so that means I carry the brunt of it all. Please don't get me wrong, I know my kids' father loves, cares and worries about them, but it's different when you are the primary caregiver. It doesn't matter how great of a support system you have, there are just times at 2am that you want to roll over, and share that burden. You want to have late night talks about how you're going to manage it all and even if you can't find a solution you know you have assistance. Those are the issues that single parents who were formerly a duo don't discuss. We don't discuss it because getting divorced is still taboo in many senses. 

Divorce is often viewed as the easy option, for people who quit, can't make it work, didn't try hard enough. So tell me again why I would share the sense of loss I feel when I'm struggling with an issue about my kids? Then you're conflicted because you feel like your energy and emotions should be poured into your child, but there's a very real sense of loss and singularity that happens in conjunction with it. I am stressed and upset about my child/children and then upset because I'm on my own in it. Moving from a 2 parent household to a single has so many more ramifications that most people can imagine. I know that not every 2 parent household has equal parenting burdens, but there is always the illusion that there is another adult there in which to share. Many of us cling to (or clung to) those illusions as a coping mechanism. There is no illusion in single parenthood. All it takes is to look in the mirror and you can there view your support system.

I have a support system, but they're not available all the time. They lead lives, have families and are often busy, just like I am. As much as they love me there are just times when they don't have time to talk, as much as they say they'll always have time they can't; it's not feasible. Sometimes your support system fails you through no fault of their own and sometimes your support system wants to fix you, fix the situation, and all you really want is someone to just walk with you through the rough patch. I am strong enough, capable enough, and independent enough to do what I need to do, but it doesn't mean that I wouldn't appreciate someone to hold that space for me. Everyone needs people like that in their lives, not just single parents, and while I do, they're again not always available. So, as a single parent you do what you can, and sometimes that means having your support system be on point and sometimes it means crying yourself to sleep at night. In those latter instances you remind yourself that you are not truly alone, but if you're like me anxiety tries to spin another tale which leaves you exhausted as you're carrying multiple emotional burdens and now battling anxiety. 

Do you see why everyone says I'm so strong?

Do you see why everyone wonders how I do it?

Do you see why many single parents struggle to ask for help?

Do you see why I mean it when I say call me at 2am or 3am?

Do you see my secrets now?

2019 Wrap Up

I know many people did their wrap ups before now, but I felt compelled to wait until the year and decade had fully concluded. You never know what magic may occur on New Year's Eve. Thus I sit here, late on January 1st of a new year and a new decade reflecting on all that was in 2019.

Oh 2019, there is so much that I could say about you. You were full of so many surprises, personal growth, magic and adventure. I could have never dreamed everything that has happened this year. From the discovery of backpacking to new connections, the consistent theme was the people that made these things possible.

To these individuals below, know you have a special place in my heart and life.

My parents: You have stepped in so much this year in so many ways; from babysitting grandkids and putting them on the bus 4 days a week to yard work and repairs you've made this life a little easier. I surely don't say it enough: Thank you.

J: Thanks for being my listening ears through all the ups and downs of the year. Constantly sending light and love, as well as guidance. You made the downs of this year tolerable and the ups that much more enjoyable.

B: My bud. I can't say enough for the little things for this year from making me laugh or smile on those down moments, giving me advice (even if I didn't always take it) and sending me music. We've had quite a year. I'm so glad we were finally able to make our in person visit, though I wish it had been under better circumstances.

P: From every good morning text to nights at the bar with laughter you're a special friend. Thanks for finally cashing in our bet.

My next door neighbors: You are such wonderful people. You tolerate my crew invading your space and invite them over yourselves. They're always welcome at your house and so many activities. Thank you for being you.

BR: Thanks for still being you and treating me like me. It's been a rough road at times and I know that I can always count on you to still treat me like me, regardless of position. I think it's time for another pizza and beer night.

NN: Thanks for all the brunches and being the sweet woman that you are.

A and L: It's nice to have a small group of women all going through challenges and have the support that you provide. I look forward to our next set of chats, and hopefully we can have one in person in the coming months.

Aloha J: Thanks for stepping up and being there for me when I needed it. Thank you for the laughs and brutal honesty too. It's time to get another weekend on the schedule.

Pop: While we didn't get in any runs this year (crazy right?!) thanks for reaching out and always being there. I know that I can always call you if I have an issue and that means a lot. Let's plan a run soon.

All of these people and more had a significant impact on my life in 2019. But, I'd be remiss if I didn't include the person below.

C: There's too much that I could write here, from the little things like making tacos and margaritas and airport pick-ups, to the big things like redesigning my stereo system and taking me backpacking, you were an important part of my life this past year. I don't know if you, or I, can truly understand the impact and influence you had. If it weren't for that first trek with you I would not be doing the things I am doing now and planning for future adventures. You have a knack of making me laugh and smile, even when I want to cry, and you have countless other gifts that you share with me. Thank you for the time, the adventures, the food, the laughter and everything else. As I said in the beginning, there's just too much I could writer, so I'll leave it at I'm looking forward to whatever adventure we can concoct next.

Sunrise on the Appalachian Trail
Chimney Rock, Pennsylvania
1/1/20

30 Days of Thanks: Days 23-25

Whew! Somehow the weekend got away from me. Thus you get a catch up post.

Day 23 (Saturday) Can I just be thankful for a nap and caffeine? Seriously! My flight out of Texas left at 5am, so I was up at 2:45am to catch a ride to airport to be in line for security by 3:20am. Needless to say it was a long day, fueled with a brief nap on the plane and a short one I squeezed in at home, and a very large caffeinated coffee!

Day 24 (Sunday) On this day my family celebrated thanksgiving as my kids will be with their dad out of state per our normal arrangement. This year I expanded my table to my good friend and his family. It was great to have the crowd around the table with 2 turkeys, lots of sides, laughter and noisy children. Memories in the making. I'm thankful for the time and ability to host something like this event. I have a table large enough, enough resources to make it happen and the joy to share. Holidays can be difficult, but on this day we celebrated with love in our hearts.

Day 25: Today I'm thankful for all of you that encouraged me on my writing journey. You've read all these posts (or most of them) and had kind words. I have little training in writing of this style. My writing training has been scientific and we all know that's completely different. It's because of your ongoing encouragement that I have 3 writing endeavors on the horizon. One is already public as you're aware, the other 2 are still in the infancy stages. There will be more coming about them as they develop.

It's not always loneliness

Today I had the privilege of bringing my kiddos to a fun fall festival at a quaint town not too far from us. This isn't something necessarily out of the ordinary for us. They're used to adventures with me and in the summer it's known as #mondayswithmom. We had on coordinating shirts and had a great time doing crafts, taking a little hayride and walking the streets.

I can say that previously I have done these things and had jealousy issues and left them feeling crushed and lonely. It would hurt to see these "intact" families and know that it's just me and my crew. You wonder if it's bothering them too, especially when they don't say anything. It's a hope and pray that they're doing ok and just keep on trucking because there is nothing else you can do.

Today was different. It was the first time I've been to one of these events and not had massive feelings of jealousy or loneliness. I was content; I was happy; my kids were happy. This isn't to say there weren't moments of other feelings. There was a time waiting in line listening to two moms chatter behind me about not being able to take their two kids to this event because it would have been "too much" without another adult. I get it. I've been there, but I would have been stuck home my entire mom-life if it was "too much." I was the mom wearing a baby on my back and one on my front at times, or wearing one and pushing 3 in a double stroller. I'm not being judgmental about these moms, but I wanted to turn around and say I'm here with 4, alone! You can do it! It might be scary, but it can be done!

Despite these moms and being surrounded by intact families there were a few moments of just wishing that I had someone to share the experience with besides my kids. It really wasn't loneliness, just a desire for companionship. I'm at the point in my healing process to start to recognize the differences between the two. It's a good distinction. I can say that a few months ago I didn't think it would ever be possible. Thankfully, with a push from a friend or 2, my therapist and a lot of my own grit and determination I've grown a lot over the past 4 months.

It's not to say I don't get lonely. I certainly do, but it was nice to understand and be aware of the difference today. Especially after an event that would often trigger something. To me it's all part of the healing and growth process. I'll keep saying it until it sinks in- divorce is a grieving process. Those of you on the outside will never fully understand it unless you have lived it. Though we are grieving, we should also be growing. I like to think that at this point I am doing more growing than grieving. I think that today was a good reflection of that.

It's a good thing to be able to see that my family is whole and happy and "intact" in my eyes. I may not match what you think of when you think of a "intact family," but it's my views that matter more. My kids and I are happy, and I can't ask for more most days. I may have a wish and desire for companionship and a partnership in the future, but for now I am content to be me.