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.

      

Roots

I sat in the car, eyes full of tears, and as the procession exited and headed towards to the church I thought to myself, "please don't let us go by the house." Yet, at the familiar stop light we made a left turn and then a right turn, and I found myself being driven down the street where my father grew up, and the last stable, tangible piece of my childhood. The house grew closer, it's grey-blue front, the driveway, the porch, and though it no longer belonged to our family, I could see within and feel the love and laughter. The tears fell slowly as we drove by on our way to one of the churches of my childhood to celebrate the life of my paternal grandfather. Roots, I reminded myself, it is roots, and though your last grandparent has passed you have your parents, your extended family, and your own family.

It has been almost 8 years since the passing of my grandfather, the man with whom I played cards, took me bowling, out to eat, made me laugh, and told me stories upon stories. He was at all of my graduations, helped me move into college (more than once), and gifted me with the most incredible pasta rolling pin. He was the last of my grandparents to pass, the final deep root that kept me anchored. Growing up moving around the country I always knew that no matter what I had my extended family, my grandparents back in the hometown of my parents; it was the one constant in my life. With his passing I was uprooted, and while I knew I had my parents, my own family, and my extended family, everything was different. 

Six weeks ago I lost my my longest childhood friend, another root removed. After battling illnesses for 4 years she passed away, a month shy of her 44th birthday. A leap baby, I would tease her about her age, yet in truth she had more wisdom and grace and compassion than most of us. Jess was my kindergarden friend. The one person that managed to keep track of me despite me moving away at the age of 8 and then moving multiple more times.

In the midst of my undergraduate years she found my email and we emailed occasionally. Nothing too frequent, nor anything too in-depth, but the connection was there, yet life took over and we lost touch again. With the advent of Facebook we reconnected and finally we connected in person, 20+ years in the making. When I divorced it was the catalyst our friendship needed, pushing us into a new space as I tried to find my footing as a single parent.

Jess became the person I would call when I was on a long drive; she was the person I called when life was good, when life was crap, and everything in-between. We laughed a lot, cried some, and she offered insight, guidance and simply held space. The past 6 months she was the person I left messages for every morning; a check-in on my day, a well-wish for her for the day, and a promise to connect.

When my life fell apart last year I could always count on Jess, despite the fact that she was ill herself and dealing with ongoing medical issues. Jess held space like no other. We made plans to celebrate her discharge from the hospital with a bonfire like no other. We made plans to celebrate her birthday with cheesecake and laughter and kitty snuggles. The last month of her life we sent voice memos, endless voice memos, simply unable to connect on the phone, and when we finally did briefly it was with a plan to catch-up again soon. It never happened. 

I lay prone upon my bed the night of her passing, unable to move, tears that would simply not come, despite knowing I needed them. What was I going to do? Another root, another stable point gone, and I knew in that moment, without fully understanding, that life had changed again. There are still so many mornings and so many drives that I pick up my phone to leave her a voice memo, to call her to chat, and I simply cannot, so I speak to her, knowing that somewhere she is listening. At times it helps, at others it is nothing more than an exercise in futility and I fight back the tears for my loss. She's happier and healthier where she is, yet I find myself again uprooted, working to create new roots, new anchors.

If I close my eyes and listen I can hear her telling me that I am rooted, that I have my children, my parents, my ancestors, my widespread friend circle, and a new path, a new root growing. She would tell me that my maple is more rooted than I believe, and to listen to the heartbeat of my forest.

Jess and I at her 40th

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.

Quiet, Comfort, and Tears

The tears that would not come yesterday have made their entrance today. A day that started with a need for quiet, for peace, for comfort and solitude. As my youngest went to the bus I made myself a small breakfast of yogurt, blueberries and honey, comfort food and nutrient dense. Something light enough to put in my stomach that wasn't overly interested in being filled, yet was asking for something. With my anxiety often being triggered by hunger I knew this meal was important, and it went down smoothly, yet by the time the meal was done I wanted nothing more than a snuggle and quiet. On my couch I soon found myself nestled against the cushions, unable to read, unable to do anything, my brain and body tired, exhausted. As I felt myself drifting to sleep I set an alarm so that I could make my way upstairs to work.

I settled into the couch and drifted contentedly in and out of that light space. It was not peaceful, but it was comfort. My phone rang, a certain ring tone letting me know an intimate friend was calling, but I ignored it. I needed space, I needed time, and I needed to be in the moment for me. As I made my way upstairs to begin my day the phone rang again, my person calling me a mere 10 minutes later, and again I ignored the call. It was too heavy, too much, all of my energy was being driven into logging into work to begin my day. I played soft music, instinctively knowing that the music I often listen to would be too much for my overwrought system. We rarely discuss the physical and emotional fallout that comes from a panic and anxiety attack. Fatigue, physical fatigue, poor emotional regulation, impaired coordination, body aches, altered hunger responses are a few of the things I have experienced throughout today. Thankful for a quiet Friday at work with no interruptions from my team and the comfort of steady, monotonous work I went about my morning. 

Today I set boundaries for myself with my friends and my business. I am taking the weekend off to be with me, my business, my passion project, will survive without me for the weekend. My friends were told I am not ok, but I will be and I need this space, this time to be with me. I cannot care for them, cannot care for my children, cannot do what I love if I am not ok. I am not ok. These boundaries are difficult. I want nothing more than to call my best friend, yet I won't. Maybe that seems counterintuitive since we are taught and told to reach out when we need help, but I know me, I know what I may do, which is share briefly and then focus on them. This delays going through my process. This delays my own healing, so I let the tears fall and do my best to honor these feelings and move into them. I cannot be who I am without tending to me.

Over lunch I went for a walk, 2 houses from mine I wanted nothing more than to turn home and take a nap. Maybe it was anxiety, maybe it was fatigue, maybe it was fear, but it seized ahold of me and I found myself tensing and my knees wanting to buckle at the same time. My body confused about what it should do, neurons firing haphazardly after the previous day. A few deep belly breaths and with mental fortitude I was able to walk the neighborhood, tears randomly slipping down my cheeks, a soft jazz station playing in my ears. Each song speaking to me, a gift from God and universe, in the midst of the tears I knew these songs were meant for me, meant for my journey, and spoke to me of something special. 

"and I'll see you in the high and low, in the high and low I'll find you" 

"You've got a friend in me, When the road looks rough ahead And you're mile and miles From your nice warm bed You just remember what your old pal said, Boy you've got a friend in me"

"Look now There's more to see See how I used to be There's a memory Something only I could know It's a wildfire Burns everywhere I go But I know the way home, I know the way home"

The day progressed, I eventually responded to a few texts, sent calls to voicemail and simply told those of you who reached out I cannot today. I simply cannot. There is too much to put into words, too much to process, and I don't know where to begin. The tears cannot fully be explained other than a physical release of everything. As my children came into the home my body changed, tension returned as they went about their day. They provided a small boost of energy to me, but as they left for their dad's this weekend I deflated. Thankful for them to be gone so I can focus on me, but I miss their energy, their love, and their distractions.

Sitting with yourself when you are in this space is difficult. I can be alone and alone with myself in many different ways, but this one is challenging me. I will see what the weekend brings. It is planned to bring me to the forest with a backpack, a journal, tissues, and my basic necessities. It will not be about crushing miles, but finding my feet, steadying my ground, and listening. Listening to the woods, to God, to the Universe for the next steps. Patience my friend I know it will say at some point. As part of me wants to revolt against this process I am gently reminded of the prose that I found this morning:

"We view our life by running at it head-on. By always chasing after one emotion to the next. We try to avoid pain by never acknowledging it, by always covering it up with people or places or things to do. But that never allows the pain to heal. It never allows the wounds to close over and create the scars that tell our stories. If we stopped and acknowledge the pain, embraced the pain as an emotion that belongs to us, then we wouldn't always be running" ~Watering the Soul

So I sit in these emotions, knowing that tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow will bring new energy, a new dimension to my healing. There will likely be more tears, there will be pain, there will be loneliness and struggles, but there will be growth. There has been growth today. The first day, the first step, the first moment is always the most challenging, but today I made that. I am not ok, but I will be. 

Birthday

These past 2 weeks have brought a host of changes to my life. The ending of my position at my previous hospital after 9 years as I decided to transition to some place a new, a week off between positions, a birthday, the starting of the new position, and an unexpected surprise. For 9 years I called one amazing children's hospital home, first as a pediatric physical therapist, and then as the Epic analyst for therapy services. Both were rewarding, but it was time to continue to something new and stretch myself.

With a week off between positions I picked my favorite form of self-care: hiking. Backpacking was not feasible, but solid day hikes were on the agenda most days, as well as being able to witness S competing in her first track meet as a pole vaulter. In the midst of this week of self-care I began to find myself again. Find the woman that I knew and loved, one that had been missing for the past few weeks as I managed to survive a host of stressors. I began to look forward to my upcoming birthday, instead of approaching it with a mild feeling of dread and impending disappointment.

My birthday I celebrated by hiking my favorite section of the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania, Pulpit to Pinnacle. A solid 10+ mile hike with incredible views, rocks, a good climb, and some ridge walking. It's one I discovered by accident a few years ago and have been back a number of times. The hike, the views, the birds, and the entire experience never grows old. I packed in a cupcake from the local bakery and celebrated atop Pinnacle with a chocolate cupcake, alone, but happy. My birthday is often a source of anxiety and stress, and post-trauma response, yet each year I work through new parts of it and this hike was what I had envisioned for my 40th, yet it took me an additional 2 years to manifest my vision. It was worth the wait and this birthday was filled with even less stress, anxiety, and minimal trauma response.

My belated birthday gift arrived this weekend. A backpacking trip with my best friend. This was unexpected as they had been across the country and I had been happy to simply have the long phone calls we shared on my birthday. My solo backpacking trip to close out more miles of the AT in Pennsylvania rapidly transformed into a trip for 2. We have joked about hiking and backpacking together for 2 years but the constraints of time, location, health, and money have impeded every attempt. When he was gifted a trip to Pennsylvania we were still unsure if backpacking would happen, though we knew a visit was at least possible; our first in person in nearly a year. 

With a plan in place Friday afternoon I drove partway across the state and found myself in a state of shock hugging my best friend. Here we were embracing nearly 3 months before we were to see each other next. I nearly cried, and instead found myself laughing. Saturday we packed up the remaining gear, split what we needed to carry and set out for Pine Grove. The sun shone, the birds called, and there were quaint flowers bursting pinks, purples, and white at us as we walked on the pine needle covered dirt path with our packs lightly on our backs. Up and over the peaks, down into the valleys briefly we hiked, laughed, and shared the joys of being together in person. We have an incredibly complex and intricate relationship, balancing our friendship, our passion project, and a business. As we are used to phone calls when we are in person it often takes me a moment to settle in, and sometimes I simply need to take a quick moment and close my eyes, yet our friendship is one of the most precious parts of my life. This was an unexpected gift, a belated birthday gift that was worth the wait. We bonded in new ways, the ways that you only can when you're laughing as your foot slips as you attempt to climb a small boulder or sitting on the rocks at a view while the sun warms and dries your back relieved of its pack. 

Business called and we bypassed a camping spot that looked divine but lacked cellular service. We enjoyed 2 hours on zoom in my tent laughing with our members, my phone propped on his pack before we realized we needed to hold it. If you've never run a zoom session from your tent on the Appalachian Trail in the dark while wrapped in your quilt I have to recommend it. We laughed, swapped stories, and made plans for our big event this summer. As the evening wore down we laughed more on our own and fell easily into sleep, each snug into our quilts. As the sun rose and woke me, I found myself briefly confused as to the person in my tent as I've only ever shared this tent with S, and then my dear friend rolled over and cracked a joke. For 2 hours we laid there laughing, sharing and simply relaxing before we decided to break camp and make the 10 mile trek back to the car.

My heart was light, my body grounded, and my soul connected. I knew I needed to backpack this weekend. I knew I needed the physical reset and grounding that is provided when I sleep in my tent and hike over the earth. What I didn't know was that I needed to share this experience, and specifically share this experience with my best friend. As we hiked out the rain began, a steady spring Appalachian rain, one that quietly comes and finishes rinsing you of the detritus that you carry unknowingly. We shared more stories, more of our visions, and expanded our passion project to new areas. Reaching the car drenched and ready to dry off I wasn't sad, I was content in our shared experience. It wasn't until I dropped him off that the tears threatened. It was sadness, and as much as it was that it was a brief moment of being off balance. Together we ground each other in a way that only close friends can do, and in that moment as I shifted to independent grounding I was struck by the transition. My heart and my soul are grateful for the time and connection we were afforded this weekend, even as parts of it are sad at the briefness of it all. I honor the sadness while still celebrating the beauty that we had. It was an unexpected gift, one that I will treasure. Until our next meeting.

For the past 36 hours I have watched my best friend begin an incredible adventure. One in which they are continuing to follow a dream and are taking incredible steps to make the vision become alive and tangible. I have cried happy tears at the pictures and videos, simple joy at watching my dear friend find success. A new beginning is success, just as an ending is.

A short month ago we were both to begin new journeys, both fulfilling dreams that we have held close and worked diligently towards. Then a setback for my friend, one that threatened to take away this adventure, change everything, and alter life to a course in opposition to the vision. In the midst of their setback came my own, and we both found ourselves unstable in life. Our momentum stalled, sputtered, and we carried each other as best we could. There were long phone calls, texts, and a vulnerability between us that we had not previously shared. I watched in awe as a small community rallied with my best friend, supported in a way I could not, and I watched my friend begin to recover their vision, momentum, direction. In turn I waited for my own turning point, a clearer path forward, yet with each small forward movement another obstacle arrived. As my best friend finds momentum I find myself staring at these obstacles, forward movement at a minimum. The tears threaten to overflow at these ongoing challenges, and they do in small moments bursting with sadness and frustration. I would like us both to be on the adventures that we have envisioned, and I am not. 

In truth I am on adventure, it is not what was envisioned, not what was planned, not what was wanted. There is no peace on this new adventure, there is minimal joy, there is a lot of heartache, sadness, and anxiety. I know that it is a moment in time, that it will change, and that for now I must endure, but it does not prevent the pain. It does not prevent me from wondering when my own dream will be actualized as I observe my best friend begin to attain theirs. I am happy for them, thrilled especially at the joy and peace they are finding, yet I am sad within my being. This adventure of mine tears at me, creates anxiety that comes out on my skin, small itchy blisters on my fingers and hands, briefly held at bay with medication. It is an adventure that I hope will soon transform to what I had envisioned, what my best friend and I had both envisioned.

There remains a piece of hope that my own journey will find forward momentum and I will find peace as my best friend is finding theirs. Parallel adventures. For now I find joy in their adventure, as I await changes in mine.

30 Days of Thanks: November 30

This past month has brought a lot of different things into my life, and even if I have not written daily here my gratitude and thankfulness I have worked into a mindset of being thankful each night before I fall asleep. Finding gratitude helps cultivate joy, which, on nights such as tonight, are important. Today I find myself thankful for the old friendships, the new friendships, family, and the community that I am creating. I am thankful for the small returns to normalcy including a Thanksgiving race and Thanksgiving dinner with extended family.

Mostly tonight I find myself thankful for a lesson I didn't want. A lesson in trust and expectations was taught, a simple reminder that my path is different than the rest. A lesson in trusting the process and accepting what is and will not be. It was a reminder that I had been praying for peaceful acceptance of the opposite of the expectation of tonight, thus I should not be surprised at the outcome, or lack thereof. I know I'm being extraordinarily vague in the lesson and situation, yet I am sure you all can relate to the experience of praying for one thing, expecting something different, and still finding yourself upset by the situation when it aligns more with the prayers than the expectation. A lesson that will carry well into the holiday season. Thank you for the gift.

30 Days of Thanks: November 14

 I was lucky enough to spend this weekend backpacking for the American Perimeter Trail on the Appalachian Trail in New Jersey and New York, but that's not what I'm thankful for this evening. I am thankful for the company I had this weekend, an otherwise stranger from Instagram who decided to come along on this crazy adventure. We had nearly 25 miles of ups, downs, insane weather, and some normal moments in there too.

Miniature is nothing more than a special individual. He demonstrated such patience with me as we navigated ascending vertical rock scrambles and some bouldering and my anxiety threatened to take over and send me into a panic. A hand, a pole, and encouragement were all offered, and grace was extended when I refused the assistance, acknowledging my need to complete the task independently. He pulled me to my feet after my countless slides and falls onto my rear, and mostly had the courtesy not to laugh until i was already laughing at myself. I've never fallen on a hike as much as I did on Saturday and his attitude and demeanor made it that much easier for me to fall and not be upset with myself. 

He braved some insane weather with me; we navigated countless summits and ridges while being pelted with hail and rain and rising winds as the thunder crashed and the lightening flashed. There was no where to go but forward, as the trail was above the treeline and no way to descend. As the hail receded and the rain continued he could have complained, could have blamed me, could have done countless things, but he hiked forward. When the rain lifted we enjoyed moments marveling at the views and how wet we were. Little did we know that the rain and wind would return, pushing us to move faster as we tried to stave off hypothermia. We laughed, teased, and in these moments propelled ourselves forward with joy rather than drudgery. Choosing to find the happiness and acceptance in the moment, knowing that we could be other places warm and dry, and instead we were navigating flooded trails and becoming increasingly wetter as the rain continued.

I am incredibly grateful for the man that showed up and kept showing up during our adventure this weekend. It was a challenge for both of us, and his attitude and support were what I needed in some personally challenging moments. We all should be so lucky to stumble upon an individual who's so gracious during some extremely challenging and dangerous circumstances. Of this I am certain I have a new friend in Miniature. I am thankful for the time and the man that is Miniature. While I'm not sure he'll let me plan another adventure without double/triple checking the maps and the weather, I'm hopeful he'll still make good on that salsa lesson. May you all find an adventure with a new friend that leaves you breathless, joyful, and thankful.

30 Days of Thanks: November 8

Happy Birthday Pete!

Today I'm thankful for my buddy Pete. Looking at us together you'd never guess that we're such good friends, nor would you fathom that it all came from mornings (and afternoons) at the bus stop. Two mornings a week I walked my kids to the bus and occasionally chatted with this man there, sometimes after school too. Our daughters became fast friends, and still are, and we slowly started connecting. It was Super Bowl parties, backyard fires, and then outings to the local museums and such with kids in tow. Man did we get some looks then!

Pete was there before my marriage fell apart, while it was falling apart he was always there to listen to me, let me cry for a bit, and he's still there. Rides to and from the airport, driving my kids a few places when absolutely necessary, the man is a great friend. Everyone should have a Pete in their life. Here we are over 5 years later and we're still close and out making laughs. 

I am so thankful for all the texts, the facebook posts, instagram shares, and everything else. He can usually make me laugh, and if not he knows he can show up with a drink or his award winning chili and it will cheer me up. For a worst case he knows the perfect bartender to mix us both up a drink. From the little things to the big things I'm thankful for all the Pete has brought into my life.

Happy birthday my friend!

30 Days of Thanks: November 2

Yesterday I wrote of friendship, the gift it is, the changes it brings, and how it weaves into our lives. Today, I am still thankful for friendship, but especially for the deep, intimate friendships, for the friends that trust you and love enough to let you walk with them during those painful times. I'm thankful for these relationships where someone loves me and trusts me enough to share these moments with me. It's often not about having the right answer, or answer for them, but holding space and time for them; carrying their burden for a moment to allow them to breathe. When you can offload your burden for a moment, catch your breath and reset, that burden is suddenly lighter, maybe more manageable. 

It is a gift and a blessing to have forged these relationships and I am thankful for them. Thankful the friend who called tonight in need and allowed me to be there with them, to walk with them through fear and remind them that all is not as it seems. It's not dismissing their pain, their experiences, but offering perspective- when needed or wanted. Often it's as simple as saying "yeah it does suck" because there are many times when we need to hear that it's ok to not be ok. We live in a world that values perfection and happiness, without recognizing that messiness and sadness are parts of life, part of the human experience, and require just as much recognition. I am honored that I was chosen to walk with them, and I pray that our call helped facilitate some healing, or at least a brief moment of peace.

I'm thankful for the depth of our friendship and the moments we shared today, for despite this friend needing support they were able to offer me some healing and love. Tonight the words and support were kind reciprocally and we have both worked at this to have moments like this without anger or jealousy or fear reigning. Each of these emotions may have appeared tonight, yet they did not dominate. I am thankful for this friendship and for the growth within it.

Flowers just because

30 Days of Thanks: November 1

 It's my annual tradition to blog my days of thanks this month. Simply a moment to really reflect and document what is important to me on that day at that moment. Today is a simple thing: friendship. I am so thankful and grateful for friendship. For the seasonal friendships where people come into your life and then leave, and though I mourn the loss I am grateful for the time; for the long-term friendships, the people that have followed me from state to state to state.....; for the new friendships. Each relationship is unique, some are certainly more dynamic than others, and yet each one holds a place in my heart. These people have been there for me, then not been there for me, and for the most part love me for who I am. This crazy, messy woman who's out making dreams into goals, wrangling 4 kids, and living a life less ordinary.

I am thankful for the friendships that my children develop. Tonight as my eldest attended her first homecoming dance with her best friend for the past 6 years it was a fun time to watch them get ready together. Though they don't spend a lot of time together they were all smiles and you would never know that due to schedules they rarely see each other. My youngest son has developed some incredible friendships this year and is out almost everyday at house hanging out; again it's something special to watch. Even this morning when the youngest and her bestie missed the bus I am thankful they had each other. Each of these friendships shapes them, nurtures them, and feeds them in ways that I cannot. In turn it also feeds me. There is such synergy and beauty in these gifts of friendship.

S off to her homecoming dance

30 Days of Thanks: November 18, 2020

I don't often write here about my day job due to a circumstance that arose from one of posts, but today I am compelled to share the joys and gratitude I have for my job. I have a job that allows me the flexibility to drive my kid to the orthodontist this morning, or work from home if one of them is sick. I have a job that has thankfully allowed me to work from home through the early stages of the pandemic and then afforded me the flexibility to be home and working while my kids are doing virtual school. I am so thankful to have this position and the flexibility it has afforded me.

Not only that but this position came with the added benefit of a great officemate. I know I can go into work in a funk and be feeling better in a hour as she chats about her day, her daughter and her new grandson. This sweet woman will grab me a coffee or a water or anything if she's taking a walk to the cafeteria, offer me her snacks, and just about anything. She was a single mom, so she understands the struggles and is always there with an ear. I know when I took this position and moved into her office I was a little worried. She has worked for our company for many years, she's instrumental to the people with whom she works. I always knew her to be friendly and have a smile for all, but I was unsure of the dynamic we would have. I never needed to worry, we hit it off fairly quickly and have been fast friends since. I send her hiking pictures and in return get sweet grandbaby and puppy pictures.

What blessings I have

30 Days of Thanks: November 11, 2020

A simple conversation is all it takes. I didn't know that my anxiety was still bubbling until a few minutes into a phone call and I found myself in near tears, almost ready to pick a fight. I took a breath, and then another, told my friend that the words were hurtful to me, even if not intentioned and we worked through it together. A simple communication of feelings on both sides and an understanding reached, and now, in reflection I can see that that moment and the resulting time connecting helped me relieve the anxiety.

How can I not be thankful for anxiety relief? How can I not be thankful for communication with openness and love? How can I not be thankful for the healing provided tonight?

I am thankful, grateful, blessed even. I sit here now with tears of gratitude in my eyes for someone who so cares about me, loves me, and sees me. This year has been incredibly challenging for so many of us and though there is much I think I would change, I know that because of this year I have forged an intimate bond that feeds my soul.

I started this year with my word of intention: adventure. I know that this year has been an adventure, though not the one I pictured with ample hiking, a backpacking trip in Colorado, a weekend in Sedona, and so much more. I have hiked, I have backpacked even, though not in those places and I never made it to Sedona. Adventure has found me in the chaos of 2020 and I have found adventure. In the adventure I have found love and gratitude and community.

I have been blessed with an incredible mentor, one who leads with so much heart and compassion that I am humbled and in awe. Speaking tonight with him helped me heal my heart and soothe my anxiety. How can I not be thankful?

Tonight the gratitude pours off me in waves, gathers in the corners of my eyes as tears, and pounds through me as my heart beats. Gratitude for a soul connection.

Are you seen?

Everyone tends to think that the 3 most important, most impactful words are "I love you" and while they are powerful and important I think there are 3 more that are even more critical: "I see you". For there are plenty of moments in your life where you are loved, but not seen, not recognized for who you are. When someone says they see you, it not only means they love you, but they recognize you for who you are. How many times have you been in a relationship of any form where you can feel the care and concern, but still not feel seen? Still be invisible?

When you are seen that other individual confirms your existence as you experience it. There is no questioning, just acceptance. A validation of you in that time and space. They see you, accept you and love you. It's a different experience than I love you. If you have someone in your life that sees you and tells you that they see you, you know that this person cares deeply about you. They understand that desire to be visible, accepted, and loved as you are. Too often I love you comes with the desire to change the person or with blinders. You are loved for an idea of who you are, not who you are at your core, an image. This is not false love, that individual does love you, they just don't necessarily see you. It could be because you don't let them see you, or they are unable to view beyond their own boundaries, regardless of the reason there is a difference in the love and being seen.

I have a small group of people that "see" me. There is no need to explain things, though I often do regardless. They see me, understand my desire to explain myself even when not necessary. They see me through the anxiety, remind me that I am me, not my anxiety. They love me, simply for who I am. They tell me I am seen. I am valuable. I am loved. To me, the distinction is important; I do not desire to be loved on a pedestal, I desire to be loved and accepted for who I am. I desire to be seen, accepted for me. Me, the woman, mother, coordinator, therapist, backpacker/hiker, writer, and coach. But most of all me, the soul in a human body. A survivor and thriver of life's experiences; one who is on a path to create a life less ordinary for herself and her children.

So I ask you, who in your life sees you?

This is 40

In the past few months I have come to acknowledge the power of 40. Forty is not the naive youth of your 20s, nor the growth and experiences of your 30s, but the acceptance of your own being and recognition of your own power. Each decade before brought it's own growth, challenges and joy, and while I expect that the 40s will do the same there is a unique magic to 40. It comes with a dread and becomes an adventure.

At 40, a single, divorced mom of 4, I am more grounded than I was in the previous years. This does not come from age alone, but the internal growth I have undergone. Forty means stepping into my power, acknowledging who I am and accepting who I am. It is seeing me for me, loving her, even the parts I would change, and showing her to the world with the statement "I am me." For at 40 I can see me, the woman with the hips that carried 4 children; legs that have run marathons, chased children and hiked countless miles; a belly marked with stripes from carrying children; and hazel eyes that have seen joy, destruction, beauty, pain, love, and hope.

I have spent much of my life fighting myself, never quite fitting in, using that as my shield and torch. I am setting down those props and embracing my uniqueness with love. I will never be the one who spends weekends with lifelong childhood friends, driving through a neighborhood I have lived all my life. Instead, I am the one who has childhood friends across the states, friends with whom I can stay at a moment's notice, picking up right where we need to, despite a decade apart. Friends in Texas, Michigan, Florida, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, to name a few. I will always have a unique tribe, and it's something I enjoy, and at 40 am embracing with love. In fighting myself I faced every challenge alone, refusing to allow help. When the world said it was nearly impossible to complete a task, I would tell the world to sit down and watch me. It was set as a gauntlet, a challenge, not from a place of love. And you all did- you watched me fight through earning my PhD with 4 kids and husband; you watched me struggle with a license, housing and finances; you watched me battle the anxiety that was here pre-divorce and in earnest post-divorce. Now, at 40, I see my mistakes, when the task is nearly impossible I can complete it alone, but I can share the burden. I can chose to go forth in love or in fear.

At 40, I chose to go forth in love.

This is 40:

• seeing the woman in the mirror and loving her crinkles at her eyes, the light in her eyes, and all the little imperfections
• understanding that accepting help does not make you weaker, but stronger
• learning that love comes in all forms
• following passion and dreams, not only for yourself, but to model to your children
• finding the rhythms of parenting 4 unique individuals and accepting that you are never going to have all the answers
• accepting the situation at hand and then changing what you can
• taking risks, refusing to let fear and anxiety dictate
• choosing a life less ordinary and crafting it
• finding the courage in large and small situations to express my opinion, needs and desires regardless of the outcome

At 40, I go forth in love.

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

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.

30 Days of Thanks: Day 22

Old friends.

Today, I'm thankful for old friends. I've been down in Houston helping out a friend I've had since middle school, thanks to the generosity of a high school friend. In the midst of all of this a friend I have had since kindergarten (who managed to keep track of me through 8 moves) has been checking in on me. I have some really amazing friendships that have spanned large distances, but these two in Houston have been super supportive of so many things I have endured over the past few years. It's interesting because while we were friends in those different periods of our lives we weren't as close as we are now. I would have never considered us best friends in our history, but they are certainly part of my crazy small tribe now.

I've enjoyed sharing stories with my kids about these people and the importance of friendships and how they evolve over time. There are those friends who pass through your life in a season or two and those that may lay low in the background until it's time to resurface, as well as those that are ever present. I have not had a traditional life, growing up in the same place, but instead we moved a lot while I grew up. I am friends with people from each of these junctions in my life, and thankful for all the different experiences and influences that they have had on my life. But these "old" friends mean the world to me. Love you 3 to pieces.

30 Days of Thanks: Day 4

Mondays are my day off. It's my chance to catch up on stuff while the kids are at school. Today I got to have brunch with a friend, which was a nice perk. It made me realize how lucky I am to:

1. have a weekday off every week
2. have friends willing to join me on my day off for a meal

I typically use my day offs for errands, doctor's appointments, grocery shopping, etc. Today was a special day since I dedicated some time to truly just relax and be me. It's something that I am working on more and more, finding that balance between the "must do" and "want to do". I'm certainly a happier person when I take those much needed breaks and slow down. It's some of the crazy life lessons I've learned over the past few years.

Which brings me to my thankfulness acknowledgement of the day. Today, I'm thankful and grateful for the safe space that my therapist provides and the counsel. She is an amazing individual and we all should have someone in our lives like that. I know I've written about her before, but today I just wanted to take the time to recognize the work she does. This woman has guided me from a high anxiety state where I was functioning, but not thriving barely surviving, into a life where I am living and loving and enjoying life. She's graced me with the tools I need, held space when I needed to meltdown. Coached me through the meltdowns and allowed me the space to recreate me. Even when sharing my most vulnerable moments and intimate secrets I knew I was safe.

I learned that my emotions matter, that I was important. That my trauma was real and was my reality. I learned how to heal from my trauma, over and over and over again. I learned coping skills for when my anxiety skyrockets and I want to stay in bed forever, go on a crazy long run, or escape to the forest. I learned to recognize the warning signs of my anxiety and tactics to prevent the spirals.

She did not heal me; I healed me. She provided the safe space, tools and guidance so I could make the decisions I needed to make, recognize my own self worth and heal and grow. To my amazing unnamed therapist: THANK YOU.