2 Years

Two years ago I walked into a quaint little coffee shop for a first date, slightly nervous, yet excited to meet this cute guy who had a distinct sense of humor that made me smile. Over iced matcha lattes we lost track of time sharing stories, laughing, and finding a rhythm that has become part of who we are. Today we celebrate 2 years of dating.

Two years of adventures; from snowboarding trips, concerts, breweries, whitewater rafting, and hiking, to family dinners, kitchen adventures, backyard fires, and plumbing mishaps we have certainly experienced quite a range. It has not been easy, combining our very different lives into this one that we are creating. Moving from a single mom of 4 very busy teenagers to being in this relationship has challenged me. It has brought old traumas to the surface and forced me to confront them, while navigating the needs of our relationship. We have misunderstandings and communication breakdowns, each of us navigating our past while trying to find what works for this relationship. Even in the difficult times I know he supports me, loves me, and wants me to take care of me.

We tell each other on occasion that if you had told us at the end of that first date that we'd be where we are today neither of us would believe it. Sitting sipping our beverages there was no way to know that he'd help me find a passion in snowboarding, we'd encourage each other's creative sides, and that I'd help him love the outdoors more than just in a single season. There was no way to see how well he interacts with my crew and how they have come to care for him, and how we are finding our way as a little family of 6. Reflecting at dinner last night over the past 2 years it amazes us both at times, and while there was minimal talk of what was to come we know that there is more. 

This is a season of change for me, with one graduating high school and the others following directly behind her it is difficult to plan and even more difficult for me to imagine what my life will look like when Miss B graduates in 2029. What I do know is that I am excited to have him by my side as we navigate this together.

The Run of Panic

I can't adequately explain what it's like to wake up and know you're not ok. That the moment your eyes open you know you are simply not ok. The anxiety begins to course moving rapidly from your brain to your limbs and your stomach, sending it churning and your limbs feeling both overly sensitive and disconnected from your body. Then the panic begins, the beating and racing heart, a feeling of spiraling impending. The moment it begins you try to breathe, try to find your center, and yet you know that today those tricks are not going to work. That today, because you did not sleep well the night before and were unable to utilize your tools you are going to have to work at not having a massive panic attack.

I awoke in a strange bed after a rough night. I fell asleep uneasily, woke repeatedly with my mind racing, questions and conversations that needed to be had in the near future circling in my brain. Being in a different place I did not have my tools, my journal had been forgotten at home, no paper in the room I was in, and my phone battery dying so mindless scrolling, a game, or even writing there not an option. I took deep breaths, performed my visualizations, and simply prayed for sleep. It came, it went, the dreams were vivid and odd, not disturbing, just odd. I awoke to the morning doves calling and was at least reminded of a pleasant memory and dear friend, and then came the crash. I waited impatiently in my bed for time to pass so as not to disturb the others in the household, breathing and praying. Dressed I stepped quietly down the stairs and booted my work laptop to charge my phone and distract myself for a while. I found mindless tasks to distract me for an hour or so until my phone was charged enough to go for a run.

I prayed the run would move some of the anxiety and panic from my body. My heart was already beating fast and I knew this would not be an easy run, so I set out to run a simple 5k in unfamiliar territory. As I sat on the floor lacing my shoes, somewhat soothing music playing in my ears a friend found me and wished me good morning. I mustered a response, turned back to finishing my shoes, tears pooling in my eyes as I became overwhelmed and wanting nothing more than to go to my friend for a hug. Fear and anxiety kept me back, and knowledge that I did need to move my body, pound the pavement and put this adrenaline to some use. The run was hard, my legs wanted to quit, my heart-rate took forever to stabilize and I struggled to find the rhythm that I knew I had been achieving these past 2 weeks. I began to beg for tears, hoping that they would help me release more, yet the tears could not and did not come. I reached the halfway point and realized I had missed a turn somewhere, found myself lost momentarily in this new town. Thankful for an app with a map I found the turns necessary to make it back. A few sprints in the driveway to help clear away the last of the panic and I clocked in at 4 miles.

I breathed, I sat briefly for a picture and a vulnerable Instagram post. I breathed and paced and worked towards centering myself. Finally feeling a brief sense of respite I walked to the door to find my friend standing there with a worried look and "what's wrong?", I shook my head as my heart started to pound and I felt my chest seize, I squeezed out the words "panic, anxiety" and dashed out the door, headphones, phone, arm band in hand. Off I flew to my car, dropping them on my bumper as the panic rushed through my body. I was trapped, needing to flee my own body and yet there was no where to go. I ripped out my ponytail, pulled at my hair, shook my head, tried to take deep breaths, paced, and tried to find a way to escape and also calm myself. I heard noises, but I couldn't focus, my vision blurry as I withdrew inward wanting to escape the torture that was my body. Hands on the car bumper I hung my head, trying to breathe, alternating bending and straightening my knees as if pushing invisible pedals that would propel me away from myself.  If there were thoughts I could not manage them, nor can I recall them now. I heard a voice, indistinguishable as I formed a cup around my nose and mouth and did the best I could to focus on my breathing, knowing that centered breathing was my only hope. Yoga breathing and alternate nostril breathing could not be attempted, I could not coordinate my body to do more than it was doing. I was trapped within this disconnected organism, my skin crawling and my body shaking. Arms enveloped me and held me still, my knees and legs shaking at times. Maybe there were words, maybe there was silence, I cannot recall. I know that the physical presence, the rhythmic breathing of another individual was holding me together. A brief moment or maybe minutes later and I was able to embrace them, rest my head on their chest and begin to feel my body again, slowly. How long we stood in the driveway in this embrace I know not, yet it was what I needed. A shift in both of us and we walked quietly to the house where I sipped water and tried to find the words that would not come.

I thought I was fine as I stood there, but my dear friend knew otherwise. Asked me if I needed something more, asked me a question or two that I cannot recall. I remember saying I'm better, see my heart-rate has come down. Yet it had not, standing there I checked my watch to show them only to have it show at rate of 114 beats per minute, high above my resting rate. I sipped more water and we moved to a different space where I could find a brief respite.

We talked, we cried, we hugged and we found a way forward through my own anxiety and theirs. It was a painful goodbye as I loaded myself into my car, not wanting to leave this person who had been there for me. For the first time in my life when having a panic attack of this magnitude someone was there, giving me exactly what I needed. I did not need to pull myself together on my own, set a time limit on my phone to allow a timed breakdown, or any other the ways I manage these when they arise. Thankfully the times of panic and anxiety attacks are few, but I can recall so many of those and the feeling of desperation that courses through me, wishing for someone to give me simply a hug and hold me until I can breathe again.

Today was incredibly rough as anyone who suffers with anxiety knows the anxiety lingers, and panic attacks physically drain you. The anxiety ebbs and flows, with moments of lightening and moments that it crushes you. A friend called me on my drive and let me vent, a safe space to share the stressors of the past 12 hours and my feelings. There was no judgement, no commentary, a listening ear and holding of space. There was a text to my therapist who was able to squeeze me in last minute today for an hour where I just unloaded everything from the past 2 months.

Today it all hit, everything that has happened since I put in my resignation at my former job. There have been health scares, an ongoing custody dispute, a job in peril, a friend in and out of crisis, kids activities mounting and changing as the school year ends, and a nonprofit that I feel I am failing as I balance all mentioned and more. Yes, I am taking time for self-care. I am focusing on my nutrition and movement, running, lifting, and getting outside. There are simply moments when the mind and body can take no more and last night triggered a storm within me that unleashed this morning.

I am thankful for new understanding coworkers, a healing hug in a time that I needed it more than ever, and the 2 listening ears provided from a friend and my therapist. Tomorrow will be different, but today, today I am not ok.

Post-run moment trying to breathe

30 Days of Thanks: November 10

"I found myself in a sea of busy places, in a world of blurry faces

I found myself, on the edge of insanity, I found, I found me
I was broken, torn apart
Scars line my arms, on my sleeve I wore my heart
They remind me of what is real
No longer needing pain to feel" ~ I Found Myself, Anna Clendening

I am thankful for scars and pains of my journey- they have put me where I am today.  Five years ago my marriage was falling apart, I was falling apart, my children were sick with stress, and life was challenging. I had a brave smile everyday as I worked, but the moment I stepped into my car the facade broke down, and I pieced it back together as I pulled into my driveway to be the mom I needed and wanted to be. Four and half years ago I found the courage to say enough, all of us in this house are miserable and this life we have planned is over. October 2017 I stepped into my role as a single parent, terrified, determined to prove to everyone and myself that I could do this hard thing.

I stumbled, I fell, I broke my foot, and yet I found the strength everyday to make the steps to living a life that would be filled with love, joy, and peace. I searched deep within me to find the scared girl and heal her, gain her trust, and use that to create a foundation for the woman I am in this moment. There were so many tears, so much anxiety, crippling me, bringing me to my knees, and wishing for a stabilizing force. Little did I know in those moments that I was the stabilizing force. I grew weary, wished for help, wished for that outside magical source to help me pick up the pieces; I could not understand that in rebuilding myself the way I did I created a bond and strength within me that is ever enduring, it is strong, flexible and exactly what I need for me. I found myself, I found me in those moments. 

A terrible, yet beautiful process creating internal scars that forged the woman here with you. If you have not listened to the song quoted above I challenge you to find a quiet moment and immerse yourself in the haunting piano and the soothing strength of her voice. Find yourself. 

Today I give thanks for the journey in which I found myself.

30 Days of Thanks: Day 3

"Why do you do this every year?"

I take the time every year to write these gratitudes to reflect set my mindset for the upcoming season, and to find the time daily to be appreciative more than I might typically. I enjoy the moments sat in "forced" writing and reflection. It slows me down from an otherwise busy day and helps me find the gratitude, and often the joy, even on days when it might be challenging. Writing these is something I do for me, and to share my story, my life, my lessons, and in doing so hopefully help one of you reading this not feel so alone, or different, to normalize the craziness and chaos of life.

Even on those difficult days when the world is crashing and you are questioning your life decisions that lead you to the mess that is smothering you there is something in there to be thankful or grateful for; whether it be a lesson learned or a connection made or a simple smile shared across the room you can find a moment in which you can find thanksgiving. On this day I am simply thankful for this opportunity to share a bit of why I write these each year and to have the moment to wish you all peace, joy, happiness, and a little bit of magic.

30 Days of Thanks: November 30, 2020

It's Monday, a full moon, and the end of the month. Tomorrow dawns the last month of 2020, and this post should be a beautiful summary of all of the gratitude that I have recorded over the past 30 days, yet it will not. I could certainly write all of that, but it would not ring true as that is not where my head and heart are at this moment.

Tonight, as I sit here hurting, I am thankful for the ability to love deeply, to be that vulnerable with my heart and myself. I sit tonight with tears in my eyes, sadness present, and fighting the instinct to shut it all down. For when you love openly and vulnerably you may hurt, and my heart wants to protect itself. It is yelling, screaming, pleading to close down, throw up the walls, hide away, and protect! protect! protect! Instead, I sit here letting those feeling wash over me, the tears flowing freely, dripping on my keyboard, my open pages of the letter I wrote but will not send. It simply hurts. It is old traumas coming to surface, it is new experiences intermingling with the old and a moment for cleansing and healing.

I am thankful for the ability to know that I can love that vulnerably. I am thankful for the previous experiences that allow me enough vision in this painful moment to recognize that the instinctual withdrawal is a protective mechanism and I have a choice. I can lean into the pain, or I can flee. You can read here that I chose the pain; fleeing does nothing expect create more trauma. With that I sit here wondering the path forward, yet knowing that in this moment I cannot see the path, nor could I safely choose a path. Choosing a path in this moment would be to grasp the thorny stem of the rose with a fist and squeeze, painful and a poor choice. I will trust that the next steps of the path are there, just hidden under the leaves.

Love, and loving openly, is a gift, and as it blooms so does the individual. I choose to bloom.

30 Days of Thanks: November 22, 2020

Today I am thankful for time. I have had time to spend this weekend with my children without the chaos and hustle of prepping Thanksgiving. With the rising covid numbers and new state restrictions I made the difficult decision to cancel our annual Friendsgiving dinner. It was just not going to feasible or what we would all enjoy with the current state of affairs, so this weekend we had time. We raked leaves, had a mini-Friends marathon, watched some movies, made popcorn and just had time. 

The enjoyable part of this entire covid experience is time. Without the hustle we have time, time to bond (and yes to fight), time to teach (and argue), time to connect and disconnect. This weekend I taught one child to make a pecan pie, and another how to use the meat grinder. I taught two of them that cooking is a following a recipe, but also reading and understanding the recipe and moving beyond it. We had some fun opportunities because of the gift of time.

It's not all rose colored glasses, as we did have moments of screaming and yelling, and poor attitudes for everyone, myself included, but we are learning to be more harmonious. S is willing to use the table saw to cut the bamboo that everyone else has gathered so they can make some fighting sticks, or try to build a teepee. G is outside playing more, while D is off gathering a friend to come over. My swingset is covered in branches and bamboo from the collections of B, all of which is happening because of this gift of time. Yes we fight and struggle, but there is much love coming from our gift of time. 

When we no longer have limits on gatherings and life has returned to something more traditional I hope that my children, and myself, can reflect on this period not with bitterness, but with love. We have grown in our love because of the gift of time.