Outside the Circle

The tears threaten to fall, so I blink and smile as I walk to the car, head held high, no one the wiser that there is a part of me breaking. A part of me wondering why, wondering what is wrong, wondering why it's happening again, and wondering if it will ever end. A simple meeting turned into a stark reminder of my place, outside the circle, yet again. 

Seven years ago we moved here, seven years of searching for connection, to build that local community, to build and find that tribe, and here I am, still on a quest. The first few years spent on the cusp of the circle, dancing at the edges, always taking steps to find where a married, working mom of 4 fit into this new community. I was still learning how to be a working mother after a long practice of being a graduate student mother, and the transition was not smooth, yet I was hopeful that in this community I would find my place, my footing. It seemed that I was making a place for this family of mine, and then it changed when my status went from married to single. In a community that is designed for 2 parent households, I found myself thoroughly on the outside. 

Four years ago standing on the outside of the circles I had finally managed to find a small acceptance I found the lines redrawn and the steps to make my way forward towards and into the community in which my children thrived were monumental to me. In a time when I needed my community to support me as I established my role as a single parent I was abandoned by most here. Over these past 4 years I have found my footing and worked diligently to create and live a less life ordinary. The drawback to a non-traditional lifestyle is living life on the outskirts within your own community.

This means driving through your neighborhood and seeing a neighbor having a party and knowing you weren't invited, hoping your children don't notice. But of course they notice, and then they ask: "why weren't we invited, I thought we were friends" and you find yourself saying that you don't know and maybe it's not a neighborhood party and pray to anyone who's listening to support your statement. Then of course your child spots a neighbor walking to the party and your statement is no longer valid. Now your child is wondering aloud at this point why we're never really invited to parties, echoing the inner thoughts in your head. You find a way to console them, remind them of the adventure/activity we are on way to, and pray that it's forgotten in time from their mind, knowing that the moment will be etched within your own. You remind them of all of the parties they have attended and the fun we've created at our own small parties, praying that it's enough. Praying that your children are at least welcome places if your family as a whole is not, all the while building a damn to prevent a flood of tears.

A life less ordinary is not for the faint of heart, especially with children in tow. It's working through each of those situations above, praying that you are making the best decisions for yourself and your children, while honoring the needs of all parties. As a single parent it's questioning every decision more than when you were in a 2 parent household, analyzing each choice and decision. It's finding the consequences of your choices in simple actions such as attending a parent meeting and no one will engage in conversation with you because these critical relationships were developed when your life was upended. On nights such as these when you make solid attempts at engaging in simple conversation with other parents only to be rejected or ignored you begin questioning what is wrong with you, why you are always on the edges, why after 7 years you still are tribeless in a community that thrives on connection. There are moments when it's too much to bear and the tears threaten to pour down because you're tired; you're tired of the inner reminders you tell yourself that you are enough, that you are worth it, and that these other people are missing out. It's wishing for a welcoming face at an event, a person to share the moments with; wishing that for that brief period you are welcome into the circle. It's finding the last of your inner strength and courage to be the parent you want to be and the person you want to be. It would be easier for a short period to don a fake smile, fake attitude and play the games to be accepted into these circles and community. Yet I would not be honoring the person I am continuing to become, so I accept the tears and find a quiet moment to release them, and pray for a tribe for my family.

Goodbye 2020

I know that this year has presented all of us with significant challenges and there are many who would care to forget this year, and walk into 2021 to never speak of 2020 again, yet I am not one of those people. While this year has presented situations that I would care not to repeat, there have been exceptional moments as well. This year has challenged me in unexpected ways and I love the person that I am becoming from the growth this year.

I started this year alone, standing at the top of a mountain watching the first rays of the sun strike and color the land. It was cold, it was peaceful, and it was beautiful. I began my year of with trips planned and adventure in my heart. How was I to know that the adventure would not be what I imagined, yet an adventure it would be. Only a few short days into 2020 I had a phone call and conversation that has altered my entire life. 2020 has brought me to Rue McKenrick and the American Perimeter Trail. In that single phone call and the few that occurred over those next few weeks I rapidly found myself engaged into some amazing and unique, a passion project that is quickly evolving into a life change. Rue and I forged a friendship and bond through our work, quickly transitioning from business partners to best friends. There is not enough I can say about this man, my best friend, and it is thanks to 2020 that I have him in my life, in my children's lives. We have walked through significant trials over the past 12 months, challenging each other, challenging our beliefs, emotions and so much more. I marvel at how much we have both changed, and in many ways, outgrown our current situations. The coming year and future has much in store for us and the trail organization.

While the trail and Rue have occupied a significant amount of my time, the year has also brought me stronger friendships with some, some have faded, and new ones have entered. What a blessing to be brought 2 new friends that listen, support, and guide. These 2 individuals may not quite understand the impact that they have had on my life this year, but they have, even if it has been quietly in the background. I have struggled for years watching the large groups of friends and wishing I was a piece of them, but 2020 has brought me peace with my unconventional group of friends. Most of my close friends are not local to me, but spread across the country, and I have finally found peace and acceptance with this difference. Another gift of 2020 that I choose not to return.

2020 has brought significant time with children, rough times, fun times, chaos, but most of all LOVE. Our little family of 5 has become an even more solid unit and I have watched each blossom into their roles, beings and step into themselves. Everyday I witness a little bit more of them growing and changing and I am thankful for these opportunities that 2020 has brought. I wish I could say that I am a more patient mother, but I am not. I am more aware of them and their needs though, and how to assist them in navigating this ever changing situation.

As we celebrate the close of 2020 tonight I am thankful and blessed for all the people that I met this year, from those that have hiked with me, to those that chose to walk/drift away, and those that entered my life shining with love. My word for this year was adventure and adventure I have had. Blessed be 2020.

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.