Birthdays and Holidays

It's been a while since I've blogged.  Wanna know why?  No?  Okay, you can close this now.  Otherwise, I'm going to tell you why.  ;)

Confession time: I haven't been able to blog because I haven't been okay.

Yep.  That's me.  Not okay.  Well, I'm okay.  I'm just sorta not okay.  Got that?  ;)

I was so close to the pulling myself up over the edge of the pit last time I posted.  And honestly, maybe I actually did pull myself over.  But then I collapsed at the top and laid there for a month or so.  Unable to move.  Unable to recover from my climb.  Unsure how to move forward. 

And it was ugly.  And hard.  And scary.

And I fought it.  And then I let myself feel it.  

And now I feel like I'm up and on my feet and maybe have taken a step or two in the direction of the next mountain which seems to be awfully close.

And that mountain looks like my birthday, and mother's day and father's day.  All jumbled up into one big clump of mountains.  

My birthday is this Saturday, mother's day is a week later, and then father's day a few weeks after that.  

It kinda makes sense why I've been avoiding my birthday.  Because if I can avoid that mountain I don't have to do the others.  Right?  

No?  That's not the way it works?  Crap.

So, here's the thing.  This is my first birthday on this earth without both the people who gave me that birthday.  The reality is that seven years ago, on my 40th birthday, I knew things would never be the same.  My mom was just a week out of a week-long, scary hospital stay.  She had just come home with hospice care.  I drove up to see her because I knew it would be my last birthday with her.  And she didn't know it was my birthday.  The next six birthdays weren't all that monumental either.  Dad remembered the first couple, but 3 years ago, we had just moved him to assisted living two days prior to my birthday.  I spent my birthday with him trying to help him acclimate himself to his new world.  And then the two following birthdays, I had to remind him what day it was.  So, it's not as though my parents were making a big deal out of any of the past 6 birthdays.  But this one...there is no expectation.  They aren't here.  Maybe not having that expectation will be a good thing.  I won't know until Saturday is here I guess.  Thankfully I'll be busy and preoccupied at a video game competition with my kids.  (I'm a damn good mom...my kids better talk about the time I spent my birthday at their video game competition when they're writing my eulogy. ;) ).  

And then there's Mother's Day which has been kind of rough since mom died.  And then my first Father's Day without my dad.  This is all piling up.  I know it's all coming.  

I spent a lot of money and a lot of time with my ND yesterday working on my hormones.  Getting my adrenals back in working order.  I left feeling joyful for the first time in a long time.  And I do feel better today.  

I have a big Mother's Day blog in my head.  I don't know if I'll get it written.  We'll see.  I start a vacation today.  A vacation of just spending time with my kids and my husband.  Nothing special.  But just lots of time with the most important people in my life.  We'll see if the blog makes it in there.  

But if you're the space holding kind...I'd love if you could hold a little for me as I start taking steps towards that big cluster of mountains ahead of me.  I'm determined to continue to find joy on this journey.  But in order to find that, I know I have to feel the pain.

Memories

Seven years ago, I started a blog about losing my mom:  Here is post 1. 
 http://findingmymom.blogspot.com/2009/03/day-1-cancer.html?m=0

This showed up on my Facebook feed today in my Memories of this day along with this post from last year:

"I can't let the day end without marking this day in my history. Six years ago, my life stopped...I was dropped to my knees... And my world started rotating on a different axis. Six years later, looking back... Gosh... I am such a different person than the girl who started this blog. Reading this still makes me cry for what I've lost, but it also makes me deeply honor the growth I've experienced because of my loss. I GRIEVED. I walked every ugly, painful step. I'll never stop missing my mom but I know I've done my grief work. And as painful as this day was six years ago.... Today I can honor the day for what it was...the beginning of a very difficult, but incredibly powerful, journey. And that's what life is all about... Many different journeys rolled together into one amazing life."

And today's musings...seven years after the day I wrote that first blog post.  I did grieve.  So much.  I did SO much work.  I AM a different person than the girl who started that blog seven years ago.  Completely different.  Death and I came to an understanding.  A kinship almost.  And then death took my dad.  And I felt angry and hurt and betrayed by this entity I had come to honor.  But, of course, death was going to have to take my dad at some point.  I just wasn't ready.  And it was a reminder that we're likely never ready. And then grief was in my life again.  Uninvited.  Unwelcome.  But here nonetheless.  And all the work I had done was sort of tossed up in the air and strewn about and left lying on my floor for me to work my way through again.  But it was even messier this time.  That was unexpected.

I'll be honest, I am just starting to feel like I have dug my way out of the deep, dark ugly part of grief.  I describe it as having my fingers over the top edge.  I can't quite see the top, but I can feel it.  And I'm hanging on to this place for dear life.  It's hard right here.  There's still so much work to do to pull myself up over that edge.  But I don't want to let go either.  I don't want to fall back into the pit.  So...I hang here.  Feeling hopeful that I'll find the energy to pull myself up and over.  Knowing that at the top, once I pull myself out, I'll find myself face to face with multiple mountains that need to be crossed before I find my way out of this grief journey (not that it will ever truly end, but the mountains get smaller and smaller and smaller...).  But those mountains don't scare me.  They're above ground.  Occasionally the sun will shine as I'm crossing them.  Now and then, people can walk beside me in support as I make my way. This pit has been hard, and dark, and scary, and lonely.  Because I had to be there alone.  No one could join me.  They could offer their support from the top of the pit, but they couldn't crawl my way out for me.  

As it does for all of us, life keeps going on.  Thank goodness for my work and my safe and comforting office.  That's the one place where I feel like ME and alive.  I'm grateful for that safe haven every single day.  But I'm looking forward to feeling some peace outside of my office as well.  Not to say there hasn't been any...but I do feel like a dark cloud has been with me pretty much every day since my dad died.  

I'm ready for spring.  I'm ready for more sun and longer days.  I NEED that.  Flowers are blooming.  Birds are chirping.  The northern hemisphere is awakening.  I am hopeful my awakening is coming too.  

I am no longer angry at death.  I am better able to look grief in the eyes and remember that it brings great gifts.  You have to muddle through the mess it brings to find them, but they're there.  :)

It's hard to believe it's been seven years since that first blog post.  It's hard to believe I've survived six and a half years without my mom.  But now, I've also survived almost five months without both my parents.   In the big scope of time, that's nothing.  But when you spend those five months with a black cloud following you and trying to climb out of a dark, scary pit of despair...it feels like forever.  

But posts like these remind me how much I have survived.  And I know I will survive this too.  And that great growth is happening and will continue to occur along this road.  First I have to get all the way out of this pit.  I'm "this" close.  I can feel it.  :)

A Visit with Mom and Dad

Today was a rough one.  It's a day I've been sort of subconsciously avoiding for a long time, but I knew it needed to be done.  My schedule, for some reason, was completely open today.  I took that as a sign that I needed to make this happen.  So, I worked up the energy to make it happen today.  Last night I fought off anxiety.  This morning, I fought off the urge to just go back to bed.  But then I got up, got ready, got in my car and drove north (after a coffee stop with friends, which was the highlight of my day :) ).

After coffee, I had two stops to make.  The cemetery to see dad's name on the niche for the first time and then to Chase Bank in Arlington to open mom and dad's safe deposit box.  Arlington is a drive and combined with the emotions of it all, it took a lot to muster up the strength to will myself to go forward.

But I did it.  I drove.  It was gorgeous out today.  When I got to the cemetery, I stopped at the end of the pathway that leads to their niche, I took in the beauty of this place that has always brought me a sense of comfort.  And I took this picture. 

And a deep breath.  

And then I walked. 

As I got closer and closer, I could see both names and soon dad's became clear.  As I reached their niche, I put my hands on his name and dropped to my knees and sobbed.  

{In the interest of full transparency, I just walked away from my computer after typing the above sentence and poured myself a glass of wine while the tears started flowing again.}  

So many emotions flooded me at that moment.  Seeing how fresh my dad's name was and how much mom's has faded over the past 6 1/2 years was profound for me.  It made me sad.  And then I sat there and looked at those two names together and a surprising wave of peace washed over me.  They're together again.  Things are complete.  Final.  Closure.  They're both gone.  I'm parent-less.  And in some ways, it's still shocking.  And in others, there is a pure sense of peace.  I expected the hurt.  I expected the tears.  I didn't expect the peace.  It was a welcome surprise.

I stayed for a bit and then headed north to Arlington to the Chase Bank branch where they have the safe deposit box.  It's pretty much the last thing I need to do on my to-do list since dad died.  But I've been putting it off.  I haven't been to Arlington since we sold my dad's house in August of 2013.  The drive up contained waves of emotion. I decided at the last minute to swing by their old house just to see how it's doing.  

 It's been well cared-for and that was nice to see.  It would make mom happy.  :)

So, then on to the bank.  Although, I have wanted to get this last thing done and NEED to get it done to move forward, it's still the LAST thing.  All that's left to do after that is grieve.  But I'm ready to grieve.  I NEED to grieve.  So I was ready to get this all done.  I had called the bank to make sure I had everything I needed so I was expecting a pretty easy, albeit, potentially emotional process.  I don't think there's anything in that safe deposit box of any significance.  I'm just expecting a marriage license or social security cards or something like that.  Michael and I joked that there might just be a lot of gum (in case of the apocalypse ;) ).  

Notice, I say that I still don't know what's in that box?  Because I don't.  Because they wouldn't let me in.  Even after explaining that I spoke to someone who told me what to bring.  I had a death certificate, dad's will, a small estate affidavit, BOTH keys, a bank statement and my ID.  What I didn't have was mom's death certificate.  And Chase's corporate legal department would NOT budge on that, even though dad's death certificate states "widowed".  The gal at the branch did go to bat for me.  I will say that.  But she has a job to do and she knew there was no use arguing with corporate.  So, there I sat, at almost 47 years old, and completely raw.  And I started to cry.  The tears wouldn't stop.  The gal at the desk grabbed me kleenex and told me to sit and cry as long as I wanted.  So I did.  And then I thanked her, told her quite loudly that I cannot stand Chase bank (just to make myself be heard), packed up all my papers, and went and sat in my car and let the tears flow.  

There's no way to make it pretty.  I was a wreck.  It felt like months of grief and anxiety flowing out of me.  And pain.  Some serious pain.

I went to Target to use the bathroom before the long drive home and I'm pretty sure I looked like an addict.  I'm surprised someone didn't follow me out and ask me to empty my pockets.

I NEEDED that safe deposit box done today.  And it's still not done.  And I put 200 miles on my car (and sat in a lot of traffic) for nothing.  Except a lot of tears.  And I could have done the tears at home.  

So, here I sit tonight.  I'm not going to lie.  I'm hurting.  I can't adequately express what the last 4 months (tomorrow) have been like for me.  But what I do know is that I would like to start moving forward.  But my body isn't ready.  I am TIRED.  So tired.  I don't know that I've ever felt like this.  I want to move it, to work out, to start dropping some of this weight I'm carrying.  But my body just keeps saying, "sit down, my friend, there's other work to be done."  The work of grief.  And I have to honor it.  

But I'll admit.  I'm fighting it.  I know I am.  Because it's scary.  And hard.  And I'm human...trapped in a grief counselor's body.  

Today was a HUGE step for me.  It felt like the BIGGEST step.  And the step I needed to make to move forward.  And it ending the way it did has rocked me today.  

I came home and ordered mom's death certificate.  And now I have to work up all the energy and figure out another time to make that 200 mile trek again.  

I know tomorrow is a new day.  I get to be at work.  Thank goodness for my work!  Dark and I still aren't friends so it wants to tell me stories right now.  But I'm trying not to listen and I know I'll move forward.  This will just be a part of the story some day.  But tonight.  Tonight I'm hurting.  And I don't like to hurt any more than the next person.  But I do know I need to feel it.  So, I will.  But it sucks for me as much as it does for everyone else.  

Today was a rough one.  Tomorrow will be better.  But tonight, I need to sit with today's events and let the feelings flow.  

136 Days

It's been 136 days since my dad went into the hospital.  I'm not keeping track.  I had to count.  But the reason I wanted to know is because, here, on February 16th, it feels like I am just starting to be able to take a step forward.  It's been a long Fall and Winter and I am exhausted.  My body feels tired and heavy.  So, I wanted to count and figure out what my life has looked like since that day my dad suddenly ended up in the hospital. 

So, here's the chronology:

October 3rd - 6th, 2015 - Dad spends 3 days in the hospital.  I am there for most of that stay.

October 6th, 2015 - October 24th, 2015 - Dad returns to his assisted living community.  I bring in 24/7 care because it's clear he's not recovering the way I had hoped.  What follows is 18 days of worrying and wondering and waiting and sitting vigil until dad dies on the 24th.

October 25th - October 31st, 2015 - 7 days of cleaning out dad's apartment, making arrangements for memorial service and having daily conversations with multiple people informing them of dad's death.

November 1st - November 14th, 2015 - 14 days of phone calling and e-mailing.  Closing accounts.  Talking to insurance companies, banks, etc.  Daily conversations with funeral home.  Dad's memorial service is held on the 14th.

November 15th - November 28th, 2015 - 13 days of continued conversations.  Dad's cemetery service is held the day after Thanksgiving (I don't even remember Thanksgiving).

November 29th - December 13th, 2015 - 15 days of semi-peace.  Life starts settling in.  Shock is wearing off.

December 13th, 2015 - January 10th, 2016 - 29 days of sickness at our house which included an ER trip for Christopher.  Christmas and New Years were illness field.  Which I guess gave a good distraction from the emotion of the holidays and dad's birthday.  

January 11th - January 30th, 2016 - 19 good days which included Christopher's birthday and a week of vacation to spend with my kids.  Life starts feeling back on track.

February 1st - February 14th, 2016 - I'm hit with round two of the cold from hell.  It hits me like a brick.  I'm a mess.  My body is shot.  

So, here we are today, February 16th.  Yesterday, I finally started feeling like the cold had passed and I was recovering. 

When I look back over the past 136 days, there are about 35 semi-decent days.  That leaves 101 that weren't all that great.  I hardly remember any of it though.  It's a blur of phone calls and e-mails and kleenex and doctors and supplements.  136 days.  That's a lot.  And it's also nothing. 

What I can tell you I haven't done in that time is grieve.  I thought I was grieving.  But I wasn't.  I was distracted.  And the grief was building up.  And based on conversations with my naturopath and my therapist, it's clear that this last round with the cold was my body's way of stopping the distraction.  It can't carry any more grief without some sort or release.  

On January 31st, I was up all night trying to figure out what was happening to me.  It felt like my heart was aching.  I was doubled over from the pain and pressure in my chest.  I am very much into the metaphysical aspects of physical illness and looking back, it seems so clear that my heart WAS aching.  It was begging to be heard.  

And the next day I was sick.  REALLY sick.

I have a great book that discusses this belief system I have in metaphysical causes of physical illness.  Some brief comments on the physical problems I was experiencing look like this:

Sore Throat: "Pain upon swallowing is the body's way of asking you outright, 'What person or situation can't you swallow?'.  Perhaps there is some specific emotional trauma that you are having difficulty in getting past or are simply unable to swallow...the outcome of a situation."

Lungs (chest congestion): "There is an underlying sadness, a feeling of being suffocated by someone or a situation that is keeping you from taking in the life force you need.  You may have a feeling of discomfort, as though you don't have enough room to maneuver in order to get out of the situation.  There may be a fear of suffering or death or of seeing someone else suffer or die."

Sinus stuff: "As air is a symbol of the life force and fundamental to life on a physical level, difficulty in taking in breath through the nose is directly linked with taking in life.  You tend to cut yourself off on a sensory level for fear of feeling your own suffering or the suffering of someone you love.  It will get you nowhere to tell yourself that you feel nothing in order to avoid facing a situation."

Cough: "Your body is telling you that your heart would like to see you more tolerant, especially toward yourself."

Common Cold" " A cold will often manifest as a result of congestion on a mental level, especially when there is so much going on in your head that you don't know which way to turn.  The onset of a cold is a message from the body that it's time for you to let go...."

You don't have to believe in all of the above, but that book rarely steers me wrong.  And the people I know who have purchased the book have a similar love/hate relationship with it.  We don't want to believe all it says, but it's almost so spot on, it's impossible to ignore the message.

So...today I'm feeling better.  I listened to my body these past two weeks.  I did a lot of self-care and worked on my mental health as well as my physical health.  I also got mad and annoyed and sick and tired of being sick and tired.  Sleep deprivation is just not a pretty thing. 

On Thursday night, I had an epiphany with my therapist.  It's not something I can figure out quickly, but it was an epiphany nonetheless.   

I'm ready for spring and for longer days.  The dark and I need to break up for a while.  I'll be prepared when it comes back next fall, but right now, I need daylight. It's coming.  I know this.  I feel it.  I'm ready to move forward.  

Slowly.

My instinct is to do everything at warp-speed.  I'm learning to slow down.  This is my season of life right now.  I don't have to run my way through it. 

I've been awfully hard on myself lately.  I'm carrying extra weight.  I feel weaker than I have in a long time.  I feel lazy which is NOT a normal feeling for me.  But I know it's not so much lazy as it simply is allowing my body and heart to rest.  It still feels like lazy though... 

But again, it's a season.  It won't always feel like this.  And I don't have to like it.  But I do have to honor it.  There are lessons to be learned here.  Big ones.  

So, it's time to move on to days 137 and beyond since my life turned upside down.  It is my hope that there are more good days than hard days to come.  I don't know that I can take many more hard days.  But, then again, I survived the last 101, I can probably survive more.  I've survived a lot actually.  I'm good at surviving.  I'd like to work on thriving.  

Here's to slow, baby steps.  

And self-care.  

And patience with myself.  

And maybe, just maybe, a little fun.  I miss fun.

Just as dark and I need to break up for a while, fun and I need to reconnect.

And it will all happen in time.  One little step after another.

You Lose Some, You Win Some

Today was one of those rare days when absolutely everything went even better than I could have imagined.  And that's important because last night I couldn't sleep due to my old nemesis anxiety telling me every possible story of every terrible thing that could happen today.  And anxiety continued with its stories this morning.  I didn't sleep much last night and then woke up still anxious.  I broke out in hives.  I was jittery.  I was nervous.  Anxiety was winning.

And here's the thing.  I have anxiety.  I have ALWAYS had anxiety.  I can remember stories growing up when my anxiety was completely out of control, but no one gave it a name back then.  No one said, "Hey Kelli, this is just anxiety telling you a story.  Let's see what we can do about this."  Nope.  So I didn't understand it.  And the world was scary.  And it just kept getting scarier.  Especially after I had kids and suddenly had these two amazing human beings to take care of.  Holy smokes, did anxiety enjoy that!!  

But for the past ten years (TEN YEARS!) I have been working and working and working on my anxiety.  I have done the super hard work.  I have processed through the causes of my anxiety.  I have been furious.  I have been heartbroken.  But I have come to an understanding of where my anxiety comes from.  I have also come to the understanding that it will never truly leave me.  It is part of me.  However, I have learned how to manage it pretty well.  I have learned how to let go.  I have learned, and truly believed, that there is no control in this world and how to work with that.  I don't always like it.  But I have the tools.  

Nonetheless, you can do all your work.  You can work your damn ass off for years and years and years.  You can be a mental health counselor and help others through their own anxiety.  And then something happens in your life, like your dad dying, and everything you thought you knew gets turned on its head.  And you realize that you knew how to manage the anxiety you knew then.  You did all that work.  You met anxiety eye-to-eye and told it that it wasn't going to rule your life.  And then your life shatters.  Everything you knew to be true changes and anxiety jumps in and takes over.  And it has new stories.  It's ramped up its game.  And you dumped your tool belt when your world spun upside down.  Your tools are scattered all over this new path.  And the path is dark.  And you can't find your tools.  And anxiety knows this.  And looks you in the eyes and says, "Welcome back, old friend, I have stories to tell you."  And they're scary stories.  And detailed stories that, in the dark, seem like they could actually be real.  And they paralyze you with fear.  Fear that you thought you had beat.  That you did beat.  But it's back.  And it's bigger.

And anxiety starts winning.  It wins in the dark.  Sometimes it wins in the daytime.  Like last night and this morning. 

And today, I had two choices.  I could let anxiety win again and disappoint my son.  Or I could fight back.  Anxiety is a familiar opponent.  But those tools...I couldn't find my tools.

However, the one thing that trumps anxiety (almost always) is my kids.  And anxiety knows this.  So, it upped its game.

So, I decided I had to do the same.

Because here was the deal...which is going to sound like nothing for those of you who have never had anxiety.  My son wanted to go to the Space Needle for his birthday.  We had planned to go Monday, but the weather turned on us.  He really didn't want to go in the rain so I promised him that if the weather cleared at all this week, we would go.  And that if that didn't work out, we'd go on the first clear day when I wasn't working.  

And then my week went on.  And I kind of let the whole idea go because the long-term weather forecast wasn't looking too promising.  And then, mid-day yesterday, it suddenly looked like the weather was clearing up for today.  And not just clearing up, but looking pretty beautiful.  Out of nowhere.  And suddenly, the Space Needle was back on.  And it wasn't just the Space Needle, but it was taking the foot ferry to a bigger ferry to Seattle and then walking to to the Space Needle and then going UP the Space Needle and doing it all again on the way home.  All stuff I had never done before.  

And it didn't give me time to prepare, and anxiety took advantage.  And it hit me hard last night.  Oh, if I could only tell you all the stories it told me, but this blog post is already long enough.  Suffice it to say, there were simple things like getting lost, to really awesome things like earthquakes and terrorist attacks.  In not one of these stories was there ever anything like, "Hey, the weather is going to be nice, you might actually have fun."  Nope.  Anxiety doesn't play like that.

This morning I found myself nearly in tears.  Christopher was still sleeping and I was seriously wondering if I was going to be able to go through with the day.  But there was NO way I was letting that kid down.

So, off we went...only to not be able to find a parking spot at the foot ferry.  Great.  "Just the beginning of what was sure to be a long day", anxiety reminded me.  We drove around for about 20 minutes and were just getting ready to drive to the main ferry dock when a spot, right up front, opened up.  And that, my friends, was the worst thing that happened all day.  

From that point on, the universe graced me with peace.  Did I have moments?  Absolutely.  Did I push right through them? Yep.  Our first foot ferry experience was fun, the Bremerton/Seattle ferry was smooth and beautiful.  We planned to walk to the Space Needle and then realized we could grab the monorail and cut our time in half.  We got to the monorail and jumped right on without any wait.  And then the Space Needle...That big, scary, Space Needle.  And it was absolutely fine.  AND...I had fun.  And Christopher LOVED it.  And then our trip back, we jumped right back on the monorail, didn't get lost at all.  Made it right back to the ferry, had another lovely ride back and a quick foot ferry ride home.

  

It was, quite honestly, the perfect day.  The weather could not have been more beautiful, especially for January 14th.  And there was not one little kink in the day except for the delay in parking.  

And right there in front of me...all day long...my path lit up.  I found many of my old tools.  Not all of them...but found enough to get me through.   

And my son looked at me and said, "This was the BEST day!"  

Last night, anxiety won.  

Today, I won.  

This doesn't mean anxiety and I don't have another long road ahead of us.  But I'll keep finding my tools.  And I'll build new ones for this new and improved anxiety.  And I'll keep doing my work.  Tonight.  Tomorrow.  Forever.  Because I'm human.  And I have anxiety.  And some days anxiety will still win.  But not without a fight.  And not today.

Today, I took a little piece of me back.  A piece I have missed for the past several months.  

And this is what it looked like:

Butterflies and Rainbows

I had a heck of a time coming up with a title for this post.  Until I wrote the very last sentence.  You'll have to muddle through all the stuff before that to understand.  :)

Three years ago, I started a ritual that I have carried on at the end of every year.  I do two things.  I get a Goddess Reading from Amy Palko (http://www.amypalko.com/) to determine which Goddess will accompany me over the next year and I do a lot of meditating and reflecting over what word feels like it will be my core word for the next year.  I also spend some time reflecting on last year's Goddess and words. 

In 2015 my Goddess was Gyhldeptis, the Goddess of Harmonic Agreement.   In my reading, it stated that "The emphasis of your year will lie in communication in order to find common ground  This will represent a move away from fragmentation, divisiveness, and discordance.  And just as you address this unification at the level of the heart, mind, body and soul, it'll be reflected in your outer world.  Look for mirrors in the situations around you, and bring you ability to invite harmony into play - you'll be doing a favor for yourself and for others!"  Gyhldeptis brought with her the words Peace, Unity, Union, Harmony, Coherence and Balance.  And then the word I chose for my year (or that chose me) me after much reflection was Soar.  

Interestingly, at the end of 2014, I left a difficult situation.  A situation where I did NOT feel in harmonic agreement.  The end of 2014 was rough as I was grieving the loss of something that had been important to me.  But I knew it was time to move on.  Early 2015 (really for the first 5-6 months) absolutely felt like a unification of my heart, mind, body and soul.  And I most definitely felt myself soaring (not to mention, I actually DID soar...on an airplane...and survived with most my mental faculties intact.  ;) )

The second half of 2015 was a different story, but I believe it was imperative that I had that first half in order to prepare myself for the second half. 

So, here at the beginning of 2016, the Goddess that presented herself is Psyche.  Which, honestly, made this 80s girl laugh...because...really?  Psyche?  It felt like my goddess reading was taunting me.  As though I wasn't going to really get a goddess this year.  Joke was on me.  

And then I started reading about Psyche and it all made sense.  Google her if you want all the nitty gritty details, but bottom line: "Together, the tasks taught Psyche discernment (seeds), empowerment & wisdom (fleece), distance/objectivity (spring water), and the art of saying no (Underworld).  Upon achieving success in each of these tasks, Psyche was changed into a goddess and reunited with Eros.  When we develop these attributes in ourselves, we find that we can manage Aphrodite's overwhelming energy a bit better.  We can stand firmer in our sense of self.  So much packed in here, right?  Trust, autonomy, love, sovereignty, metamorphosis.  Psyche teaches us how not to lose ourselves to our emotions, how to retain a sense of perspective that allows us to continue to make conscious choices, and how to survive a metamorphosis of self."

"Metamorphosis of Self"  <--------- That feels like my 2016.

Psyche brings the words Initiation, Love, Growth, Metamorphosis.  

Initiation into the world of adult orphans.

Growth and Metamorphosis as I learn to make my way through this new world of mine.

Love - well, it's all love, isn't it?  But I feel strongly this is Love for myself this year.  That it is time I start taking care of me.  My parents are gone.  My kids are getting older.  It's time to put a little more focus on myself and give myself a little (a lot?) more love.  

But then came my word.  I did the 5 day process I always do.  I did a lot of meditating.  A lot of reflection.  And it came down to two words.  And I simply could not feel one of them coming in louder than the other.  So, I decided there's no rule here.  I don't HAVE to have one word.  Maybe my challenge this year is to break out of that old mold and let myself have both the words that presented to me.  I was pretty clear that Expand was the first one.  And it felt right.  It tied right into that Metamorphosis and it feels as though now is time for me to expand my wings.  My business is growing.  I have a new satellite office.  My world is expanding.  But then the other word wouldn't let go.  And it was just as loud.  

Nourish.  

I didn't want that word.  I wanted it to be Expand.  Expand sounded like moving forward.  Nourish is not something I am good at for myself.  But Nourish wouldn't leave as so I accepted it as my co-word.  I can Expand and Nourish at the same time.  In fact, that is likely the best way to do both.  Together.  Both words have much to teach me.

And then there's this: http://www.whatsyourgrief.com/avoidance-in-grief/ 

And THAT is likely another blog post all in its own.

Nonetheless, it is VERY clear that I have been doing a beautiful job of avoidance.  Here I am, Miss Transparent.  Miss "This Is How I Grieve".  And it seems that I have found my way to almost complete avoidance.  

Well, maybe that's a little hard on myself (back to that nourish and self-love here...). I AM grieving.  I have felt a LOT.  And I don't stop it when it comes.  But somewhere along the way, I put up a wall to stop the stuff from coming.  I think it felt like it was getting too hard.  It felt like more than I actually could manage.  And the little girl inside of me sort of ran and hid.  She (and I) have lost the protection we were accustomed to.  And it feels lonely and scary in this world right now.  

At the end of my two weeks of sleep-deprivation with a sick kid, I had an epiphany.  Because sleep deprivation tears your down and doesn't allow you the energy to keep those walls up.   Life feels incredibly fragile to me right now.  And I really feel like everyone I love is going to die and leave me.  Quite literally.  And that's a rotten feeling.  So, I found a way to avoid it.  Not consciously, but I found a way without realizing it.  

So, what does all this mean?  

Who the hell knows?

All I really know is that I get through my days.  Honestly, most of them I get through pretty well.  At least if I'm working.  Have I mentioned that I LOVE my job?  (Although it might offer me a little of that avoidance these days... )

The nights are hard.  But the sun keeps coming back up.  

Metamorphosis is hard.  Have you ever watched a caterpillar spin a cocoon and the work it takes to break out of that cocoon as a butterfly?  Nothing easy about it.  But they don't complain, they just do it.  

2016 doesn't look to be an easy year, but... Expand, Nourish, Metamorphosis...those can't be all bad.  Right?

Right?  Anyone??  ;)

Hard...but not all bad.  Although, admittedly, I'm human and I'm kind of tired of hard.  I'll keep my eye out for the easy moments along the way and hope to catch one here and there.  And I'll remind myself that no storm lasts forever.  And some of the hardest storms provide the most beautiful rainbows.

Here's to butterflies and rainbows!  :)

New Year 2016

Today would be my dad's 79th birthday.  

Today is the first New Years Day that I can ever remember when I didn't see my dad, or at the very least, make a phone call.  New Years has always been an important day in my life.  It was also my grandma's birthday (my dad's mom).  It's just always been more than just a holiday in my life.  

Today has been odd.

I had originally planned to go to the cemetery, but we're on day 19 of a miserable cold in our house and I was up again most of the night with a coughing kid.  I feel like a mom with a newborn and driving a car doesn't even feel safe right now.  I'm tired and run down and raw.  So I stayed home.  

This cold has allowed me to have a distraction over Christmas and now New Years.  But the reality of all of it has settled in today.  

Having said that...It's a new year.  A fresh slate laid out in front of me.  I'm ready to move forward.  My parents would not, in any way, want me to stop my life.  That doesn't mean I don't grieve.  It means I grieve when I need to grieve and then I keep moving forward.  I have ideas for this year.  Of course, I know well enough now that "plans" are simply "plans".  I have no control over where life takes me.  I only have control over how I handle what life throws my way.  

Right now, I am exhausted and ready for this cold to leave my home.  But...I have no control over that.  I have to ride it out.  Which means putting my new years plans on the back burner until we're all healthy again.  It's making me frustrated.  And in the dark, in the middle of the night, I don't think clearly.  And my brain LOVES to tell me stories.  And right now, I'm simply doing the best I can.  

What I know is that 2015 did a number on me.  And I feel the weight of the past six months.  But what I also know is that every day, I still get up and move forward.  And that's progress.  

But I'd really like the universe to back off just a bit.  I need some breathing room.  I need my family (and myself) to be healthy.  I don't know how much longer I can go at this pace.  And I'm not afraid to admit it.  I'm not a robot.  I'm human.  A human who is grieving.  And exhausted.  And who really needs a break.

Maybe that break will come tonight.  Maybe not.  

But come tomorrow, I will have survived my first holiday season without both my parents.  And I will have survived dad's first birthday without him.  That's something.  

And then I'll take another step.  In search of that break.