Sunday, October 27, 2013

Closed.


The monkey and I have been hiking every chance we get lately. Autumn is upon us, and winter is coming (Hello, George Martin...), so we are trying to get in as many hikes as possible. I think we can both tell you every inch of our favorite well-worn trails. Exactly how many turns before you hit the first reservoir. Where someone inexplicably put a spigot into a dying pine tree. The most likely place to see a fish. The peninsula that you have to tiptoe across a log to get to. The boulders that the monkeys love to scramble up, even as I cringe.

And then there is this new sign. Trail closed.

Hmmmm. I know it is probably closed because of all of the rains. There are probably boulders poised to roll down with the slightest breeze, so I am happy to obey the sign.

It's actually been stuck in my mind lately, though. Trail closed. Sometimes one way is closed. The way that you are accustomed to is suddenly shut off one day. It doesn't mean that you sit down by the sign or turn back around. It just means you find a new trail. That's all.


Monday, October 14, 2013

Waves.

20130228-P2282416 by everydayjill

Damnations. I thought I was going to get it right on Day Fifty.

It's Day Sixty Three.

I am still drowning. Drowning. Damn it.

I keep meaning to start over each morning, to live each day to the fullest and love to the mostest because I get the chance to. And instead, I just end up trying to breathe. Living fully and loving- fat chance. I am doing well to inhale and exhale. And sometimes, I actually forget to breathe. Catch myself gasping, because I literally forget to frikking breathe.

I try to count my blessings- I know I have a lot. Best friends, the monkeys, their best friends, mountain trails, autumn air, pumpkin smoothies, pug kisses. But this, this sadness- it is a strong tide pulling me down deeper.

I am fighting it, but pulling yourself out of drowning is hard work. Harder than real estate or insurance or digging fencepost holes or catering. I am exhausted- mentally and physically. I never knew that drowning in sadness could actually truly hurt. Note to self, sorrow aches. Like running or squats or burpees, but without a single calorie burned. Cruel joke.

That is all, buttercups. No big epiphanies. Except that sorrow sucks. And I know I am not alone, but it still sucks.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Day Fifty

I'd like to say that I took my Aunt's advice and took the day that my dad died as Day One to choose and love more consciously. I did not.

Instead, I cried a lot. And curled up in the fetal position. And drank too much red wine. And tossed and turned as I tried to sleep too much. And cried some more. And pushed my loved ones away. And didn't run. And watched too much TV to try and turn my brain off.

So today is Day Fifty. Hard to believe that it has been fifty days since Daddy died and my world tilted. Day Fifty is kinda my Day One, because it is the first day that I honestly don't find it hard to breathe. I never said I was a fast learner, buttercups. Slow and steady, slow and steady...

Someone who I count as a friend, even though we have never officially met, said something that was perfectly timed for today. She said that after her dad died, how she wrote and lived and loved all changed. I love this.

I feel like the past year, or two years, have been a hot burning fire. The last fifty days have been the flash burn, the worst of it. And yet, when I think of fire, sometimes beautiful things are forged from fire. Strong and sleek, beauty can come after the burn.

So maybe this is part of it. Maybe how I will live and love and write will change, be stronger and more beautiful after the pain. One of my favorite bloggers EVER, Glennon Melton, says that life is brutiful.
Brutal and beautiful, all in a big messy mess.

I agree. And on that note, I am going to finish putting my NASA space station control center together so that I can work. I am working from home from now on, which means that I will be a happy camper in my nest, and in my jammies and fuzzy slippers. (Just kidding, if you are reading this, Mamacita. I will be dressing for the office every day, down to my matching pantyhose and tasteful heels. Working from home won't change my office attire, ahem.) After I put the space station control center together, I am going to go for a run/jog/slog/gasping army crawl. And then I am going to intentionally hug and love on my monkeys, and whomever else crosses my path.

How could you not love these monkeys?!


Peace and love in this big messy mess. XOXO

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