Year in Review 2024…and an Ending

 

For a while I have been finding it difficult to get myself to this blog. I will write entire things out in my journal that I think I want to share, but somehow I never get to the blog. I feel an aversion.

On Saturday I had an epiphany. This blog I began in spring of 2017 has run its course. The life I had then and subsequent years is gone. Not just that. 2024, with my commitment to write every day (although not achieved) seemed to cap the entire experience. The trauma, drama, agonies, and difficulties of 2024 lay heavy in this blog.

Time for a fresh start. 

One of the things I've avoided doing is the Year in Review in Photos that usually I'd do on or about January 1st. I decided if I am going to end this blog, I need to do it with the Year in Review.

I will be introducing my new blog, which is already named and set up, very soon. Meanwhile, enjoy my walk through the joyful parts of 2024 that are worth remembering. The tragedies loom so large that it is good to remember it wasn't all doom and gloom. 

YEAR IN REVIEW 2024

Feeling Connected

Kara and I visit the Butterfly House

In January, Kara and I made our first visit to the Peace River Botanical & Sculpture Gardens. On a gorgeous day, we studied sculptures and plants and works of art and butterflies. It included a boardwalk out to the river where there was a gathering of loons migrating through. It is a simply amazing place, and I hope to get back there very soon.

Moments with Loved Ones

The captions under these pictures tell the story. I am grateful for every moment with friends and family.

Iris and I met at Copperhead Books. November

Amy and I dined at Lan Xang. August

With Braydon as he tried black grouper!

With Scott at Salty Papa's Shrimp

Seeing Hamilton with Pam--May

Feeling Hopeful

In early August Jim was moved to a rehab facility, where we believed he would build up strength to come home. There were many setbacks right from the start. But on the day this picture was taken, there was hope in the air. He had asked me to bring his razor, and he trimmed his beard. He looked so good, I took a picture.  A few months later I looked at this picture and saw the intensity of his blue eyes, and how closely he was looking at me.  A day or two later he would get COVID, and his decline would begin in earnest. I see this picture and I think of that last day I held out legitimate hope that he would come home and we'd be together again.

Highlight of the Year

Without a doubt, the day that marked one of my highest moments was the gathering on November 9th to remember Jim. After years of watching him decline, it was absolutely wonderful to hear all the memories over the last 40 years when he was young and vibrant and we interacted on a regular basis with family and friends. I had no idea this celebration of his life would lift me like it did. I have written about it previously and posted the pictures, but I am posting them again so they are part of this record. 

One of the things I will remember most about this day was when Scott said the ceremony made him realize he is more like his dad than he ever thought. 

Susan and Natalie were lighthearted in comments

Stacy provide moving memories

CLMS always shows up for me. GRATEFUL

Makes Me Smile

After Jim passed, I rejoined Iona-Hope Episcopal and made fast friends through various activities. Trish is by far one of my favorites of all my new buddies. We sat together at the Christmas dinner and she taught me how to do the Princess Diana look for the camera to eliminate a double chin. Her advice: head down, roll eyes up. Here we are doing our best Diana.

Meaningful Moment

Christmas morning I took a remembrance of Jim to Bunche Beach and left him in a meaningful place. He is now in one of his favorite places: out in the Gulf with the sky and the birds and the underwater animals. It is so much better than a graveyard!

Feeling Connected, Part Two

Jim and I ended up having several weeks apart. The entire time I was in the hospital and separated from him and just wanted to be with him to hold his hand. I kept thinking we had so little time left together, and honestly, I was afraid I'd never hold his hand again if I didn't get out of there. He was going through so much and no one was there to comfort him. It was heartbreaking for me.

When I got home, the very first thing I did was get to the rehab center, and then I just sat and held his hand. I am so grateful I had the foresight to take this photo. It means the world to me. It represents every day together, how we were always there for each other, even from afar. But, of course, this physical contact was way better. If anything represents 2024 it is this. 

Thanksgiving Gratitudes (of course!)

 I am grateful for three days spent with friends this week

And especially for the dinner I will be having today

The first holiday without Jim present.

I am grateful for you, my family and friends, who read this blog

Cheer me on

Comfort me.

I am grateful for all the medical professionals who helped us through this year

Of unprecedented hospital visits

And Hope Hospice as well.

I am grateful to everyone at Cypress Lake Middle

Always there for me.

I am grateful to my neighbors who have done so much for me.

I am grateful to those who have reached out across the miles,

Calling and writing and sending cards

Especially the SJA class of 1973.

I am grateful for my new church home

Providing the anchors I need.

I am grateful for all who helped me pull my retirement together,

Which was no small feat given my husband was dying.

I am grateful my healing from that horrible infection

Has been consistently good.

I am grateful for professional advice I’ve had to seek.

This Thanksgiving Day

Is for us all to remember

We will always make it through

Somehow, someway.

For that, I am mostly grateful.

Thanksgiving Day 2016

Meeting in Punta Gorda: a nonet

 

Seeing each other after three years

Three not so easy years, but this

meeting again, time collapsed

There was joy and laughter

and plenty of tears

We have Common

Boundary

Deep ties

Love

The Fall

Journal Entry

I am holding the touchstone as I write and it brings me a lot of peace. I need it.

Based on my readings today, I took a “fall” — perhaps I took on too much or obsessed too much and it brought me here.

But the more likely explanation is I am not allowing myself self-compassion. My friend Kara reminded me yesterday during a well-timed phone call that I need to prioritize my own care.

I had been feeling so good, moving along, so positive. But then, as Albert Camus said:

…the perpetual impulse forward always falls back to gather new strength. The fall is brutal, but we set out again.

Jim’s memorial service buoyed me up for a long time. There was bound to be a fall. I appreciate what Camus has to say. Instead of feeling weak and like I can’t handle things, I know now is time for gathering strength. The fall helps me do that.

And then I am gifted with a daily reading from Regina Brett’s new book. Did you ever see a title more appropriate for my current life?

Her essay today was entitled “If it was supposed to be different it would be.”

Bam!

Regina tells of her brother-in-law who took a literal fall in a hotel shower while on vacation and became a quadriplegic. That’s heavy duty, but inspiring. He went on to live a fulfilled life, even published a book of poetry.

There is life after the fall. It’s just a little detour!

This, after all, is part of grieving and it won’t be the last time.

I got ahead of myself. I got to thinking too far in the future and trying to figure things out I had no business worrying about. Awareness — yes.  Anxiety — no!

The touchstone in my hand continues to have a calming effect. 

A big realization I had regarding how I got to the fall was that I ate all my meals alone last week, and that isn’t good for me. All other weeks, I got together at least one time with someone else. So that’s a warning flag! Fortunately, I have things lined up for this week.

I’m learning. Grounding back to remembering things have been, will be, and are exactly as they should be. If it was supposed to be different it would be.

Kacey Musgraves performed my favorite new song from her on the CMA Awards. It is called “The Architect” and I know I shared it before, but this is a sweet acoustic version. The song reminds me someone else is in charge (even as Kacey questions it.)

I cannot avoid the falls. There will surely be more as I navigate this new life. I need to keep doing the things that anchor me. Line up time with friends. Get a lot of rest. The best I can do is to be aware and listen well for guidance, because I know it is always there when I need it.

All in the right time.

Great Memories and Smiling Faces

I have not been able to stop reflecting on how great the day went when we honored Jim. I knew right away something had shifted, although I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

But now I think I know. After Jim passed, I kept having these flashbacks of him in the hospital, and how miserable he was, and how he slowly was getting sicker and sicker. I didn’t want to think about those things, and I tried to replace it with other memories, but it never seemed like I could do enough. 

Once I spent time in a room with so many great people, and we read through the tributes sent to us by people who had known him for over 40 years, I finally got steeped back into who he really was, and all the things that he had done for other people. It made it really real. The family picnics. The way he helped people in large and small ways. And the dynamite grilled cheese sandwich he could make! His easy going personality, his patience with and love of children, and just the many dimensions our prism of life together took.

November 9th is a day I will never forget because of the great memories shared in front of a sea of smiling faces of some of the best people I know.

(The pictures below were taken by these attendees by request. I did not get pictures of everyone.)

With Susan and Natalie from Lehigh days

Stacy…friends since 1993

Katie, Honey, Wendy, me, Debbie, Angela from CLMS

Where You Are

 

Yesterday we had a celebration of Jim’s life, and I could not be happier with how things went. The turnout was great, and it was wonderful to have my incredible support system all together in one room.

In the morning I was working on finalizing the slideshow I planned to use. Family members and friends from out of state had sent their memories, and I had them on the slides ready to share. I had my teacher friends each assigned to read one of them, and it worked beautifully.

Anyway, while working on it and listening to a station on Apple Music, a song sung by Josh Grobin came on: “Where You Are.”  The lyrics hit me so hard I began to cry. And in that moment, I felt Jim behind me and he wrapped his arms around me, much like the photo above. It was such a calming presence, I stopped sobbing. I knew he was there more intensely than anytime since he’s passed. I realized later I had heard the song before, it’s been around for a while. But yesterday it was brand new and played just so I could connect with Jim in a profound way.

I told my friend Kara about it, and she insisted Jim sent me the song. I tend to agree with her. Because now when I listen (and cry) I immediately feel his arms around me. It is a beautiful gift I will cherish for a long time to come.

Thursday Thoughts

 

It has been one month since Jim made his transition. 

I could not write yesterday as I was totally numb from the election results. I had faith in the American people, so it is hard to accept so many are willing to exchange our democracy over racism and misogyny. I’m not surprised. I was just holding the highest good in my heart.

We are all a bit wiser now, knowing what we now know.

Here is some great healing news…I was able to sleep on my right side the last couple of nights  I’ve had to sleep on my back ever since the accident, but my preferred method is on my side. This has been amazing. Even more amazing is that today I will take my first shower since August 19th! My wound nurse brought waterproof bandages for me and said go for it. I was so over wiping down with cleaning cloths and washing my hair in the sink. The shower is another sign of my progress in healing, and is a game-changer. It brings back another element of normalcy I definitely can use.

I’m glad the rainy weather will be past us after today. I want nice weather for Scott’s visit and for the Saturday event, which will be emotional and wonderful. 

Everything is a step I am taking to re-form my life. I am grateful for all the love and support I have. 

Pic Collage 1988-90

 

DEDICATION

We loved visiting the Southwest, and enjoyed this trip to Arizona. At the time I owned a Money Mailer franchise, and their 1988 annual conference was there. We took a harrowing Jeep ride into the desert with a guy named Charlie, and had an incredible hayride under the vast desert starry sky.

FRIENDSHIP

One of the best things about being friends is that we like many of the same things. In December 1989 Money Mailer had their conference on Marco Island, back when it was a bit wild and wooly. During this trip we also visited the Everglades and then on to Orlando to see family. We had to visit our favorite park as well— Epcot Center. It was this trip that helped me learn I liked the southwest part of Florida best, compared to the other places we’d been. Later, it would help us make the decision to come to Fort Myers.

UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

Christmas morning 1990 with our Black Lab, B.J. I’m going to share here what I wrote to Jim on the frame:

“Traditions aren’t supposed to come and go…but unfortunately this one did. Every Christmas we have a picture of B.J. opening his dog biscuits. Remember how they would be wrapped under the tree and he’d go by and sniff them, but never open them? This was the last Christmas in our old home, and our last Christmas with the Beej. Boy, do I miss him still”

Monday Gratitudes

 

Jim with high school friend Russ Fernlund (2012)

It’s been one week since Jim left this plane of existence.

Today I am grateful that I got through this first week.

I’m grateful I got to talk to his oldest friend on Saturday.

I’m grateful Annmarie and I had a delicious lunch together.

I am grateful to all who checked in on me and helped during the hurricane.

I’m grateful I’m slowly chipping away at things that need to be done here.

It feels good.

I’m grateful I decided to return to a church home. I felt incredibly welcome.

I’m grateful I will have a prayer group and a grief group.

I’m grateful for the books I’m reading. 

I’m grateful for the shows I’m watching. They keep me entertained.

I’m grateful for good food and good neighbors.

I’m grateful for those who follow this blog!

“Some miles to go..”

There is nothing I would like better than to say that healing is coming along quite well and I’m going to be up and at ‘em and no time at all.

But nothing can be farther from the truth.

What happened with me was very serious. The open wound I have now saps a lot of my energy. I know everyone wants me to be stronger and more capable of doing things than I currently am. I can sense it in the way they ask questions. I’m not upset with anybody because I think I’d be thinking the same thing. I’d wanna know that my friend or family member was OK. 

And I am OK. But there is still a very long way to go.

There is a song that really speaks to how I feel. Mavis Staples sings it, and I posting it here and I hope you will listen. It will give you insight into how I feel. It reveals my current truth. I have also posted the lyrics below.

There's a sorrow in the wind
Blowing down the road I've been
I can hear it cry when shadows steal the sun
But I cannot look back now
I've come too far to turn around
And there's still a race ahead that I must run

I'm only halfway home
I've gotta journey on
To where I'll find, I'll find the things that I have lost
I've come a long, long road
But still have got some miles to go
I've got a wide, wide river to cross

I have stumbled, I have strayed
You can trace the tracks I made
All across the memories my heart recalls
But I'm still a refugee
won't you say a prayer for me?
'Cause sometimes even the strongest soldier falls

I'm only halfway home
I've gotta journey on
To where I'll find, find the things that I have lost
I've come a long, long road
but still I've got some miles to go
I've got a wide, wide river to cross

I'm only halfway home
I've gotta journey on
To where I'll find, find the things that I have lost
I've come a long, long road
but still I've got some miles to go
I've got a wide, wide river to cross
I've got a wide, wide river to cross
I've got a wide, wide river to cross

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Julie Miller / Steven P. Miller

Wide River to Cross lyrics © Julie's Freakin' Out Music, Songs Of Nwimp, New West Independent Music Publishing, My Blind Driver Music

What Do We Know?

This is a post that I planned to write several months ago, before my whole world crashed down around me a gazillion times.

Today a storm is nearby and I am trying desperately not to turn into a major slug, so I decided to get myself going on something.  This blog post came to mind.

This all began when I pulled out my Elton John Goodbye Yellow Brick Road vinyl record and in the sleeve I discovered this:

It is dated October 18, 1973, and is from my friend Chuck.

I dated Chuck for a couple of months during my sophomore year in high school. He was already out of school at that time, but was friends with a guy we knew who was still a senior in high school. A while after we dated, he began to date my friend Laura, and it seems they have maintained a friendship to this day. 

The letter itself was a little upsetting to me. The first thing Chuck mentions is that it was the one year anniversary of his being drafted. He still had another year to go. I guess I had written to him about something that he had done; apparently he came over with some friends and they were high and I guess that bothered me and I got all judgy about it.

Reading what he had to say and understanding that I knew absolutely nothing about what he was going through made me see how we never know how anyone else is really feeling. This guy had a job and an apartment he had to give up because he was drafted for two years and became a cook at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Of course, we were glad he wasn’t sent to Vietnam, but that’s beside the point. His life was disrupted by things out of his control. I was living my nice white girl suburban life and I thought I just knew everything about Vietnam, and about how he should act. 

His letter reminded me I didn’t know a damn thing, and maybe I still don’t!

But Chuck is the forgiving type. On March 19, 1994 I got to see him at a class reunion when Laura brought him so that he could see all his old gal pals, the ones he used to drive home from school on occasion or have over to his house for parties. He really was a great guy through and through, and even though I don’t know what he is doing now, I hope he is well.

Laura, Chuck, and me

Gratitude Friday

It is already 4:00 and today has been go go go. Lots of paperwork and phone calls. I’m getting ready to put on some music and take a nap, then remembered I hadn’t written here.  So here are the things I’m grateful for today:

They confirmed the inflammation in Jim’s colon through an colonoscopy, and are treating it with steroids. And he finally got some real food for lunch…the last meal he had was last Saturday evening.

I got my new car delivered to me. I’m not cleared to drive it yet, but it sure is pretty.

I spoke with a counselor today, and I will be having 8 sessions with her, and 8 sessions with a life coach. This is through my Aetna insurance, and I’m very grateful for Melissa, my Care Manager. She has been making a lot of calls to get me what I need.

I had an entire day at home, which has been really nice.

I received my ballot in the mail and it’s a reminder I live in a democracy with free and fair elections. Super grateful for that!

I feel pretty good today. I seemed to have turned a corner where I have to remind myself it’s time for meds. I’m not getting that achy feeling ahead of time that was the standard. I still have a long way to go.

Tonight’s dinner will be shrimp cocktail and street corn. Yummy!

I’ve been watching episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine on Netflix and I’m sure enjoying it.

My friends have been there for me this week, either through providing rides, taking me to dinner, checking in on me, and sending cards. I will never be able to repay the kindnesses I’ve received.

Snail Mail

I cannot believe it’s already 3:20 in the afternoon, and I haven’t had two seconds to write here. And after the day I’ve had, I’m too tired to do much.

Since it was time to check the mail, I did trek out to the box. I don’t have a good habit of checking mail because that is something Jim has done for years. I’m still trying to get myself into a pattern, but most of the time I just don’t think about it. And frankly, there isn’t usually much of interest.

Today was different. I opened the box and, lo and behold, three envelopes were waiting for me! 

I love getting snail mail!

The cards were from a Mary, a high school friend, and Katherine, a teacher friend from school. The watercolor bookmark is from a childhood friend, Liz. It is just another way I’ve witnessed how people reach out and make you feel remembered in their own unique way.

Thanks, friends.

Sushi Delay No More

The day of the accident was the day I was doing for myself. The plan was yoga, sushi for lunch, and then a drive to Bonita to donate books to Annette. (Her bookstore is set to open this fall.)

Since I got home from the hospital, Margie and Paul were handling the meals. When they left on Friday, I decided I had the energy to make us an easy, yummy dinner, which I did. But it wasn’t easy on my body, and I vowed that I’d make other arrangements for the weekend.

After deliberating in a number of different ways on what kind of food to have for dinner, Jim and I agreed on Jason’s Deli. My friend Debbie had offered to bring it by, her treat.

That left lunchtime, and I was hungry. I had been at Convenient Care at 8 a.m. this morning getting my swelling leg checked out for possible blood clots. I woke up my friend Honey at the crack of dawn to drive me. It included a trip to Gulf Coast Medical for an ultrasound. Thankfully, all is clear.

Back to lunch. I remembered my plan for sushi over a week ago, and decided now is the time. My appetite is back and I have an Uber Eats gift card from my friend Leah. No time like the present to learn how to order and eat one of my favorites: Ninja Sunset Roll.

I added on a ginger salad and it was a feast for a Queen! 

Being gentle on myself today after a luscious and easy-to-obtain lunch feels just right. The phone isn’t ringing and texts from insurance companies and lawyers aren’t coming through. I know there is much to be done, but for now….rest.

Where I Am Now

 It’s just after 2:30 p.m and I finally got to quiet down, listen to music, and write.

On May 28th, I wrote about how important it is to love where we are at, based on an Allen Stone song.

Do I love where I’m at? Injured with a long healing? The future of everything from my teaching life to Jim’s life, all up in the air?

I guess I’m missing my own point here. So, I ask again…

Do I love where I’m at?

In this very moment (the only moment there is), I have to say yes.

I have music, a clean house, a husband who helps me maintain what I need for healing, plenty of food, neighbors and friends to help, and time to rest.

I am also enjoying two beautiful flower bouquets sent to me from my friends Stacy and Natalie. Who can not love being surrounded with yellow, white, and purple?

Breathe it in!

PS. And a while after I posted this, more flowers arrived, adding color to the mix. I love my colorful life!

Well, my perfect streak ended…

 …but it wasn’t my fault! 

It’s morning. The sun is out.  I got my glasses. I got my Kind Almond Butter Granola bar. I got the most perfect coffee in the world made by my sweetheart.

I have family here providing much needed help. And I feel like I’m growing stronger quickly.

Thank you, my many hospital visitors. And sorry to those I warded off when I was having my bad hospital day. The gifts were appreciated, especially the chocolates I shared with the nurses.

Thank you to all who texted and emailed and called. Your words lifted me and I could feel the prayer wind.

Thank you, cousin Doreen in Asheville, who sent me an email on Saturday morning because I wasn’t blogging and she knew something might be wrong. 

Writers gotta write. And I have lots to write about. But not today. This is just my reentry.

What I do want to say is this: a comment was made to me that the man who smashed into me had “ruined my life.” I had not for a second felt like a victim in this scenario. I could not even relate to those words. I could never square it with all the things I have written in here that remind me of the Oneness of all things and God’s vision for me. I am already starting to see it. 

And I have no doubt all will be well.

Monday Morning Gratitudes

 First…the sunrise today.

I am grateful for all the friends who reached out this weekend. Thank you X a million.

I am grateful we are starting to get a handle on what we will do in case of a hurricane. That has been a relief.

I am grateful Jim woke up feeling better. The last few days were rough from the chemo, but he seems to have recovered. 😊

I am grateful my energy has returned and I’m getting things done around here. I’m taking it easy on myself, and am committed to doing things at a pace that works for me.

Along with that thought, I have decided to abandon reading One Hundred Years of Solitude. There are just too many other books I think I will enjoy more. Going to get on with that! Grateful for so many books! 

Seven years ago today is when I had one of my favorite concert experiences in a Tennessee cave called The Bluegrass Underground. I am grateful for the times Jim and I had traveling to places that matter to us. Nothing will ever take away those memories.

Just an Arms Length Away

Today is a dark, gloomy, rainy day. It is starting to affect me in ways I don't like.

I took Jim to the dermatologist this morning because of a concerning spot on his forehead. Doc doesn't think it is anything, but did a biopsy. We were told to make a follow-up in 6 months.

And I had this thought as they made the appointment for the day after Christmas. Will he make it to this appointment?

Once we were home, and my anxiety was rising, I knew that perhaps if I came to my old computer to write some blog posts, I would be giving myself a good opportunity to feel better. But instead, I thought of things I shouldn't be thinking, and I started to cry. I thought of talking to Jim about it, but he had already said how tired he was. He woke at 3:30 a.m. and was unable to get back to sleep.

And then, hiding behind some papers and notebooks, I found this:

It is polished heart-shaped rock my friend Annmarie sent me when the shutdown happened and I had to suddenly teach from home. When it arrived, I put it by the computer, and that is where it has been ever since.

I picked up the stone and immediately my heart felt lifted. The tears stopped flowing. I cannot express the calm and peace I that swept over me. It had been just an arms length away.

I go back to the summer of 1984…

It started quite by accident. The movie Footloose is on Netflix, and since I had never seen it, I decided to watch. It took me back to the time when nearly every song on the soundtrack was a big hit, there was no internet or compact discs in our world. Boomboxes with cassettes were prominent in the movie.

Then June 4 came, and I heard it was the anniversary of the release of the album Born in the U.S.A. by Bruce Springsteen. That was all it took. 1984 had a hold on me!

It was my first summer living with Jim at his house in Macedonia, Ohio, halfway between Cleveland and Akron. The home had three quarters of an acre of land and an above ground swimming pool. It was a great place for entertaining.

The Springsteen album was our standard background music. The house was a split level, and we could put the stereo speakers in the windows and blast it outside. I know there was plenty of other music we played, but this album is the one I remember best. 

This essay isn’t about the album so much as remembering the people and a couple of events the summer I was turning 29. I dug out a few pictures I have that represent summer weekends at our home, and a couple other related items.

First, check out my office at Freeman Manufacturing where I was the credit and collections manager. The picture was rather dark and taken with a crappy camera, so I adjusted as best I could. I got a real kick out of the seeing the computer. What a lunky box!

I had a couple of friends at work —Jeannie and Arlene—and one Saturday they came and hung out at the pool.

On the 4th of July we had a pool party for friends. It was mostly people from our work places with others sprinkled in. The weather wasn’t super, but the pool volleyball happened anyway.

On my 29th birthday, my friends from work took me to a bar/restaurant called Pickle Bills which was on the Cuyahoga River in the Flats, an up and coming entertainment area. At the time, singing telegrams were popular, and my friends paid to have some Tarzan guy come and sing to me and tell jokes. It was crazy fun, although frankly, he was a tad creepy. (Jim and I had celebrated over the weekend because he played golf on Mondays.)

To finish off this little walk down memory lane, I’m including a video of the Springsteen song from the 1984 album that has stood the test of time with me. I won’t say the summer days of 1984 were exactly “glory days,” but they did represent a certain time in my life where I was enjoying the results of decisions I had made a couple years earlier. Everything felt new and exciting, and so in that aspect, there was a touch of glory!

Poking Things With Sticks

 Notes on a Sunday

Yesterday I fell in the Target parking lot, cutting and bruising my knees and my foot.

Sadly, I know when I hurt myself, it is usually with a reason. In this case, I was mulling over the fact that Jim was at home trying to fix the garbage disposal, and I needed to get home to finish cleaning up for company that was coming from out of town.

In essence, of course, it was much more than that.

All week, I had prided myself on speaking my truth and staying balanced and getting done what needed to be done. It wasn’t all perfect, but I honestly thought I was doing pretty well. In reality, my mind was poking around, creating scary scenarios, and keeping real joy at bay. I didn’t realize it, of course.

This morning I cried…a lot. I admitted I’m scared. I read a lot of inspirational things and listened to songs with messages I need. Here is the list:

“Poking Things With Stick” and “You Found that Thing You Lost” by David Kirby

Medicine Cards: The Discovery of Power Through the Ways of the Animals — in this case, Contrary Possum (that really hit home!)

“Bubbles Up” — Jimmy Buffett

“His Strength is Perfect” — CeCe Winans

“What Good Am I” —Bob Dylan

“Mull of Kintyre” — Paul McCartney and Wings

“Miracle” — Whitney Houston

Still, I stewed a bit. What do I write this day? Do I really want to detail all my grief and agony? Is it necessary?

Then across my Facebook feed came this from my friend Melody Wright:

I laughed out loud. If this didn’t say it all!

I had concluded that I had allowed myself to lose some faith and trust. I had failed to look for joy — and part of me knew it. I had allowed the stress of company coming to unhinge me in some ways, because frankly, I am a terrible housekeeper and I was pushing myself to do what I should have done ages ago.

And to what end? Scott’s flight was canceled and now the trip has been canceled, so it was all for nought.

When will I realize I just need to stay in the moment? When will I notice I’m not before I lose it? Fall in a parking lot? Have a meltdown?

When will I stop being a dumbass? 😂😂😂