A Rewoven Life

The Pickle Kind of Love

2012-02-14T15:59:00.002-05:00

I think Valentine's Day is a set-up.
All the mushy messages and picture perfect portrayals...
If that is what its all about, my Mountain Man and I are in big trouble.
He didn't even get me a Valentine's Day card.
No, really.
He didn't. Nada.
And we're the perfect couple that some folks admit jealousy of.

I think that's just it.
There are so many unrealistic expectations attached to this day.
It has all become rather cliche.
Fancy restaurants, certain flowers, adequate amounts of chocolate...
(okay, I admit that they're on to something with the chocolate).

As a basic principle, I'm all for any day that celebrates love.
But in my experience,
where the rubber meets the road,
these aren't the things that really speak of authentic love.

And the fact is - we don't have any extra money for cards and such.
Valentines fell on an inconvenient day.
So according to expectations, its a flop.

But....
do you know what my Mountain Man DID get me?
Pickles.
A big jar - dill.
My favorite!
Now THAT is romantic.

Our funds are going towards just the essentials,
and food is more important than over-priced stationary.
So he came home from grocery shopping
with pickles.

No wonder some folks are jealous of our relationship.

Its too easy to miss the REAL expressions of love
when we're busy waiting for unrealistic expectations to be met -
that's all I'm sayin'.

So here's to love...
the kind that knows you well enough
to bring you pickles!

More Thoughts On Living With Chronic Illness

2012-02-11T13:29:00.002-05:00

Lance Armstrong said that it was through illness that he learned rejection.
When you are no longer able to function in the same way you did previously - people write you off.
Chronic illness becomes a huge threat to your identity.
There is the personal struggle of maintaining who you are, separate from what it is that makes you sick.
But there is the, sometimes bigger, difficulty of how you are defined by others... when it becomes the only thing people talk to you about.
For my birthday, last month, I noticed that some people included in their well wishes - "I hope you are feeling better". And I recoiled at the words. Since when does my birthday have anything to do with my illness?

I live with Dysautonomia by focusing and refocusing on being, rather than doing.
In order to keep my sanity, again and again, I bring myself back to the little things, the small acts, the mini moments.
But we live in a culture that is obsessed with acquiring and doing and all the other big stuff.
While everyone else is absorbed in their business and their bigger and better endeavors, I find myself on a completely different wave length.
Gradually I'm feeling more isolated and less understood.
And, healthy or not, my response to this is to withdraw further, and seek to understand more.
There is an 'self affirming' side to this situation, and a depressing side.. and I'm currently living with a foot in both worlds.

And what of my beliefs? I've been asked if I struggle with God in all of this.
My spirituality has become something that I observe with interest these days.
Working my way through addiction recovery provided me with a strong spiritual foundation that has been helpful. Somewhere along the way, I quit asking "why?' Because if you're going to ask that question, it is only fair to ask "why not?" And after you beat your head on either of those walls for awhile, you discover that there really are no adequate answers.
So I've become much more comfortable with "I don't know."
I don't believe God made me sick.
I don't necessarily even believe that he allowed me to be sick.
That last bit is a little harder to explain and might sound very wrong to some. But for me, allowing or making comes down to arguing semantics and becomes another useless waste of energy.
I believe in God.
I believe he/she is all-powerful.
I believe that he/she does not always exercise that power.
I believe God is present and aware.
I believe that events were set into motion a long time ago. (i.e. this illness could be the result of genetics)
I believe that miracles are when God stops the free-fall of time and steps in to rearrange the natural progression of certain situations.
I believe that when there are no obvious miracles, God is no less involved or present.
I believe that not all miracles are apparent.
I believe in mysteries that need not be definable by my human mind.
I believe in grace.

Basically..... I believe.

Right now my medication addled brain can think of no better way to explain it.
My prayers have become a constant conversation with God... no need for an "amen".
I do ask for strength, willingness, and help of any type.
I honestly expressed my emotions, and when I'm pissed off I say so.
And I express gratitude... which I have found to be one of the most useful prayers.
I don't argue religion with anyone these days. Apologetics have been put on the back shelf.

And all of this, I consider with a sense of curiosity.
Illness is a journey... and I have no idea of the destination.
These are just some of my thoughts on what I'm experiencing.

Perfect Imperfections

2012-02-06T22:35:00.002-05:00

Anymore, when I sit down to write -
I don't even know where to start.
When the shit has hit the fan
where do you begin mopping up?
Besides, the fan is still whirling.

At least there is a nice breeze
... I guess.

So... anyone have a question?
What have you read on this blog
that you want to know more about?
I've been thinkin' about having a blog interview with my Mountain Man too.
Any questions for him???

In the meantime, I'll show you what I've been up to lately.
Winter = lots and lots of crocheting.
But I have this nasty little habit of getting bored quite easily.

Oh yeah... and I have never followed a pattern... ever.
So the results of my crocheting have become very whimsical and free spirited.

Freeform Crochet Hats are my new creative obsession.
There are no rules.
Imperfections become perfection.
Maybe this is how I work out my issues when I can't find words.
Potential messes become one of a kind, pretty, wearable art....
one stitch at a time.

And they are for sale on my Etsy shop.
So if you know anyone that likes fun, funky hats - send 'em on over.

http://www.etsy.com/shop/wildlywhimsical

(or just follow the link on my sidebar)

Elephant Bones

2012-02-03T12:06:00.000-05:00

under the dark clouds of night
i dreamed i was an elephant

returning
journeying back
finding again
the bleached bones of the past

and lingering there
sifting through the fragments
holding the memories close
feeling their heavy weight
and carrying them with me awhile

somehow they're still familiar
though their shapes resemble nothing
of what once i thought i knew
these are the parts
that last the longest
all softness and flexibility
gone

there is nothing left
but to make the journey
back again
looking
but not seeing
accepting what i'll never know

and walking on...

~~~~

when i awoke
i thought
that once
i might have been an elephant

No More Pretty, Poetic, Politeness

2012-01-28T19:57:00.001-05:00

Writing has always been my refuge.
Through my words, I find my self.
But lately, I've been writing less and less...
I know why...
what I have to say at this time
isn't what I want to be known for.
Like it or not,
this illness has re-arranged my entire life.
Some days I wonder if I'll die.
Other days I worry that I've forgotten how to live.
I'm angry that I fought my way through drug addiction,
put myself through years of therapy,
worked my ass off to create a better life,
met and married my soul mate and best friend,
only to be diagnosed with a f---ing disease that the medical community knows next to nothing about.
And I'm angry that I'm expected to be their f---ing guinea pig.

Sounds like a pity party... doesn't it?
And thats why I find myself hesitating to write about it.
It's not a pity party.... well, okay... there have been a few pity parties.
I am really only voicing the thoughts and emotions
that have been tossed into my inner mixer
and set on high speed.
The reality is - this is just another situation I need to find my way through.
My beginning thoughts on being an addict
weren't very pretty or cohesive either.
My admission to being a survivor of rape
was sloppy and fragmented...
And now, after years of being clean,
and finding a new identity,
I look back on those first faltering expressions
and realize it was what I needed in order to find my way forward.
So maybe I need to write about his illness more.
Then, I can eventually look back and better see the journey towards clarity.
The difference is, now I KNOW when I'm not making sense.
Now I KNOW when I should have a better attitude.
And the result is that I cringe and shut down.
So maybe its time to give myself full permission to make no sense...
because it isn't time for that yet.
And I don't need to always have an everything-is-okay attitude...
sometimes things aren't.
I believe I'll find my way through all of this...
just like I've found my way through all of the rest.
But it may not always be pretty, poetic, or polite.

Our Word for 2012

2011-12-31T23:09:00.002-05:00

On this, the last night of 2011, my Mountain Man and I
have been searching for our 'word' for the New Year.

Resolutions just aren't our thing...
but we both have a love of writing,
and there is nothing better than finding the perfect word
to paint a picture or express an emotion.

Tonight,
when we found our word,
we both lit up instantly.
That's it.
Perfect.

At the beginning of this past year,
my word was "Create".
I later defined it like this:
For me, part of the definition of Create is openness and acceptance.
My Creativity was stunted for years because of my obsession with labeling my artwork as "good" or "bad. That mentality will ruin any artist.
Now, I realize Creativity is a willingness to think outside the box.
It is an act of allowing things to become what they will... getting out of my own way.
...to truly Create, I must quit wasting my energy by attempting to force a particular outcome.
When I give up my desire for perfect, I find my way into fantastic.
...To Create is to be ready for the unknown.... willing to discover."

I look at that now and shake my head.
Wow!
We've learned a lot about acceptance in the last 12 months.
We've learned so much on giving up perfection.
Creativity sure is MESSY.
(I say that with a smile on my face and tears in my eyes.)

Now, opening this book to a new chapter,
our chosen word is "Center".
Draw together.
Focus
Concentrate
Join

We continue to grow closer and closer as a couple.
We have been crazy blessed in our relationship together.
But also, in a relatively short period of time,
a lot has been dropped in our laps to deal with.
In addition, we've often felt drained
by all those other, peripheral responsibilities that life presents.

I didn't even manage to send out Christmas cards this year,
and a nagging voice in the back of my head
is still insisting that I should feel guilty about that.
That is just one example, but you get the idea.

This year, we are excusing ourselves from those irrelevant expectations.

We are centering ourselves;
taking all the time that we need;
cultivating awareness;
focusing on what is most important;
concentrating on what it is that we truly need;
simplifying;
nourishing self care;
finding that interior silence...
the 'livingness' within;
joining together;
lightening the load;
seeking clarity;
giving ourselves some space.

All that peripheral, superficial stuff can drift on by.
This is our year to Center.

A Belated Merry Christmas

2011-12-27T09:43:00.003-05:00

So how has everyone been doing over the holidays?

I'm a little late,

but I hope you had a truly wonderful Christmas,

or happy Hanukkah, or whatever it is you celebrate.

Our Christmas was very simple this year,

and I've found that "simple" is perfect for us.

Personally, the further I get from all the shopping

and materialistic madness

the more peace and real meaning

I can find and share.

A lot of thought went into our decorations and gifts this year.

There was no extra money to go buy "stuff".

And that turned out to be a gift in itself.
There were also unexpected blessings -
like a far-away friends who sent
surprise packages full of gift-wrapped love.

Then, while going through some old boxes in my sister's barn,

we discovered some forgotten Christmas ornaments

that had been my Grandmother's, before she died.

With them, we pulled out some wonderful memories.

Going out to buy a christmas tree

just wasn't possible...

but who needs a whole tree

when pine branches are free.

A few evergreens got a free haircut,

and we had a whole lotta fun.

We joked about how "due to economic cutbacks

the traditional christmas 'tree' has now been

replaced by a traditional christmas 'branch'.

But we had all the branches we could want,

and after I arranged them and we added the lights,

they turned out to be prettier than any tree I've ever had.

Grandma's antique ornaments added the perfect touch,

along with homemade ornaments we made together last year,

and various other sparkly odds -n- ends.

Part of my gift to my hubby was this trout ornament
I baked out of clay and hand-painted.

He gets homesick for Montana,

and I tried to add some Mountain Man style to our tree.

There is a little deer on there somewhere too.

Have I mentioned lately how much

I absolutely absolutely adore this man???

It was our second Christmas as husband and wife,

and nothing is better than

spending Christmas with your best friend and soulmate.

When Christmas really IS about love,

all that other stuff just becomes icing on the cake...

errr...... cookies.

Here Begin The Miracles

2011-12-06T00:58:00.001-05:00

Here begin the terrors,

Here begin the miracles.

~The Grail Legend

I was still sleeping when he came in to tell me.

My Mountain Man lost his job today.

Things slow down over the winter...

bad economy...

no unemployment available - its a unique situation.

So while we struggle with my ever-growing piles
of medical bills,

and my disability application
lurches through a very uncertain process,

now we have the added worry of being without a paycheck.

Here begin the terrors.

It's hard.

You bet!

It's stressful.

But there are no arguments or tension between us.

It's an external situation.

And we've been here before.

Well... not right here... but somewhere similar.

Visiting food pantries is always humbling.

It is difficult to know that Christmas is right around the corner, and yet still remind ourselves that gifts are not the gauge by which we choose to measure our blessings.

The timing for these things is never convenient.

But because we've been in a similar situation before

we've learned that there are unexpected blessings.

Here begin the miracles.

When we look back over the time we've been together,

it is apparent that we've always had enough.

Even at the worst possible moments,

we've been provided with what we need.

Our motto has become

"just do the next right thing -

the rest isn't up to us."

We struggle and panic

and try to manipulate specific outcomes

and eventually come back to the same understanding

that life really isn't ours to control afterall.

And each time we relax and let go...

the miracles happen,

and things fall into place.

Besides,

learning to accept help

seems to make one a better helper...

regardless of how uncomfortable the lesson.

We're waiting for the miracles.

Mandala Art 2

2011-12-03T12:27:00.001-05:00

My latest Mandala.

(watercolor pencils & ink)

Quality of Life

2011-11-23T11:49:00.000-05:00

I feel that this chronic illness
has robbed me of so much
of what I can do.
My life
seems to have shrunk...
become limited.
And with these changes
I have been slowly sinking
back into depression.
Withdrawing...
bit by bit.

Many of the questions
I am asked
are simply a form of:
"What are you doing to get better?"
or
"How much can you still do?"

And I have become more and more frustrated...
because there is no cure.
There is no recipe to be followed,
taking me back to where I was,
before.
And my activity level is unpredictable,
always different from day to day.

The truth is,
I don't know what,
or how much,
to do now.

~~~~

When I mentioned all of this
to a friend...
he casually suggested
"What if 'do'
isn't the right word anyhow."

This thought sat with me.
Or maybe I sat with it.

Last night,
I tossed and turned in bed,
trying to find my way
through the inner fog.
And finally
with the morning
came that simple answer.
(it seems I've fought this battle
so many times before,
in so many different ways)
If I am not defined by what I do,
then I have lost nothing.

My being is not limited by disease.
The core of who I am
is untouchable and absolute.

Quality of life is not defined by doing.

I just need to get back to being.

Again and again
this is where I must return...
to find life.

It isn't in the doing.
It's in the being.

Mandala Art

2011-11-22T12:41:00.001-05:00

My first Mandala

... and I'm rather please with the results.

I used watercolor pencils, colored pencils,

and a variety of art pens.

The process really is a soothing and meditative art form.

Tale of Two Turkeys

2011-11-15T19:20:00.001-05:00

I saw the saddest, sweetest thing today.

When I noticed a dark shape
in the middle of the road, I cringed.
Please don't be something dead.
Though I knew it had to be,
and it was.
But there was something else too.

A poor turkey had been the victim of a hit and run,
feathers everywhere.
The dead bird was laying directly on the center line.
And standing over it was a very protective mate,
huddled down over the body, wings out,
like a mother hen over her babies.

It broke my heart to see them like that.
I knew I couldn't leave them there.
Now, I'm a farm girl,
and I am fully aware of how viscious turkeys can be.
So the whole time, I was audibly telling myself what a bad idea this was.
But I got out of the car to try to herd the turkey away
so it wouldn't be the next roadkill.
No such luck. It refused to leave its fallen mate.
He kept bending his head down and nudging the limp body
as if trying to wake it up.
So I enlisted Strauss's help.
The big bird backed away from him and Strauss stared him down while
I pulled the dead one off the road, through the ditch, and up onto the other bank.
(FYI, turkey's are heavy)
When I called Strauss back, the turkey immediately rejoined its dead companion,
gobbling all the while - now safely away from passing cars.

I watched them in my rear-view mirror as I drove away.
The whole scene was so sad and tragic.
But there was something refreshing about it as well.
That kind of care and commitment is beautiful, in whatever form.

Colorful Bracelets

2011-11-14T10:31:00.001-05:00

I need to wear my colorful bracelets again,
need to rediscover that bright undertone.
I'm growing weary of just waiting
for the next breath.
Winter is coming
but I have no further use
for hibernation.
I've practiced the art of dying,
but its the living I want to reclaim.

Turn the music up,
dance with me...
and I'll wear my colorful bracelets again.

You Should Stay Gone

2011-11-13T10:09:00.003-05:00

I dialed your number
but fate intervened,
interrupted the call.
Or maybe fate intervened
a long time ago
and today was just a reminder.

You
should stay gone.

I want to hold on to the good.
Let the bad slip through my fingers,
like sand.
I want to dust off
the gritty feeling that is left,
so I can forget.

But I've lost my certainty
about which was good or bad.
It has all been stirred
into muddy waters
where nothing is clear.

And the lies glare through
like white bone glinting
within an open wound.

Yes,
stay gone.

I could never trust you again.

**to A.

He's Such A Gentleman

2011-11-08T09:23:00.001-05:00

My poor blog has been neglected lately.
Truth be told, you haven't missed much.
But finally, I have a bit of interesting news.

There is a new boy in my life.
I know, I know - no one saw that one coming!!!

He's sweet, charming, and has a great sense of humor...
He's such a gentleman too.
We go EVERYWHERE together, even to the bathroom!
He's a great cuddler, a great kisser, and always keeps a watchful eye on me.
We've been together just over a week, and I'm already in love.

So I'd officially like to introduce you to Strauss.
He is my new Service Dog.
And I'm sure you'll be hearing a lot more about him.
(If not here, then on my Dysautonomia Detour Blog )

Strauss is giving me some independence back in my life.
And I'm excited and grateful!

The Sound

2011-10-21T11:08:00.001-04:00

I listen
just to hear the sound...
I disturbed the peace
and soothed my heart
with its confusion.
A mess of contradictions.
Beautiful, broken balance.
Every breath I swallow is life.
There is no reason,
no explanation to be given.
Breathe in again.
The exhale will not diminish me.
Let the tide take me back out again.
Let it crash through me
making me real, making me live.
And let me hear the sound...
the sound that sunshine makes
played on broken window panes,
for these are the notes
that taste like truth.

To Move, or Not To Move?

2011-09-25T21:41:00.000-04:00

One particular topic has been popping up in our conversations lately.
We've been talking about the possibility of making a 2,000 mile move back to Montana, where my Mountain Man is originally from.
From the beginning of our relationship, we've agreed that we would move there... someday.
We've been together for 19 months, and now the question seems to be - when is someday?
Any move is expensive, but we've both agreed that if we stripped down to the very basic essentials, our Jeep and a small trailer could do the job.
In other words - it's possible.

And then all those other considerations start coming into play.
Is it the right thing to do?
Is it the right time to do it?
What about a job? (Maybe there will be a better one there, rather than here)
Where will we live? (our living situation here is rather blessed - though not necessarily ideal)
Can I leave my 70 year old mother, my sister, my best friend, and our local support system?

Can I find an autonomic function specialist in that area to continue my Dysautonomia treatment?
Will it feel like home to me?

Most of these are questions, experience has taught me, one can only live into.
Send it out into the universe.
Pour it into a prayer.
Ask for guidance.
Then expect an answer,
and look for open doors... or maybe windows.
There will always be unknowns,
but there are also guides along the way.

Moving ranks right up there with the most stressful changes in life.

In the first year of our marriage,
my Mountain Man and I have already had more than our fair share of stress.
I think our biggest concern is creating more pressure or strain.
So we're going forward carefully...
but any big decision ultimately involves a leap in the dark.

So this is part of my process... putting it out there.
First I find the willingness... then I find the way.

New Baby

2011-09-23T20:54:00.002-04:00

Our Zebra Finches' baby finally hatched.

Quite possibly more proof
that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

But even if it isn't cute yet.... its really sweet.

An Ocean

2011-09-08T23:39:00.001-04:00

I need an ocean
to hold these emotions...
I need an ocean's roar
to lend me it's voice...
an ocean with waves
battering their boundaries,
the same way I want
to pound these walls
with my fists.
I need an ocean
to sink these ships in...
let them drift to the bottom
and rot away in darkness.

Another Chilly Tombstone

2011-09-06T09:58:00.000-04:00

This morning I was awakened by the news
that "something really bad happened".
My Mountain Man told me about it,
and then I watched the TV news reports.
Mrs P. was murdered by her abusive husband...
on the day she finally filed for divorce.
Another chilly tombstone -
the result of domestic violence.

My mind goes back to those days.
It can seem a lifetime ago...
or, sometimes, only yesterday.
That crazy, manic cycle
of living with a man
who thought I was his property.
(Now... how things have changed!!!!)

I didn't know Mrs P.
But I know her sweet, blond, teenage daughter,
who crawled out a small window
when she heard the gunshots,
trying to get help...
trying to live through her father's rampage.
I know the girl
who will carry this for the rest of her life.

I didn't know Mrs P.
But I know her story...
in fact I feel like I might have lived part of it.
The anger,
the outbursts,
the apologies,
the manipulation,
the lies,
the empty promises,
the derision,
the blame,
the berating,
the attacks.
I know those parts.

NO WOMAN deserves
the anger,
the outbursts,
the apologies,
the manipulation,
the lies,
the empty promises,
the derision,
the blame,
the berating,
the attacks.

Even though she fears the unknown.
Even though she doesn't want anyone to know.
Even though she thinks that is just how men are.
Even though she wants to keep the family together.
Even though she isn't sure how she'll make it.
No woman deserves it.

Today, I think of Mrs P... I grieve for her.

And I think of other women who have stayed too long
with men who think they are their property.

Today, I think of the wings that wait to be tested in flight.
And I think of the amazing, new lives, just waiting to be lived.
I pray that as this one woman is layed to rest,
there will be others who finally take their stand.

We are women of worth and value
and deserve to be treated as such....

The fear is great,
but freedom is greater.

Summer Afternoon

2011-09-04T11:35:00.001-04:00

"Summer Afternoon... the two most beautiful words

in the English Language."

~Henry James

The Sand Is Settling

2011-08-29T12:28:00.000-04:00

I've been quiet lately.
Writing less.
Reading more.
My energy has been directed towards the basics of life.
Sometimes I wonder if I've lost some of my depth...
just paddling the surface.
During this season,
I haven't had the extra breath to dive.
But from the time I spent searching the deep,
I still know my way around it.
I guess, for now, I can lay back and float awhile.

My Mountain Man and I went camping this past weekend.
It was good to be "away".
We both share a love for simplicity,
and sleeping on the ground
under the tree's protective arms
is good for the soul.

My continued health problems have cast a shadow over our days.
We're still learning how to manage all of it.
Our roots are holding firm,
and no doubt they are stretching too...
but the focus isn't on growth right now.
After the storm, there needs to be the calm.
After chaos... simplicity.

I write to make sense of my life.
I search my soul for its response and pour it out in words.
But today I have few questions and little need of answers.

The tide has gone out and the sand is settling.

Solitary

2011-08-29T12:08:00.000-04:00

"Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.”

~Winston Churchill

Misty Morning

2011-08-24T10:14:00.000-04:00

Its a cool morning.

with gentle rain.

It makes me think

of the land

I love so dearly...

I drink my tea

and watch the mist

beyond the open window...

and wonder.

When will I go back

to Ireland?

One Year as One

2011-08-10T11:47:00.001-04:00

Today is our Anniversary.

Ken, one year ago I vowed to you

"Through all the seasons of life,

I will love you,

one day at a time."

And every day,

you feel more like home to me.

In one year's time

we've faced a lot together.

We've shared so much.

And it has never been more apparent

that you truly are my soul mate...

my Anam Cara.

Thank you for being my husband,

and my best friend.

Thank you for the best year of my life.

As I promised then,

I promise again:

"I will lend you my strength

for all of your dreams.

I will laugh with you,

cry with you,

and grow with you.

My heart will be your safe shelter,

and my arms will be your home.

I see you.

I believe in you.

I believe in our love.

And I will be here for you,

always...

in this life,

and the one to come."

Happy Anniversary to my Mountain Man
I love you!

The Silence Of God

2011-08-05T22:56:00.003-04:00

There are times when life brings me to my knees.
It is in those times that I am sustained by my belief in God.
But lately I've been frustrated by the Silence.
I've turned to God with my fear, frustration, pain, and anger,
only to be met with Stillness.
Nothing feels safe anymore.
The rug has been pulled out from underneath.
There are no easy answers.
No good reasons.
Only the Silence.
I've prayed.
I've pleaded.

I sent a note to a friend of mine...
one who has been through great pain in his life:
"I guess, for now, I'm afraid of what kind of rabbit
God is going to pull out of his hat next" I told him.
He wrote back, and part of his response included:
"*The questions will dissolve
into the silence of God."

That is when it dawned on me.
In the moments of profound significance,
there really are no words.
How many times have I personally realized
that remarks are simply not enough.
Some situations are far too significant...
too deep for an easy, back-slapping cliché.
To speak in those times would be patronizing.
When I have been with those
going through the deepest pain,
the greatest gift I could offer
was to sit in with them in silence...
acknowledging their woundedness.
When my best friend
endured the worst day of her life,
I quietly layed with her, on her living room floor.
The best I could do was to be there.
A witness.
Partaking in her pain.

So then, what if God's occasional silence
is not an issue of indifference?!
I know that I've prayed:
"I don't even care if I can hear you,
just let me know you're near...
Let me know that you care."
What, then, if silence is the deepest form of care?!
What if it is the greatest response to pain?!
Is it possible that our God simply sits with us...
partaking in our pain.

While I rage, and rant, and weep,
working my way through the agony...
all the while, this All Knowing God
knows better than to offer a dime store defense.
And that thought helps me to accept,
knowing there will always be things I can't quite understand.
Even if it all was explained,
I wouldn't really grasp it anyhow.
"Why?" never has a good enough answer.

And knowing all of this makes me a little more willing
to allow the questions to dissolve,
in "the holy, lonesome echo
of the Silence of God."

(The Silence Of God ~Andrew Peterson)

Perfect Summer Day

2011-07-31T15:23:00.001-04:00

If I could pick the perfect summer day...
it would start off with my Mountain Man.
('cause just being with him makes it a good day.)

Together, we'd go off into the country...
lookin' for adventures.

We'd follow our noses right into the middle of a berry patch.
Blackberries... the big, juicy ones...
so ripe and sweet that you don't even mind the brambles.
And raspberries and blueberries too...

We would laugh and talk and listen to the birds sing...
just being together,
while the rest of the world faded away.

And we would eat more berries than we actually saved.
When our bellies were full...
and our buckets too,
we'd wander down the hill
to where the creek flowed through.
The water would be cool under the shade trees,
dappled with the summer sun...

so perfect that we'd jump right in...
watching the minnows swim around our toes.
And we'd laugh and play and splash,
more in love than we'd ever known was possible...
and very sure
that we were right where we were always meant to be.

That would be my perfect summer day.

We Went Back

2011-07-16T13:21:00.004-04:00

It's been years.
A lot of years.
But we went back...
to those several fenced acres on a hill top;
to the religion that we were raised in.
I wrote about it Here

The entire family was getting together

to celebrate my parent's 50th wedding anniversary.

I found a long skirt to wear,

and my Mountain Man donned long sleeves.

We do try to be respectful,

even though we aren't offered much respect in return.

But his goatee and cross necklace,

my nose piercing, tattoos, short hair, etc...

they place us in a different category.

But even minus all that,

heaven forbid, we even wear our wedding rings.

That alone is enough to doom us to eternal damnation.

Anyhow...

the dinner was nice.

Chicken, mashed potatoes, home-made noodles,

salad, corn, roast beef, and 3 types of pie,

all in the front room of an Amish home.

(no, my family isn't Amish... but they intermingle often)

The time with family is cherished.

Being re-immersion into the religion is... uncomfortable.

When we went back after the meal,

we walked around the grounds a bit...

even sat in the back of the 'tabernacle' for part of a sermon.

(although, the manipulative preaching just pissed me off)

It felt like home and yet so foreign,

all at the same time.

This was where we'd both grown up.

This is what we've both left so far behind.

But can you ever get too far from your roots?

This was the only place we once belonged,

and now it is the place where we least belong.

We still know all the names and faces.

Both of us came from families of prominent members.

But now they turn away and whisper.

"Did you see Ken and Susan?

Isn't it such a shame!

They used to be such good kids.

It just goes to show what the devil can do."

A friendly face did appear among the crowd.

The only woman in the photo above,

who lets her beautiful hair hang down,

instead of forcing it into a bun on her head

like doctrine dictates.

A lovely friend who reads this blog.

And she wondered how I was, being there.

We talked about the good and bad.

She's seen both sides.

Like me, she doesn't blend

but she still goes back...

takes what she needs, and leaves the rest.

We hugged and went our seperate ways,

our little talk, a good reminder of how

the right people are there when we need them.

Thanks T.

My Mountain Man and I talked about it all

long into the night.

Some of what we feel,

we don't even know how to name.

We have to avoid casting judgement too.

But we're both walking a fine line

between two worlds that cannot merge.

We belong to one

and our families belong to the other.

And even though we went back,

we both know that we never truly can.

(to read more on this topic, click the AWM label below)

Wyoming Photos 1

2011-07-09T13:24:00.000-04:00

(if I were a tree)

(my father-in-law, on far right)

Where The Deer & The Antelope Play

2011-07-08T22:22:00.000-04:00

My Mountain Man and I ran away from home for awhile.

We joined his family for a vacation on a ranch in Wyoming.

7 miles from any road,

and another 30 minutes after that to a little town.
a.k.a: the middle of nowhere

The wilderness is good for my soul.

Wind and mountains and sage.

Coyotes sang us to sleep at night.

We watched 'the deer and the antelope play'.

And I proved that I really AM capable of being

Mrs. Mountain Man.

I won't hunt, but I can hit a 2 inch target at 75 yards.

(no animals were harmed, but many pop cans were killed)

I think it is only a matter of time until we move West.

But, for now, we're back.

More photos soon....

I Don't Know

2011-06-22T11:16:00.001-04:00

I've mentioned before that life keeps bringing me back to the point of Letting Go.
More and more I find myself returning to the simple acceptance of

"I don't know."

It goes against everything that western society instills and instructs.
We make our plans and then attempt to keep some white-knuckled sense of control over them...
when really, none of it is in our power anyhow.
Our status is judged by what we do and have... when those details are completely irrelevant when it comes to our true selves.

I recently found a quote that says "Life is the dancer, and we are the dance."
At first I resisted the thought... but gradually it began to seem right.
Maybe this is what is meant by living life on life's terms.
I don't run the show.
And when I try to, I exhaust myself in the effort.
I make choices, I do the next right thing, and then it's best if I just get out of the way.

All of these thoughts have been tumbling in my mind lately.
In the process of learning to accept and live with a chronic illness
I am again moving through the stages of Letting Go.
The blessing in disguise is that I am once again presented with many questions.
And the answer that is becoming more and more comfortable is

"I don't know."

It isn't a lack of care or commitment, but rather an acceptance of what is.

Sometimes I say it with a sense of peace, and other times with frustration.
When it comes to letting go of things, I am the queen of kicking and screaming.
In fact, I think it should be on my tombstone someday... or maybe my resume...
The Queen Of Kicking and Screaming.
I leave claw marks, but I get there eventually.
And when I find my way back to it,

I've found the most peace in

"I don't know."

A Mountain Man Post

2011-06-17T21:14:00.002-04:00

This is Susan's Mountain Man, hijacking her blog to leave a little note to all our bloggie friends and family.

If you have been following A Rewoven Life, you will know that Susan has been recently diagnosed with a rare nervous system disorder, Dysautonomia. It's been a crazy, unpredictable journey with no sure end in sight. But through it all, we have become even closer than ever.

I guess I just want to brag on Susan a little here. As we have gone through these times of shadows and barely controlled chaos, one thing has stood out to me has been her strength. Even when she is at her most scared and down, there is still a backbone of steel that refuses to melt beneath the pressure. She gets up in the morning (mornings are her worst) to pack my lunch and if she does not have the strength to do that, I am never allowed to leave for work without a note of support and encouragement for me, tucked into my lunch box. Her soul and spirit have a depth that goes far beyond the physical limits of her body.

Thank you all for your support to the both of us. Cannot begin to tell you all how much that means to us.

And thank you Susan for being the best and most amazing wife any man could ever dream of.

All my love forever,
Your Mountain Man

_______________________________________

6/20/11 Added Note:

Susan here.... can I just say that I have the most awesome husband in the world.

When I read this it was with a combination embarrassment, tears, and smiles. I am so blessed.

We have a love that is rare and amazing. And I can't wait to spend forever with this man.

The truth is, HE is my anchor when things are rough. His patience and love have carried me through so much.

Thank YOU Ken for being such an amazing husband, and my best friend.

(Yeah... we're sappy... but who doesn't enjoy a good love story)

Let Go... Again

2011-06-17T12:29:00.000-04:00

Life keeps bringing me
one lesson.
Letting Go.
Again and again.
Letting go.

These days
it's become more difficult.
Depression has crept in,
draining my energy.

I've discovered
resistance,
anger,
pain,
fear.
One by one,
in no particular order,
they make their appearance.
And I sit with them awhile.

Someone much wiser than me
once said that we can't really let go
of what we haven't yet held.

This depression is a mourning.
It is what allows
the anger and resistance to soften.
It is what allows
the pain and fear to become flexible.

I hold them,
I feel them,
so that I can,
let go... again.

Numberless Times

2011-06-07T19:49:00.004-04:00

"I seem to have loved you
in numberless forms,
numberless times,
in life after life,
in age after age
forever."

~Rabindranath Tagore

Dysautonomia Detour

2011-06-03T10:14:00.002-04:00

We interupt this blog for an important announcement:

I never intended A Rewoven Life to become a means of medical updates.
But, with all of the health issues I've been having, it's just kinda happened that way.
So... to remedy that, I've begun a 2nd blog: Dysautonomia Detour
There, I can freely rant.... errr, share that part of my journey.
It's another way for me to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for myself.
If I get too lost, my own words will help me find the way back.
Dysautonomia Detour is still very much under construction... but from henceforth all Dysautonomia news shall be posted there and not here.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.......

Breathe. Repeat.

2011-05-27T22:11:00.003-04:00

It all started really sinking in
while I watched the doctor marking and circling areas of my test results.

This morning, I thought these tests would lead us to a simple solution.
This afternoon, I came to realize that it isn't going to be quite so simple.

I'm in this for the long-haul.

"Lots of abnormalities" they said.
Granted, I've always been a bit odd... no surprise there.
But in this case, it is something completely out of my control.
My autonomic nervous system has gone haywire.
There is a tricky breakdown of communication between my brain and my heart.
And it is generally recommended to keep those two organs on good speaking terms.

No quick fix.
Maybe I'm supposed to be learning patience.
(I'm not known for my patience)

Today, I felt depression snapping at my heels.
Words like "complex" and "more tests" are foreboding.
It's the waiting... and the not knowing.
Life has rounded a corner and is forever changed.

Those closest to me all say "you've dealt with a lot,
you'll deal with this too."
And I will.
But I reserve the right to be pissed off about it for a little while.
I don't want to have some strange gremlin illness.
I don't want to add this weight to my husband's shoulders either.
I don't want an unknown timeline stretching out ahead of us.

But it isn't mine to control.
So I'm left to learn how to manage it.

One foot in front of the other.
Breathe.
Repeat.

"Don't forget in the dark,
what you learned in the light."

Truth is, in a world of earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes, and cancer...
maybe I'm getting off pretty easy.
What life is ever void of suffering?

And haven't I learned that in the midst of all the bad stuff, the most beautiful things are discovered?!
The shit provides the fertilizer for the flowers to grow.

Maybe I will be depressed for a bit.
But I'll work my way through that too.

One foot in front of the other.
Breathe.
Repeat.

Red Hair

2011-05-26T22:07:00.003-04:00

Yep, I now have red hair.
And I LOVE it!

‎"The second half of my life will be water
over the cracked floor of these desert years.
I will land on my feet this time,
knowing at least two languages
and who my friends are.
I will dress for the occasion,
...and my hair shall be whatever color I please."

~Joyce Sutphen

Wishcasting Wednesday

2011-05-25T11:14:00.006-04:00

I thought I'd been handling it pretty well.
But, this morning...
with no warning, the tears started rolling.
I just want to crawl back into bed
and stay there for a few days.

Then I happened to stop by Jamie Ridler's blog,
and read her Wish Casting Wednesday post.
What Do You Wish For Your Health

Oh, I have lots of wishes in that department right now.

Monday was another trip to the Cleveland Clinic.
Finally, we have a fantastic doctor!
His verdict is that I have a form of Dysautonomia
called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (or POTS... likely brought on by the botched surgery and massive hemorrhage last Fall).
For now, I fall into the 'severe' category, having extreme 'episodes' that are almost seizure like.
And there is the added bonus of my heart
occasionally bursting into it's own tap dance
(PVC's, PAC's, and the random run of V-tach).
Yayyy me!

Friday, I will be going back again for another round of tests.
These will help determine a personalized treatment plan for me.
In the meantime, I'm rigged up to a monitor 24/7 for the next 30 days.
And 48+ hours into wearing the thing - I'm ready to rip it off and stomp on it.

Aaahhh, where is my gratitude.

But back to wishing....
*I wish to just be healthy again.
*I wish for an effective treatment plan.
*I wish for the grace and serenity to manage all of this well.
*I wish to improve my ability to care for my body.
*I wish for wellness and balance.

And I resolve to not only have a wishbone, but also a backbone.
I'm wishing, I'm praying... but I'm willing to do my part too.

Running Away From Home

2011-05-22T12:24:00.004-04:00

My Mountain Man and I ran away from home,
for a little while.
The cost of fuel makes it difficult to go very far...
but like two kids with bindle sticks on our shoulders
the point wasn't to go far... the point was to go away.

And that is how we found ourselves on the shores of Lake Erie,
wrapped up in a blanket of fog.
And it was the crazy, happily-drunken Canadians
who told us where to look for the beach glass... aye.

This is how I discovered that
hunting for beach glass is one of
the most effective forms of therapy
that I have ever encountered.
And I highly recommend doing it
on a warmish day,
while cloaked in heavy fog.

The waves tumble in
and offer up their treasures.
Bits of brokeness,
dragged down into the depths,
worn and weathered,
finally to emerge...
transformed.

It takes some looking.
But amidst all the rather ordinary rocks
you'll find these bits of beauty.

When the mist rolls in on the waves,
it brings other gifts as well.
This day, it brought me
two more members of my clan.
One at a time, like ghosts,
they emerged from the haze
and sat down with me in the sand.
No introductions needed.
Their manner was familiar...
Two women comfortable in each other's company.

Beach glass hunters are a certain breed.
And like everywhere else,
artsists and adventurers tend to gravitate
toward one another.

Finally, tired and windblown,
with all sorts of treasures,
we moved on.

My Mountain Man found a campsite,
and in true Mountain Man style
set about making it properly inhabitable
(think Paul Bunyan),
for me, his fairy princess.
Nevermind that I once hiked and camped
for weeks on end, truly roughing it.
(My Mountain Man takes good care of me.)
And so we fell asleep next to a crackling fire,
wrapped up in each other's arms.

Crickets and frogs compose the best lullabies.

If I Were More Spiritually Evolved...

2011-05-15T11:34:00.005-04:00

If I was a more spiritually evolved person,
I'd probably keep my mouth shut more.
But I'm not.
And I don't.

These days, I do voice my opinions less about what others should or shouldn't do...
but that is probably because I have less opinions about what they should or shouldn't do.
None of my business.

But when it involves me,
I have a voice.
I've learned to use it.
(My best friend says we'll work on Tact and Patience later.)

In one of my last posts I ranted about my ex and his wife.
I ranted about their continued involvement with my friends and family.
I ranted about people's acceptance of them and condemnation of me.
Usually, writing about something is a key step in the process of letting go.
But it wasn't enough this time.
So I voiced it.

I told them.
I told him, and her too.
My voice may have shaken a bit,
but I was very in control of myself.

I told him my life was a million times better now,
but an added bonus would be if he went ahead and moved on.
I told her she was just a bitch and that was all.
(If I were more spiritually evolved I probably wouldn't have used the "b" word.)
I told my family that I was hurt and betrayed by their actions.
And when I heard the "Well, you were the one..." lines I managed them.

Yes, I was the one who __________.
I own my actions.
But I refuse to own the fault, blame, or judgement for anything other than what is mine.
I'm done carrying the full responsibility for this situation.

And do you know what I learned???
I learned that I did all of this for myself.
I didn't say it with any expectations of changing them or the situation,
I said it so that I, myself, would not be changed.
And that is where the relief came from.
They will continue to do whatever it is that they do.
But now I can let go again.

Because I did what I needed to do to take care of myself.
Now the chips can fall where they may.

Hope

2011-05-09T08:49:00.001-04:00

she floated there
amidst an ocean of lies
watching the ships go by.
anchored feet,
open heart,
awaiting the turning tide.

Combined Creativity

2011-05-08T20:14:00.001-04:00

The latest result of My Mountain Man and I's combined creativity.
And I'm pretty freakin' excited about it.

Bizarre Issue

2011-05-07T13:17:00.009-04:00

There is one bizarre issue that seems to keep cropping up in my life.
Every time I think I'm done with it - there it is again.

A little history to fill you in:
Too young, I was once married to another guy.
If you've read much of this blog,
you'll know that it turned into an abusive situation.
But here is the other fun part...
there was a neighbor girl who became a friend of mine.
We went shopping together, swimming in the summer,
and when her cat was hit on the road
I scraped it up with a shovel so she wouldn't find it.
The two of them became friends too...
such good friends, in fact,
that when he was angry with me for not having dinner ready on time,
he went outside to be with her for awhile...
and she started wearing that string bikini a lot.

The really strange part, that I've never figured out,
is that I was forbidden to wear certain clothes (or I looked like a whore),
make-up (still a whore), couldn't cut my hair (yep, you guessed it - whore),
and wasn't allowed to have a television in the house, etc.
But she trotted around in barely there scraps of fabric, various hairstyles,
and he went over to her place to watch his favorite shows.

Now, I was a pretty big mess during that time of my life.
I am completely willing to own my personal mistakes.
In fact, I've openly shared most of them here.
But what he did was wrong. Period.
No woman deserves to be treated the way I was.

Eventually, I came home unexpectedly, and...
of course - found them together.
So, genius that I was, I had a fling of my own.
And at about the same time, I discovered I was pregnant.
The baby was my ex's. No doubts there.
But it was more convenient for him to say it wasn't.
And when I miscarried and lost the baby,
I was more alone than ever.
I was such a mess that some folks told me
it was God's way of saying I wasn't fit to be a mother.

After much too long, I left... for good.
And, as folks tend to do, people took sides.
My own family sided against me.
They knew little about his trysts with the neighbor girl.
And he'd gone to them crying about how he wanted our relationship to be better.
So I looked like Judas.
And he was the saintly martyr.

Fast forward to recent years...
It finally became obvious that he'd had an affair with the girl.
Not long after our divorce was final, he married her.
And some of my family members attended the wedding.

Now there is the part that I'm having trouble with.
The rest of it - good riddance!
My life is a million times better now.
But the fact that friends and family still have anything to do with this guy,
and his little bitch of a wife - I have an issue with it.
And later, when I married My Mountain Man - I lost count of the people who were boycotting our wedding due to their religious convictions (because I was divorced).
Great, huh! I could make a movie with this stuff.

Of course, I'm not sure why I'm surprised.
I was thrown under the bus from the beginning.
But I guess I just always figured that when the truth came out,
they would move away from him and support ME.
This is the guy that broke my arm, cheated on me, and made my life a general hell for several years.

It gets better.
Recently, my ex and his lil' bitch had their first baby.
And quite a few friends & family members were just full of back-slapping congratulations.
Heck, they even attended the baby shower, were invited to the hospital, etc, etc.
(This is where I just want to start typing obscenities)
Where were these people when he got me pregnant?

The saying goes that blood is thicker than water...
but I've lost any belief in that.
I think there is another saying about not being able to get blood out of a turnip too.

There is more...
Soooooooo much more.
This barely even scrapes the surface of everything that has happened.
I've held my peace... for the most part.
On occasion, I've run into them around town, and no one was injured or maimed.
This alone proves that there is a God.

I don't want to hang on to bitterness.
I live every day of my life with gratitude.
But sometimes it is very difficult for me not to share some opinions...
directly into the face of a few people, at a volume they couldn't miss.

He wanted rid of me - so GO.
Go find your own friends and family.
She... well, she's just a bitch and not worthy of my consideration.
And my "friends and family"...
seriously people! Look at the situation!!!
Can anyone honestly be under the illusion that this is just fine???

But on the other hand - I get it.
Some folks take every chance possible to rub my nose in it all...
because I'm the one who left.
According to them, it was obviously all my fault,
and I don't have any room to point fingers.

So once again,
all I can do is shrug and walk away.
I have a friend in Detroit who'd sum it up with "Fuck 'em".
But I'm still hurt.
I'm still angry.
And if I knew how not to be - trust me, I would!!!!

This concludes my unedited rant for the day.

Lazy Saturdays

2011-05-07T12:08:00.001-04:00

I love lazy Saturday mornings...

(a Mountain Man & a Tiny Terror)

Gratitude for Now

2011-05-06T09:53:00.003-04:00

This morning,
I saw one of the faces from my past.
I looked.
I wondered.
There was a quick twist in my gut
as I remembered some of those things.
And then there was gratitude.
Quiet, simple gratitude.
Life,
for me,
has worked out the way it was meant to.
"Then" doesn't matter much anymore.
This is now.
I've been given love.
I've been given life.
I've gained awareness.
And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

The Righteously Angry Elephant

2011-05-03T10:13:00.008-04:00

With my entire family being part of the religion I left,
I still have a lot of opportunity to observe the "goings-on" within the group.
I watch, and I ponder the things I grew up with...
and I'm working on putting it all into perspective.

It isn't just them...
I've seen stuff within other groups as well.
But I speak of the ones I know best.

AWM* is a religious group that doesn't believe in anger, but still seems to contain an enormous amount of it.
And so it is given a fancy title that makes it okay:
"Righteous Anger".
It means being upset over something that God would be upset over.
And I should point out that, according to them,
God is infuriated about a lot of stuff.

I guess if you believe God is fuming,
then you, as a true follower, should be fuming too.

But I watch the results of this "righteous anger",
and from where I stand, it looks as though it has gone beyond being mad
and occasionally slipped into being downright vicious.
(I've had the honor of being on the receiving end at times.)
Maybe a better term would be "Righteous Hatred"...
in which case, the Righteous part becomes a moot point... doesn't it?

On a side note -in the last two days I've watched many christians spew their hatred in regards to Bin Laden.
So many are dancing at the news of his death.
Are we condemning the hatred of others,
while we revel in our own?
I do feel some sense of relief that he was killed,
and I believe it was an act of justice.
But rejoicing over any death seems wrong to me.

It is really scary when people use God to defend their hatred (be they christian or muslim or whatever).
And it is scarier still, when they cover it up and try to call it something else.

As I consider all of this,
I have to examine my own actions as well.
Am I acting in anger towards this particular religious group? (the one I refer to as AWM)
The answer is - Yes... sometimes.
I do still have some anger about everything I've been through on their account.
But I call it what it is.
I accept it and am working through it.
It will not last forever.
In saying all of this...
well, I guess I'm just pointing out the elephant in the room.
And if no one else is willing to see it,
at least I've identified it for myself.

Because it's there...
a big, righteously angry elephant.

*** "AWM" is an abbreviation I use for the name of the particular religious sect I was raised in.
I do not use their entire name in my writing. I guess I'm attempting to show some sort of respect and protect my family's privacy. And even if I told you the name, it's so small - you wouldn't have heard of it anyhow.

Easter

2011-04-24T19:39:00.002-04:00

We didn't attend any Easter church services.
In fact, it has been several months since I've attended church at all.
Unless you count the occasional trips I've made across the street to the Catholic church.

There, my prayers take the form of soft candle glow
and slanted light through stained glass.
The liturgy is in the silence of this sanctuary.

I'm not Catholic...
I'm not anything really.
But I appreciate churches.
Lately, I just savor them more when they are empty.

For years, I was required to attend church.
Twice on Sundays, once on Wednesdays.
There was chapel during school days
and periodic, week long, nightly services.
During certain summer meetings, it was typical to assemble three times a day.

Add it all together, and I bet I'm already well churched.

And the thing is,
I don't feel that any of it brought me closer to God.
In fact, I can see how it drove me further away.
It was all orchestrated to keep us in line...
and after awhile it was all rather numbing.

A plaque now hangs on my living room wall:
"Let us be silent, that we may hear the whisper of God."

The silence...
the mystery
has become my church.
No pulpit pounding preacher required.

So, this holiday was filled with silent spaces.
No crowds or fancy feasts...
Just the simple Easter reminder that "Love Wins"
and I can't think of anything holier than that.

We Have Adventures

2011-04-24T00:02:00.001-04:00

We have adventures together...

Some are simple -
like exploring places others have forgotten

But those everyday kind of adventures are the best!

(photos copyright SKPhotography)

I Miss My Friend

2011-04-23T20:10:00.002-04:00

I've watched one of my closest friendships disentegrate recently.
Why?
There still doesn't seem to be a clear reason...
at least not one I've discovered or been given.

It's been painful.
It's been confusing.

Admittedly, I haven't been very good at relationships.
Those closest to me argue that fact...
but I'm just going on personal history.
I've had more damaging relationships than healthy ones.
I'm getting better at it though...
Becoming healthier myself seems to have helped.

But this time, all my best efforts have been useless.
It's just one of those things that won't be fixed.
Maybe because I was the only one trying to fix it.
(Trying to fix something when you don't know what is broken is just exhausting.)
But now the friendship really IS over.
Because I'm done.

After the door is slammed in my face enough times,
I'll quit knocking.

It's tough though.
I never dreamed things would end this way.
We walked through hell together.
I felt safe with her....
She brought a lot of good into my life,
and I'll always be grateful.

There is no closure
other than knowing that
somehow,
somewhere,
she changed.
Everything about it feels wrong.
But I'm finally letting go.

I miss my friend.

Does This Cow Make My Husband Look Big?

2011-04-16T09:41:00.015-04:00

When most folks stand next to a cow,
they tend to look a bit smaller...

unless it's my Mountain Man,
and then its the cow that looks smaller.

Spring

2011-04-13T23:07:00.015-04:00

"No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn."

~quote by Hal Borland

My camera and I are enjoying Spring... finally!
(Photos Copyright SKPhotography)

Silence Has Benefited No One

2011-04-12T13:38:00.007-04:00

My last two posts have been about my upbringing...
the religion that my Mountain Man and I were raised in - and left.
I also added a copy of the last post to my Facebook page.
The response has been interesting to say the least.

Those still involved with the religion lash out.
That bit comes as no surprise.
But those who, like us, have left
have been responding as well.
And it's all started the wheels turning in my mind.

For the most part, I've stayed quiet about the religion.
Oh... okay. That isn't entirely true.
To the best of my ability I've stayed quiet.
But I'm not very good at 'quiet' - I tend to speak my mind.
On this topic though, I've truly endeavored to be careful.
And now I'm examining my reasons.

You see, those of us who grew up in this religion (AWM),
those of us who have left...
we are left with a sense of shame;
a sense of wrong-doing.
And so we tend to go quietly,
and we try to live our lives quietly,
under the radar.
Because all those folks we've known
for our entire lives...
they now consider us sell-outs.
We have been singled out as the bad guys.
And because we truly do not want to hurt anyone -
we quietly weather the deluge.

But what about our hurt?
Don't we have the right to give voice to that?
Despite the accusations, we haven't done anything wrong.
In fact, we've made the hardest decision possible.
We left.
Everything that was familiar and known.
We traded it in for the uncertain and unknown.
Why?
Because we had to do what we believed was right.

Not too long ago, one of my brothers asked why I wouldn't go back to AWM.
Why couldn't I return, for the sake of my family?
I tried to explain that to go back, for me, would actually be what they consider sin.
It would be dishonest.
As much as I respect their beliefs, I cannot believe the way that they do.
To go back would be to live a lie.
Nothing good could ever come of it.

I know my heart.
I know my intentions.
I know I did the right thing.

So I will write about it.
I will tell this part of my story.
And it will be slightly slanted because it is only one, individual perspective.
But I will not write with malicious intent... I have none.

Silence has benefited no one.
And so...
I will no longer stay silent.
The walking-on-eggshells routine has become tiresome.
I have some things to say........

(In answer to some questions: "AWM" is just an abbreviation I use for the name of that particular religious sect. I haven't used their actual name... I guess it's my attempt to show some sort of respect and protect my family's privacy. Although, it's so small - you wouldn't have heard of it anyhow.)

Wooden Benches & Rigid Words

2011-04-08T15:24:00.005-04:00

They called it an "old-fashioned religion",
but old or new,
it was all I'd ever know.
Wooden benches and rigid words.
Several fenced acres on a hill top.
Three times a day we gathered
and the preacher ranted and raved,
frothing at the mouth about heaven and hell...
mostly about hell.
"Be in the world, but not of the world."
But they'd created a world of their own,
defined more by what they didn't do,
than by what it was they did.
God was a mystery then...
a bipolar being with a pretty short fuse.
And I'd often find myself kneeling
at the altar lined front of the tabernacle
driven by terror,
bargaining for my well-being,
and never having a clue of what it all meant.
Together they'd all sing,
"the Old-Fashioned Way is good enough for me"
And old or new,
it was all I'd ever known.

They still gather there.
Wooden benches and rigid words.
Several fenced acres on a hill top.
I'm the outsider now.
But God is still a mystery...
the kind to be savored and explored.
No more bargaining for my well-being.

It was all I'd ever known,
but there was so much more to find and fathom.

Unacceptable

2011-04-06T13:08:00.009-04:00

Having grown up in a very small, closed, legalistic, controlled religion, I learned about conditions from day one.
Whether God would accept you was based on certain conditions.
Whether the church would accept you was based on certain conditions.
Even whether my family would accept me was based on certain conditions.

The tricky part about these conditions was that it all came down to who you were.
And who I was, was never quite enough...
for God (or so I was told),
for the church,
for my family.
I couldn't quite meet up to the list of pre-requisites.
And so, I was not worthy.
I was unacceptable.

And if who you are is not enough, what is left?
Worthiness must be based on what I did.
And so I lived out a list of what would make me acceptable to them:
If I wore the appropriate clothing dictated by the religion, I'd be acceptable.
If I prayed for a certain period of time every day, I'd be acceptable.
If I was sinless, I'd be acceptable.
If I got good enough grades, I'd be acceptable.
If I was strong enough and tough enough, I'd be acceptable.
If I married someone they approved of, I'd be acceptable.
If I made enough money, I'd be acceptable.

And it all fell apart.

I never dressed right.
I never prayed enough.
I felt a sin comin' on every other minute.
I barely got by in school.
I have weaknesses.
I was divorced.
I never made enough money.
Etc, etc, etc.

And somewhere in the middle of it all,
I had created a list that wasn't just for them.
Now, not only was I a disappointment to them,
but I was a disappointment to me.

God couldn't accept me.
The church couldn't accept me.
My family couldn't accept me.
And I couldn't accept me.

Is it really any wonder that my life was hurtling head-long into a mess of drugs, depression, spiritual death, and devastation?

But somewhere in that mess, there were messengers.
They were the folks who finally told me that there were no pre-requisites.
One woman preached it daily, "you are a woman of worth and value."
Another told me that God accepted me wherever I was, however I was.
These messengers loved me clean, dirty, rich, poor, smart, or stupid.
They didn't put up with my sh*t, but they loved me unconditionally.

Since then, a funny thing has been happening.
I've started living like I'm a woman of worth and value.
I've come to know a God of unconditional Love.
The list is no longer useful.
But every now and then I still find it in my pocket again.

"I'd be a better person if I didn't have a belly."

"I'd be a better person if my house was spotless."

"I'd be a better person if _____________"

And then I remember that my my lovability
is not based on belly-fat.
I remember that who I am
has nothing to do with the conditions around me.

I am a woman of worth and value.
No pre-requisites required.

It Seems Fitting

2011-03-31T08:52:00.002-04:00

Foggy Morning 3/31/11

(Photo Copyright SKPhotography)

More Tests. More Tears

2011-03-28T19:29:00.012-04:00

More tests.
More waiting.

I'm realizing my resistance to all of this.
I don't want this to be happening.
These are not the changes I want for my life.
I don't want to be held hostage by my own body.

I've heard that some folks believe an agreement was made with God.
Sometime before birth... they and their Creator struck a deal on what would transpire in their lives.
If life is the classroom, these would be the lessons.

I'm not sure I can buy into the entire concept.
But some part of it resonates.
If life is the classroom, then these would be the lessons.

After this long day,
my Mountain Man and I found our way into another little chapel.
Side by side we lit two more candles.
Two more flickering prayers.
One saying "Please", the other saying "Thank You".
And I wonder if this must be Faith.

And while I wade through my Resistance...
while I fumble my way into Acceptance,
I find myself also praying "Thy will be done".
And I wonder if this must be Willingness.
If life is the classroom, and these are the lessons...
maybe some of it is sinking in.
And despite my tears, my resistance dwindles a bit.

These are not the changes I want for my life.
But the changes that are happening within my self...
those are beyond value.
And I wonder if this must be Grace.

Beyond

2011-03-23T12:35:00.002-04:00

Over several years, my life has drastically changed.
I've changed drastically.
These days, I live very much in the present.
But every now and then, there are folks who still drag up the past.
Maybe, by now, I should just expect it.
But I still find myself baffled by some of it.

I'm not that person anymore.
What happened then, has little, if any, relevance to what is happening now.
But some folks see the change, and others turn a willfully blind eye.

And now I'm beginning to wonder...
the folks who are still wallowing in what was -
what positive influence do they actually have in my life today?

How much more energy do I need to expend
in an effort to show them who I really am?
Because if they haven't seen it by now,
are they ever really going to?
And how much do I really owe them anyhow?
I believe I've payed my dues.
My amends were made.

I'm at a place now
where I'm beginning to let go of the excess baggage...
those things that add weight and negativity.
I'm ready to go beyond.

I Have...

2011-03-15T20:04:00.003-04:00

A collaged Journal cover I finished recently.

I cut the words out of an antique book

and piece together my own phrases...

love how this one turned out.

(photo copyright SKPhotography)

Article About Domestic Abuse

2011-03-13T15:41:00.001-04:00

Sitting in a waiting room the other day, I picked up a magazine to read.
What caught my attention was an article by a woman survivor of domestic abuse.
She wrote about the all reasons she had stayed with her violent husband for so long... and what finally prompted her to leave. I didn't have time to finish reading the entire article... but what I did read has been rolling around in my mind.

I identified with so much of what this woman wrote.
Like her, I once stayed in a violent marriage far too long.

As a girl growing up in a very closed, legalistic religion, there weren't many options available.
The religion is male dominated. Women stay home, cook, garden, sew, and have babies.
Education was through a small private academy. And college was completely out of the question for the women. Well... unless you wanted to attend their equally private college, where you (a woman) could either study music, or maybe how to be a sunday school teacher (but only within the same religion).
A girl's ticket to leave home, was marriage. Most are married by 18 or 19... maybe 20. Stay single until you're 21, and you're practically an old maid.

I wanted out, and so I was one of those who married far too young, for all the wrong reasons.
In hindsight, I can now see it more clearly. But then, I was simply on autopilot... not knowing why or what I was doing.
That marriage was miserable. I was miserable. I'm pretty sure he was miserable too.
He played the abuser. I played the victim. And we both played our parts quite well.
He was part of the same religion, and he expected me to continue to follow it. But I'd had my fill.
When he refused to let me leave the house because I had jeans on, physcially forcing me to stay, I knew I was in trouble. (Women in that religion must wear long skirts, etc)
No television. No newspaper. Bruises to cover. A fractured arm to explain. Basically required to be his maid. My isolation grew.
But I stayed. For 3 years. Oh, I left a few times. And then went back.

In the magazine article, the author described overhearing her abusive husband crying and sobbing to another family member. He expressed his deep love for her, and confusion over why she was not as invested in their relationship as he was. And this woman listened and thought his tears were proof of his love for her. She bought into the delusion that she was the one at fault. And that her own tears had run out long ago, must certainly be the evidence.

Reading this, I caught myself nodding in understanding.
Yep! Been there.
My ex would go to my family members and cry. He won their sympathy. After all, I was the one who wanted to leave... and he, in their eyes, obviously just wanted to improve our relationship.
It all worked out so well for him that when he finally broke one of my bones, they even agreed that it must have somehow been my own fault. Or maybe I was just looking for attention....

Like the woman in the article, I didn't know yet that I deserved better.

So why bring all of this up now?
Simply because the article reminded me of the reasons I stayed... and some of the lessons I've learned as a result.

I stayed because I was afraid to leave.
Keep an animal in a cage for long enough, and eventually it becomes their comfort zone. Open the door, and they are afraid to pass through it.
I was the caged animal.
It was easier to stick with the familiar, than risk the unknown. And having grown up in such isolated, religious restraints, the big, wide world was even scarier.

Now, all these years later, I've become the woman who will not 'settle for'. I've learned that risk is part of freedom, and it makes it all the sweeter.

I took the blame for a lot of things in those days too. Lately, I'm learning how to only own what is mine

Another one of my gifts from that situation is that I've developed a "show me" attitude.
I remember hearing all the right words... but the things he said and the things he did were very different. Words are cheap and easy. I don't place much stock in them anymore.
Anyone can tell you what you want to hear. But if their words aren't backed by authentic actions - time to hit the road.

I hold a place in my heart for women who are in abusive relationships.
And I honor the women who have left and carry with them the lessons.

(Read more about when I chose to leave: Blue Slippers )

10th Life Celebration Day

2011-03-10T09:01:00.004-05:00

1/18/80 - 3/10/01

These were the dates that

I meant to have inscribed on my tombstone.

At twenty-one, I had seen enough.

I was the drowning person,

who instead of thrashing against the water

just gives up and slides into it's black depths.

Ten years ago.

My first dance with death.

I went back and read The Letter

that I wrote to my younger self about this day.

It says it best.

Hope really was waiting in the most unexpected places.

Today, I celebrate Hope... and Life.

Here's to lots more of both.

Married

2011-03-09T08:43:00.003-05:00

He is my soulmate.
I am blessed...
immensely blessed.

In 7 months of marriage we have faced a lot.
And in only 7 months of marriage,
we are stronger than most couples will ever be.
I hold our relationship with a sort of reverence.
I am amazed by us.

But every now and then someone mentions
"You were married before, weren't you?"

And my memory searches...
looking for those landmarks
to remember by.

~~~~~~

What comes to mind are childhood days,
playing in the creek and creating mud & clay masterpieces.
I dried them in the sun and displayed them proudly for all to see.
Vases, bowls.... the best I'd ever seen.

And then my mind drifts to different days.
Grown up and traveling the world...
Ireland.
Discovering the magic and miracle of Waterford Crystal.
Now those are masterpieces.
Vases, bowls.... the best I've ever seen.
And I smile at the thought of my childish works of art.

~~~~~~~~~

Yes, I guess you could say I was married before.
I mean, legally it was a marriage.
But in every other way, it was rather like my childish mud and clay masterpieces.
The best that was possible then.

Then I grew up and traveled the world...
creating myself.
And now I've discovered the magic and miracle of a real marriage.
Two whole individuals, coming together as one... the best I've ever seen.
And I smile at the thought that I was ever married before.

He is my soulmate...
this Mountain Man of mine.
I am blessed...
immensely blessed.

Body & Self

2011-03-07T17:50:00.003-05:00

Something is not right within my body...
some malfunction beyond my control.
I wait in the shadow of this worry,
wondering when the monster will strike again.

This journey is not one I would have chosen.
I feel as though taken along as hostage.
It is the ultimate feeling of helplessness...
body and self at odds.
They are not the same.
At the best of times they work together,
at the worst, in opposition.

Their friendship is in need of mending.

Weaving

2011-03-06T19:50:00.008-05:00

Some things simply flow together...
fitting in a way that just seems right.

For some time now, I've been pouring out various thoughts here,
calling it A Rewoven Life.

And now I've actually learned to weave.
It's fitting.
And it is almost like an active form of meditation for me.

My blog title was inspired from the writing of Joan Anderson.
In 'A Year By The Sea' she mentions weaving, and what it taught her...
and it was from her words that the idea was born.

Soon I had my own description:
"Every experience adds a new thread, a new color,
a new stage to this tapestry of my life.
As I work the threads, I gain new perspective.
The tug and pull; the challenges, shape the fabric.
What was once unraveled, is now being rewoven.
The past and present flow together into the design.
The loom never stops.
The process continues..."

Now, I am working the threads literally as well as metaphorically...
and it adds a whole new dimension.
I find myself adding my own hope and healing into what I weave.
I tear strips of recycled cloth and turn the tatters into something beautiful.
The analogy could not be more poignant for me.
And I insist on color.

Several of the scarves I've made have already been snatched up.
But a couple are still available on my Etsy shop, Wildly Whimsical
and I'll be adding more as I make them.

Weaving has become another form of creativity
in which I am finding my healing.

It's fitting.

The Rest Can Wait

2011-03-04T20:44:00.002-05:00

I'm re-evaluating.
I'm looking for the balance.
I'm searching for the positive.
I'm letting go of the negative.

Physically, the wheels fell off.
Several systems, collapsing all at once.
Hospitals and helplessness.
And the fear that I have encountered has shaken me to my core.
The recovery from my recent illness/surgery/hemorrhage was not complete.
That entire experience took it's toll on my heart.
And finally, it stumbled and fell under the weight.
It has suffered damage that I will forever carry as a reminder.

Too much.
Time to find my Center again.
Slow down... long term... go back to the Source.
Health... of mind, soul, and body.
Savoring my marriage... as it grows stronger every day.

The rest can wait.
If it is still important... I'll get around to it... later

I Hope You Know

2011-02-18T09:01:00.007-05:00

I thought of you today.
You're still missed.
You're still loved.
Eight years later, I still carry you with me.
Wherever you are, I hope you know.

I walked outside into the morning,
felt the breeze,
and thought of you.

The sun has payed a visit.
Finally, some warmth after too much cold.
And in my little garden, some optimism is sprouting.
Tiny daffodils are peeping out.
They were carefully tucked away during the winter,
cozy under a cover of leaves.
Now, they've grown right through their hiding place.
Too soon though.

More wintertime is coming.

But somehow I think they know.
Its not their time yet.
This is just the breath before another dive...
an inhale of what is to come.

Once again
they'll wait.

But Spring is inevitable.

I looked at them, and remembered you.

Your winter was too cold.
Your soul, too long without the sun.
And my heart aches...
full of the agonizing want
to share the Hope of Spring with you.
I'm sorry the suicidal winter took you.

You're still missed.
You're still loved.

I thought of you today.

Wherever you are,
I hope you know.

Mountain Man Photos

2011-02-16T11:23:00.001-05:00

My Mountain Man hubby
He's my favorite person to photograph!!!

The Wind

2011-02-13T23:16:00.001-05:00

the wind is tapping
urgently
at the window panes
I suspect she is trying
to tell me something
rushing and roaring
wringing her hands
and rattling the trees

we've been friends
for years
the wind and I

She put me to sleep
when I was a child
whispering
at my window
an old, creaking farmhouse
and a lullaby breeze

but tonight she is troubled
and I fall asleep wondering
what would worry the wind?

The Maybe's

2011-01-31T10:14:00.004-05:00

maybe it's hormones

maybe it's winter

maybe it's me

maybe it's because I still feel off-balance

maybe it's because I'm asking the wrong questions

maybe it's because there are no easy answers

maybe it's because I'm adjusting

maybe it's because I'm learning

maybe it's because my heart hurts so much

maybe I don't need to hurt so much

maybe the hurt is the healthiest response

maybe I'm screwed up

maybe I'm not

maybe I just don't understand

maybe it just is... and there is no because

maybe there is no fault

maybe I don't have to define it

maybe I can just let it be

maybe I can sit with these feelings and not suffocate

maybe I can feel what I feel without drowning

maybe I can allow confusion

maybe acceptance will make it okay

maybe I don't have to be okay for today

maybe I'll just come back out tomorrow and try again

Threshold

2011-01-28T00:02:00.001-05:00

There is a hovering point on the threshold of life and death....
or, at least, that was my experience.
A gradual separation occurs between mind and body.
Physical senses are altered, while the spirit becomes acutely aware.
This could be it.
What is "it"?
Like water crashing over a great fall, I was swept along...
free-falling out into nothing.

My body was losing the fight,
and a distinctive self emerged.
This self fought the fading.
It was not a struggle based on fear or dread.
There was, rather, the sense of unfinished business... similar to that tug at the back of your mind, reminding you to remember something you nearly forgot.

In that moment....
at the tipping point,
this Inner Me turned to God, as though he were standing at my right elbow.
It was a strangely casual glance.
"Hey God... just in case... I mean, you know I might be on my way out...
Are we good?"
And then it seemed a silly question.
Of course we're good.
The answer was the sense of peace within me.
Simple as that.

My focus shifted to my husband.
We'd barely been married for 3 months.
My vision was constricted by a black tunnel... but I saw his eyes, begging me.
Stay.
Despite the team of medical personnel working on me,
he was the only one I saw.
And somewhere in the midst of bleeding and drowning in my own blood,
I told him "I'm not going anywhere."

Though having been swept along in the current,
with those words something caught hold,
and held.

My body began the journey back.
The Other part of me... had never left.

Outspoken

2011-01-27T11:50:00.003-05:00

I'm outspoken.
I'm very direct.

I say who I am.
I say what I mean.
I mean what I say.
It saves the time and energy that are so often wasted on games.
If there is an elephant in the room, I'll likely be the one to point it out.
And there is a certain freedom in that.

However, there are many social graces that I lack.
Directness can be mistaken for aggressiveness.
Observations can be mistaken for judgements.
So, while I'll never be Mother Theresa, I'm endeavoring to learn more gentleness.

I care... deeply.
I just happen to be one of those who expresses that care by directly addressing what matters.

"I have come to believe over and over again, that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood."

~unknown

So... yeah, I'm outspoken.

Snow Dance

2011-01-23T22:40:00.002-05:00

Mmmm-hhmmmm!

Snow Dance!!!

in -1° F (-18° C) weather

.....because I'm crazy like that!

On Losing A Friend

2011-01-23T11:36:00.006-05:00

My writing ability was MIA for awhile.

Several relationships became simultaneously complicated.
And as my energy has been focused in that area, I've become a bit quieter.
It began with a dysfunctional family member who blatantly tried to come between my Mountain Man and I... boundaries had to be set and enforced.

At the same time a valued friendship is deteriorating and fading... it is difficult to accept.
My circle of friends is small, but intimate. And losing someone who has meant so much to me is painful. But it has become apparent that this person is moving in a different direction in life.
The only thing left to do is let go.
Letting Go sounds so serene and benevolent.
But when I attempt it, things become infinitely more messy.
Typically, by the time I've released my grip, I've left my claw marks all over the thing.
I tend to want to fight, and keep, and control, and fix, and force, and then some.
Acceptance, grace, release, and foregoing satisfaction don't come easy to me.
So life keeps giving me opportunities to practice..... for which I am alternately pissed off and grateful.

Recovery principles have taught me to keep my side of the street clear. And sweeping my crap onto the other person's side doesn't count.
I hate that there are parts of this mess that I can't clean up.
But these relationship snags have been a reminder to take a look in the mirror and change the only person I can.
Me.

And who knows.... maybe, someday, things will come back around.

To Create.

2011-01-11T13:28:00.005-05:00

Sometimes when I hear my words to others, I realize that I'm actually explaining something to myself.
And a conversation with my Mountain Man, about my Word for 2011 - "Create" - made me realize some of the reasons I chose that word.

My counselor once made a certain statement, maybe a question, that stuck with me.
"You're getting ready, aren't you!?"
At the time, it scared the bejeebers out of me.
Ready for what?
We all know that the fear of the unknown is the greatest.

At first, I felt resistance to the thought of "getting ready".
Now, looking back, I can see where the change began to take place.
Things shifted when I quit resisting.
I became willing to accept the unknown.
In fact, there is a lot of freedom to be found in allowing "I don't know."

For me, part of the definition of Create is openness and acceptance.
My Creativity was stunted for years because of my obsession with labeling my artwork as "good" or "bad. That mentality will ruin any artist.
Now, I realize Creativity is a willingness to think outside the box.
It is an act of allowing things to become what they will... getting out of my own way.

Most of the messes I've made in my life were due to a white-knuckled attempt to control.
But to truly Create, I must quit wasting my energy by attempting to force a particular outcome.
When I give up my desire for perfect, I find my way into fantastic.

To Create is to be ready for the unknown.... willing to discover.
I don't think of it as an "act of doing".
I consider it "actively being" .

And now that the resistance is removed, there is much more room for whatever will become.

By My Side

2011-01-06T12:49:00.001-05:00

"Sleepy time, and I lie

With love by my side."

~Pink Floyd lyrics

(The Tiny Terrors)

January Child

2011-01-05T09:55:00.004-05:00

I was born in Winter...
amidst cold winds and bitter snows.
a January child who didn't belong,
but a child who carried a secret within.

the same secret the trees whisper...

all through the frozen season
they whisper it.
and I listened to their sighs and knew.
from their roots I heard it's sound...

without comprehending,
I knew...
something Else is coming.
winter wasn't my season.

I was born in Winter.
and I found myself in Spring.
decades of icy numbness
melting at the edges...
a new season.

it was a time of
raw earth and messy mud.
testing my truth
in the light of day.

the secret began to sprout.

I was born in Winter
a January child
who came alive
at the first hints of Summer.

it was the secret that the trees whisper...

all through the frozen season they'd whispered it
my sighs, now added to theirs
the secret still growing within me

something Else is coming
winter wasn't my season

"Send"

2011-01-01T19:30:00.006-05:00

One year ago, on January 1st, a simple note changed my life.

I was snooping around on Facebook, when a suggestion popped up.
It was one of those "you-might-know-this-person" sort of things.
The website was suggesting that I become "Friends" with a guy I had gone to school with in 3rd and 4th grade: Ken!
We had both attended the same, small, private religious school... and I remember having liked him all those years ago.

(yeah, I'm the one with the long pigtails)

When I was 10, Ken moved away with his family... far away.
For the next 20 years, I never really knew what had happened to him.
Then, suddenly, Facebook found him for me.
I typed out that first note as fast as I could... something to the effect of "Do you remember me?"
Even if I had been the least bit hesitant (which I wasn't), seeing his photo erased any uncertainty!
What can I say?!? He's very good-looking!
And it didn't take him long to respond.
It turns out, he had a crush on me way back then. It just took him ~~a few~~ 20 years to tell me.

An absolute flurry of communication began.
First there were notes, then there were phone calls... then there were all-night, seven-hour phone calls... and within weeks, there was a plane ticket.

We knew.
I don't know how to explain our knowing.
But we knew.
Spend 5 minutes with us, and you'll know too!
We skipped the part where most folks try to impress each other... we were just 100% authentic.
And when I met him again in the airport, after 20 years apart, I felt like I'd known him forever.
Without saying it, we both left that terminal knowing we would be married.

A week later, we were engaged.
Four months later, we were married.

And today, one year after sending that first little note, I'm spending life with my soul-mate... My Mountain Man!
I'm so very glad I hit that "send" button.

My Word For 2011

2010-12-30T12:59:00.005-05:00

I've discovered that I'm not a "New-Year's-Resolution" kinda girl.

But words.... I LOVE words!!!

Therefore...

my word for 2011 is

"Create"

Do something creative every day.

Continue creating this amazing relationship

with my Mountain Man.

Continue creating this person that I am... that I am becoming.

Create... life!

One day at a time.
One dream at a time.

One goal at a time.

One mistake at a time.

Create!

~~~~~

2010 was the best of years

2010 was the worst of years

2010 was FULL.

And I can't think of anything better.

I can't find any more adequate descriptions.

I can't find any profound thoughts.

I look within and I see more depth,

I see more growth,

but I do not have the words for it.

At least... not yet.

So I will take my time and live into it.

2011 will officially be my year to create more!

And to you, my fellow traveler...

I sincerely wish you a Full New Year.

It may not always be happy or easy,

but I hope you will find and treasure the good.

Frozen Moment

2010-12-27T21:09:00.002-05:00

suspended in a frozen moment

when one story ends

and another quietly begins.

(Photo: Ferns in ice. Copyright SKPhotography)

Worst Case Scenario

2010-12-27T08:19:00.003-05:00

I've considered what would be my "worst case scenarios" in various aspects of life - the "if-this-happens-I-don't-know-how-to-handle-it" things.
Finances, health problems, relationship complexities, etc.

I guess you could say I've categorized some of my fears.

And it's worked out rather nicely... because now Life... God... (probably both) has been dishing them up and handing 'em to me on a silver platter. One category at a time... and sometimes all at once.

Somewhere, somehow, things have lined up perfectly to present me with a crash course in Facing my Fears.
At first, I didn't see them coming. Now, I'm just beginning to shake my head and meet 'em at the door.
Aahhh shit, this is gonna suck... lets get it over with.

The interesting part is that I'm watching myself deal with things differently.
Oh, I still freak out. I definitely go through the emotional rollercoaster... but I seem to reach acceptance a little sooner than I used to.
Maybe I'm finally beginning to respond more than I react.

And I'm having to re-categorize some fears.
Because once I've already been drug through them, kicking and clawing, they aren't quite as scary the next time around.
Fear of whether or not I'm capable of a solid relationship? Heck, lets just get married and figure it out as we go. (and it turns out to be as hard and as wonderful as I could have imagined)
Near Death Experience? Yup. Been there, done that... the t-shirt was ruined by blood though. (and I lived)
Financial Crisis? Sure, why not. (and Ramen Noodles are cheap)
Etc, etc, etc.

I manage.
I become stronger.

And I fear a little less.

Not A Creature Was Stirring

2010-12-24T19:40:00.004-05:00

Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even a ~~mouse~~ rat.

This is our new baby, Kit Kat Rat, my Mountain Man's Christmas gift.

Okay, so this is probably not at the top of your what-I-want-for-Christmas list, but domestic rats are exceptionally clean, friendly, and smart. They make amazing pets. And our little Kit Kat (a Russian Blue) is full of personality.

Our Christmas Eve is quiet and simple... just like our Christmas will be.

Quiet and simple is perfect for us, full of the little things matter most.

I just wanted to stop in and wish all of you, my bloggie friends, a very Happy Christmas.

Whether you celebrate in a big way, in a simple way, or not at all - I hope this season is magical for you.

Rather than a full Christmas stocking, I wish you a full heart.

Merry Christmas!

Echoes

2010-12-21T12:57:00.000-05:00

There are still echoes of the past
bouncing around the interior of my brain.
It is a sound that settles into a murmur,
and then rebounds with a roar.

Then come the predictable, mental, meteor showers,
raining down bits of fire and memories.
These leave souvenirs of ashes and dust...
reminders of what has fallen apart.

And spring cleaning begins again.

The ghost ships come quietly...
drifting into harbors of thought.
Sometimes I manage to send them back out to sea...
other times I find myself sifting through their cargo.
I unpack the pain... try it on for size...
then attempt to fit it back into the boxes again.

Echoes
Meteor Showers
Ghost Ships

All of these -

Mysteries.

Riddles and risks.

Reminders.

There are still echoes of the past.

Faith

2010-12-17T21:34:00.000-05:00

"Keep your faith in beautiful things;

in the sun when it is hidden,

in the Spring when it is gone."

~Roy Gibson

Destination Unknown

2010-12-15T12:37:00.003-05:00

looked for a map

along the way

but I have to draw my own

no one knows

where I'm going

so they can't pick the road

Hand-made Happiness

2010-12-10T21:05:00.001-05:00

Some part of me is very surprised to find it winter again.

I've been watching the snow fall outside my window as if in a dream.

I take in the sight of my flickering candles and my heart feels warm... even if my feet are still frigid.

Slowly, we are finding our rhythm.... my Mountain Man and I.

Life shifts, and shifts again.

The holidays bring their own special type of happiness and stress.

For the most part, we've skipped out on the frantic festivities.

Simplicity seems essential for now.

(I'm not much of a party person anyhow...

In the past, I've been known to wear a hoodie to a dinner party.

Since then I like to think I've developed more of a sense of style,

but trying to impress folks still isn't very high on my list of priorities.)

My health has not returned completely,

so my days are still slow and typically quiet.

And I'm okay with that.

We've taken the opportunity to explore together... out for short walks.

Even in a small town, there are places we've never visited before.

Our latest discovery was a little thrift shop...

one of those places that just looked like an adventure...

such a mess, but full of possibilities... kind of like us.

There were shelves and shelves of books with that sweet, musty smell.

Nothing could be more calming for me than fingering through the pages of old books.

And titles like "We Too Are Drifting" just make me sigh and daydream.

Christmas is just around the corner - this will be our first together.

And ours is home-made...

the gifts, the tree ornaments, the cards.

Simple.

Pretty.

Personal.

These little things mean the world to me.

Falling Snow.

Flickering Candles.

Ordinary Adventures...

Hand-made Happiness.

Kissed by Light

2010-12-10T20:11:00.002-05:00

"May your winter places

be kissed by light."

~quote by John O'Donohue

Candle Luminary made with Ice and photographed by yours truly.

(Photo Copyright SKPhotography)

The Music Changed

2010-11-28T13:45:00.002-05:00

It's quiet here...
quiet enough to hear my little dog yawn.

My Mountain Man recently began a new job,
and neither of us were quite expecting how it is turning out.
He's working 6 days a week, and between 12 and 15+ hour days... plus holidays.
Time together is very important to us, so this is difficult.

For now, we simply have to manage, and be grateful for the income.
It is a season that neither of us particularly like,
but we adapt, we adjust... we accept.

It seems that very time we think we have the steps figured out, the music changes.
A friend recently told us that is what relationships are - a dance.
Different rhythms at different times.
And he said that even if we managed to just slow dance through life, eventually someone would have to go to the bathroom.

So we keep dancing.
We keep taking care of each other.
And we do our best to take life as it comes... even the appointed potty breaks.

Flickering Prayers

2010-11-20T14:15:00.004-05:00

My days have been
Quiet.
Slow.
Gentle stirring.
Pushing at the edges.
Testing the margins
and then resting.
Waiting
for my body to renew.

My mind is back
but different.
It skitters,
flitting from one thought
to another.
While my body is quiet
my thoughts are fidgety.

I sleep
more than I did before...
before this interlude.
But I dream less.
Or maybe
I just don't remember
if I dream.

Across the street
is a catholic church.
We're not catholic
(My Mountain Man and I)
but we go there,
sometimes,
on quiet afternoons.
Sunlight through stained glass
invites us in.
We each light a candle.
Flickering prayers.
One saying "please".
And the other saying "thank you".

The Way Fear Makes Me Move

2010-11-15T17:27:00.005-05:00

I am not well.
But I am okay.

Life is confusing.

My counselor would say that is good, because confusion signals movement.
But I've already told him that sometimes I question his sanity more than my own.

Movement....

Today I stumbled across a quote: "Move within, but don't move the way fear makes you move." ~Rumi

I think I've been afraid.
I've been resistant.
And I know better.
But I find myself coming back to the same lessons... learning and relearning them at a new level.

After having come so close to death, I feel as though I ought to be having some sort of spiritual epiphany.
Instead, I find myself wondering what rabbit God is going to pull out of the hat next.

Once again, I'm learning the lesson of letting go.
Surrender.
Trust.
Gratitude.

Instinctively, I know that I am on my way back.
Slowly.
Back to what... to where?

Somewhere, at some deep level, I am moving.

And I'm trying really hard to avoid moving in the way that fear makes me move.

Walk Beside Me

2010-11-11T14:25:00.001-05:00

A photo from last Spring, in Montana

(copyright SKPhotography)

Taken Hostage

2010-11-07T12:16:00.007-05:00

My positive attitude seems to have been misplaced.
Right now I utterly hate this whole process.
Within my own body, I feel like a stranger.
I shake constantly... my entire body trembling non-stop.
This general lack of strength is, itself, exhausting.
I can't eat normally, I can't sleep normally - everything is disrupted.

My Mountain Man has been the very definition of patience.
But, for now, I have lost mine.
I feel like this illness has taken us both hostage.
I want to be able to go places with him... do more... be more...
I want my life back.
Please.

I know I need to knock it off.
I need to quit struggling and just be.
I need to be patient and gentle with my body while it heals.
Instead, I feel the strong desire to break shit and throw a tantrum.
Gentleness and patience have never been my strong points... which means this is probably AFGO - Another F---ing Growth Opportunity.

I know, I know... this too shall pass.
But in the meantime, it's beatin' the crap outta me.

(in case you're new to my blog, click here to read what happened.)

Beauty Is Healing

2010-11-03T19:45:00.007-04:00

(photos copyright SKPhotography)

I managed (with my Mountain Man's help) to wander outside my front door yesterday.
The sun on my face has never felt more wonderful.
Autumn is breathing it's last sigh and giving up to Winter. Most of the trees are already bare. One more good wind or rain, and they'll all be naked.
Fall is my favorite. And, sadly, I've missed most of it this year.
But it was good for me to be able to take a few photos during our short walk.
It's amazing how much beauty you can find in just a small area... when you're looking.

Today, I'm barely peeking my head out from under the covers.
My body seems to be following it's own rhythm of ebb and flow.
But I believe that beauty is healing... and I'm surrounded by it.

Not This Time

2010-11-02T09:10:00.004-04:00

I feel like life has been turned upside down.
And... in fact, it has.
But then, I think, when has life ever been predictable?!
I feel powerless.
And... in fact I am.
I do what I can and then try to get out of the way, because the rest isn't up to me.
But some times surrendering is easier than other times.

Physically, my body has been struggling.
Now, my mind has begun struggling.
In every way possible, I feel completely worn out.
I've lost count of how many times in a day I've been dissolving into tears.
I've never cried so easily... so readily... so instantly.
Exhausted.

My personal world has been brought to a standstill.
Yet, all around me, I can see the continued motion of others.

Illness creates its own island of solitude.
And this is the island I am stranded on.
Washed up on its banks I watch the world rush by.
Some part of me feels left behind.
Part of me feels alone. (and after receiving so much support, I feel a little guilty saying that)

I've felt fear that I may not entirely return to who I was before all of this happened. That something so simple turned so serious in the blink of an eye has been beyond shocking. My body itself feels different.

This morning The Walking Man left me a life preserver in the form of this comment: "Latch on to a time in your memory when you were healthy as you have ever been and bring it forward to the now. Susan be that time not this."
Thank you Mark. I needed those words today.

Be that time, not this.

I think that is what I need.
I believe in living in the moment, but these moments are not ones to linger in.
I can either be sick, or I can be recovering.
The connotation is different.
The attitude is different.
I am not this weakness.
I am not this compilation of physical complications.
I am not this time.

Suspended Belief

2010-10-31T09:21:00.001-04:00

Suspended somewhere between chaos and calm.

Scattered peace amidst piercing shards of pain.

Here, I still believe in healing.

Caught up in the clutching and releasing...

Tangled threads of rejecting and accepting.

Here, I still believe in becoming.

Update 7

2010-10-30T12:32:00.003-04:00

Susan began having more problems with bleeding today. It is so scary for us since she nearly died from the hemorrhage last week. This is not nearly as desperate of a situation, but still stressful. For now we are in a place of waiting and praying... again.
Neither of us wants to be back at the hospital, especially when Susan seems to be on the verge of getting better every day. The pain is still horrific, maybe the worst it has been, but progress can now be seen.
I told Susan the other day, that when she gets better I am taking her out for the biggest steak money can buy! I know she can't wait for the day when she can eat whatever she wants without fear of bleeding or pain.
Until then, we are in the throes of seeming endless waiting.
Is this impatient of me?
Probably, most likely.
I guess sometimes you just gotta tell it like it is. Needless to say, I think we both are ready to get back to a place that does not smell of disinfectant and bleached whiteness.

Susan's Mountain Man

Morning Conversation With my Mountain Man

2010-10-30T08:47:00.002-04:00

Me: Ken? do you like this photo I edited (crocheting, editing photos and sleeping are the extent of my activities at the moment... mostly sleeping.) ?
Mountain Man: *ponders*
Mountain Man: *still pondering*
Me: You don't love it?
Mountain Man: It looks like a cheerio!...

Me: Huh?????

(I think the man needs fed)

Home Again, Jiggedy Jig

2010-10-29T13:38:00.004-04:00

It's good to be back in my own bed.
The doctors decided it would be better for me to be home with my own pet germs, rather than pick up any others at the hospital.
An upper respiratory infection or something would just about do me in right now.
My heart and lungs took a bit of a beating when I did that whole almost-dying thing. But I have age in my favor, and things are slowly improving. Besides, my blood cell counts are steadily improving and I was really ready to be back home.
In my own environment, I feel as though I can better listen to what my body needs to heal.
Pain has been an issue. And that, in turn, makes sleeping difficult. The nights seem really long.
I'm still not able to eat "real food" and have lost 14 lbs. in only a couple of weeks. I haven't been this thin since I was a teenager. At this rate, regaining my strength is going to take a little while.

My thoughts are too disconnected to write anything of much consequence... even though there is so much I want to say. My brain feels like it's been packed with cotton. There is stuff in there, but its all a little muffled for now.
So I crochet... like a mad woman.
I don't have the energy to do much else, but crocheting is my saving grace. My mind can drift while my fingers do something productive. And that simple act feels good... really good.

I really do appreciate all the comments. You add a healthy dose of encouragement to my day.
Before you know it, I'll be back to my old self and we can be done with this "being sick" business. There are so many more interesting topics out there.......

Finally... A Note From Susan...

2010-10-28T03:39:00.003-04:00

Finally... I'm back....
(though just for a minute, while my loving Mountain Man makes sure I'm not over-doing it.)

I wanted to let you know that I'm okay. And I wanted to personally say "Thank You".

Tears are running down my face as I lay here, overwhelmed by the outpouring of love from each of you.
You've reached out in so many forms to support and encourage us, and that love is what carries us through this difficult time.
Having the various comments, notes, and other messages shared with me has been such a bright part in my day.
Your words connect and carry so much hope and healing.

I just wanted to share the good news that my body is finally beginning to recover.
I didn't die, and I still have lots of living left to do.
It will be a long process, but I can feel the definite shift within me.
Now, I just need time to heal.

Thank you for supporting, encouraging, and looking after my Mountain Man for me.
Thank you for sharing this journey with me.
I'm so very grateful to each of you, my bloggie friends.
From my heart to yours, I'm sending love right back to you - with a new appreciation of just how healing that love really is.

Thank you!

~Susan

September Photo

2010-10-26T23:08:00.001-04:00

(most recent photo of Susan before her illness)

An Overdue Update

2010-10-25T15:00:00.002-04:00

On Friday, October 22nd Susan was (re)admitted to a larger, more advanced hospital – this one in another city. Pain and continued infection finally limited the ability for her Mountain Man (and others) to care for her at home, and her health was continuing to spiral rather than improve.

Contrary to a previous negative healthcare experience, we were relieved and encouraged by the level of care given at this new hospital. Without delay, they were incredibly attentive to her situation and Susan began receiving the excellent care needed.
It is our belief that God brought us to the right place at the right time.

It was well known that, following the surgery she'd had, one of the huge risks was further bleeding complications.
However, due to the long illness, indications had also showed that Susan was possibly at risk for developing a blood clot. Weighing the options, the doctors decided to give her a precautionary dose of blood thinner to minimize that possibility as well.
Then they went to work on trying to bring the infection, beginning to spread even further, under control with massive antibiotics, steroids, etc. Hydration and nutrition was hooked up through tubes and IV's and seemed to begin perking her up.

But nothing could have prepared us for what happened on Saturday, October 23rd.

Susan and Ken were together in her Hospital room, where her Mountain Man had refused to leave her side from the beginning. One minute they were quietly talking, and the next, Susan was fighting for her life.
Somehow a clot from the surgical incision in her throat had suddenly became dislodged. The blood source was connected to a major artery... and her blood had been thinned by the heparin.
Within seconds, Susan was essentially bleeding to death.
The rapid blood loss also put an enormous amount of stress on her heart, and she ended up coding. It was a terrifying time as family and friends were called and we all waited for the unknown.
The medical team that was so quick to respond and save her life, will forever be in our hearts.
We are so very thankful to God that Susan was stabilized. It was said over and over again by the medical teams that she is incredibly feisty. And through all of the commotion, her Mountain Man still never left her side.

So now her recovery process continues, now more difficult, but she showing strong signs of improvement. Finally, the infection is under control and real healing can begin. There are still risks and dangers, but despite the setbacks, we are so grateful.

We will post updates as possible, and at the first opportunity we will hand this blog back over to its rightful owner.

Thank you so very much for all your continued love, prayers, healing energy, support, and concern.

Update 6

2010-10-22T17:26:00.007-04:00

Today has been difficult.
Susan is grateful to be moving towards recovery, but she is also feeling discouraged by the long process. Just when it seems like we should be celebrating some improvements, the pain has become even more violent and her ability to take in nourishment has decreased. At last check, she has lost ten lbs. of body weight (if she loses much more we'll need to put paper weights in her pockets to keep her from blowing away).
The constant physical suffering, disrupted sleep, and potent medications have left her feeling disheartened and physically/emotionally drained. She is completely exhausted. She even went to sleep sitting up, mid-sentence.
We are also in that time period where the risk of hemorrhaging is very high. Susan has already suffered significant blood loss from the operation, and now we are praying to get through these next days without needing a second surgery to cauterize further bleeding.
On a positive note, her fever is staying much lower and we're hoping it will soon be gone completely. However, her body is still not infection free.
We're focused on taking this moment by moment.
For this moment, we are okay.
For just this moment we have enough strength.
Each minute we sustain will add up to the survival and victory in this battle.

Never before have we felt so completely loved. Thank you all for your support.
Susan's Mountain Man