Haircut PTSD Lessened By Stranger Things

My daughter's first haircut was unfortunately out of desperate necessity after the car accident four years ago. My daughter has gorgeous red hair with curls. She was blessed to have more than just my humidity waves but less than the crazy 80's perm curls from my ex-husband's side. In the car accident, we were the epitome of bad parents when she was already overdue for a bath, she was in hand me down pajamas and she looked like a ragamuffin with her crazy hair. To top it off, in one of my "I can garden," stints, we had some soil in the back of the hatchback that exploded all over her in the impact so she looked like orphan Annie ready to sing, "Hard Knock Life."

After we got her home and recovered, she couldn't go in the bath with casts. Her hair was rough and ratty. My friend owned a salon and we tag teamed her hair, with all the expensive product they could spare. We couldn't get out the giant rats nest. It was impossible. No matter what product, what brushes. We had to take her into the salon the cut it out when she was three. Ever since then, haircuts have been very touch and go.

I have always found and befriended hairdressers because it's important to trust people with your red hair. Plus, if I ever want to do crazy color and upgrade the look, it's nice to know where to go. I thought if Luna knew the person cutting her hair it would make it easier. This has rarely been the case.

Luna's little best friend's mom is a hairdresser so I commissioned her for the job in the pandemic because I'm not ready to take the kid to the salon. My ex used to like to take her to one of those kid cuts places where you sit in the little car, watch Disney or Nickelodeon and get a balloon afterwards, but I always preferred her in the hands of a friend.

The last haircut my friend gave her was a simple trim. My child acts like she's being tortured during haircut time so it can be a test in anyone's patience. My ex-husband and I have always argued about her hair. He says I don't understand curly people hair problems so I was pretty much not allowed an opinion. What he doesn't understand is that I am a woman and might not know much, but I know about hair. To my mother's credit she raised me to know how lucky I am to have my thick red hair and that people pay a lot of money to have my color and it pales in comparison when it's fake so I should take care of my hair as much as I can.

While hair care has been completely lost in motherhood for myself, I still try my best with the kid. The other night after I thought I'd done okay not losing my mind after some stressful days, she came to me with a ratty and I had to cut it off and told her that her friend's mom was going to cut it whether she liked it or not. I conformed to all bribery. She sat in my new, adjustable office chair watching My Little Pony, with my water bottle she tries always tries to steal, along with her little bestie holding her hand as though we were about to put her through torture. 

My friend gave her perfect, curly layers and lightened it to perfection. My daughter went to look at it and threw herself onto the floor. She hated it. For about three hours she said she looked horrible and the rest of the day was recovery. Luckily my friend took no offense.

In the midst of all this, we had just begun watching Stranger Things and I kept saying, "You look like Eleven! Wait until you see season three, it's the same! Or Nancy, Nancy's hair is like that!" It took her all day to warm to it and the next morning when she brushed it effortlessly she said, "Mommy, I do look like Eleven and I'm always going to ask for this haircut."

Since then it's all she can talk about. She tells and shows everyone, she talks about Stranger Things, which chapter we're on and how her hair is just like Eleven's. She says she's going to be Eleven for Halloween and I'm going to be Max.

I know Stranger Things isn't a cure for haircut PTSD, but it sure has done some great things this round. My daughter has been shoving her hair into a ponytail with scrunchie since I can remember and it's okay, but her hair makes her gorgeous little face shine and I wish she'd let it down or do half up and little clips and such. This haircut has brought all that into action and with Eleven's help, hopefully we can keep the trend going. 

I always knew Stranger Things was bad ass. I've been dying to get my kid to watch something that wasn't on Disney Plus that I actually enjoy, and I finally got her into it. It's been some fantastic bonding time because she's really into it and loves the whole gang.

Parenting is rough any day. Add in a pandemic, a divorce, and all these transitions, we're bound to fight. Thank goodness for Netflix and mom and daughter pajama parties to heal all the life trauma. 

Curb Treasures Reminded Me There's Still Semblances Of "Normal"

It is 2020, which will likely go down in history as one of the most strange, difficult, and erratic years of my entire life. This isn't just because of the election year and it's definitely not just because of my divorce. It's not even strange because of "Rona," or Covid-19, or "Coronavirus," or whatever we're calling it this week. Rather, 2020 has become the year that all the social norms and walks of society were forced into quarantine and any idea of "normal" disappeared.

Post-divorce in January, I dove into all walks of healing head first. I kept myself scheduled and busy with personal therapy, CODA meetings, work, working out as much as I could, learning about cooking, budgeting for single-hood, and keeping my daughter as busy and distracted as possible, all while trying to be completely empathetic that I just changed her entire world.

Before I knew, along came March and I had plans galore. I was extremely not into any idea of celebrating my birthday as it was, and then...Coronavirus. Coronavirus was the news since after Christmas, but early 2020 was reported as being mostly in China. By St. Patrick's Day it came to the U.S. along with toilet paper hoarding, grocery insanity, and creepy levels of panicking public.

After living through Hurricane Irma, the freaked out Floridians don't phase me, but this was a new level of weird. Once they shut down schools, then the daycare programs, I took the kid into the office with me and said, "I'm taking my PC and setting up at home." I didn't leave it for much of a discussion. That was my out and I took it.

Since then, I've been home and honestly completely loving it. All those memes that say, "I was social distancing before it was cool," are so very much me. Don't get me wrong, I love a good girls night out and dinner out and time away, but definitely not as much as I love being home alone in my space. Now this is truly my space.

The divorce has actually allowed me to be alone, and in a safe place, which is a new luxury I never thought possible. I've had to become careful about how to redistribute my time. I only had a few nights free and never a full day to myself. The pandemic quickly changed that and I had time to accomplish things, many things in face.

House projects are always a thing when you're a homeowner and having the time and space to create and accomplish, and the safety of doing it with no judgement or criticism was huge. And thus the projects and ideas began.

I used a grout pen on all my tile floors after failing at grout scrubbing. I built a cinder-block staircase after having the deck ripped out from the screened in porch to the yard. I reorganized and deep cleaned. I started reaching out to people I'd lost touch with and had real conversations, which led to blessings of hand me downs that gave me other projects. I repurposed what we had on hand and just kept reinventing my space. 

I recently discovered the joys of spray paint. I fully understand why graffiti is a thing. I made two nightstands for my bedroom out of what my friend called "curb treasures." This means something someone leaves to go to the trash but you turn into your own personal treasure and grab it from said curb. The whole project was fun for my daughter and I as we got pretty creative with it. 

I'd hoarded this tile from a previous employer convinced one day I would use it. Turns out I was correct. That tile gave me a perfectly quiet morning and my daughter was super into making her nightstand for mommy's room really cool looking. I love so much that she made me a treasure.

 

A friend of mine is giving me more treasures and hand me downs, hence more projects to come. I'm both incredibly excited and, true to form, anxious about getting it all here and set up, although it's an amazing distraction from life's current stresses. 

I took a hand me down IKEA desk we'd been using in the kitchen, dragged the kid to Lowe's and we got spray paint and a few other things. We'd take it from white to a kind of deep blue and I'd have a real desk and work space instead of my dining room table.

Next, I began the hunt for an office chair. I'm not much for Facebook anymore, especially in the wake of recent drama with my ex-husband but my office cell phone has a social media account so I use that one to shop on Marketplace. I found an office chair in my town and talked them down to $15, which was a killer price! Go me!

Well, such as life, the seller just never messaged back and took the listing down. Onto the next search and behold, I unearthed a cute thrift shop in the next town over that had 3 options and in my price range! I just so happened to have time to go grab one on my lunch break I was excited. It's the little things anymore.

I never go anywhere without GPS. I get lost so easily and get very anxious in unknown territory so even though I kind of knew where I was going, I put the address in. I had a mental picture of what area and my GPS ended up routing me this weird and winding way. I kept thinking to myself, "Why is it taking me this way."

I turned into a neighborhood and I saw something on the side of the road! I saw a white filing drawer or perhaps a discarded part of a desk set, just sitting on the curb. I got excited and thought it would fit my big ass office printer perfectly. I didn't stop, but instead kept driving. I told myself, okay the chair is more important so go grab that first, come back the exact way and if it's still there, just grab it!

I went and bought a faded pink office chair that could make me feel tall for $15 and tossed it in my SUV. I found the exact way back and the 3-drawer white furniture piece was still there. I pulled over, put my flashers on and went to grab it! YAY! Curb treasure! What an awesome Wednesday, right?

It was in relatively good shape. I got it close to the car and it was just heavy and awkward enough I just couldn't do it alone. Cars were slowly passing me. I was looking around the neighborhood kind of like "Uhhh, anybody?" Then I reminded myself that I was always much stronger than I thought, but also it wouldn't be the end of the world if I didn't take it home. It was then as I tried once last time to muscle it by myself, that a nice older woman on her walk said, "Would you like some help with that? I don't think you can get that in your car by yourself."

Of course I welcomed her kindness and made sure she wasn't about to hurt herself or have me hurting myself and we did it! She was so kind and I got back in my car, sweaty and smiling with two, new to me treasures and suddenly all of the weird vibes from the past week, hell from the past few months, flew out the window.

These times are strange and we're without the comfort and distraction of going to the gym, events and gatherings with friends. I guess I needed the reminder that there were still great people, strangers nonetheless, around to be supportive and helpful. To be clear, I've felt no shortage of support in the divorce arena and have texted and chatted with friends none stop. I've renewed some old relationships that have literally been a saving grace for me, and I've really grown into even better relationships with other friends this year. I think I needed a reminder that the world wasn't as broken as it looked on the news.

My random curb treasure helper just reminded me that we may never go back to "normal" but some semblances of normal are still around. It was also another affirmation that I belong at home with my new home office set up!

In more fun I still had an extra can of spray paint I was going to return but I covered that baby right up to match! My neighbor helped me get it into the garage but I got it up and into the house this morning all by myself like the warrior I am. 

Staying busy and having projects feels like my next phase in healing, with the proper soundtrack of course. And having a real office set up feels like my next phase of a pandemic. No matter what the world brings, at least I can turn curb trash to curb treasure with a little help from a stranger, a neighbor, and all the spray paint!

I Cried Listening To A Mad Caddies Song Whilst Packing Up A Steam Cleaner For The Ex - What Stage Of Divorce Is This?

I was just talking to my best girl friend today about how my family's entire mission is to look "put together," even if we clearly don't have our shit together at all. For my mother, this means making sure I have new laundry baskets that look as though I manage my home correctly. For me it means constantly wearing no visible upset, moving on and having all break downs in private.

The divorce shocked many close to me. Why? Because I am completely amazing at keeping up those appearances. Forget writing, if I could make a career in holding it together in chaos, I'd be a rich. I've realized how much this quality of mine can work against me, however. And here I am in the midst of divorce stages, trying to find my way. 

So after getting through what would have been the 11 year wedding anniversary where I felt quote "ambivalent as fuck," followed by the dreaded 4 year anniversary of the car accident, which I was convinced wouldn't matter at all this year, but my daughter wanted to talk about it so "Hello PTSD, welcome back." I still felt like I could continue on just fine.

Then, on a random Tuesday I had to feed my need for music. I'm the kind of person where if I don't have enough music in my life I get legitimately cranky. Music is the soundtrack of my life. I love to sing and be ridiculous all around the musical adventures and when I haven't rocked out enough I go through withdrawals. So, Tuesday morning I started this weird journey on Spotify of all the playlists. Some of their playlists are horrible. Some are amazing and I just dove right in.

It was in the midst of this I found the "Release Radar" list and I was sending another friend all these songs, with all the feels, most of them super liberating and hopeful. Then it just hit me like a ton of bricks. This soothing Ska song by the Mad Caddies called "Let It Go," which is not a cover of the Disney hit, not at all.

I'm a lyrical person so if a song gives me a story, I love and can obsess even more. Now I'm going to have to give you a little more background as to why a Ska-Punk-Pop song could make me tear up in my garage holding a steam cleaner.

I'm about to write about something I've never admitted and have only just begun to deal with. In my early twenties I lost my absolute oldest friend to my depression, anxiety, and my ability to be a selfish bitch. He has known me since we were one year old. We were separated at age 3 when my family moved, then wonderfully reunited at age 18 and for the first year of our renewed best friend-hood, lived a block away and did everything together. 

He is alive and well, thriving and we haven't spoken more than a handful of words since 2017 and before that nothing since 2009. The memories I have of him always bring me joy and losing touch with him is one of my deepest regrets. This isn't a lost love thing, although we had our flirtations, we were always better at the whole friends who are like family thing. He was someone who actually knew me really well, whether he wants to admit it or not, and when my life was crumbling, neither of us could really deal, which I only realize now after becoming so proficient with life crumbling moments.

One of my favorite memories of him is our conversations and battles in music. He was in a band, that's how I met my ex-husband in fact. He introduced us. And one of my oldest friend's most favorite bands is The Mad Caddies. I feel like while he was obsessed, I mostly tolerated them, but they weren't as high up there for me as some others.

We went on countless drives together and always argued about music and he usually won. Even when I thought I won or we settled on the radio, he'd torture me with off pitch renditions of whatever we settled on. I will never hear Fleetwood Mac's "Go Your Own Way," without remembering him singing it at me, not to me, but at me, in the front of my beloved Toyota Echo during my Oregon years. I miss him a lot and hope one day, to at least be able to tell him that.

Okay, now back to yesterday. This Mad Caddies song came on my playlist and I immediately thought of my oldest friend and then, thought of my ex-husband. I broke down when I realized I couldn't share it with either of them because it just wouldn't go to the right place. It wouldn't be the same as it was 14 years ago. That part of my life was just...over. And while holding a steam cleaner and getting my daughter ready to go over to see her dad, I cried in my garage listening to the lyrics. What made me so sad? I'll share below:

It's not easy being loved by someone else

And at the same time giving it all back up yourself

Caught between the colored lines

Native to the home of domesticated energy, hey

And now the summer days have faded into years

And all the good times shining light in all the tears

Caught up in the reality of life and growing up

So baby we should let it go

Cause no one's right and no one's wrong

We should try to carry on

In our hearts, in our souls

Baby we should let it go

Baby we should let it go, yeah

Well all that time spent losing out is lost and gone

To that feeling that keeps us alive, in love, and strong

Caught up in the finality of a life that moves along

So baby we should let it go, baby we should let it go

Cause no one's right and no one's wrong

We should try to carry on

In our hearts, in our souls

Baby we should let it go

Spinning minds in a daze

Watching time fade away

For our hearts and our souls

Baby we should let it go

Baby we should let it go yeah

Caught up in the reality of life and growing up

So baby we should let it go, baby we should let it go

Cause no one's right and no one's wrong

We should try to carry on

In our hearts, in our souls

Baby we should let it go

Spinning minds in a daze

Watching time fade away

For our hearts and our souls

Baby we should let it go

I knew if I sent it to my ex-husband it would open an unnecessary can of worms. Knowing that I couldn't share it almost made it worse in a way. I did send it to my oldest friend and received no response.

I have made the comment quite often and recently that I feel like I spent half of the years of my marriage mourning the end of it but refusing to take it off life support, so to speak. This song just kind of summed it all up.

It also reminded me of the way my ex and I had met, and that I once thought I couldn't live without both he and my old friend and now for both parties, we barely speak. In these strange times filled with brokenness and new opportunities to heal,  I was certainly due for a mental collapse of feelings.  

It left me wondering, which stage of divorce, stage of life does this usher me into now? We're in a pandemic and there is no "normal," so then what of it all? Was it just everything at once or am I in some kind of limbo of growth? If you asked my ex he'd likely blame the Mad Caddies cry on my period, but I can assure you it wasn't the culprit for this particular moment.

After listening to the song over and over to the point where I just about have it memorized, I figure it comes down to this: I'm mourning the good memories of the life I once had, but am somehow also desperate to move on and "Let It Go."  It may be a cliche but it's on point. 

I miss the simpler days of three figure rent checks, going out to eat and somehow always having money to do so, having real energy to anything, and being young and free. I miss the people who made me into who I am now.

So, as I stood there passing along more stuff to my ex, I realized that I had been letting it all go. I was replacing all that was "us" and leaving him in a pile of relics of a life that no longer exists. It sounds mean when I type it out that way, but if you asked him he'd say I left him with nothing to start anew with, which is far from the truth, but not the point of this particular post.

Mostly I think I'm sad about my oldest friend because I've reached out and he hasn't responded and I don't want to let that part go. I wish we had the catch up text where he told me about his family, his work, his pets, and his home.  I wish I could text him when one of the many songs that remind me of him comes on as just a "hello," but we haven't made that re-connection. Perhaps I'm in mourning that the parts of my past self I wish to resurrect don't share the same sentiment, or that they have been fully let go, and are gone.

You can chalk it up to being 35, divorced, living in the midst of a pandemic and having everything so unknown but I feel like maybe this silly ska song just kind of forced me to let it go. "No one's right, no one's wrong, we should try to carry on." For now, I'll replay it until I can't stand it anymore and just hold the sentiments close that maybe I'm not as "ambivalent as fuck," as I thought. 

Evan and Alice: The Unauthorized What If, What Would Have Been, Bizarro World Story

I give full credit for this idea to my friend. She sent me a screen shot of two older redheads and said she found the very doppelgangers or other world versions of myself and my now ex-husband, on a weekend day at Costco. I told her to go befriend them and ask their names as though they could be possibly close to Eben and Alison, something like Evan and Alice. She told me to write their story, like a futuristic version of what could of been if we'd stayed married. And things started to come together.

I immediately remembered that epic Seinfeld episode, with the "Bizarro Jerry," and for the past couple of weeks the pieces of this "would be" story have just been following me around in bits in pieces.

The screen shot was of this slightly older male and female, similar builds to myself and the ex, in line at Costco and suddenly I saw what would have been my future, through what I'd imagined their day shopping was like. And just like that I am writing again. 

Before we get into this, I need to stress how much of this is a re-imagining. While some moments will be based on past experiences, events, moments, feelings and anxieties, I mean in no way to paint a distinct image that whatever happens in the following is indeed a first person depiction of my actual marriage. The following story is a musing, or rather a way for me to write out what may have been a future path, but by no means is based on anything more than ideas and fictional characters. So while I appreciate you reading, don't read too much into it. If you feel triggered or have questions, just reach out. 

Alice stood in line at Coscto, mask on, with a full cart, zoning out a bit at the end of the shopping experience. As Evan shot past her to leave her to the payment part and him to the part where he got his quintessential Costco Chicken Bake. In their 20's, Evan's obsession with getting a Costco Chicken Bake was cute and fun and you didn't have to care about your health. Now it was one more thing Alice had convinced herself was contributing to her theoretically growing ulcer. She was convinced one day she'd keel over from some silent, stress induced illness, or at least be confined to a padded room for a week or so one day. 

She watched everyone scramble to get their bulk goods and was almost up to the plexi-glass protected pay area. She stared into the cart. She always thought they got so much food and then somehow didn't have anything to eat. She wasn't prepared for the damage. She remembered her uncle calling Costco the $600 dollar store when it first came out. He always said you couldn't walk in there without spending $600.00 and she'd smile at the memory of times with her uncle then see Evan eyeing expensive things and cringe and take a deep breath. 

The whole experience of Coscto, became less and less fun with age. Evan never listened to her about the budget or her list. So as soon as they pulled into the lot, Alice's tension was rising. All week, calculating, recalculating, and reworking the budget. The texts and conversations about, "Okay we can spend this much," went out the door as soon as they walked in together.

Evan always went for the flat screens and technology. "I want, I need, we should have." Alice's stomach started to knot itself up. "Don't say anything sarcastic," she'd hear in her mind. She always wanted to yell, "Well if you made more money you could buy all that shit, but we are in debt because of all the other shit you bought that we didn't have money for." All that ever came out of Alice was "Uh huh, maybe that would be nice," or "Maybe for Christmas, hun."

She'd mentally start calculating how she'd ever find a way to get that for his "Christmas" birthday. Evan's birthday was January 1st and at the forefront of their relationship he'd told her that his parents always lumped it with Christmas so he never got a real party or real celebration. It then became Alice's lot in life to make the distinction and basically make it up to him that his parents let him down. Looking back she knew she'd done this to herself by being such a "good girlfriend" and "people-pleaser," that turned into the complacent wife. Now she mentally noted which TV got the best Evan review. Maybe she would find a good sale.

Fifteen years of marriage was just weird. They knew everything about each other but had nothing in common anymore. They barely watched the same shows. They never liked to meander Costco the same way either, so Alice often just followed Evan's lead to avoid another post-shopping excursion argument. Alice diverted the crowds in Costco much like she diverted years of brewing arguments with Evan, with an eye roll and a change in path for the moment.

They went past the clothes and blankets and Alice scanned quickly. She knew she'd "buyer's remorse" and immediately return anything she got as soon as they got it home and she went other the budget again. Then she'd just have to make another trip. On they went.

The next area was the furniture, which was ripe for the beginnings of an argument. "Ev, I love that dining room table. Isn't it so pretty? That's not even that expensive," Alice commented. "We don't even sit at a table to eat. You barely eat a real meal anyway and you don't cook," Evan responded. Alice felt the sarcasm and sass kick in and put on her game face. "If I had a nicer dining room set up, I might be more inspired to sit down and use it though," Alice replied.

"We're barely home two nights a week together you keep the kid so busy and you never stop until you crawl into bed with a salad and then go to bed early so when would you use this $1,200.00 dining set? You wanna drop $1,200.00 get the damn TV. At least we'd watch the TV. Get you a bigger one for the bedroom so you can eat your salad in front of The Office in peace," Evan went on grumbling while Alice reverted into reviewing the list and pretended the whole conversation never happened.

She shut up then and directed them into the frozen section after what felt like a 5 minute eye roll. He'd beaten her down with truth and now she was tired. They never ate together because Alice was so often depressed she barely had an appetite, but she couldn't really say that out loud. Most nights after work, and after school care for the kid, then sports, and then feeding the kid and doing homework, she could barely remembered to feed herself. Evan might have been right about not needing the dining set but she still wasn't getting him his TV. He wouldn't win that way.

The next few aisles were all stressful commentary by Evan the caterer about what was better priced at Coscto versus Sam's Club, what the kid wouldn't eat, what he refused to meal plan, and what he needed around for late night comfort food. Alice was just hoping she could find some decent snacks for lunches and grab her favorite protein shakes. Evan was always on a mission.

After he loaded the cart with what was on Alice's list, and then another $50 worth of stuff they couldn't afford, Alice wandered the pharmacy aisle. She'd often pause at the weight loss supplements, always wondering if she'd dare to buy and try one. After the mental talk down of why she wouldn't waste money on it, she'd just re-up on kids gummy vitamins and allergy stuff. It was then she spotted the fresh flower end-cap and found herself smiling, but in a sad way. Alice secretly loved getting flowers and she couldn't remember the last time Evan got her some. Maybe a couple years at this point. 

She'd stopped and zoned off again when Evan caught her. "Did you get the Advil?," Evan asked. "Yeah, it's in there," Alice assured him. "Where!?," Evan demanded. "It's in there!," Alice raised her voice and noticed a couple people glanced back. She kept walking with the cart, Evan followed behind making no effort to hide he was annoyed with her. She found her spot in line.

"I'm going," Evan started but Alice interrupted, "The chicken bake, yup. I got it." His ditching out for the grand total was dodging the responsibility, or so Alice had decided. She watched everyone ringing everything up and then started her usual stressing about the entire contents of the cart, secretly planning what she might return if  it came to it. In fifteen years their marriage came down to Costco drama as the best metaphor for their relationship.

They couldn't make it through a single trip to Costco without some kind of disagreement. Alice dreaded these joint shopping days, but it was their futile attempt at quality time. She much preferred to go alone and stick to her exact list. Her world was lists now and she found comfort in them. She made lists of the budget, what they could afford, what they couldn't, where they could go for a vacation, what she needed to clean, what she needed to remind or ask Evan about, where the kid needed to go or what she needed to get done. Alice's life was lists. 

The worst of the lists included the lists of the things Evan did routinely to upset her but she just put on the complacent smile and turned on The Office for the 9,000th time. If she lived through the comedy of Dunder Mifflin life seemed less bleak. She paid the huge bill, on a credit card of course, met Evan with his Chicken Bake and off they went. When they got to the car, Evan decided he couldn't help much because he didn't want his Chicken Bake to get cold.

Alice slowly unloaded the cart and returned it. Evan turned on the car, blasted the air conditioner and picked a CD before Alice could argue. She took a moment of peace walking back from the cart return to the car. It was an amazing 90 degrees out and as much as live frustrated her, she often reminded herself how lucky she was not to live in cold, damp, gray places anymore. She got into the car and immediately got chilly.

"Can you please turn the fan for the air lower?," Alice muttered. "I don't know how you're always cold," Evan said. "Must be your cold, cold heart," he poked her and smiled as if to tease. He said this to her regularly. Around year five of marriage it became less cute and far more mean. She now just smiled and nodded hoping he would just listen to the music peacefully and finish his Chicken Bake. 

When they got home and unloaded everything Alice went and sat on her bed a minute. She heard Evan reorganizing everything she just put away and she fell to her pillow. She was so tired. Evan came in and saw her resting. "Oh Costco wore ya out huh? You're done for the day?," he asked. For a brief moment she'd thought about saying something snarky back. She couldn't handle anything more for today. 

Alice put her hair up and then said, "Yeah, I just needed a minute. Thanks for going to the store with me." Evan gave her a snide smile, "Yeah well if I had stayed home I'd hear about it. I picked the lesser of the evils I guess. You're not that bad to be around." And that was Alice's whole outlook on life from the view of a day with her husband at Costco. Maybe her and her cold heart weren't all that bad to be around. 

Alice started a list for their next Costco trip and stared at the sun again from the kitchen window. These were the moments she held close to her and zoned in on in long lines, traffic and disagreements. Evan propped himself up in his recliner to watch cooking competition shows and Alice sat down to make her lists. 

And so it was their story, that Alice and Evan lived...ever after to be seen combating Coscto for decades more of marriage. 

Singing Bowl Sanity

So yesterday was a bad day, hence no post. We all have bad days, it is an essential part of life. Ironically is was not the first time I'd experienced this particular kind of bad day, but it was the first time that it didn't sink the entirety of my day.

I had sent a text to a friend that I was "coming to terms with certain realities." The response was that she had no idea what that means. So here goes:

There is a freedom in acceptance of circumstances, even disappointing ones. I've spent the last few years idling in fear. Fear of what? Loss of all different makes and models. Yesterday though, I addressed those fears, looked them in the eye and said, "Bring it."

I've worked unbelievably hard to get where I am today. There is a part of me that gets tearful at the thought that it could go away and I would have to completely restart my life at this point but another part of me that no longer has the will to allow that to hold me back. Looking at those insecurities and fears and literally saying to myself, "That actually wouldn't be the worst, because you can clearly handle anything," is the nicest thing I've done for myself in a very, very long time.

Yesterday I had a heartbreaking conversation with my longest and oldest friend who lives overseas. This is a person who has championed me no matter what, and has never told me what to do or how to live my life but rather just was there when I needed him. I told him I was having a bad day and I needed to talk. I asked if he could message me when he was free. He messaged me back immediately.

I word vomited my entire heart onto a screen and his reaction was beyond supportive, beyond encouraging, and exactly what I needed. I felt bad pouring all of that out and when I admitted even that, his response was "I'm impressed." He gave me instant validation that it took a lot to say or type or admit it all and that he was there for wherever things went. It was an internet hug of the best kind.

Ironically I had made plans with a good friend to go to a Singing Bowl Meditation class at a yoga center for last night. I had arranged a sitter and was completely open to whatever I got from the experience. The two people that knew the reality of my situation that I had told I was going to meditation and may just cry the entire class, said, "That may be the perfect thing for you today and it may be no mistake that is where you will end up this evening."

They were completely correct. Honestly, I fell deep in love with hippie culture at a very young age. I miss Oregon, but I just couldn't handle the cold, gray rain with what was happening in my life at the time. Everything else about Oregon I completely love, and all of the hippie, yoga, realign, live organically and purely stuff, I always embraced.

When my friend invited me she said "You're literally the only friend I can take." I laughed because I didn't know if that was a compliment? Turns out it was a big one. 

Don't get me wrong, the class itself is weird. The instructor is in a class all her own, but my brain was turned off by force of sound and it was amazing. There were moments where my mind would get frenzied and then some sound or chant or hum would shut it down. It was perfect.

I left feeling a new wave of "rested," went home, had some tea and got some much-needed rest. I'm being incredibly calm and patient with my body today and am feeling more aware. It's one of those things that I definitely wish I could attend regularly but generally just feel blessed for having the experience at all. 

There was absolutely no mistake in that being the end of my emotional day. There were moments were I felt proud of myself for not reacting as I had in the past to the events that led to my near-mental collapse, and it reaffirmed the work I have been doing. There were regretful moments of "how did I get here?" Regardless, the singing bowls seemingly saved my sanity for the day and that is quite a powerful accomplishment.

Being forced to be still and embrace the chakras and heart centers and light? It was necessary and healing for my trauma. Listening to the calming and unusual sounds and just releasing some tension? Beyond necessary. I felt all the stress and I felt it dissipate.

It was a great gift from a friend that I didn't even know how desperately I needed and I feel so lucky to have been invited. I woke up ready to just take things as they come and not just face, but embrace the new realities.

Right now my body is physically challenging me and I'm in the midst of an intensive diet and eating habit change. Mentally I'm having to regroup, rebuild and prepare for anything. Emotionally I'm taking literally one minute at a time. The daily goal is just to not cry.

This is what I know: I will not be saying yes to much through the end of the year in terms of extra plans. I am in self preservation mode and can't let obligatory things get in the way of my sanity. I will drown it out with singing bowls if needed. 

I may not be posting as much, but will definitely do what I can for the remainder of the year. I will continue though, because that is what we do. We continue. So away I go. 

Halloween-ing

I feel like I always have epic ideas for costumes that are edgy, funny or relevant and no one to humor me to dress up with. No one ever goes for my family themed ones that are over the top or needing lots of effort. As a mom, I now just take the kid to choose and buy the costume with no argument since she no longer lets me dress her.

Halloween was huge when I was little. We had epic trick or treating adventures in my town. My cousins would come over and we usually dressed together. Ghostbusters, Batman and Catwoman, and so on and so forth. We got to dress up at school too, which was a day with no uniform so that's always a big deal.

Halloween is still huge but now it's like a weird exit from fall, directly into the Christmas season. The new "toy book" from Target already came in the mail for Christmas shopping. Pretty sure my kid is already making a list. 

I have a mom friend that literally wins Halloween. She decorates more for Halloween than Christmas and has made costumes for my kid and her own and goes to great lengths to do so. I have some spider and skeleton lights my mom bought us, and some other random decorations but we are probably more of a Christmas kind of people. 

I love Hocus Pocus and Nightmare Before Christmas, but Halloween somehow became the first of the end of year holidays and now is just a prequel to Christmas I think. Some stores already have Christmas decor out and for sale. It's so weird to me.

Thanksgiving has become just a Thursday we eat a lot and wait to go shopping for "deals" and is just a hop, skip and jump to Christmas. I don't want to be "that person" but I do not recall it being like this "back in my day," yes I said it.

Halloweening is now a serious thing. People go all out. Our town and our neighborhood both have epic Halloween festivities and my daughter is finally old enough to make her demands about attendance. 

I love seeing all the costumes and fun things people come up with. I admire the effort and time people put into their costumes. I love watching my kiddo enjoy the hunt for candy and get all excited. However, for me as a mom, that's about it. I don't often dress up and the most festive thing I have right now is candy corn leggings.

I don't dislike Halloween I just feel like it's no longer about me so, I put all my effort into making it fun for the little one. We also live in Florida so it's a little weird down here. It's usually hot, carved pumpkins don't last and you don't have to wear thick clothes under your costumes like I did, back in my day haha.

We are less than a week out for the big day and we have two events that are costume-wearing for the little person to attend this weekend. On the one hand, I might as well get my money's worth. On the other, she usually asks for extra things per wear be it make up or accessories. It's all part of the adventure though.

Some families are Halloween-ing like a boss. Hallow-winning if you will. For me, I just do what I can with the time and resources I have. Maybe as she gets older I will get more adventurous and creative. We'll see! For now, I will be anxiously awaiting her candy haul to sneak pieces at night!

Hurdles In Healing

I've spent how many blog posts waxing on about emotional, spiritual and mental healing? Okay maybe let's not count those. What about other healing though?

You scrape a knee, hangnail or stub a toe? Maybe you do some neosporin and a bandaid? Everyone is different. After my illness last week, boy do I have to heal. And here is where I am with it, which of course has me thinking in all terms of metaphors and other themes.

I'm totally not back to my full self yet. I'm careful with food, coffee, treats and so on because I'm super sensitive to everything with my body right now. I had a really rough workout this morning because I woke up with stomach cramps not knowing if I should go or not. I had to take it easy working out.

I'm not a "take it easy" kind of gal. I constantly push myself. I always want a good challenge so patience with healing is not me. This morning I realized that whatever my body is going through, everything is telling me to SLOW DOWN.

It's almost too funny, the irony of my body literally rejecting going back to life and getting sick the night we returned home. We pretend these things are inconvenient coincidences, but maybe they are legit signs to pay attention to. Did we have such a great vacation, one that ended weirdly with a little bit of a disagreement with my husband and an uneasy ride home that my body completely rebelled against coming back to routines?

You can speculate whatever you want but I'm more attune to the idea that emotionally, mentally and spiritually I have more power over my body than I think. What do personal trainers say? "Mind over matter?" There is truth in the cliches.

We go to therapy to heal mental wounds, but with physical ailments we take medicines and get shots and rarely let our bodies rest. I'll give it to my 6 year old but she was completely right, forcing myself to go back to work that following morning was not a good idea. I needed the rest.

So what are my hurdles in physical healing? They are ironically mostly mental. Now I second guess on what I may have overlooked within my body before my nasty illness overtook my day to day. I'm now wondering what every cramp and moment of discomfort is telling me. Is this a new "normal?' Will my body go back to pre-illness regularity?

We joke that getting older sucks and that what we got away with in our teen and twenties is long gone but it's completely true. I had a better metabolism and very lax caffeine effects compared to now. I can't have iced tea in the evening or it messes with my sleep. I can't drink too much alcohol, which means more than two glasses in one sitting with food, or it can ruin me an entire day. And now, I'm pretty careful about what I'm allowing my tummy to wrestle.

See if I Google it I probably have a tapeworm or something insane. So I sit here hypothesizing and worrying about never getting back to what I thought was normal. Then as I'm trying to figure out what to write about today, I realized I need to embrace whatever my body is telling me and that this may be my new version of normal.

Last night in the homework war, uncharacteristic to my normal self, I used the most calm tone ever talking about the tasks. I refocused her. I didn't yell if she had some crying jag outburst. I just said, okay, "If you need to feel your feelings that's fine, but if you can persist and get through what we need to do, you can spend your evening the way you asked me to earlier. Otherwise those privileges will be lost." It seemed to work much better.

Everything around me, is screaming "SLOW DOWN." Besides my body physically telling me, my anxiety, and things going on in my personal life, I'm just very much yielding to the probability that the new "shake up" in the routine, means taking things so much slower instead of some ridiculous race to get stuff done.

I'm learning to heal all over now. I'm completely in it. We are a couple months away from 2020. All of the motivational things and funny memes are coming out about it's entrance into our calendars. What am I feeling? I think 2019 has been incredible growth. Nothing is perfect and everything in my life is a current work in progress; completely in flux. But I'm not miserable, depressed or overly anxious. I'm making things work. I'm taking things as they come. And that is huge.

Healing may not be linear, which is fact, but I'm just continuing to heal, all over. It is completely encompassing me. There will be many hurdles in healing. There always are. But today, in the midst of the stomach cramps and gurgles, the morning out of routine and the workout that was super difficult on my body and lungs, I just realized "Okay, here I am, healing and working it out one step at a time." I can only do what I can with what I'm dealt. What a revelation! And so I soldier on!