Category: journey

a little blue…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay2 Comments

This photo obviously isn’t me. It also wasn’t either of my dogs. It also, in my opinion, is not exactly where one should be walking their dog, especially not with a handbag like that. Either their car broke down and they are setting off, on foot- or its a sort of city-girl-in-the-country thing.

Completely irrelevant to the point of this post really, except that it is a photo of a girl and her dog. Yesterday I was walking Emma, (who is mostly my husband’s dog. Emma enjoys long walks, dog parks and abhors any type of love, faithfulness or affection, thus making her the anti-dog) when we heard the bellow of a young beagle from somewhere not too far away, but also not visible from our vantage point. Needless to say, my heart skipped a beat. I miss Knightley so much. I miss Paisley too, (for those of you who aren’t up on the dog talk, my dog of 6 years passed away from cancer last August. Her name was Paisley and she was the most loving, faithful and best dog ever. It took me until March to be able to get a new dog. His name was Knightley. Unbeknownst to us, he had kidney failure from birth and so at our 3 month anniversary of being his family, we got the news that he was suffering neurological damage and was dying so we had to euthanize him. He was four months and one week old. It was terrible.) I already wasn’t having a great day. Fibromyalgia crash and burn day likely triggered by the life-cocktail of heavy humidity over the weekend and stress from a few family extended situations.

I simply came home, ate some carbs and laid on the couch, giving up on the day. I napped fitfully (WORST decision you can make with Fibromyalgia. Naps are of the devil, and yet…) and spent the rest of my Tuesday cycling through various forms of fire, ache, throb and stiffness. I had every fever symptom, to boot, minus the actual fever. It was delightful and I was beyond apologetic to Chw because the worst part of all of it will forever be the guilt that I’m not contributing. I finished my night with cereal for dinner and popcorn for snack. (yay Carbs!) Of course, I was awake until late in the night/early in the morning because of the devil nap from earlier.

Today is a new day, today is a new day, today is a new day…

We have this jar that sits by the door which we’ve titled Project Puppy. The plan is that by July of next year, that change jar will hold enough to adopt again. My heart can take it, I think. Until then I will be a little lonely at times and super lonely at others. I will imagine my bouncy little buddy (for the brief time he was bouncy, that is) at the most unexpected of times, and deal with our Emma, who maybe loves us in a super strange and un-doglike way. I will stow away my nickels and dimes within that jar and wait, seeing what lessons unfold from this season of life. Michigan is hard. Michigan is the only state I have lived in (of the five I’ve resided in as an adult) where it feels impossible to form close friendships. It was not like this when we lived here before, but most of those people also left the state and the rest- well, time changes things.

I remember having this conversation with a friend many years ago, when she said I just want to find a close friend who knows where the glasses in my kitchen cupboard are and she comes over and makes herself at home. I think of that often, her words haunting me a bit. I also wonder why there aren’t online “dating” sites for friendship but then realize it is probably because women can be awful and so that likely wouldn’t workout so well. These things have to develop organically, I suppose.

In the meantime, just so you know, my glasses are just to the right of my sink, but don’t drink that water, it’s pretty gross. There’s a cooler behind you, and that water is much better.

Humanity lives beyond phone screens…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

Friday evening Chw and I had a hot date to sign some papers and do a small Costco run for a few produce staples. We are completely wild and crazy now that we are empty nesters… The plan had been that I would meet him at 6, at the paper-signing place, which incidentally happened to be located halfway between his work and our home. I spent a good chunk of the day Friday hanging out with a friend, which was lovely. I noticed as the afternoon progressed and the air pressure was getting more intense. (yeah, I’m one of those people with super powers known as chronic illness, and can sense such things.) By the time the clock shown 4:30 I had this pounding headache and I KNEW that it would be unsafe for me to drive. I texted my husband and the following exchange ensued:

M-Hey, My head is all of a sudden killing me. Do you want to reschedule or would you be able to come home and us go together.

C- I’ll come home and pick you up. I love you!

He’s pretty cool like that, right? (Please realize here how stupid I felt asking for such a dumb thing, and how bad I felt that he would have to do so much driving. Although, at the same time, what he was going to do for an hour while he waited for the appointment, I wasn’t sure.)

At 5:05 Chw texted to let me know he was on his way and at 5:15 my headache completely dissipated. I felt like a jerk! It was a very obvious disappearance. I sat still for about 5 minutes wondering if it was really gone, and it was. Since the route he takes home is completely different from the route to our meeting place, calling him and telling him I could make it would have only complicated things. So, instead, I putted around for fifteen minutes taking care of small chores that he usually does, in an effort to make it up to him. (Guilt driven, on my part.) I then decided to wait outside for him so I could just hop in the car and we could head out.

At 5:38 my husband calls me…

Hey, I just nearly hit this guy. He was coming at me so fast, in his car, in the wrong lane. I don’t think he was conscious. He slammed into the pond and I’m not sure what to do.

M- oh my gosh, did you call 911?

C- yes, they’ve been called. His car is sinking but people who live by the pond are telling me not to go in, that it’s not safe. I’m not sure if 911 will get here fast enough.

M- oh my gosh. Why isn’t it safe?

C- It’s pretty gross and there could be glass and stuff in it. You can’t see a thing. Wait, this guy showed up and he’s going in. I’m going in.

M- ok! Where is this pond? (because obviously I wanted to go there.)

C- in our neighborhood. I’m going in.

M- ok. Put the phone down first, I love you! (I said this only because his voice was real jittery and I worried he wouldn’t think about it in all of the chaos.)

I immediately began walking in the direction of our neighborhood entrance. I had no idea, to be honest, that there was any sort of pond. Then, as I’m walking, I remembered a few weeks back when we saw these kids walking with fishing poles and Chw said “I hope they don’t eat fish from that pond, if it even has fish.” And I remember wondering what the heck he was even talking about.

Turns out it is really easy to find a pond when everyone is hanging around it. As I get there, my husband is treading water in a 10 ft deep pond, keeping a CAR afloat while another guy is cutting the seatbelt to get this guy out. Once the unconscious man is out of the car, Chw lets go of the car (which sinks pretty rapidly) and swims over to help the guy bring the unconscious man to the bank.

The victim is on land and awake before emergency response teams appear. He has no idea where he is at, or what has happened, and possibly not even who he was, he’s so out of it. My beautiful, brave husband is covered from neck to toe in grey-green sludge. His clothes had to be ten pounds heavier. It was a pretty intense experience and still my husband is having a tough time with it. We have different perspectives, he and I, and this experience has been a clear example of where his mind often goes… The one thing we do see the same is that the entire experience restored my faith in humanity a little bit. I kept saying that, throughout the evening. Of the dozen plus people out there watching, high on the emotion and adrenaline of the situation, not one person was filming a thing. No one was Facebook living or documenting that this was happening just beyond his or her front door. I am not going to lie- I fell in love with our neighborhood a little bit.

The facts, as I see them, timeline a little like this:

 

  • Chw wasn’t even supposed to be there, we were supposed to be meeting up somewhere else.
  • Around the time that I would have been leaving, is when this guy plowed through the oncoming traffic lane (would have been my lane) and nearly missed a home before slamming into the pond.
  • There was a woman walking her dogs on the sidewalk. One dog was dragging, out of character, and the speeding car missed her because of that.
  • To anyone who could see the area where all of this occurred, that he made it from the highway to the pond without hitting someone/something/a home/fellow drivers is unexplainable.
  • The entire crowd of people, who live on the pond side of things, was urging my husband NOT to go in, when a guy appeared out of nowhere (no one knew him) and once the victim was on shore, the stranger once again vanished. Of all of the people watching from their patios, from the crowd, no one could explain where he went. Dozens and dozens of “he was just here’s” flowed through the crowd.
  • Minus the mystery guy, and my husband, no one else wanted to go in. A few people helped in their own way… A guy had a knife to cut the seatbelt. Another guy produced a shovel for Chw to hold on to for leverage to swim the car closer to the bank.
  • My husband is a hero.

My husband’s take on the event is that he should have done more; That he shouldn’t have questioned it and just gone in; That he should have been more helpful; that he shouldn’t feel on edge or nervous when he’s driving now; that his involvement wasn’t a big deal so he doesn’t know why he hasn’t slept great and has been on edge since Friday evening.

We left before the news came. He didn’t want to be interviewed and I completely understood. (also, he looked like a swamp monster and so no one would have believed it was really him anyway.) (I’m kidding, of course.) Knife guy stayed and told the story well. Saturday the sheriff called my husband and left a beautiful voicemail. I was in an aisle of Target when my wide-eyed husband played it, choked up, and then handed it to me to hear. Fat tears filled my eyes because this man was really proud and grateful for my husband and I knew exactly how he felt.

I explained to Chw that trauma comes in all shapes and sizes. That what he experienced was traumatic stress, first from narrowly avoiding colliding with this guy (and we’ve all been in those types of situations and it is JARRING) to watching this horrible situation unfold (the car went airborne twice, you guys!) and then the very process of saving his life. It’s a lot. And the aftermath of stressful, traumatic situations is a lot to navigate through. He’s catching a yoga class tonight and I really hope that helps, but mostly this will just take time.

Make what you will of my headache, our change of plans or the disappearing stranger, my opinion is not going to change. It isn’t the first time that unexplained things have happened to my husband. (have I told you about the couch and the stairs? No? Perhaps, most recently, his bumper? also no? Another time, perhaps…) I just wanted to share the story and how extraordinary my husband is, and to give a huge shout out to this small corner of the world who did not prioritize social media over humanity.

 

 

The truth ship…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay1 Comment

These days there is an easiness which has settled in around us. We have grown in to something which the past few years had impaired. Most days we simply just be, him Chw and me, well- me. Routines fall in to place and there are moments, I will admit, when I question why it had felt so difficult before. It doesn’t take long before I remember. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but ours, really, but only in the ways that we allowed other people to take precedence over us. This happens so subtly that we don’t always realize that is what happens, especially when the couple transitions into a family.

I remember I was at a luncheon last fall and there was a discussion amongst the women at our table. All virtual strangers, there for a cause, one woman spoke up about how her youngest child was a junior in high school and she was terrified of what would become of her once he graduated and left the house. She was currently the team mom on his very heavy sports schedule. She was on the PTA. She ran each semester’s rather large fundraiser. She had made sure that in the high school careers of each of her three children, she had been ALL in. She was that mom. She admitted that she lived vicariously through the high school lives of her kids, attending every single function and never missing a moment. She loved it. She also admitted she was never home in the evenings or on weekends because her children deserved for everything to be about them.

What about your husband? I asked.

“Oh him? I don’t know. We have not had an actual conversation that wasn’t in passing about one of the kids sporting needs for well over a decade. I mean isn’t that what parenthood is? We will spend time together when it’s over.”

I was sad for her. When prodded a little, by another luncher, this woman briefly admitted that she had no idea who she even was outside of her kids high school lives. By this point I was really very sad for her. So sad in fact, that here we are months later and I think of this woman often. I am sad for her and her marriage. I am sad that she does not realize the couple part of her family equation, the foundation that began her family, may not really exist anymore. I was sad for both the man and the woman- the man who became invisible and unimportant to the woman he loved, and the woman who became those same things to herself.

I think that is the biggest marital advice I would ever have for anyone. In the way that we keep our eyes on the horizon so we don’t get car sick on the road- keep your eyes on your spouse. Never stop seeing them. I am not naive enough to think that hard seasons are done for us. We are approaching a heavy travel season where we won’t connect much, and honestly because our really ugly and painful bits aren’t that far in the past, this makes me nervous. What I do know however is that these current days of ease and being feel like all I have ever wanted, and I would not want to have them with anyone else. We have been together for twenty-four years, in various ways. He knows me, what I’ll like and not like, when I need to be close and when I don’t. He understands, without back story, the complications in relationships and who I truly value and trust. He knows the daughter, the mother and the friend I have been even better than myself. It is in those things, and the memories, moments and experiences with which the ease is founded. It took a lot of work to get to this place where the inside jokes of a lifetime ago still make us belly laugh until tears crest our eyes. This is what marriage becomes, but we have to allow it. We cannot allow our job, our children, family members or friends to come before this core part of our journey. There for a while we forgot that and allowed all of those things to take precedence, and our ship crashed hard.

What is it they say? If we learn from our mistakes then they weren’t failures after all? That feels true.

I have been thinking so much about that woman lately. Sadly, I would not recognize her if I crossed paths with her again, but I am hoping and praying she gets it and that it isn’t too late. During that meal and meeting, those months ago, the more she unlayered, the lonelier she sounded. Her drug for masking the feeling was her over-involvement with her kids. Once her kids move on to their next chapters though, I fear the insurmountable amount of pain she will likely slam into.

We’ve all done it: hide from our hurts/fears/failures in something else. It is the heart of addiction, adultery… It is the seed which grows the disasters of so many things. I know many lives, on this very day, of people I love and/or respect where this is happening. This is why we, as women, keep ourselves over busy. Let’s stop. Let’s let go of expectations and perceived expectations. Let’s take an honest look at the people we share our lives with, and ourselves, and then lets just kick back and be. Do I need to lose 50 lbs? yeah, I do. Should I go wash the handful of dishes in the sink? Absolutely. But hows my heart? Am I present in this moment? Am I feeling grounded? How’s my marriage? It isn’t that the superficial things are not important, but they are not the MOST important.

an epiphony of blue and white…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

One afternoon, last week, I was running some errands. Here’s the thing about Michigan… There will almost always been a grassy patch in the middle of city, and in that grassy patch there is a good chance you will see some form of wildlife. (I have seen more deer, bunnies and random other creatures in the middle of ordinary urban lawn patches than when I have been out in nature hoping for such encounters.) Anyway, last week I was going about my busy day, caught up in my list and life and adulthood and how those things often play together to cover a moment’s unique beauty by grown up necessity.

I eased slowly out of the parking spot and pull forward to begin the exit from the lot when suddenly the largest rabbit I have ever seen goes loping from the grassy and wildflower riddled patch on my right, over to the more lush patch on my left. While the moment caught me with a combined sense of wonder and the mental beginnings of a good comedy bit about giant bunnies crossing the road, I quickly came to terms with the fact that I am not a comedian. Instead I parked once again and thought about what had just happened. I observed the rabbit, all fur and grace and cuteness. In the way that an optometrist flicks a lens to change our vision, I took in the various wildflowers around this bunny and I. The purple and orange petals speckling the sea of swaying green. Here next the banquet hall and pizza place was something so ordinarily beautiful, but how often had I not noticed? A path I had not only taken hundreds of times, but this very parking lot was one I had been in four times that week alone.

What else was I missing, because I simply refused to look? 

I have been on this adventure to live a life of more intention, for a while. Each day I grow a bit more observant and a tad more grateful for what I see. Last week I stumbled into an ordinary super market, only to find that it was a blissful place of inspiration and deliciousness. It has been five days since that accidental encounter and I have ached to go back every day, ever since. Ached to go to a grocery store? I know… It sounds ridiculous.

Over the weekend we grilled dinner and opened a small little bottle of blackberry wine. I sat with it resting on my tongue for a bit. Sure, I get that this isn’t how one is supposed to drink wine, but I didn’t care. Gone were rash fears of tooth decay or programmed routines of dissecting the notes with my palate. I simply wanted to feel that tingle and taste that fruit for a little while longer.

On Saturday we went to a little Korean restaurant we have loved for years. As I dipped my chopsticks into various dishes, I reached out to try the things I was sure I did not like before. I tried them in combination with other things and my taste buds exploded in delight. When we are honest, isn’t this what savoring life’s little bits is really about? Taking in the good, with the bad? Resting on the balancing line, alert but content to be there and learn what we can while we are? Maybe I am wrong, but these days those moments when I keep myself in check and do just that are the times when I feel like I am exactly where I should be.

In our new living room we painted some walls blue, and some walls white. In the corner where the walls meet it is impossible to say if this is a blue room or a white room, but is that really a necessity anyhow?  This is a room, it is our room. Our living room in our home and we love it. The same with life. Some moments are hard, others are not. This does not make it a hard life, or an easy one, but simply a life. Not one-dimensional, not shallow, not pure bliss. A canvas of peaks and valleys and hues of many shade. The piece is not done yet, and I am glad. By the time it is, may I have this intentional, simplistic and peaceful thing down pat. Until then, I’ll keep trying.

That giant rabbit is just living his life. He knows a busy street is right there, and I’m sure he realizes many a creature has died at its truth. Even so, there he is, doing his bunny thing. I want to be like that rabbit. I don’t want to be deaf to the roar of danger just over there, but I want to live happy and content in what I’ve got right here- my beautiful corner of blue and white…

Home…

Published on by Mae @ RainydayinmayLeave a comment

Two Julys ago I danced, headphones blaring, spreading a roller filled with paint over dingy greyed apartment walls. The walls were transforming into a brighter shade of winter snow, hoping to bring bright into the basement apartment which relied on only one glass door window for daylight.

I had spent months painting walls, beside my husband. We had tiled a kitchen, restored a fireplace and stood distantly side-by-side as we turned a house we were impartial to, into a home for our family. This last bit, an apartment for my mother, felt bigger than a paint job.

Two years ago I was seeing a counselor weekly. I was on the verge of an internal emotional collapse due the impending changes happening in my family, and in my home. My mother was coming to live with me. My mother, whom I had not actually lived with since I was twelve. My mother, our history of severe abuse and neglect spread like a chasm of complication and fear between us. She stated that coming to live with me sounded like hell to her, and if I were being honest, I felt the same. Instead I lied to myself and anyone who would listen about how I simply wanted her last days on earth to be happy and healthy ones. I picked up the responsibility of healing the relationship between us and carried it all alone. This, while distance grew by the day between my husband and I. He was my partner, my very best friend and I had no idea how to process such an unexplained gap. This house, and the impending arrival of my mother sat between us like a foul toad, squatting and promising to destroy everything it touched. Life felt hard, heavy, with air dank and thick. My flight or fight instinct kicked in roughly two years ago. I had to fight for everything I loved, or get out. I knew it as well as I understood anything. What I did not understand was the distance between Chw & I, or how to repair it. I did not understand how to walk in steps without him really present by my side. I did not understand how to approach and deal with this thing regarding my mother. Who am I kidding, before that house I felt competent and capable, but in that house I did not really know much of anything at all.

I flew. I disappeared into school on an impulse decision and lost myself into the healing of an unhealthy friendship because there I understood exactly where I fit in. While every day confirmed to me that my husband, my daughter (at home) and my mother were the people who liked my presence the least, this friend needed me. I knew where I stood with him. We did not have the sort of relationship that betrayed my marriage, though honestly I was so desperate for someone to actually find me of value- it could have happened. I was like a person living so far outside of their actual life, numb to the realities of what happened and just getting through each day.

My life fell apart, and I am sad to say my counselor was very instrumental in everything. From the losing myself in the friendship, to the personally pushing distance between my husband and I. By the time a few months had passed, I was only listening to two people- the mental health professional I relied on, and the only person who seemed to think I was worth anything. I felt like I was daily dying to be loved.

It has been a really long two years. It is hard to believe that Chw and I were only physically separated for 6 months, it felt like years. Years of heartache, years of life experience and years of growth and healing within myself.

This July I chose paint colors for the walls of our new home. (it’s a rental, though long-term. I’ve learned the lesson of buying houses in Michigan. Two huge financial failures, and I’m secure in a lease, thank you very much.) I unpacked boxes and displayed family photos as though they were precious art. The reality struck me that the last time I put together a home, was that house, those two years ago. I both loved and hated that house. Seeing the new buyers change things is both bitter and sweet. While new homes should feel full of possibility, that home never really did. For two years I have wandered internally, wishing for balm to soothe aches and hurts, devastation and broken trusts. For two years I have felt stranded and abandoned. The last year of that had me finally sleeping in the same bed every night, though temporary. loss and turmoil were the interior design of choice then.

This time around there is simply home. My soul needed the roller on wall to reset the purpose behind such acts. The process, the newness, the fresh paint scented creation of some place good.

It has been one literal hell of a journey, but I finally feel home. Home is not walls and a roof, nor is it a destination. Home is simply a place of peace and rest, and a shelter for the growth life takes us through.