All I wanna do is make something last

Can't stop listening to Margo Price's song Hands of Time

Into the wind it’ll baptize our skin till our music is tender

Adam posted this song on his blog today. He sent it to me first (benefits of being his fiance..I get all the good stuff first).

Since my last post a couple of weeks ago, it feels like we have turned a corner on the winter time sadness.  The clenching panic in my chest has released a little and I am sleeping through the night again. I am experiencing feelings again like hope and my heart feels lighter. (the world isn't actually ending, weird.)

I am looking forward to summer evenings on our back patio and swimming before work in the outdoor pool at my local rec center. I am looking forward to my freckles darkening and bike rides with Adam to our neighborhood brewery. I am looking forward to sleeping with the windows open, well just keeping the windows open all of the time really.

I  am looking forward to sitting on our front porch swing together (may God bless its strength) and daydreaming about our wedding in September and what is to come for us after that.  I am looking forward to continuing to learn about what it means to love someone and grow a partnership with them. How that means that this person you have chosen to spend the rest of your life with comes with their own hopes (and opinions).

Tomorrow I am flying to Tucson to spend some much needed time with one of my most favorite people in the world. Sunday I will fly home and will have one hour longer of sun in the evening to greet me.

Spring is coming, and it is time to bid winter and the sadness that came with it, farewell. 

I'm wide awake, it's morning

I've realized (it was mentioned a few dozen times by my family) that my depression has returned, it came back to hibernate with me for the winter. Strangely, unlike every time before, I am having trouble sleeping. Before I would prefer to sleep forever.  Now if I get woken up in the middle of the night, no matter if it is 2 or 4 AM, I cannot get back to sleep.

My brain's continuous stream of thoughts clicks on and instead of staying in our dark room, sighing heavily, I get up. The dog is always happy to see me. I start the coffee pot, turn the heat up and let my brain have its way. 

While sometimes I feel overwhelmed by sadness, it is mainly a feeling of anger and frustration that I feel. Throw in some splashes of hopelessness. Another new anomaly- I misplace words as I am about to say them. My brain stops & stutters and then inserts whatever it can find in place of the lost word.

Part of me wonders if I was living alone how much further in the pit would I be? Being in a committed relationship means you have a daily witness to your unravelling. Someone to give you a concerned and pointed look every now & again, and someone who won't just let you disappear. Also someone who expects you to still be a contributing member of the household. There's a selfish aspect to depression. When you feel like all hope is lost forever, doing the dishes and laundry seems impossible.

I quit seeing my counselor & psychiatrist last fall...I felt "better" and was having side effects from my medication.  When in reality that was probably the beginning of this one. Depression lies to you & tricks you into believing that, that new feeling of apathy means everything is okay. The reverse is that once you do start feeling better and getting healthy, you forget how terrible it really was, and you believe it won't ever come back. 

Her ancient eyes were upon me. They were familiar and black
She laid her claws all up on me. She had found me at last
Ah it woke me up early. I went and I drew me a bath
Ah, the beast was upon me, honey. I guess it wasn’t so bad

That is the summit. Savor it.

But when it’s 10 p.m. and you crawl into bed like two old people and tell each other about the weird things that your kids said that day and laugh and tell stupid jokes and giggle and then maybe you feel like making out or maybe you just feel like playing a quick game of Candy Crush, all the while saying things like, “This game is stupid, it sucks” and “Your feet are freezing” and “My ass hurts,” that’s romantic. Because at some point, let’s be honest, death supplies the suspense. How long can this glorious thing last? your eyes sometimes seem to ask each other. You, for one, really hope this lasts a whole hell of a lot longer. You savor the repetitive, deliciously mundane rhythms of survival, and you want to keep surviving. You want to muddle through the messiness of life together as long as you possibly can. That is the summit. Savor it. That is the very definition of romance.

What Romance Means After Ten Years of Marriage

2. Freedom

2 years, 2 months and 2 days ago I began slowly paying off over $14,000 in debt. That number doesn't even seem real to me. It was real though, a combination of medical bills, credit cards & payday loans. And shame, lots & lots of shame.

Meeting Adam helped motivate me to look at  the debt unflinchingly, & acknowledge it without the shame. I started paying it off bit by bit. I knew I wanted it all paid off before we got married. Tonight we drove to Boulder to pay the last $82 to the library, & just like that I'm debt free.

"Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report written on birds that he'd had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books about birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him put his arm around my brother's shoulder, and said, "Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird." - Anne Lamott

1- Let's begin

A new to me blogger/Internet person, who also may be getting a show on HGTV, writes a short post every day. Nothing crazy, just a few lines about her day, about recognizing the struggles and also the things to be grateful for - sometimes those are the same.

Well, I like that idea a lot, & I'm going to try to do the same during my lunch at work while I stare out my window at the city of Denver and shovel in last night's leftovers.

Yesterday:
I woke up too late and it led to a frazzled morning. It has taken me 31 years to realize I need at least 30 minutes in the morning dedicated to staring blankly at nothing while drinking coffee.

My Dad used to do this too, I remember. I always felt like I was intruding on something special of his if, I woke up early, & interrupted his quiet ritual. His eyes would be half open, and his voice deeper than usual.

Last night Adam and I rallied for a short more walk than run around our neighborhood. It was fun to be gasping next to him as we ran (shuffled) down our quiet neighborhood streets.  For dinner we had an unexpectedly delicious sausage & bean stew.

I woke up early today and drank coffee while Charlie snored next to me on the couch.

This Will Be Our Year - a hope and prayer for 2016

“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”

2015 was a year for asking questions - where are we going, are we happy in Denver, am I happy in this job, do you want to get married (!)? 

2016 is for answering a few of those I think. I won't get all the answers but I think I'll be on the right path to a few of them.  The best part though is that regardless of if I feel confused as to what direction I'm heading in, I also feel at home, as long as Adam is with me.  Home for me was never a place, since we moved so much.  Meeting and being in a relationship with Adam has helped me to realize I was missing that sense of home for a very long time.  He brought that back to me. 

I knew 2015 was going to be one of those in-between years, and 2016 feels like I am about to jump into the deep end of the pool.  When I was single and wanted to find love and meet "the person" I would tell myself that it was okay to be lonely and okay to be alone because there was some magic in not knowing the end of the story yet, not knowing how it would all work out.  You know, I was totally right. That was kind of special.  What I didn't know though, was that the story would be better than I could have ever imagined it. That I would actually meet someone so absolutely well suited for me and me for him. 2016 will be a celebration of our story continuing on into the next part of our life together. 

This fall I talked to a couple mystical types of people - while I was asking questions about jobs and my calling, they kept redirecting my attention to family and love.  They told me the career questions will be answered later, for now my focus should be on building my family with Adam and finding our home (physical/metaphorical). 

There have been years where I accomplished more (ran a half-marathon) and years where I was so terribly lost in the darkness of depression and 2015 was neither of those.  2015 was a year to build a foundation for myself and for my relationship with Adam. 

I feel as if I am at the door and looking out at a huge landscape of all that is to come.  Like I didn't know the rest of my story before I met Adam, there is so much more of our story left. I am holding those parts tucked deeply in my heart. I've learned to try and let myself be surprised by joy. 

I'm awake, I am here, and it feels good. 

lack of color

If you feel discouraged
That there's a lack of color here
Please don't worry lover
It's really bursting at the seams

This is fact not fiction
For the first time in years

You Know I Dreamed About You for 29 Years

I wanna hurry home to you

Put on a slow, dumb show for you and crack you up

So you can put a blue ribbon on my brain

God I'm very, very frightening, I'll overdo it



You know I dreamed about you

For 29 years before I saw you

You know I dreamed about you

I missed you for, for 29 years

Just looking up, amazed.

Well, it’s the way it goes like the hungry crows 
Combing the endless highway graves 
And like the drifter throws up his thumb and goes 
Hoping to find the high he craves 

And like the ocean shows us what she knows just 
Down below the waves 
When you’re both the captain calling out and the crewmen crawling out 
Just looking up, amazed 

Isn’t it always the things you try for can float just out of reach 
Just a mirage that fades out moments before breaking through the breach 

Well I guess you pick your poison, and mix the oils and 
Water like it will 
Cause it’s a drink of joys and pains and toils 
Only the lucky ones can spill 

And if you feel like running from the fate that’s coming for you 
Well you might just get in line 
When you’re both the engine turning and the sparkplugs burning out 
With just one more hill to climb 

Isn’t it always the things you try for can float just out of reach 
Just a mirage that fades out moments before breaking through the breach 
And wasn’t it fall then winter, spring then summer twenty times at least? 
And doesn’t it all feel like the perfect sunrise, but your back’s turned to the east? 

So raise your glass with me 
These days are passing us by 
No use in asking why 
Cause we’re all fastened to the mast, and 
Last I looked, we’re just casting hooks in the wind 
Like something is bound to bite 
Like the moth is bound to the lanterns light 

My Winning Streak

Through summers long and winters cold 
May you always have someone good to hold, 
And may good fortune wait on every bend, 
And may your winning streak, 
May it never end 

So, roll the dice, boy, ‘cause my money’s on you, 
Take my advice now and put your money down too, 
Because there's something in the eye you can’t pretend, 
And may your winning streak, 
May it never end 

I had my birth chart read last night by an Astrologer. It was fun and interesting, and affirmed that everything has happened/what I think will happen is right on track.  The part I loved the most, was when he said that in the past 2 years, since September of 2013 I have had a lot of "Virgo Energy" around me. I have been more of service to others during this time period, and was beginning to stake my own claim.  Then almost in the next breath he asked what sign Adam is, Virgo I said.  He laughed, well that makes sense since you met him in September of 2013. He told me about the hard times I have travelled through in the past few years and that those times are officially behind me. I am entering into a new phase, one of creativity, love, and family.  He actually used the term "wheel of fortune".  Yes, thank you, that sounds wonderful.  

He spoke to specific things my heart is longing for - the most important of those is marrying that Virgo and starting a family. Towards the end of the call he started listing different cities/places that may mean something to me - Western Germany (I lived there as a child), and then he said Chicago. He explained that it doesn't necessarily mean I should live in these places, but that good things will come to me from these places in the form of people.Oh, Adam was living in Chicago when we met,  I reply.   It seems my 'winning streak' started the day I met Adam. I whisper quietly to the Universe, thank you, thank you, thank you. 

Home

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied

no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here

-Warsan Shire

Ishmael

Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now.
Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. 
You are not obligated to complete
the work, but neither are you free to abandon it. – The Talmud

I was on my lunch break today, sitting on a bench in the shade, and drinking an over-priced smoothie from the newest iteration of downtown hipster restaurants. There was a good breeze and I was looking forward to catching up on a blog while I sat there.  A homeless man walked by and caught my eye, he was holding these pretty little pictures that he obviously drew. 

He sat down with me, and somehow or another, we started talking. Well, he talked and I listened. I tried to nod and smile at the appropriate moments, he was a fast talker. His name is Ishmael. He's from Ethiopia and is about to be deported back there. He came here to seek asylum.  Talking to him, you can tell his high education level. Ishmael told me he was an engineer and professor but that in the U.S. he couldn't find a job for those things.  He kept calling me 'sunshine' even after he asked my name.  He is angry about how he has been treated by people here. I can't help but agree.  He is angry at the obscene wealth that some people have, and how wasteful they are while other people are starving.  I agree again - (suddenly not wanting the rest of my over-priced smoothie). 

I kept waiting for the part where he asks me for money. It never comes.  Ishmael looked at me at one point, and smiled, said "Sunshine, I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time." In that moment, I got a little glimpse of who he was before he came here.  A proud and educated man, well-dressed and handsome. Even now you can tell the clothes he has on were nice, he has style. 

Finally, I asked to look at his drawings. He said he could draw a new one for me but I declined saying that my break was almost over. I asked if I could buy him lunch in trade for the picture since I didn't have any cash.  It is clear he would prefer cash but he settles on lunch. 

We walked into Starbucks together and I kept getting sideways glances from people as I was helping him to find something that looked good to eat. He chose an edamame wrap and an orange juice, water please but no ice.  They give him a water with ice. At first, he was only going to take the juice to which I laughed and said that won't fill you up.  Ishmael got kind of shy and said he didn't want to take advantage of me. While I was paying, the cashier wouldn't make eye contact with me. 

My hands were full and he made a big deal about opening the door for me. As we were saying good-bye he gave me a little bow. I told him to take care. He told me that he was going to be in town for the next couple of days and wants to say good-bye, asking where I'd be.  I'll admit, I didn't want to tell him where I work so I said,  I'll be around here. He kind of smiled at that and walked away.

I walked back to my work, where I make far too much money, with not even half the education that he has. 

My over-priced smoothie is sitting on my desk next to me.

31

31 is going out for a fancy dinner with your Honey, and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror...everything feeling exactly as it should in that moment.

Happy 32, Adam. We have so much ahead of us, & so much already.

Death comes to me again, a girl.

I have been thinking about death and what comes afterward, after losing a friend to suicide. Before, I never really thought about it too much.  The people who had died in my life were older and it seemed natural, even in the midst of my deepest grief I felt that way. When I volunteered for hospice, I felt at peace when the people passed away. Thinking in ambiguous ways, that they were somewhere different and that was okay. 

Spirituality has been a hazy concept on my periphery. I have never felt at home in a church or with organized religion.  I pray, though I don't know to who exactly.  I recently made an appointment with an astrologer and a medium.  I have met with an astrologer before, but the medium idea is totally new.  I was never really interested until now.  I tend to be fairly rational, but a small hopeful part of me is whispering urgently, what if? what if you could talk to your Nana again? what if you could hear that this sweet girl who was in so much pain, is better now?

Her death has made me want to think in different ways about dying and what comes next.  Also, of course, it has made me re-evaluate living a good life and appreciating what I have. I am thinking about what a beautiful life looks like to me, and what I need to do or change to get there. I think I am already well on my way. 

This is one of my favorite poems about death. 

Death Comes to me Again, a Girl

Death comes to me again, a girl
in a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling.
It's not so terrible she tells me, 
not like you think, all darkness
and silence. There are windchimes
and the smell of lemons, some days
it rains, but more often the air is dry
and sweet. I sit beneath the staircase 
built from hair and bone and listen 
to the voices of the living. I like it, 
she says, shaking the dust from her hair, 
especially when they fight, and when they sing.

If it is Not Too Dark

Go for a walk, if it is not too dark. 

Get some fresh air, try to smile. 

Say something kind 

To a safe-looking stranger, if one happens by. 

Always exercise your heart's knowing. 

You might as well attempt something real 

Along this path: 

Take your spouse or lover into your arms 

The way you did when you first met. 

Let tenderness pour from your eyes 

The way the Sun gazes warmly on the earth. 

Play a game with some children. 

Extend yourself to a friend. 

Sing a few ribald songs to your pets and plants – 

Why not let them get drunk and wild! 

Let's toast 

Every rung we've climbed on Evolution's ladder. 

Whisper, "I love you! I love you!" 

To the whole mad world. 

Let's stop reading about God - 

We will never understand Him. 

Jump to your feet, wave your fists, 

Threaten and warn the whole Universe 

That your heart can no longer live 

Without real love!