a little, about me – a lot, about my journey
It pains me that I will no longer see those eyes and experience the way you look at me.
Today, we made the most difficult decision imaginable – one we will forever wonder if it was made at the right time.
I love you Vennlig and will forever miss you boo.
One of the largest hurdles along the path of my journey is the crippling fear of making a mistake and then making the necessary changes to resolve a mistake made.
I expend a lot of effort -not- doing something as a result of the cost analysis conducted in my head … more often than not, I convince myself that the costs (e.g. financial, time-based, physical resources needed) associated with something are too great to begin the task/project for fear that if I am not 110% satisfied with the outcome then I will have wasted those resources.
A perfect example of this is my desire to create art or paint as the case may be. I have been in possession of 2 stretched canvases purchased from Hobby Lobby years ago. Likewise, I have a complete ‘artist’s kit’ with watercolors, oils, and acrylics that Ma gifted me one year for Christmas many years ago. While I am nite sure exactly when I acquired these items I do know that tit was prior to the summer of ’02 because they made the journey to/from Dallas in my move. I have long resisted in painting anything with these resources for fear that I would waste the paint/canvas.
I approach everything very analytically and when I imagine myself painting, I cleverly convince myself that I must have a specific idea in mind down to the necessary dimensions so that my brush does not have to pass a spot on the canvas more than once. Anyone who has painted before I am sure would tell you that that thought is completely ludicrous, asinine, faulty, etc.
I actually discussed this crippling fear with a counselor a few years back and she encouraged me to face that fear as many times as necessary in hopes that I would eventually get beyond it. She actually gave me an ‘assignment’ at one session and told me to go home and paint something so that we could talk about the experience when I returned. Needless to say, I didn’t even attempt it.
I provide that background as a means to lead up to the events of the past few days. Last Wednesday (10/11) we made a trip to Homegrown Taproom for dinner. Aside from the great food and excellent beer selection, my primary goal was to fill my growler with a great beer and sit and paint while becoming inebriated. For me, consuming alcohol is a necessary prerequisite to engaging in any sort of activity that would require me to ‘loosen up’. So the following evening, I poured myself a beer and we sat in the sunroom painting.
I approached the activity with the canvas in landscape with the idea that I would paint a rendering of the image that appears on this website since that image is a perfect reflection of my journey. Needless to say, before the night was over I had rotated the canvas to portrait and began painting with an entirely different purpose – and that was okay …
The next day however, when I again looked at the painting (sober no less), I quickly began to analyze it and then began to ‘fix’ it … The whole process was really quite informative. I had never painted with acrylics before and so was surprised to learn just how soluble they are in water (which is great considering that I don’t want to ‘waste’ any brushes with oils). I had read on wiki-how that the canvas works better if is damp and so I also realized that I could mist the wet paint to get a great bleeding effect. That bit of knowledge and experience came in handy on Saturday morning when I decided to mist the entire painting and then rub it down … once the canvas dried, I proceeded to paint it entirely black.
I spent the day going back and forth to the painting as I slowly began to develop it in to a piece with meaning and I have to admit, I am pleased.
I call the painting ‘journey’ as I see it as representative of my journey. Here, the painting appears to be black/white. While it is dark, there is color int he trees and flashlight. There is a lone figure with a dog walking a moonlit path in the dead of night. In the shadows are two glowing eyes though from who/what is unknown. As I take my journey, I often feel as though I am in the darkness often unsure of where I am going. The glowing eyes represent the fear that cripples me constantly.
Currently, my favorite color is blue …
Growing up, I distinctly remember preferring black to any other color. Ma had kept a drawing of our family that I had done very early on and we were all black, and all had penises too no less.
I also remember preferring the black crayon to the others because it could always be used to cover up any mistakes that were made.
Something has changed and I don’t know what it is.
Initially, I want to blame the break in our routine of calling one another which occurred as I began my summer vacation from work and you and Travis celebrated your anniversary in Hawaii but it’s just not that simple.
When we do talk, I feel like we are strangers and I secretly cross my fingers hoping that you don’t ask me any probing questions about my life space for I am ashamed.
Still though, I don’t feel as connected with you as I had in recent years and that is not your fault.
I find myself slowly withdrawing from the world around me and everyone I care for. On some level, I seek to stop nurturing any connections held and certainly resist forming new ones. All the while I am terrified of being completely alone – a fear that is all too realistic. I picture myself in a corner slowly devouring the world around me until I eventually im/ex-plode.
I am lost.
It has been 13 years since I returned to my life in TN after having lived in Dallas, TX for a mere 11 months. A week ago tomorrow, I made a return trip back to Dallas for the first time since I moved away, visiting for a week.
What is most surprising to me to me is that nothing is as I remember it. Sure, a lot can change in 13 years but I think it is more than that …
My move to Dallas represents only the second most important decision I have ever made thinking solely of my path, the first being my decision to attend college.
Since being back in TN over the past 13 years, I have often wondered if I made the right decision at the right time to move back. Sure, given Ma’s deteriorating health conditions, I would have moved back eventually but did I move back too soon? This wondering, and perhaps regret, eventually developed into endearing memories of what my life in Dallas was like. Granted, my time there was enjoyable but as I re-explored the sites this week and revisited some points with fond memories attached, I realize that nothing is as I remember it.
There are a few explanations for this I suppose ..
Granted, a lot can admittedly change in 13 years especially in an urban environment. I didn’t even recognize my old office building given the new buildings that have risen around it so yeah, a lot has changed … but that’s not it …
Then, there is the phenomenon of false memories. I recently had a conversation with a very dear friend of mine about general life events – a where were you when sort of conversation. We began to speak of the Challenger explosion. My memories tell me that I was in Ms. Palladino’s high school art class when we watched the news on the TV mounted in the front of the classroom. I remember we got those TVs as part of a grant to support the viewing of the Channel 1 News station for current events framed for adolescents. I also remembering sitting in the front row nearly in front of the TV as we watched the footage of the explosion. She recounted similar memories but while she is only a couple of years my senior, her memories seemed to coincide with a much earlier age than mine. So, we googled the event. The Challenger exploded on January 18th, 1986 … given that I was born in ’78, that would have made me 8 years old – certainly not a high school student. This is a perfect example of how our memories can distort a past reality. How we can force ourselves to believe very specific and detailed events that never happened. So I have to wonder, have my feelings of regret around Dallas somehow shaped my memories of my time there?
Finally, our cumulative experience defines our current experience … not only am I 13 years older, I have also acquired 2 master degrees, advanced in a new career, supported 2 teenage boys through high school … you get the picture. Basically, most of what I experienced in 2002/03 were new experiences for me then and so left an impression that I carried with me all these years. The impression was based more on the excitement surrounding a new experience and less about the experience itself. Fast forward to 2016 – lots of other experiences now define the things/events/places I attempted to re-experience while in Dallas but it just wasn’t the same – because I am not the same and I no longer see/experience things the way I did when I was 24.
I guess I think through all of this to convince myself that no matter what, life is what you make of it and never what you remember of it.
It has been two short years since you and Justin tied the knot.
It is surreal for me – for a couple of reasons.
First – you are, and always will be, my baby girl. Acknowledging then that you are all grown up is not something I easily do.
Second – my memories of this day two years ago are very different than yours. I wasn’t able to join in your celebration with you. Rather, I was trying to distract Ma from the pain of not being present – a pain I am not so sure she ever let go of. Her body would not allow her to attend and her mind kept her from healing from that.
I believe that her inability to be physically present, on a day that she herself had been looking forward to, was a turning point for her recovery. It was at that point, that I believe, she realized that her life was slowly being consumed by the dis-ease of her physical body. She had fought for so long but now it was clear that even she was not strong enough.
I never heard her speak of your day except for once – when she owned that that hardest part of it all was knowing that Marlene was able to attend.
I hope you know how proud of you she was. I also hope you can see through her life how anger and resentment can eat away at the very fiber of your soul. If I could wish for you anything at all, it would be the ability to forgive even when you can’t forget.
Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.
It has nearly been a year since I last sat next to you on the couch. That day will forever be a sad day for me because it was that day, February 14th, 2015, that I helped you to the bed for the last time.
It was a different bed though and for different reasons. No longer was the focus to simply rest peacefully but now it was to rest for eternity.
That day was extremely difficult for me. Never have I had to make such a difficult decision as I did on that day. I still wonder if I made the right decision or just the easier decision. Even as I toil with the answer to that question, I can’t imagine having made a different decision for your sake.
All of those memories are flooding back to me as we approach the anniversary of your passing. Today brings specific memories with the amount of snow that has fallen. Beautiful, pure, fluffy snow – in uncommon amounts – that will from this point forward remind me of your passing. I will always believe that you left your body in sync with the coming snow out of consideration for us – as was the reasoning for everything you did. You knew that we would not have to take any more time off from work to care for you since the storm itself provided the necessary reprieve. You always felt ‘guilty’ that I was having to use my sick time to take you to the doctor and care for you – I wouldn’t have had it any other way though. In the end, no amount of time off from work is sufficient for the mourning that I continue to experience on a daily basis.
You are forever with me Ma and I will never forget your Love and Support.
forever & always
Today would have been your 60th birthday had you been aloud to see it. If you were still alive, I can’t imagine it would be a day of much celebration. Seeing you deteriorate over the past couple of years has forced me to see the fragile nature of your body and even your spirit towards the end.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. My feelings wander between those of peace and of sorrow. On the one hand, I am at peace knowing that you are no longer bound to this plain by your dis-eased body. On the other hand, I am saddened greatly by the time lost and taken for granted.
As we pass through the holidays, and more importantly your birthday, I can’t help but realize that over the years the joy I experienced from the holidays came as a result of a celebration of you. As I grew older, December 25th became less of a day spent around a Christmas tree and more about the time I could spend close to you. As a result, I am faced with this quiet rebellion against all that the holidays typically bring, overtly refusing to celebrate since I am unable to celebrate with you. At the same time, I feel deep within my soul that you would want me to continue on celebrating yet I don’t know how to do that. It is almost as though I fear to continue on would mean that I have moved on and I can’t imagine that. I do hope to someday move beyond remembering only your struggles to a place of remembering your joys but I guess that will take time. Still though, I never want to forget any of the times or experiences of your fight – I just want to get passed that and remember who you were/are to me.
For what it’s worth – Happy Birthday Ma!
I love you – forever & always
Exactly six months ago today I lost you forever.
I spent yesterday looking at photos and files on your laptop, the one I bought you a few years ago so that you could play games and check email or Facebook in bed. I’ll never forget how gradually you became less and less interested in using it and engaging online – I think interest first began to wain when it became more difficult to see and then slowly more difficult to comprehend.
Over the last year you very slowly became someone I did not recognize. Your laugh was heard less often and your smile seen less frequently.
What concerns me most now is that all I seem to be able to remember are the doctor visits or the pain and suffering you endured. I am finding it difficult to remember the better times. I am finding it difficult to stop crying over and focusing on the times that have nothing to do with who you are.
I want to remember the good things. I want to see you in my dreams and smell you around the corner.
I want to remember – and forget …
forever and always