We Had to Get Away

I have spent the past week immersed in Jeannette Walls' books (The Glass Castle and Half Broke Horses). I soaked up every word and watched numerous interviews with her on YouTube, yet I couldn't succinctly describe what it felt like to be wrapped up in her books until I came upon this quote:

“Mom, you have to leave Dad,” I said. 

She stopped doing her toe touches. “I can’t believe you would say that,” she said. “I can’t believe that you, of all people, would turn on your father.” 

I was Dad’s last defender, she continued, the only one who pretended to believe all his excuses and tales, and to have faith in his plans for the future. “He loves you so much,” Mom said. “How can you do this to him?” 

“I don’t blame Dad,” I said. And I didn’t. But Dad seemed hell-bent on destroying himself, and I was afraid he was going to pull us all down with him. “We’ve got to get away.” 
― Jeannette Walls, The Glass Castle

I thoroughly enjoyed Jeannette's writing style and couldn't put my finger on the "why" of it until one interviewer marvelled at the fact that she retold her story without anger or resentment towards her father who was an alcoholic which led to a nomadic and unstable upbringing.

I walked away from a partner who encapsulated some of the personality traits of Rex Walls (Jeannette's father). As I drove my young family away from the cycle of the life that kept drawing me back time and time again, there was a knowing deep inside of me that we had to get away. Plain and simple. I was afraid he was going to pull us all down with him.

In one of her interviews, Jeannette Walls says everyone should write their own memoir. Not everyone should publish their memoir but everyone should write the story of their life. I began to wonder what I may come up with, if I was to unearth my memories.

My childhood was idyllic and in no way prepared me for my marriage. I question why I made some of the choices I did at the time but I do remember well the low self image I had of myself. That is quite likely at the crux of things.

I fell for a boy (I was 16; he was 18 when we met and we married one year later) who loved me out loud. I led a very safe life. He lived on the edge. I followed rules to the letter. He defied them. I grew up in a home where affection was not displayed openly. He held my hand. He hugged me. I felt unloveable. He loved me.

And the rest is history.

Our marriage was a roller coaster ride of the best of times and the worst of times. Our fights were loud and destructive. We brought out the best and the worst in each other. I can't think of a time in my life where I look back and criticize my actions as harshly as I do during our marriage. Yet ... the good times made up for everything.

Our marriage was so far from my normal that I didn't even want to be around my family. I couldn't be a part of something that felt so foreign to me. Yet when we separated for the last time I ran straight into the heart of everything that has grounded me. I moved back "home", nestled in among family I didn't know yet. It was the beginning of a time of good decision making for me.

I had to leave him. It was the only right answer. For me. For my children. For our future.

I look back on my previous life and while I remember our reality quite well, I choose to focus on the heart of a man who wanted to be so much more.

I believe I saw the best he had to give. His heart started out in the right place but too often, his intentions got lost somewhere in between his heart and his actions. But there were times when his actions reflected his intentions. It was the best of times ...

“I don’t blame him. But he seemed hell-bent on destroying himself, and I was afraid he was going to pull us all down with him. We had to get away.” 

The Best Part of Waking Up ...

There is a weariness within me that sleep doesn't begin to touch a lot of days. But waking up to this view is the best part of my morning:

I Met a Rabbit

When I went to check the mailbox when I got home last night, there was something that caught my eye. I simply extended my view from the mailbox to our neighbor's yard and there it was. A young rabbit.

The door was already open. I simply stepped outside in my bare feet and silently padded my way along to get a better view.

The rabbit hopped through our yard then stopped at the cat walk beside our driveway. The rabbit was on full alert. Ears perked up and I'm sure in its peripheral vision, it was watching me as closely as I was watching it. We both stopped in our tracks, tested our trust-o-meters and simply breathed.

The rabbit nibbled on a few weeds. Sat up. Watched. Listened. Then washed one side of its face. Sat up. Turned to face me and we made face to face contact. It washed the other side of its face. We were both well aware of the other's presence. It trusted me enough to simply be still and let me soak up the moments.

Minutes passed. Nothing startled the rabbit so it stayed put. I watched him. He was fully aware of me. No one broke the barrier of trust that stood between us. No one's personal space was invaded. No sudden moves or startling sounds. It was a moment. Just the rabbit and me.

I thought of the rabbits in Mom's neighborhood and how close Mom could be to them as she moved slowly and quietly through her yard. I suspect they watched her as much as she watched them.

I introduced myself to our neighborhood rabbit last night. I watched him. He watched me. Step one in forging a small sense of trust.

Another moment brought to you courtesy of Mother Nature.

I met a rabbit and I shall dub him "Jerry". Show me the bunny! And the bunny appeared.

What Color is Your Hair?

Simple question, right? What color is your hair?

Ask a 5 year old, the answer is "Brown".

Ask a 58 year old, the answer is "Medium ash blond".

Same color. The only difference? One comes out of a box.

Moments to Behold

It's Monday morning and I am simply grateful to be sitting still in the quiet of the morning. It's been a rather people-oriented weekend and I have very few words left over.

It was a very good weekend. It was full of everything good. Yet as I wake up into this brand new work week, these are the moments that sift to the top:

Spotting a black cat (no, it wasn't either of our cats) in a flower bed, ignoring the magpies that were harrassing him. I took one look at this cat's familiar expression and I thought, "I love black cat's personalities!" I haven't met a black cat I haven't liked. The demeanor of this cool black cat, as he brushed off the attention he was getting from the magpies? Perfection.

We came upon this perfect little scene as we walked around a man-made water lake at a park. It melted my heart and I could have simply sat still and gazed at these little critters for hours.

I dubbed the lead goose as Mother Goose and the one bringing up the rear as Father. I have no idea if that is the truth or not. It is simply the story I made up in my head as I breathed in the moment.

The protective nature of the two adults doesn't change as they enter the water. Isn't nature amazing?

Meanwhile, on the other side of the path are the geese that decided against going out for a mid-afternoon swim. Four adults stayed on shore, with one of them clearly appointed as "Lookout"

One more ... isn't this adorable?

I drove home from my day trip just as the sun was beginning to set. I was watchful for any wildlife who may be crossing the highway and just as I was making my turn, I saw a young moose thinking about whether or not to dart across. I slowed down to give both of us ample time to react and he decided to turn around and head back into the field. Smart moose.

I love watching nature unfold before my eyes. Acting and reacting to life instinctively. Pure and simple.

Humans are so complicated...but that is a story for another day.

Fearless Warriors

Do you ever hear yourself thinking, feeling and saying things you know you have thought, felt and said before and wonder how in the world this new circumstance feels so similar to a past event even though it couldn't be further from where you once were?

If your answer is "no", read no further. This post is not for you. If your answer is "yes", feel free to read on. I may or may not reveal important truths in the paragraphs to come. My fingers haven't written what my brain has figured out yet. I may or may not be in for some surprises myself.

I typed the words my inner self has been feeling into a Google search box this morning. I've been here before. How could something so dissimilar feel the same? I set the words free. Revised them to suit my particular situation better. I searched once again. It was only then, when I finally read the words I was meant to see.

I have been feeling very emotional about a situation lately. In order to manage my own thoughts, I have been talking. I usually hear my answers when I set my words free and hear them outside my head.

I kept hearing other people's words instead. Disbelief. Suggestions. Direction. It sounded simple. Just do "this" or "that" or "the other thing". I kept revising my story in an attempt to reveal the other side of the story. The answer isn't that simple, I would respond time and time again.

I finally heard part of my truth when I started thinking "By not saying anything, I am perpetuating the behaviour that is breaking my soul". I knew I had to come up with a tactic to stop or divert the energy I have been absorbing and turn it around.

Then the day unfolded. I felt powerless. I felt weak. I felt defeated. How can I keep going back into the arena when I don't have a means of defense in place?

I feel like Rocky Balboa. I keep standing up. I keep going back. I feel bruised and battered but I warrior on.

My opponent is waging their own battle. I thought and continue to think that their ability to stand up and go back into the arena is quite possibly harder than the battle I'm having. They are very likely feeling as powerless and defeated as I am, thus they are waging the war of their lifetime.

No one can know what another person is going through. I try. Oh, how I try. I try to put myself in their shoes. I try to borrow the shoes of another fearless warrior and put what I have learned and I try harder.

I tried. I know enough to not fan the flame. I cannot make it worse. But I cannot continue down this path.

This morning, I searched the words that were in my heart. I didn't find an answer. The only thing I found was a revised perspective.

These words: "Rather than interpret this as personal, try to see them for what it is — signs of unbearable suffering."

That is exactly what I was feeling. I was trying my darndest not to take it personally and had been doing okay with that until recently. "Unbearable suffering" ...

This is definitely a post I must walk away from before I hit the "Publish" button. I don't have the whole story. I still don't have a plan. I just hope I have the strength to reroute whatever may come my way today with a renewed perspective and a different vocabulary running through my thoughts.

An Unexpected Moment

Mother Nature offered up another "be still and soak up the moment" opportunity yesterday. This moment was watching one of my favorite animals that is allowed to roam the city streets. A rabbit sighting.

Yesterday's rabbit didn't hop off in a straight line as most of my sightings go. Usually, once I spot a rabbit the most I can hope for is that it either stays where it is resting or doesn't run off. I can't remember a time when a rabbit didn't simply run off in a relatively straight line. Yesterday was different.

Yesterday's rabbit was first spotted enjoying the newly planted flower garden outside my aunt's deck area. So I shall henceforth dub this rabbit "Flower". My aunt knows how much I enjoy rabbit watching so she pointed out Flower's existence. From that point on, we simply sat back and watched.

"Flower" heard something and hopped off. As a rule, the rabbits head off in one direction and simply take the next forward hop. Not yesterday. Flower stopped, sat back on its haunches, turned around and was on full alert. The next thing we knew, Flower headed back in the direction she came from. Stopped. Stood up on her back two feet, ears were perked up and Flower was listening. She was almost out of sight but her fully alert ears were still visible. Then she headed back where we could see her better, tucked back her ears and if we had not been watching her we would have been certain she was a rock.

I begged her to come a little closer so we could watch her. I think she understood me because after a brief rest, she inched a little closer to where we were and stopped again.

There were momentary stops but Flower zigged and zagged a few more times before she headed off in a northern direction and hopped out of sight. The robin that was in the area was completely unfazed by the rabbit's existence, instinctively knowing it was not in danger (how do birds know rabbits are vegetarians?).

My brain was void of all previous thoughts as we sat back and took in the moment. I was lost in the act of rabbit-watching and nothing else mattered. The birds, the rabbits, the spiders and all the little miracles of nature remind me of gazing into the vastness of the ocean hoping to spot a whale while on a cruise many years ago.

Watching a spider build a web. A rabbit sighting that was more than a passing hop. Sitting back and watching the birds ...

We crave vacations, time away, moments in the sun to take us away from the daily grind of living our regularly scheduled life. Yet if you have the chance to be still and soak up the moment you are in, prepare to be amazed. What you are looking for may be in your own back yard (or in my case, my aunt's).