Words Escape Me

Well hello there. I've been breaking the first rule of blogging lately, which is blog.
That was profound. Maybe you should write this down:

Rule #1 of blogging: Blog.


I haven't been writing lately because of my other rules: be positive, don't complain, work through your feelings first before telling others. Truth is things have been downright exhausting, hard, and sad lately.

To keep all of my rules, I'm not going to go into it as yet. Just know that 2.5 weeks ago I intended to write a plucky piece about other things you can make when life gives you lemons. And I wanted to make this phrase viral:

When life gives you lemons, make lemon curd. 

Curd is such a gross word; it fits.

Here were the pictures for the positive post that I didn't write. This picture symbolized the things going wrong:

make lemon curd

This one represented controlling the "lemons" and making them into something useful and pretty:

bunt those lemons!

Shortly after taking this I almost keeled over because I was taking them on my back porch and overheated. I fled to Target to use WiFi, drink water, and get Advil. (I couldn't go inside my apartment because...it was filled with an asphalt smell. So much lemon curd to be made!)


At any rate, things have been difficult, and one thing I know and learned was after a lot of stress a person's higher level thinking skills (including creativity) plummets. It's simple brain chemistry. My brain was/is trying to help me survive.

I can fight. I can take flight, but unfortunately, I couldn't write. The thoughts were too visceral too raw, more meaningless onomatopoeias than words. It felt so unlike me that I wondered if I had brain damage. I asked friends if I seemed somehow altered, dumber, to test me, to be honest. But really it was my brain on cortisol over far too many days.

I think I see a glimmer after today of finding words again, which is a relief because I need to write to earn my keep.

For me, health and writing are linked, and they come only with quiet, peace, stillness and being alone. Are you that way?

I sat in silence for hours and hours driving. Hours and hours at home all alone. Hours in silent exercise in nature and another hour getting a massage. And I can hear myself writing now in my head.

So today I learned:

Until I am composed, I can't compose. 

Weekends are for Thinking

Can you recall the look on the Dowager Countess' face when she asked "What IS a weekend?"

It looked like this:

sourece: midlifeboulevard.com 

And up until a few months ago, I would have asked the same thing. What is a weekend? What do you do with one?

I made a great change in my life. One that forced such questions on me. And it has taken quite awhile to realize it, but I changed jobs. 

I changed careers, really, in August, and I didn't tell you about it. I stayed basically silent because I didn't know the proper "how to's" that the circumstance required.

I didn't know how to tell my (former) co-workers; I didn't know how to share the news, so I basically skirted all of the issues.

Not until about Thanksgiving did I start to realize  the changes. I wasn't mashing potatoes with children for a 35(ish) guest feast at school. I wasn't brainstorming a secular, though recognizable, song to sing at a winter themed gathering. I wasn't teaching.

Sticking to my rules about being positive and not sharing things I haven't fully processed, I can't get into the "whys" of resigning from the teaching world. But I can say that I changed careers and it was (and is) a good thing. 

Now, I'm a writer--a copywriter. This too hasn't sunk in. When someone asks me what my job is, I go blank. I can't do my well practiced explanation of seven years:

I'm a teacher. I teach kids from 5 years to 12 years old. They are deaf and teach them to talk. No, I don't know sign language. Yes, they use devices like hearing aids or cochlear implants. 

(Can you imagine trying to explain this at parties? It was challenging.) 

Now what do I say? My new career is still in mental line to register as a job, so there's typically a long pause, and I ask myself, "What do I do?" It's an uncomfortable moment, but indicates how little the reality has dawned on me. 

To explain why my thoughts are so backed up, I am already a slow processor. Very very slow, especially with things that matter and will change my life. Maybe I am slower than the slowest snake at digesting things. And like them, I tend to swallow things whole instead of biting off more than I can chew. 

As a background, I've been working steadily full-time teaching at school, working internships on nights and weekends, working side jobs (wedding coordinating and Etsy store), volunteering, taking classes and applying for jobs for so long steadily working towards the goal of changing careers that I didn't know what a weekend was.

Then I actually changed careers and paused my University of Missouri St. Louis classes and wedding coordinating, and felt a gap open around me. You would think it would feel good, but it's like stepping out of a concert and hearing a ringing in your ears that isn't there. What should feel good is disorienting. 

Part of this disorientation lies in my growing awareness of the changes I set in motion. I have to label things out, since I didn't take the time (or couldn't take the time) in August. 

These are my work clothes.

This is my commute.

This is my alternate route to work.

This is my desk and computer and chair. 

These are my co-workers. 

This is a nice place for lunch.

This is the way to go home. 

If it sounds detached, it's because, for me, that's where I'm at emotionally. This time (and typically) I've not processed huge life changes. [And when I have taken the time, it backfired and missed opportunities that would have been open to me 4 days earlier.] So I jump and feel my way through later, which is something I'd like to unlearn.

But that is something I'll have to try next time. All I know now is, I have weekends. I have Saturdays and Sundays to think about this new career and possibilities and how I feel and think and wonder about everything that happened these last 6 months. 

Where Do You Go with Your Artist's Heart?

Tonight I got the very wonderful experience of going to an enchanting studio space in Shaw neighborhood.
First of all, if you are not from St. Louis, you likely now have heard about Shaw neighborhood, the recent violence, protests, vigils and Ferguson October. This story, this coverage, this light shone on our prejudices and hate of my beloved city is heart rending.
And when my heart is rent, I need to condition it and coax it back into being whole.

This need for nurturing led me back to the Shaw neighborhood. [Isn't this how so many things go? You go to the painful place to help heal?] I lived on Shaw, worked at the corner of Tower Grove and McCree, dog sat near the corner of Klemm. For four wonderful years, this was home.

Here I was, at the place I had scouted out months ago not knowing what would be inside. I loved the outside sign, font, and name. If there is a such thing, I had shop window love at first sight, I had it. The only other time that has happened was when I saw Winslow's Home going in. And boy was I ever right about that place. And I was right again.

As it happens this window and once empty space I became smitten with while commuting to work turns out to be an artists studio. Union Studio has several artists' work and wares on display, while also providing them with place a to work. I happened to be there after learning about an open studio night. Show up and make things in this gorgeous space? Yes, please.

I met two of the artists, Mary Beth and Leah and after a little chatting was put to work--exactly what I needed. There was a cooked fiber(I don't recall the name, but it's not indigenous of North America) in a pot that one of the artists, Leah, showed me how to pull apart, reform, and flatten into a shape. She seemed concerned and apologetic for using me in this way. How do you tell a virtual stranger, "I can't control or shape anything else in life, let me have this thing?" Slow, methodical, tactile, this helps free my mind and spirit.

I kept at it for 2 hours. And we talked the sort of talk that you have when you're making, about St. Louis, the art scene here versus Kansas City, our backgrounds, the history of paper making, the art in the room and the stories behind the pieces. I'm not exaggerating when I say everything in Union Studio is art: soap, scarves, paper, the table, etc. Even the wet fibers  the ugly semi sticky masses I was mashing together, flattening into discs will turn into something translucent and beautiful.

It was a relief. To come out of the dark into a bright and inviting space to talk and to learn and to try. I recommend, if not here, that you try this "making" with your friends or find an artists guild and meet them.

Oh and guess what? I'm back to writing again. Surprise.

Shushing the Summer "Shouldn't you....?"

I have bouts with doubt.  Doubt bouts about myself.
Recently I wrote about the void that comes between school ending and summer beginning.  I developed a list of things I'm looking forward to doing to help cope.  I even explained to some people that it's a period of grieving.
"Yeah right" one said.
It's possible she thinks Summers for a teacher are like this Buzzfeed article.
Hilarious, open it in a different tab and enjoy, but don't forget to come back here.
And no, it's not like that.

And though prepared for it this time, the jolt of summer that is like stepping off of one of those flat escalators at the airport came.  You know the thing I'm talking about.  The one you nearly fall off with all your bags those first few steps.

Then came this new feeling, one I didn't make a list for, and I don't think I could have anyway.
This is the "You are Being Lazy" feeling.  The "Shouldn't you be  __________ today?"
Don't be fooled.  That blank looks innocent enough, but a whole lot can fit into it.  See?

Shouldn't you be....
getting married/ 
running in a marathon/
investing in the Stock Market/
backpacking through the Amazon/
cooking a turducken 
today?

It's an oppressive blank.


Here are 2 books that delve into it.

1.)

2.)


The latter book, I started reading but it really bummed me out.  Because I am an empath through and through and even when I wasn't feeling or thinking thoughts of acedia or it's impact spiritually, well there it was.  Thanks Kathleen Norris, you made me cry.

The former, I haven't read, but doesn't the title just say it all?  I'm getting it from the library perhaps it can resonate in a non-buzz-kill sort of way.  Some thoughts need laughter to dispel.

Yet again though, bookless (which is a form of vulnerability for me) I decided the only way to tell myself I'm not lazy (besides saying it in a mirror in a creepy way or piling more into my days) was to...you guessed it:

Write 

A

List

If you haven't figured it out already, I write lists.  What's more I'm quite prolific.  If someone would ever pop into my apartment they would see half cooked scraps of lists strewn about.  This is just my mind's way of showing itself scattered as it is and how very easily I lose the thread.
Nevertheless I write because I am a writer.


This reflective act of typing it all out however, really worked well.  It would totally blow if I found, "Oh yeah, I am really lazy.  I've done nothing all month," but that wasn't the case.

Here's what my June has looked like.

June 2: Last day of school with co-workers.  Co-worker happy hour.  Acquired 5 new Llewelyn's cups.  
They are red this season.  Grab them up, St. Louis!
June 3: Clean apartment and "pack" suitcase (quotation marks intended to show procrastination)
Finish book. Paint furniture
June 4: "Clean" apartment. Take Captain to parents' house.  "Pack" suitcase. Paint furniture.
June 5: PACK SUITCASE!  Fly to Denver. Finish book. Reunite with college roommate.  Mountains.
June 6: Denver exploring. Hiking.
June 7: Denver exploring.
June 8: Denver exploring. Hiking.
June 9: Fly to St. Louis.  Attempt flirting on plane. Unsuccessful. Pick up Captain from parents'.
June 10: Start internship at MediaCross (happening Tuesday-Fridays, so assume on each day hereafter)
June 11: Host book club (hosting includes: cleaning and baking and being nice).
June 12: Accepted into University of Missouri St. Louis.  Finished Firefly series. (Only 1 season!?!?!?!)
June 13: Take Kelly to Train station (6:00am) Welcome lunch at MediaCross.
June 14: Nothing (except internship) oh and watching Serenity, the movie that ends the Firefly series.
June 15: Hike with family at Hawn State Park. Celebrate Father's Day.
June 16: Take Captain to vet. Oil Change. Speak to UMSL Advisor.
June 17: Host book club (yes, a different one). Enroll in UMSL course.
June 18: Start grad.class. Get student ID and parking pass.
June 19: Dinner with Kate at Vin de Set.
June 20: A.M. coffee with Natalie. Wedding coordinator training @ rehearsal.
June 21: Wedding coordinator training @ wedding. Homework.
June 22: Attend church with Annie.  Lunch.
June 23: Pick up Kelsey from airport. Homework. See Grand Budapest Hotel. Fall in love with Wes Anderson.  Again. 
June 24: Meet with Kate to discuss Communications Team volunteering. Finish book.
June 25: Dinner at Martha's house.
June 26: Nothing????
June 27: A.M. coffee with friends. Cookout.
June 28: Unknown.

Verdict= Not Lazy
Alternate verdict= Potentially Crazy



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With My Whole Heart. For My Whole Heart.

I want to open my closet and see possibilities.
I want to feel contentment.
I want to clothe myself in contentment.
I want to cast burdens off and down.

But when I open my closet door, I realize there are hangers I avoid and corners I avert my eyes from.
This awareness took time to realize and even more to pin words onto it.
Yet deep down, I now know the aversion stem from my "reject" clothes, the clothes I wore when being rejected or rejecting someone.

Fine clothing.
Favorite clothing.
Through no fault of their own now each piece has memories woven into the cloth.
Maybe it's imprinted because in those moments I desired to disappear into the folds, pleats, patterns, and hems. Whatever the reason, there is a remaining hurt that can't be washed or ironed out.

I might even wear the clothes still to prove that a memory can't control me.
But why require such defiance in getting dressed? Why keep such a touchstone?  Why wrap myself in it?

People, people other than myself, must also have this closeted issue.  This un-shared thought and gut response to our breakup clothes.

I've decided to cast off burdens and bless.  Why not give these and donate them to someone with a clean slate for their benefit and for mine?

Because blessing others heals.
Because giving heals.
Because giving freely opens up a world of possibilities, a world where less is more.

I will cast off my burdens to bless.
I give these clothes with my whole heart.
I give these for my whole heart.

Looking for a place to give?

I will be donating here:

image from revivethrift.org

.
Opened February 1, 2014
Read about their mission, and donate.

For your whole heart and theirs.

Flirt, Write, and Talk Boldly: Listed Resolutions and a Revelation

Here is my short list of New Year's Resolutions.

I will at any point expand or annotate it, because I love a good list.

(Yes, this is written on a Christmas card envelope.

I love writing on envelopes.)

Typically I don't commit to a list before the new year.  Nor do I kick it off right away or broadcast it.  I try (if I do have some resolutions) to adopt new habits, not abolish them.  They are born out of necessity, not convention. 

Can you see the pattern in my list this year?

It took awhile for me to spot.  

Think on it a moment.

Actually, the pattern, was revealed in a quiet moment of prayer.  It came during one of those liturgical moments of silence, during a prayer of confession, while praying for sins to be revealed. 

The thought without lead-in came fully formed: 

"You're hiding."

And so I am.  And so I have been.  Daily pulling a metaphorical huge hoodie over myself.  The soft folds swallow and comfort all of me and conceal me as well.  We all are at times, hiding, and need to be to heal or grow, but my time and need for hiding is over.  It has become a protected, easy, and admittedly lazy place.  

I know it's high time that I am seen again.  Full on. 

Not quite metaphorical spandex unitard with visible panty-lines "seen," but...this metaphor is unraveling fast. I hope you understand.  

Not to say that this list came out of those revealing two words.  

It came before.  

I'm so glad that they align.  

But of course with a listening heart, they always would. 

Guidelines, of sorts

As is my custom, the order of things, even with as few as 2 posts is disordered.

And so is reflective of every research paper I've ever written and is an interesting reflection of life as well. 

In an attempt to have a touchstone in this blog, here are a few clarifying statements for when I lose my way.  

1.) Safety first. 

In the event something inappropriate happens, be it comments, strange emails, being found and contacted on other media, etc, it will be addressed.  I will never disclose my habits, haunts, workplace, address, phone number, etc. 

I am a proud St. Louisian, that you will know. 

2.)  Story-telling does not mean "tell all."

I will respect my private life and take strides to not compromise it. 

In the same vein, I will respect the privacy and lives of others, post things with permission and/ or change names when appropriate. 

3.) This is an honest portrait of myself not who I want you to think I am.

I am a human.  I make mistakes.  I am sensitive.  I am messy.  

I will not pretend to be better than I am.  I will not clean myself up for you.  At times I imagine will discuss messiness and struggle, when it is processed enough inside myself.  Not to hide, but to honor my feelings.  

4.) This blog is to have a positive voice.

I will highlight creativity, curiosity, learning, and joys through sharing.

It will not be a forum to vent my problems or opinions.  Those are for true conversations with people face to face to work through and learn together.  

5.) This blog will have some variety.

To the extent that I can now and that I can grow into, I will develop and write posts on various topics and in different formats to stretch myself as a writer.

6.) This blog will be pleasing to the eyes. 

There will be some pictures, but above all I want the content to speak for itself.

If I ever stray from these, I promise to myself and to you (readers) that I will make strides to make my way back.