A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words...

“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever… It remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.”

— Aaron Siskind

I cannot believe it's been three years since I have allowed my inner thoughts to be placed onto my blog. Where has the time gone? It is very fitting that my last entry was dealing with my loss of my grandma and step-father. Since then we have said goodbye to my great-grandpa as well. Now my husband and his family is dealing with a loss. 

There are many things that remind me my grandma is gone. Driving by a barn, cows, lighthouses, art, those moments when I just want to call and hear her voice. Old emails, comments and likes that show up from her on Facebook from previous years. 

Every time I look in the mirror I see her face looking back at me. I see my mother's echoing to me, reminding me of my heritage, my family, my blood. I look at this photo and I see my history, her past, my daughter's future. In this photo is a reminder of my inner beauty and the hope that I will not be forgotten when my time on earth is over. 

We all grieve in a different way. Viewing life and the obstacles and adventures that come with this journey, are lived uniquely by each one of us.

Our past experiences, environment we were raised in, the values that were expressed to us as important have molded and stuck with us. As if we were a small piece of clay being touched and moved by the current, rocks being scraped atop of us leaving their marks. Pebbles embedding themselves making us their home. Perhaps we are lucky enough to be scooped up and admired by a child or found useful as a bowl. 

Photography is my outlet. It is these photos that I either take myself or come across from a time before me that give me a small glimpse into what was. A reminder that allows the nostalgia to overflow my heart. These moments, our people, once gone forever cannot be touched. Hugs and handshakes are forever gone. Sounds and smells dwindle and eventually may vanish all together. Signatures from family members long gone I can trace with my finger knowing that their pen touched these exact same spots. 

Some of us are very private and want to protect each and every thing that connects us to those memories. Others of us are overwhelmed by our love and feelings that keeping them silent slowly fills us with an uncomfortable loneliness; a lack of connection that we want to break by yelling. So we instead share, sometimes over share. I tend to be the later. Neither way is right or wrong. It is just a reflection of the type of people we are. What designs are placed upon our surface. What pebbles call us home. 

This journey has made it to where I no longer shutter at my children taking pictures of me. These photographs do not belong to me, for I will one day be gone. They are for them.
Some day it is just my words on a screen and the photos in their hands that they will have left to remind them of my love for them. For some they will only see a picture of an overweight mom who has no make up and barely has her stuff together, for my children it will be a reminder of the time mom locked her keys in the car. Perhaps it was the time she ruined pumpkin pancakes or wore her wedding dress to walk the dogs while we all went on an adventure. 

A photograph sometimes is all we have to treasure. When we think about a relationship that we wish could be different. Wondering if it could be more. This photo of my dad holding me is one my mom gave me. I will always treasure it. What I read in his expression as an adult now looking back gives me peace and comfort. It reassures me at those times that I struggle with not having him here with me, and he is only in another state. This picture will always tell a story to the three of us. It may be a different story for each one, but it means something to each of us. Some day my children will reflect on this photograph and they too will tie their own emotional connection to one of us through it.

I guess, what I am trying to say in all of this rambling is that we should treasure the moments we have with one another. Hold onto the memories that we can. Allow small things like writings, photographs, signatures, or even a small article of clothing to help us through our journey. These are the physical items we leave behind when our body returns to the Earth. 

"You would not cry if you knew that by looking deeply into the rain you would still see the cloud." ~Thich Nhat Hanh~

How Do You Say Goodbye?

If you had the chance to have a last conversation with someone that you had lost, what would you say? Would you say anything different knowing it was the last time you would hear their voice?

I had that opportunity, times two, two different conversations, two people, two goodbyes, two last times. Would I do it differently now that it is over? Would I have said something else? Did I forget anything? The answer is no.

Being able to have the time with my Grandma to talk like we used to, about everything, was perfect. I was able to ramble on about my new job, selling our home, buying the new home, my dog, my kids, my fears, all in a conversation filled with energy and emotion last Friday morning. She smiled, reassured me, told me not to be scared.

I was able to express my gratitude and appreciation for all that she had done for me. To which she had replied, I have done nothing. At which time I was glad to produce a short list, taking me prom dress shopping, choosing colleges, moving me to college, hot teas, Arsenic and Old Lace, inspiring me to be artistic, listening to me talk, and buying me a car for school.

How can I even begin to express to this woman how much I loved her? In college I had to change my cell phone plan to meet the demands of how often we talked. No, my last conversations left nothing out. She recognized my voice before I even walked into her room. She knew I loved her, hopefully she knew how much I appreciated her.

My baby sisters father, a man in my life that loved me as his own. I was not even sure if he knew I was there most of last week, then Thursday. Thursday he cried, sat up and tried to hug me. Reaching out for me. I told him I was bringing his baby girl to see him the next day. Told him about Sandra and Karate, Logan and Diesel. I told him I was sorry for not bringing them to see him. Friday I brought my baby sister. Sang to him a childhood song I learned from his family that I sing to my children.

He recognized her, nodded when I said, see told you I would bring her. I told him I knew that he loved me. That I loved him. Apologizing as I left, explaining I had to get back to Kansas for a wedding. He nodded his head. 

I lost these two people, on the same day, hours apart. Do I have anything left to say that I should have said? Perhaps a simple I will miss you and thank you for one last conversation. 

Reflection of Grief

I am not even sure where to begin. My lack of writing has been hard on my thoughts and awful for my sleep. So I am going to make an effort to write again...

With the whirlwind of changes that my life is going through I am a little on edge. Most of the changes are exciting, good, and beneficial. These are stepping stones that are allowing for a path in a new direction, one I would not have even considered four months ago. My husband tells me everything happens for a reason, that it will all work out in the end. His faith leaves me in wonder and awe.

I on the other hand, need explanation and answers. In the end it balances out. 

There are though a few events I am still processing. Recently I have learned that a person whom cared for me and my sisters has lost her life. She was strangled to death by her boyfriend (allegedly at the time of this blog he has not been convicted, but did admit to it while being detained for another offense). 

This has brought up old fears and memories that I rarely visit. There were so many people that I cared for deeply that I had to let go of when I left home. The inability to watch them destroy their lives by choosing to live the lifestyle they had chosen for themselves was stronger than my ability to keep a relationship moving. 

Drugs have the ability to change a person. They will do things they wouldn't have if they were sober. Physically meth destroys you. Mentally it can break you. In this case I believe that it was a major factor in the domestic violence that led to the death of this woman.

I am working on a small project to help me with closure and the grieving process I am slowly allowing myself to go through in regards to the tragic loss of this woman. Additionally I am trying to rebuild on a couple of relationships that I have allowed to wither. It has also made me analyze and admit where my boundaries should be with others. 

The difficulty of saying goodbye now in this case is hard. The attempt to let go of this relationship in the past I thought was finalized. Now that it is final, I feel immense guilt in avoiding the attempted contact that was given me. Why did I not just accept it? What was I afraid of? The only answer I have is that I was protecting myself. By choosing to not have a relationship with people who are living in that type of lifestyle I am making a feeble attempt to not get close. So when the drama, death, illness, jail time, and chaotic events happen, I am not as emotionally drained or exposing my children to such events.

So why is this hitting me so hard? Because I did not properly say goodbye before hand. What if? What if one thing I said, one picture I sent, gave a moment of happiness? What if that connection could have given a moment to another of not feeling alone? An escape from what sounds like was a rough and unhappy life?

I know that one moment isn't much, but really when you think about it, that's all we really have. One moment to live at a time. It is that one moment, one memory added with another that leaves us with a life that we can say we LIVED.

What if is an awful game that we as people tend to play. Instead of playing it, I am going to attempt to improve the relationships I have now and not lose that opportunity again.

“What counts in life is not the mere fact that we have lived. It is what difference we have made to the lives of others that will determine the significance of the life we lead.”  ~Nelson Mandela~

Down The River

"If a man going down into a river, swollen and swiftly flowing, is carried away by the current - how can he help others across?" ~The Buddha~

It feels as though it has been way to long since I have written anything. My mind has been on a constant go of connection and wonder.

Currently in my little part of the world it is corn harvest. This is a time of year that I have a love-hate relationship with. When I think of peace, I think of one of two things. A corn field, or of water. Living where I do there is a lot more of the first than the second!

Tall stalks, sharp leaves, soft tips, a world you could easily get lost in. Rows orderly, little mounds of dirt, smells of freshness and life. To walk through a cornfield is to renew my mind. Complete silence eventually overtakes my thoughts. This as you know is a rarity for me, a treasured moment when my mind goes still. Closing my eyes I can concentrate on the sound of the breeze rustling through the corn. Sounds like whispers from Earth waiting to tell little secrets.

We all need to have our moments of mindful silence. That moment to reconnect with what calms us, inspires us, renews us, and brings us peace. Without this we will become drained. For me when I become drained, I also become self doubting and overwhelmed. When we are at this point we are no use to anyone, especially ourselves.

I have been that woman caught in the flowing current of the rivers. Barely able to stay afloat and capture gusts of air so I may breathe. The never ending battle of just surviving. So much is lost when we are this person. The beauty of the world around us is forgotten. Our identity is misplaced. We become unable to make it to the shoreline so we can continue our journey of growth.

It is then we are unable to help those who may be in need. This inability to bring a smile, compassion, or helping hand to another is a cause for more suffering and harm that could otherwise be avoidable.

Due to once being caught in the river, I know I must seek my peace. We all must learn to recognize when we are to that point in our lives. The point of losing our peace, clarity, and compassion. Once we are able to recognize that, we can then learn to build our rafts and help not only ourselves across the river but those in need that do not have the tools yet to make their own raft.

I am thankful tonight for knowing that I am on a good path of that self recognition. My only hope is to become that better person who is able to help others with their own rafts.

Reanalyze, Rediscover, Recreate

"The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for." ~ Oscar Wilde

On the way home my children are talking and giggling in the back seat as I am on the phone discussing a friends upcoming job interview. After hanging up I hear from the back seat, "Can I paint Aunt Jan a picture for you to take to her tomorrow?"

My thoughtful little one. It is really amazing to see how little kids go from the rules of a toddler, to being a compassionate, caring, sensitive and thoughtful person in the making.

If you are exposed to children you have the pleasure to watch them develop and grow. Yet, when we reach a certain age it appears our growing stops. In reality our growing, developing and changing never ends. Of course there are those of us that refuse, or do not want to grow and move and change. That inaction causes change, not always progressive change, but change.

It is okay to question who you were, you are, and who you want to be. There is a process in discovering who you are. Reanalyze, rediscover and recreate.

This is not a process that comes natural to everyone. I am in a constant battle with myself when trying to reanalyze how I feel, what I think, what I am learning. Then again, I over think thus I will overanalyze. Thankfully I have an amazing support system that has learned to humor me as I over think, over process, and over analyze.

One of my main goals through therapy right now is to limit my over thinking, and learning to do a little more accepting.

It's natural to get comfortable, stay in a rut or a place of content. I want to start to do better. Fine tune my patience, learn to bite my tongue, and find ways to be a more encouraging person. I want to make sure that I spend time letting those I know that I love and care for them that I do.

So little by little I have started a set of goals. We will see how well I do and how I handle the obstacle. You cannot move a mountain, you can however move one stone at a time to build a tunnel for the train to go through. I am going to start designing my tunnel.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

When I was younger I had a huge issue with sleep. I rarely slept. I don't know if it was the environment I was in, or if it was natural. Over the counter sleeping pills were my friend. As I got older, mixing them with a beer helped. Then I got the "good stuff". I was prescribed sleeping medication.

When I was pregnant I slept all the time! I had no idea that growing a little one inside me would be so exhausting.

Now my sleeping patterns bounce back and forth. I am either always tired, or awake. My mind is still. I am not worried, or stressed. I just cannot sleep. Laying in bed with my eyes closed, concentrating on my breathing. Slow and steady.

Mediation comes second hand to me at these time. My mind actually has nothing in it. Clear. Calm. The waves are steady. The currents are nonexistent, and yet....I am awake.

The one thing I love about living in the country is that I can see the stars. While city lights may be pretty to many, I prefer the wonder of the night sky.

Calm. Cool. Crisp. The wind sweeps over my legs, down my arms. Not exactly the way to get me to close my eyes. Stepping outside only wakens my spirit and body more. While slightly counterproductive it is peaceful.

It's an amazing and overwhelming feeling knowing that everything is connected. The stone thrown into the pond makes ripples that moves the leaf to the other side. The breeze that touches me moves and touches another person.

In this moment of darkness, quiet and calm, all you can do is look at the stars. This is a good moment. A moment of reflection, meditation, and serenity.

No matter what your night time brings, may it always bring you the peace that your mind, heart, and spirit need to start another day. May the breeze calm your spirit, the stars shine down a new light to struggles, and the rising sun in the morning bring hope for new beginnings.

Where My Path Currently Is....

"Sometimes you have to kind of die inside in order to rise from your own ashes and believe in yourself and love yourself to become a new person." ~ Gerard Way

With my children at their fathers for the week, my husband working, I have had my fair share of being alone in my thoughts. Two years ago my thoughts were so overwhelming, so heart wrenching, confused muddle. Unable to wade through the waters of ideas, scars, lies, and pressure. It was just two years ago I lost my pit, and for a brief moment my strength to begin to rise from the ashes of death.

I spent time walking tonight. Down my driveway to the mailbox, the crunch of leaves, dirt, rocks, and the wings of birds swooping by. My mind is full. In the present my mind is full, but manageable. It is filled with determination, sorrow, and hope.

There are moments that I question the path I took. Leaving, finding my freedom. I hate not having my children full time. It is tough not being able to be there the way mothers are suppose to be. This makes me question if this path was right.

Through the lens of a camera my mind races as my eye traces the barb water. I can hear my therapists voice, my mothers reassurance, and feel the supportive embrace of my husband. Every time I stop walking down my path and turn around to see where I have been, I question.

The honest truth is, I would not be alive if I had not fought for my freedom. My journals are filled with such self hate that I cannot even imagine going through that again. No hope, no belief in freedom or happiness. Just pain, anger, sorrow and desperation.

My children get to see me happy, healthy. I am a better mother now because I have hope. I am able to show them what a healthy relationship is. Give them stability, love, security. The man that I share my life with, loves them.

Whenever we stop to look at the path we left, we should stop. Don't even turn back. Close your eyes, and look straight forward. Out of the fire rises the Phoenix.

Leaning against the post I can see my hand resting. A moment of realization and reassurance. The path I am on is the one I should be on. It is my path. This is where I belong, and I am so lucky to have the man I do by my side. So fortunate to have two amazing children who deserve to have a happy, healthy mother.

As I stood on the steps of my home, I closed my eyes. The sweet breeze cooling my skin as I smell dirt, weeds, and fields. The low hum of the irrigation motor reminding me that things progress, change, and move on.

My wings work, I am worthy of them. Thank you to all who continue to support me, and remind me not to question my decision. I know I should not feel guilty for loving my freedom.