March 30, 2013
March 29, 2013
want/need/wear/read : easter weekend
Something I want: lacy gold earrings that go with everything / Something I need: hostess gifts for P's lovely mum / Something to wear: pretty skirt + chambray shirt / Something to read: Love Wins, by Rob Bell
Inspired by Bleubird
March 21, 2013
things we do
I am all about a steady, quiet day-to-day routine punctuated regularly by large-scale adventure, and my boyfriend is all about constant small-scale activities and staying fairly close to home. He is also very careful to agree to almost everything while never actually committing to anything. (He should be a diplomat, I swear.) However, one night a few weeks ago we were driving past the airport when he picked up on my wistfulness and accidentally made me an unsolicited promise that we could go on an adventure during his upcoming Spring Break! I made him shake on it the moment the words were out of his mouth.
And so. Finally. After much deliberation...
Two tickets to Las Vegas: booked.
I'm so excited!! To me this is a safe and familiar adventure, but I know it's a stretch for him, and I feel very loved.
And so. Finally. After much deliberation...
Two tickets to Las Vegas: booked.
I'm so excited!! To me this is a safe and familiar adventure, but I know it's a stretch for him, and I feel very loved.
March 20, 2013
this is me
I've faced down some pretty huge triggers this week. I feel ferocious. And I am proud.
One trigger was an invitation to a party. One was a birthday card. One was a web series. Small things, but each was fraught, and wildly contentious, and all came at me in the same week.
The web series is actually a good thing. It's happening on the blog of Rachel Held Evans, whom I respect, and whose subject matter I often resonate with and always find interesting. This week the subject matter is abuse, and the perspective of victims of abuse. Which is great; but abuse is not great, and I have suffered nearly every variation, and that has made it rough for me. I've been reading anyway though. Testing my own fortitude, you might say. And my fortitude is withstanding the test. I won't say it's not hard. It is very, very hard. But I can bear it. I've been bearing it for years and years.
The birthday card was from my mother. (I hate to even call her that, since she never bore any semblance of a mother, but to remove the title also removes some small portion of her shame, and she doesn't deserve that kind of grace. Or if she does, she won't find it from me.) I haven't spoken to my mother in almost 4 years. Apparently, despite all that has transpired and despite the court order I obtained to prevent her from doing so, enough time has passed that somehow she managed to build her fantasies back up to the point where she got it into her head that contacting me would be a good idea.
It was not a good idea.
A year or two ago, that card would have ruined me for weeks or even months. But receiving it on Monday only threw me off for a few hours, and I handled the situation before lunch. I sent that bad wolf home, literally and figuratively, and I felt as empowered as I did the day I decided never to see her again. The day I felt like dancing, when I realized I did not have to include her in any part of my life, when I realized I could protect myself and my family from people like her, the way she had never protected me.
-----
I was thinking this morning, in the car on my way to work, about how I had always felt broken my whole life. And I realized I don't feel broken anymore. I don't feel fixed either, or restored or healed, or as if nothing bad had ever happened.
I just feel like me.
These scars are my scars. This heart is my heart. These choices are my choices. These tears, happy and sad, are my tears. I know I can do what I need to do to take care of myself. This is my life. All of it.
This is me.
One trigger was an invitation to a party. One was a birthday card. One was a web series. Small things, but each was fraught, and wildly contentious, and all came at me in the same week.
The web series is actually a good thing. It's happening on the blog of Rachel Held Evans, whom I respect, and whose subject matter I often resonate with and always find interesting. This week the subject matter is abuse, and the perspective of victims of abuse. Which is great; but abuse is not great, and I have suffered nearly every variation, and that has made it rough for me. I've been reading anyway though. Testing my own fortitude, you might say. And my fortitude is withstanding the test. I won't say it's not hard. It is very, very hard. But I can bear it. I've been bearing it for years and years.
The birthday card was from my mother. (I hate to even call her that, since she never bore any semblance of a mother, but to remove the title also removes some small portion of her shame, and she doesn't deserve that kind of grace. Or if she does, she won't find it from me.) I haven't spoken to my mother in almost 4 years. Apparently, despite all that has transpired and despite the court order I obtained to prevent her from doing so, enough time has passed that somehow she managed to build her fantasies back up to the point where she got it into her head that contacting me would be a good idea.
It was not a good idea.
A year or two ago, that card would have ruined me for weeks or even months. But receiving it on Monday only threw me off for a few hours, and I handled the situation before lunch. I sent that bad wolf home, literally and figuratively, and I felt as empowered as I did the day I decided never to see her again. The day I felt like dancing, when I realized I did not have to include her in any part of my life, when I realized I could protect myself and my family from people like her, the way she had never protected me.
-----
I was thinking this morning, in the car on my way to work, about how I had always felt broken my whole life. And I realized I don't feel broken anymore. I don't feel fixed either, or restored or healed, or as if nothing bad had ever happened.
I just feel like me.
These scars are my scars. This heart is my heart. These choices are my choices. These tears, happy and sad, are my tears. I know I can do what I need to do to take care of myself. This is my life. All of it.
This is me.
March 18, 2013
little red refuses to be eaten
I did something tenacious and brave and self-affirming today, but I feel shaky now and depleted and impossibly tired. In fact I feel exactly as I imagine I would feel if I had slapped a bristling wolf on the nose and told it loudly to go home.
March 11, 2013
twenty-nine
I had an awesome birthday weekend and felt very loved. I am happier with my life than I ever imagined I could be, more excited to be 29 than I expected, and perfectly ready to welcome this new year with open arms, mind, and heart.
March 7, 2013
March 4, 2013
when it matters because of two gardens
I followed a rabbit trail this morning and found something unexpected and resonant and lovely, and almost cried, near the end, but in a good way.
If you have a minute, you might tell me what you think.
If you have a minute, you might tell me what you think.
March 1, 2013
we need an adventure
Instead I will look at you wild-eyed and tell you that we need an adventure, we need a dream, a plan, a map of oceans and a fleet of ships to carry all of my baggage and all of your charms. A fleet of ships to sail on my waves of inexplicable nausea, to stop this sinking feeling, and to hold up my heavy heart, so it won't be another treasure buried in a chest at the bottom of the sea.
Pics via weheartit.com
Words by Katharina via Dreamers Often Lie
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