Valentine, Party of One

Last week, I had one of those spiraling days of doubt that occur every once in a while.  It was Friday and I was physically and emotionally spent.  The pain and disability of my hip caught up with me like a fury spinning wildly.  Days like that are hard when you are a without a partner and I’ve had far too many of them lately.  The fact that the Valentine’s Day sucker-punch was just around the corner didn’t help. My sister’s support, some rest, and a good book got me over the hump. 

Today is Valentine’s Day and though I suspect I will forever be sad that I never found a partner willing (or able?) to love me through the hard parts of a relationship, I’m not dwelling on that.  I have Valentine treats for some friends and big plans to score some flowers for myself once I have a new hip and can walk into the shop and select a bouquet. As of today, I am 7 days from surgery. Tonight, I’ll open the Valentine treat I bought myself, raise a toast to me and getting through the hell of the last 6 months, and I'll remind myself that I am tough as nails when the need arises.  That will make for a sweet -  if untraditional - Valentine's Day and I'll take it.

Among the Trees: On the Journey to This Moment

It’s no secret that the last year in my life has offered a seemingly steady stream of unexpected challenges.  I’ve found a core of resilience that I didn’t know that I had in me.  I’m proud of that strength and I continue to do the work to sustain it.  

Last week, I spent an afternoon in Colonial Park and had the time to reflect on how far life has come since last June, when my freshly-minted college-graduate son was struggling to sort out the meaning of his life.  It was a hard journey for me as a parent and far harder for him.  During those difficult weeks, JT and I spent a lot of time together, much of it in the rose garden, tucked under the wisteria wrestling with his demons.  

That difficult summer was before the end of my 11 year relationship with T and the passing of my father.  I won’t say that by now I am battle scarred, but I have arrived at a point where I don’t take anything good for granted.  Every day, I look for gratitude and from it I find grace.  I take the time to be grateful for the peace of that grace, no matter how small.  

My memory of the struggles of the last year made it all the more sweet last week when JT was offered a teaching job at a nearby school.  The position is a terrific opportunity, with a chance to do some things he knows he enjoys - coach middle school sports - as well as the prospect of trying something new - working as a third grade teaching assistant.  He’s excited and proud of himself.  I am so glad for him, perhaps as proud as I’ve ever been.  I know the work that got him here.  Last week, as I walked the paths of this familiar and beloved park and sat in the quiet shade of the wisteria to read my book, I thought of how far we’ve come.  I felt at peace in all the ways I've longed for over the last year.  I reflected on my blessings, all of them, but chiefly my immense gratitude that my boy is here to turn his beautiful face to the light and the sunshine. 

Living in Hope, Always

2022 has been a really hard year for me; in many respects, the hardest year I’ve ever experienced.  Tiger the cat died in January.  My partner was angry and unhappy for much of the year and on my birthday  her blow up ended the relationship.  JT graduated college - a moment of enormous pride and joy for me - but he struggled with the meaning and purpose of his life in the aftermath.  It made for the most challenging parenting I’ve ever experienced.  

The year closes better than it started and given this storm of a year, that’s no small matter.  I wrap up 2022 aged 55 and single, a status I still find surprising to contemplate.  I am not lonely on my own, though I’m a little scared of growing old by myself and being a burden on JT.  I wonder why I never found someone to love me for the long haul.  In my darker moments, that makes me believe that there is something wrong with me.  I know that down that path lies despair.  Mostly, I avoid going there. 

Instead, I square my chin, make a list of the things for which I am grateful, and dismiss my self-doubts.  I remind myself that I am kind and funny; loyal and true.  I consult my affirmations and repeat that I am amazing, smart, and worthy.  Stylish and charming.  Beautiful.  Loved.  I’ve got a whole list of happy adjectives to repeat to myself as a reminder of the things I have going for me.  I know and recognize that truth.   

I always say that I live in hope and though much of 2022 felt like I was grasping for that hope in the midst of inky darkness, the year ends better than it began.  That’s hopeful and happy.  Here’s to 2023, with its new beginnings and living in hope.  

Home'ish

I’ve come with JT to California for Christmas, to spend time with my family and to try something different as I am once again single at age 55.  Clovis feels like home in some ways —— my family; places and scenery that I recognize; stories and jokes that are familiar.  The neighborhoods where my family lives are all new but the tidy rows of new homes look familiar to me, even if they aren’t the neighborhoods I grew up in.  I find such streets comforting; the newest blocks of them tidy and matching in a Disney sort of fashion that I find charming.

I had forgotten the way holiday lights look in the misty fog, but the  sight is familiar from my childhood and it stills retains its magic all these years later.  I love the holidays and the traditions, even those that are different from my own, and I’m glad to feel included.  I’m thinking about the hard parts of 2022 - there were a lot of them - and the gratitude I feel now, as the year ends.  I’m thinking about the coming of 2023, not bringing expectations to that prospect, but with a reminder to be gentle and kind toward myself as I see what the universe brings for me.

There’s a blessing to be found in that, as I am in my hometown at peace.  Clovis is a world that often felt foreign to me when I was growing up here, where I didn’t often feel welcome or a part of it.  I feel at home with myself now and that is enough, good, even.  I am grateful to be here and look forward with confidence that I always manage to locate hope when I need it.

Brrrr

We are smack dab in the middle of Winter right now and last week’s storm made this clear.  The snow was pretty and the light at sunset was splendid.

This Winter has seemed darker than usual and so I turn to familiar comforts.  Bright colors and stripes are lined up in my closet.  My cozy red flower hat helps to keep my eyes on the prize.  

Living in floral hope around here.

February 1 Flowers

 If there is one truth in my world, it's that flowers make everything better.  To say so long to the struggles of January, I brought home some pink tulips.

That's happy.