Dear Son,

I’m sorry.

You deserve to have an intact family, complete with two biological parents who love each other as well as you. You deserve to have only one father to make proud, and to deal with only one mother trying to keep you in line and asking you about your day at school.

You deserve not to be shuffled around from place to place like a library book, to not have to say goodbye to your favorite toys for the weekend or for the month.

You deserve not to have to learn two sets of household rules.

You deserve to be kept out of drama.

You deserve to have everyone you love at your birthday parties.

I’m sorry some of those things will never be true for you, as they were for me. But I have to trust that where we are headed is where we’re supposed to be, you and I.

I really hope that one day you don’t look back on this decision I’m making and think that I didn’t try, or think that I made the wrong choice. I tried so hard baby, so hard. I made posters (as I probably still do) to help encourage myself to keep going…I kept thinking that things were going to get better, that they had to. If only we could hit rock bottom and then things could turn around…but somehow the hole kept getting deeper and we never turned around.

If, when you get older, you do think I’ve made a mess of everything, it will be your prerogative to think that, if you want to; I cannot make you see things the way I see them now. I do not want to talk badly about your father, because he will always be that for you, and I would not dream of taking that away. Part of me hopes that you will see the reasons I am divorcing him for yourself, so that I will never have to speak badly of him to you in order to explain my choices. But I also fear that you will see those things, that you will experience some of those same hurts and betrayals that I have. I pray that this is not the case, and that instead, you are just filled with discernment and wisdom beyond your years, and are able to accept and love him for who he is.

You are so much to me. You don’t know how many times throughout this battle that I hugged your little body and wanted to burst into tears, but your sweet face kept me strong. I knew then, as I know now, that I want a good life for us. I knew I could not ask you to respect me if I did not respect myself. I knew we both deserved a family, one that we could share our joy and life with. And that’s what we have, little man. Every day that we make the choice to surround ourselves with those who support and uplift us, we have our family. I pray that this may be one of the many helpful life lessons you will learn from all of this mess…it is my hope that you will learn each lesson well, so that, among other things, you may offer your children that intact home that I so wish I could give to you.

With more love than words could possibly say,

Your mother

In her video, Joy suggests writ­ing one letter to yourself for every month of the year, to be opened at the start of that month. This is some­thing I’d never tried before, but I love the idea. I sat down at my kitchen table to write my notes and my brother happened to walk by, and inquired about my growing pile of letters. I explained what I was doing, and in response I got the “you’re crazy!” look from him. He kept pok­ing fun and say­ing how silly I was to be writ­ing a let­ter from myself to myself…it was inter­est­ing to see how for­eign the con­cept of self-love/encouragement was to him. I think so many times the idea of encour­ag­ing your­self gets passed over, but it can be so pow­er­ful!  You know your heart better than anyone, all your failings and weaknesses, and if you can still offer compassion and love to that imperfect soul of yours…I’m not even sure I can put words to it, but it’s freeing…and what a place of wholeheartedness from which to love others from!

Each month since I began this project, I’ve looked forward to reading the note, with hopeful expectation of being encouraged and uplifted. Sometimes I mention a song to listen to, or reference a quote to read. Some of the letters are long, some are short. Regardless, each one has served as a reminder that I need to avoid judgment, and instead, intentionally choose to cherish and care for myself.

How about you? How do you encourage yourself and practice self-care?

“Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.” ~William Arthur Ward

Anyway, I think I’m past due for another gratitude list, so here we go…

• a beautiful home
• learning to pay attention things previously ignored
• flame-free candle warmers
• the most awesome new skirt
• encouragement from good friends
• trusting myself
• funny moments with my son (like when he filled both pant-legs of his overalls up with toys, becoming a walking toy-chest!)
• the hope that this too shall pass
• free birthday drink cards from Starbucks
• my parents
• songs that require you to get up and dance (or at least wriggle a lot if you’re in the car!)

What about you? What’s on your list today?

I unfolded the paper and a few vivid memories came flooding back. The paper was from my last job, working at the psych hospital. On rare occasion I would get to sit in with the patients during one of the groups taught at the hospital, and this paper was an assignment I’d participated in during one such time. The teacher, Pam, had given us a writing prompt, and then asked everyone to read their poem aloud. Everyone else had read their poem, only mine remained…but thankfully, we were out of time. You may remember, but I should mention at this point that one of the things I hate most in life is public speaking. Was I okay that we didn’t have enough time for me to read my poem? You might say I was delighted, overjoyed, relieved…or all of the above.

But not Pam.

Pam kindly turned to the patients and asked them, “would everyone mind staying just a of couple minutes late, so Allison can read her poem?”

Total devastation.

Now not only did I have to read my poem aloud, but I was under the added pressure of making everyone late to leave the group…I was now the only thing between them and their smoke break. This had better be good.

But it wasn’t, or at least it didn’t feel like it at the time. I remember stammering my way through it, painfully self-conscious about each and every line. I reminded myself that I needed to be brave, just like I was always asking these patients to be as they confronted their fears. I made it through somehow, but not without my face turning beet red and experiencing a great deal of shame for days after.

Today, as I opened the piece of paper containing the poem I’d written so long ago, I read the poem with a set of slightly kinder eyes. It’s amazing how hard we can be on ourselves, what kinds of crazy (and impossible) standards we can set. What hardship that brings to our lives, too, when we inevitably fall short of perfection.

So thank you Pam, for honoring me by making the time for me to read that poem. I’m sorry it took me so long to get the lesson you taught along with it. I’m happy to say that if I were to write this poem over again from where I’m at today, it would be a little different, a little stronger. But here it is, in all it’s red-faced and imperfect glory.

I Am…

I am blue, deep sometimes and flighty, light-hearted

I am a winding road, moving forward

I am a dance, serene and quietly powerful

I am the wind moving through the trees, soft and gentle

I am a fox, roaming and fearful

I am “Sing Sing Sing”, “Sleepwalker” and “Bittersweet Symphony” because I am not just one tune

I am an old tan Toyota wagon, not flashy but a lot of fun

I am a coffee table, gracious hostess and supporter of many

I am mashed potatoes, comforting and non-offensive

I am a fiddle, and a violin, full of beauty and inspiration

I am the Wayside Chapel on Carbon Canyon, humble (not extravagant) but sincere

I am wind, soft but powerful, not really taken much notice of

I am an oak, putting my roots deep

I am a nuisance, because I am afraid of being one

I am waiting, to be everything I hope I can be.

______

In case you are interested in writing your own masterpiece, here is the prompt : )

I Am…

If I were a color, what color would I be?

If I were a shape, what shape would I be? 

If I were a movement, what movement would I be?

What sound?

What animal?

What song?

What car?

What piece of furniture?

What food?

What musical instrument?

What place?

What element in nature?

What kind of tree?

What is something I’m afraid of?

What is the word hiding behind my eyes?

Today I’m taking some time to look back, so that I can look forward with clarity and perspective. Though it’s hardly glamourous or comfortable, I think I’m right where I need to be. I’m proud of myself, and grateful that I have the chance to brave. I wrote the following as an encouragement to myself, as I embark into a new year, and I hope that it will be an encouragement to you as well.

You are worth it.

You are worth the time it takes to get to know yourself.

You are worth figuring out.

You are worth loving.

Your heart, your inner wisdom is worth trusting.

You are worth protecting.

You are worth the courage it takes to protect.

You are worth going the extra mile.

You are worth not giving up on.

You are worth pouring into.

You are imperfect, carry baggage, and have many questions that have yet to be answered, and still, you are worth it.

Happy New Year : )

I imagined a cozy little home all our own, someplace to start our own Christmas traditions. I pictured spending the holidays with my husband and children, all going to pick out a Christmas tree together, or going on a drive with hot cocoa to look at the lights. This year I realized that my dream of spending the holidays with my family is still coming true, just in a different way than I imagined.

My dad and my brother are the ones playing with my son, teaching him about how to hang Christmas lights and taking him for

walks in cold December air. My mom and I laugh and bake cookies together, wrapping the many packages for all of her grandkids. She teaches me how to sew, one project at a time, and I proudly hang my hand-stitched stockings up over my parents mantle. This isn’t the cozy little house I dreamed I would have, but it’s full of love and warmth, smiles and little footsteps. I am so grateful for my family this Christmas!

I wish you and your family a very Merry Christmas, and a happy New Year!

One friend’s marriage is on the rocks, they’ve been going to counseling on and off. The husband can’t seem to decide whether or not his wife and son are enough to make him happy. Another friend is looking for a new place to live because her marriage of ups and downs has finally hit the bottom of the barrel. A third friend is separated, but is actively trying to stave off divorce, working to repair the damage he’s done to the relationship. And still another friend is filing for divorce and will be “done” in January…but since they have a child this is only the beginning.

I hate seeing these relationships deteriorate and fail. Life is hard enough without that, don’t you think?

Seeing all this can make me so envious of those that have solid marriages, who, by wisdom or fate or luck of the draw, married well. Not that I think their relationships are easy, but that each day the decision is made by both parties to love and cherish, regardless.

So to my dear friends who are currently ripped open and hurting, I’m sorry. I add my hope to yours that it will get better, that time will heal wounds, that life will be filled with joy again. You are wonderful. You have a history, a life that you lived before the semi-truck of reality hit you at full speed…remember yourself, recall your strength.

And to those close to my heart who do not find themselves amidst such wreckage, be grateful. Choose your steps wisely. Be slow to anger, but don’t forget to fight for yourself. Guard what you have (whatever that may be) – protect it with humility, counseling, date nights, journaling, self-help books or dance lessons…whatever it takes.

A couple pictures of my Halloween cutie, from last year (pictures from this year soon to follow!)

Happy Halloween!

Recently I’ve been going through a lot of physical pain from a variety of sources. I’ll spare you all the details, save to say that yesterday I was taking Tylenol for my neck and shoulder, chewing very gingerly, wearing special shoes, and walking around with my left hand in a cup of ice water.

It’s been a rough few weeks.

Over breakfast this morning my brother and I were talking, and I started thinking about the movie Failure to Launch (there is a connection, I promise). In a minor subplot of the movie, Matthew McConaughey’s character keeps getting attacked by normally peaceful animals, because, his friends point out, he is off balance and at odds with the universe. Despite my brother insisting I was over-thinking things *again*, I felt I needed to at least entertain the idea of a spiritual imbalance/divine wrath (or maybe just pain with the goal of making me listen). This of course led to us laughing about how I might call a local doctor and ask about chi re-balancing. Gotta love brothers.

Then this morning I watched one of Joy Tanksley’s Monday Morning Sparks, and realized that I was doing exactly what she was speaking about –  getting really upset over all of the little things.

She shared that it pays to look for what’s behind the issue, fueling whatever emotion you’re feeling. Immediately I thought about how I’ve been feeling very powerless and exposed in my life right now, going through this divorce…and all of these physical issues have made those fears and insecurities very tangible.

It’s true that I’m upset over the fact that I grabbed a pan of cornbread while it was still in the oven – my hand hurts and my carelessness is frustrating…but I think what is causing me to feel so defeated by these challenges is that they have been highlighting my own weakness. It’s hard to be reminded that I am not immune to pain, that I cannot possibly remove all risk or sources of heartache from my life…that I am not invincible.

So I’m taking a moment to try and re-center myself, accept the vulnerability and rawness of my life…and hope that all these injuries have spoken their peace!

Some people have just one tag, like their name, or a single memory I have of them, but other people have hundreds of tags. It’s hard to lose (or remove) someone who has so many tags, because despite your best efforts at moving on, they keep coming to mind.

My first reaction to this is avoidance…and if the person you lost didn’t play that large of a role, you can do it….avoid the song, the street corner, the t-shirt, whatever. If, however, the loss is greater than that, you’ll find yourself having to do away with much more. You’ll find yourself refusing to listen to whole genres of music, donating half your wardrobe to the goodwill and swearing off eating pies altogether. Obviously this is not a great way to live your life. If you think about it, if we did this every time we experienced a loss, we’d end up with nothing left.

I brought this up with a friend of mine, and they shared that the secret is to make new memories with the tagged item/place. The original tag might not go away completely, but the new memory definitely helps soften the blow. So, in case you ever struggle with this, here is your encouragement not to give up on the things that you love. Keep moving forward. Make a new memory in the same old place, to that same old song.