44 years and Winnie-the-Pooh

Me and Winnie-the-Pooh

Flashback – little me, 5 years old – reading my Winnie-the-Pooh. These books were my favorites then – I had the whole set: Winnie-the-Pooh, The House at Pooh Corner, and the two books of poetry – When We Were Very Young and Now We Are Six. (I remember my excitement when eventually I turned six and was able to read those poems when I matched the age in the title. 😁) Some of my other treasures at the time are on the shelf next to me – especially my Fisher Price cassette player. When I was 2, that cassette player took a terrible tumble down a long flight of stairs — if I close my eyes I can still see it falling down the orange-carpeted staircase of our house at the time. I can feel my fear – the overwhelming distress – even now tears come to my eyes at the depth of the memory. But it survived and continued to play my music faithfully for years.

I just recently had my 44th birthday, and so much of my life has unfolded in ways outside of my control and unexpected. That’s fairly normal for humans riding around on this planet and subject to Time. But so many things about me have remained unchanged from who I was in this picture – I mean, unlike what appears to be the norm – many, many parts of me are exactly the same as I was in this picture. (Autism spectrum echoes here.) Not only do I read Winnie-the-Pooh as my go-to comfort book, but I began reading it to my sons before they could talk and passed it along as a “comfort story” to them as well. I own multiple box sets, and the boys have the two chapter books in one large, blue volume that is falling apart with love. Music and poetry are also still what I use to help make sense of the world. I no longer have my beloved cassette player, but music remains with me – even without an external source, it is usually playing within me… unless the cacophony of my thoughts drowns it out.

I grew in capacity to understand knowledge, but that didn’t necessarily translate into understanding people. I am always watching this world from somewhere behind my eyes – riding around in this ever-changing and usually uncomfortable body that helps me interact with the world, but always feeling somehow like an alien living inside it. Somewhere along the line, I think I’ve just accepted that being a physical being will always feel like a strange surprise to me. My hands, my eyes, all these parts of me that touch the world – that grant me moments of mingling with others – I am frequently in awe of them, but also not quite sure of them… my eyes themselves can be just as awe-inspiring as the views they give to me.

I was coming home from Hopewell House last night under a golden gibbous moon, listening to music, and allowing myself to ride the waves of emotions from my shift. I knew one resident would finish their transition off this earth that night, and I would not get to say goodbye to them or their loved one who had been there with them throughout my shift. It is hard to just be “the weekend nurse” at a hospice house because I am not usually able to say goodbye. I love working with the dying – its complexity and simplicity – and I love how it informs how I live this life of mine… but love isn’t easy. I am grateful to be where I am… but I am also weary right now – for many reasons.

So tonight, I will turn on an audiobook of Winnie-the-Pooh, and I will curl up in bed beside the pile of books by my pillow. I will close my eyes and let myself be however I am… I will listen to the laughter of my sons and the popping of the woodstove across the room. I will breathe with my mental recording of the rhythm of the sea by my old home – and let it soothe me, even though the memory aches. I don’t know what this next year will bring, but this 44th year is starting off with many blessings. It is good to be here…

Thank you my dear ones, for making this strange human journey so full of love and laughter… even when the path is dark. I love you all.

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Peace in the Darkness…

Fig and Yuki Cuddle

Sometimes, a few moments in the midst of life’s chaos can bring a deep peace in the darkness…

I was a cat-nap cushion today for these two kitties – neither of which belong to me (though Yuki there on my legs thinks he does). For a good 45 minutes, I used this as an excuse to actually do nothing – nothing but feel their weight and warmth while listening to their soft purring until they fell asleep. Despite the stress of life right now, I found myself relaxing into their peace and almost fell asleep myself. There is something wonderful about the peace an animal feels when they are loved, and that peace and feeling of safety is really what we all want in our relationships too… we’re not that different from the rest of the species riding this planet with us.

Like most of us, I have had my ability to trust other humans badly damaged through the years on this globe. (It turns out I still can’t recognize deception or other more complex social interactions – it may be time to figure out how to access my own autism diagnostician to help me process my recent life traumas that have thrown me into a very dark place of confusion I simply can’t make sense of…) I have met so many beautiful souls recently, though, and I don’t want to miss out on journeying with them because I am afraid of painful interactions. We can’t experience that deep peace we crave in relationships without trusting that we are safe with each other…

I will be 44 in two days. It is a good number… but this last trip around the sun was full of nightmares and trauma – it broke me… yet somehow I am still here. My boys need me – and if I can be a source of peace for the lives around me – whatever species they are – then this life of mine feels like it has value even in its brokenness. Broken can still be beautiful.

Forty-four years… I am still here. My goal remains to be able to say at the end of this ride, “Veni, Vidi, Amavi.” I came, I saw, I loved. I am grateful for the journey.

If you are one of the beautiful souls on the ride of life with me… thank you for your presence – thank you for your smiles, your laughter, your tears, and your stories. You all rock my world.

Taking Time…

Sable snuggles

It was a busy weekend.
I think I’m figuring out the rhythm of working at Hopewell House, and then getting up in time for the Monday morning rush with the public health team. But I can’t pretend I’m not tired.

Of course, I’ve also had one of those weeks… sometimes the heaviness in our hearts is what really exhausts our spirits – the slate-gray weight of life’s struggles dragging on each breath. It’s been hard to even cry.  But easing the burden of grieving families this weekend – loving on those at Hopewell – this has been a candle of joy and peace in my Dark…

And this evening, a dear friend from nursing school called – laughing with her was like beams of sunlight – just hearing her voice made me feel stronger… she reminds me I am a person who can DO what needs to be done – even when I feel like someone who still hasn’t figured out how to be a proper person yet. I might constantly be playing catch up on this spinning planet — but at least I’m still trying…

In the free moments of the last few days I’ve begun working on a simple ribbed hat for my sister to try out. (Sable here, or one of the other cats, has kept me company.) The yarn is basically a piece of soft string, so it’s taking time, but it’s slowly creating a soft and gentle fabric. Knitting is such a good reminder that beautiful things in life take time to create… there’s nothing wrong with taking the time you need – patience can foster peace and presence – and you are able to experience a lot more of the world when you walk through it slow enough to really notice it. All the wonders of life are revealed to those who are waiting and watching… the color of green that comes alive with spring, the scent of the trees in the rain, the breath of the sea that still echoes within me, the elusive smile in the midst of grief, and even this magic fabric between my fingers from two sticks and a ball of string.

So be patient with yourselves and each other, my dear-ones. You don’t know who is too tired to shed the tears they’re carrying…

Knitted with Love…

It is finished. The sweater is done.

I need to block it still, but the ends have been woven in, and it fits well. The fabric has a nice weight to it, and I love the textures as much as I knew I would. The asymmetry in the hem and the sleeve cuffs adds interest too (though as I was working the cuffs I couldn’t help thinking it was a lot of detail for something I will probably just push up or roll up – knowing me 😉).  I had so much fun seeing this piece come to life –  I already miss having it on my needles…

Knitting is some kind of beautiful magic – you take two sticks and a piece of long string, add some time and attention, and “Poof!” – something brand new is brought into being. A new article that warms the body and/or the soul – whether sweater or teddy bear. 😊  I love the blend of challenge and meditation – I love how it forces me to learn and grow… in knitting, I get the chance to make mistakes, figure them out, and fix them without worrying about timelines or consequences…

Shortly after finishing the sweater, an article came across my Google feed about a worldwide volunteer organization called the Loose Ends Project. This is a group of “finishers” who volunteer to complete projects left behind when loved ones die so that grieving families can have their final project. I read about it at one in the morning… by one-thirty, I had completed the sign up process. The group matches finishers to families in their proximity according to their craft – so it’s just a matter of time until a project is sent my way.  I am amazed that so many people around the world are involved – and  thrilled to get to be one of them. It’s a unique blend of my love for knitting and my love for the grieving…

Sometimes we’re given opportunities to love others in practical ways. Love embodied in hands and feet and voices – this is one of the gifts of our humanity. In a world full of violence and pain, fear and grief – Love made Real is what gives us hope, soothes our troubled hearts, and reminds us we aren’t alone. In this way, we “knit” ourselves to each other on this spinning planet – a kind of knitting we can all do.

So knit tenderly, my loves… we need each other.

Progress…

A sleeve!

I made progress on my sweater this morning – before the day became too much. (A sleeve is taking shape!)


There were tears later… alone in traffic… with a mind that was just too loud on top of the stress the day itself provided.  I had to have Google maps going so that I wouldn’t  get lost, and no other distractions playing because traffic was so awful… but that meant there wasn’t  enough for my brain to focus on to keep it busy. So it was free to return to traumatic and distressing memories, even though I regularly brought it back from them… bits and pieces of the last almost 3 decades over and over again. Even constantly giving my mind some other thought couldn’t keep the tears away.

However, this drive resulted in finally completing the last pieces of my name reversion in my professional world. Now, I won’t have to deal with the constant reminder of what was every time I check my email with the county or see my name on the Team somewhere. This is a huge relief for my psyche. Seeing my name – my name that was mine so many years ago – seeing it in print brings a brightness to my mind’s eye and gives me a solid feeling under my feet. It has been a huge hassle, but it’s finally done. Despite everything (or maybe because of it all), I know who I am.

Tonight, as I listen to the woodstove crackle and tap in the soft twinkle-lights, I am resting – the day is finally over. For this moment, with the warmth of a cat breathing beside me and the sound of the boys’ voices floating from their room – right now, all is well. I am so grateful. We are safe, we are hopeful, and we are loved.

Be tender with each other, my dear-ones… we are all just trying to keep going as the earth spins away our days… May we have the chance to give the safety, hope, and love to each other that we all need. Be gentle to the souls you meet – you don’t know the tears they shed today…