Gratitude

I have been meaning to write my feelings of gratitude for some time now. So many dominoes have fallen into place in my life these past seven months. Some of the dominoes have crashed hard and the pain was almost unbearable, but still, they crashed in a line to get me to the place I am today, at this moment, letting the words trickle down to my fingertips. Of course, this celebration of memor is not premature. I know there is still a long road of falling dominoes ahead, but it seems doable.

Seven months ago, I lost my East Coast family when he left. His family, literally, became my family in the years we have lived here. Birthday parties, holiday celebrations, baby blessings, wedding showers, weddings, reunions, baby showers, and just simply hanging out have all but vanished from my life. I put from my mind the holiday celebrations I won’t be invited to this season. Picturing His family gathered around a table of thankful splendor, with my children, without me is already very painful. I have no family out here. I am alone.

But I am not, because of you…

So many people have reached out to me since the beginning of all this. It seems a simple text or private message has had just the perfect timing to get me through a moment where loneliness tried to be my ugly, unwanted friend. A plate of cookies, a special treat, even a jar of chicken curry soup, showed up at my door from dear friends who were thinking of me. A gift certificate to the movies so my children and I could escape for a few hours made its way to my inbox from my sister. Cards of love and encouragement coming from far and wide, made my day much brighter and bearable. In moments where I was down to the last cup of milk for breakfast, a check has made its way to my hands without payback as a condition. There have been countless hours of care to my children when I need help. Many an ear on the phone or a living room couch has been offered so I can pour out the pain in my heart. A job offer on the weekends I don’t have my children…

Because of you. Because you know love. Because you listen.

The list of names is huge. You have brought me such hope, gratitude, and humility into my life. Each of you has helped soften the hardest domino from falling. The light you have brought into my life at just the right moments will never be forgotten and I promise to pay it forward.

Dad. Mom. Jenny. Christian. Candice. Laura. Rob. Francesco. Evelyn. Jenna. Elizabeth W. Mark. Meleana. Lindsay. Brian. Ellen. Kimberley. Shane. Robin. Amanda. Matt M. Abby. Sue. Michelle Y. HOB. Tracy. Carissa. Jim. Kim. Edward. Rosemary. Jessica. Jennifer H. Marissa. Kaly. David H. Aunt Nancy. LibbyChick. Molly. Camille. Jamie N. Anne T. JGD. Matt R. Shelly.

Even EWM, who was a rock, but who is no longer a friend.

I am sure I will add to this list as more names come to me, but for now my deepest and most sincere love to all of you.

Hummingbird

Separation is tough. Being mistreated by someone you have 18-years of your life with is disheartening. The 18-years of history has evaporated in just a few short months. 

Today was a tough day and, I admit, I gave up in the middle of the day. I just pulled the covers over my head to make myself unconscious of the financial stress and emotional stress that weighed me down today. I couldn't do it. I couldn't live today. I couldn't keep holding in that sour bulge in my throat. It kept swelling and I could feel the explosion of tears and helplessness were on the horizon. I hate that feeling.

I sat on my front steps this evening as my children laughingly road their bicycles without worry, wondering what I was going to do. How was I going to make it through the end of July on an empty tank of gas and pennies in my checking account? I felt the tightness in my throat and a hollowness in my gut getting stronger. Any second, the volcano of feelings was going to explode, right there, on my front steps.

I took my last deep breath in. As soon as I exhaled, I knew the fiery pain would sear my throat and burn eyes, and make me feel nauseous. I was so alone. Empty. For a split-second, I imagined not being here. I imagined putting that final end to my pain. I closed my eyes, ready for the sting of salty tears. I was ready for you Loneliness and Helplessness. Let's just get it over with...

And then I heard that familiar summer hum whisper in my ear. I opened my puzzled eyes, and there he was, only a few inches from my face. His little body, shifting metallic green-tones in the setting sun, hovered next to my face. With robotic motion, he looked at me. He saw my soul. He hovered for a few moments, humming in the evening air. He was tempted by the fuchsia petunias in my terracotta pot on the front porch, but instead he looked at me again. 

I gasped a bit and in a moment he zoomed away, taking my pain with him. That small, green humming bird gave me hope. As if lassoing the lump in my throat and the hollowness in my stomach, he pulled it from my body and took it with him to dump somewhere far away from me.

And I said to myself, "Okay, Universe. I will go another day. I understand and I thank you."

All because of a hummingbird. 

Old Endings. New Beginnings.

  Well. Here I am again. Talking to myself and feeling blue. I am 18 again. Freshly graduated from the hell they call high school and ready to start my big grown-up life. 18-years ago, I was enrolled to take my first classes at the University of Utah. I had purchased a '93 Trailblazer which was paid monthly from the tips I got working at Cowboy Grub. I hated that job. It took years for the nightmares to subside.

  My future was unknown. I didn't know what I wanted to be or what my interests were. I was immature and somewhat relied on the fact I would probably start dating a bit, me in my awkward, late-bloomer stage. Maybe I'd find a guy and fall in love, a Mormon guy if course. Someone I could check the Returned Missionary box off with. Then we'd date. Get married in the temple and start our life together. The plan was to wait to have kids because I wanted my schooling completed. Then, I'd be a stay-at-home-mom and raise babies to be righteous Mormons. The Mormon Circle of Life rotating on and on through generations of its people. 

  And I would be happy.....

  This was a perfect plan for a naive 18-year-old with no life-experience. It was the plan I absorbed growing up in my faith community. But it didn't work out that way. None of it did.

  18-years later, I never finished school. I am 9-months into a five-year bankruptcy plan. I have two beautiful children, and I am four-months separated from the man I was taught would be my eternal companion. I am looking down the same road I was 18-years ago, wondering what the hell do I do now? How am I going to pay the damn electric bill? That money went to my lawyer. 

  I am ready to reinvent myself. I have a few ideas, but will my past failures haunt my future endeavors?

I guess we will see. I process my thoughts through writing. So welcome to my new beginning. This is gonna be fun. So stick around. It might be a train wreck.