What's Different Today?

A friend of mine asked me this question last night. I told her I would probably have to put pen to paper and sit with it for a few moments before I could answer. I did, and here's that answer...

Things change day to day in our lives. We never know what we'll be waking up to or bringing to bed with us on any given day. The lines on my face and the girth of my belly seem to be growing, as do my children and grandchildren. The air is crisp and cool and lovely this morning but the forecast calls for much more humid air tomorrow. The pain in my lower back and hip isn't so bad today but after a planned workout this morning, that could be different. The emotional trauma that was my every day for years exists no longer, except for when on occasion, something finds it hidden in that deep place where I don't think our trauma ever truly leaves. Six years ago, I had a mom. Five years ago, I didn't. So far, our country has managed to avoid getting involved in another world war, but I fear that it's coming. The circumstances of war may be different but war itself never is. It's always the same awful death and world changing destruction that history books are full of. Really, everything's different from day to day, moment to moment. What tomorrow will bring? No idea, but something different.

There is that saying though, the more things change, the more they stay the same. I still have the same husband, thirty two years now. I have the same job, twenty plus years now. The love I hold in my heart for my children and the extension of that love for my grandchildren will never change, ever. That will never be different, even when I'm gone from this earth. The rust colored carpet and yellow cabinets that were in my house when my parents lived here still reside in my kitchen, so I've got that going for me in the same department! Honestly, some days feel so "the same" that it's downright depressing. I suppose it's all in the perception. I'm grateful for the stability the sameness in my life provides. I'm beyond grateful for the friends who have remained a constant for so many years. I love climbing into the same ugly, comfy, gray pajamas that have lived in my pj's drawer for longer than I can remember. A lot of my unfulfilled desires remain the same, like the one to play guitar and bring more music into my world.

So, my dear friend, what's different today? Everything...and nothing. And that's okay.

xo,
Carrie

Towels and Marriage

For quite some time now, years in fact, I have been asking my husband not to hang his wet towel over the dry towels that hang on the shower door when he is done taking a shower. I think it makes perfect sense that -  a.) his towel will not dry sufficiently, and b.) it will cause the dry towels to become damp. I don't feel like this is an unreasonable request, do you? I just for the life of me then, do not understand why he is unable to meet this request! I suppose it's better than finding it on our bed, or on the floor, but it's one of those things that has the ability to really send me into a tantrum. You know, the ugly kind!

Marriage is hard. Pledging your love to one person for eternity is hard, and maybe even a little insane. After all, if it's true that we humans are always changing and evolving (and it is), then it stands to reason that our relationships will too, no? When I think of the young child I was when I met my husband and compare her to the woman I've become, I see only glimmers of that girl.

One of the miracles of love is it's ability to morph. Love is the ultimate magic trick! It can disappear, and just at the moment when you think it has died, drowning in that tightly chained box sitting at the bottom of the heart's pool, it breaks free, rises to the surface and shouts, "I'm alive!" Love is pretty crazy stuff, that's for sure.

If I were to attempt to write all of the ways in which my love for my husband has changed, grown, disappeared, reappeared and morphed over the years, we'd be here until the cows come home! The challenges don't ever end when you pledge your love to someone for a lifetime but another miracle of love is it's ability to persevere, wet towels and all. The times in which my husband has been there for me in the ways that really count needs to over ride the annoying stuff. I have to remind myself of that. Sometimes love needs reminders.  LOTS of them! In the end, the towels won't matter, the rest of the stuff will.

I will say this though, If you're one of those people that hangs your wet towel over the dry ones...DON"T!

xo,
Carrie

One Beat

If you could give one beat of your life to someone, who would it be?

When I first read this question, I was moved to tears. Pretty powerful question, no? Of course my initial answer was Mom. When I first started writing this blog, I shared with you how I struggled after she passed with the fact that I never asked her if she was sure when she said she was ready to die. She said, "Oh Carrie, I just want to go now." and requested no machines and no more fluids, but was she sure? She seemed ready, but I never thought to ask her if she was sure. This haunted me for months after she died. I feared, as she lay there, eyes closed, no longer able to talk to us, but looking like she was trying, that she had changed her mind and wanted to stay. What if her brain was screaming, "NO! I'm not ready, I want to stay and try the chemo. I don't want to do this any more." and she was just too weak to be able to move her mouth and tell us? What if she wanted the machines? What if she wanted the IV back in her arm? What if she wasn't sure? DAMN IT! Why didn't I ask her? I should have asked. If I could give one beat of my life to my mother, I could have the answer to my question.

The reality is, I know deep in my heart that giving one more beat to my mom would not have changed anything. The cancer was there, and it was not going anywhere. After thinking about it long and hard, I realized I would not give the beat to her. The outcome would have been the same.

One beat. One. That's a pretty quick moment in time. It will only matter to the person who is in need of that one beat. The heart attack victim who will be revived with one more beat. The accident victim who sees that car coming and needs one more beat to react differently. The still born baby who could have survived with one more beat. The drowning victim who could have grabbed one more breath or the suicide victim who could have contemplated life's worth with one more second. These are the people I would give one beat of my life to. The ones who truly could have used it to possibly change the outcome.

We most likely will never be in a situation where our one beat can save someone in the moment of their death but we give beats of ourselves every day, in so many ways. Who in the living world needs your beat desperately? Who can you help with the beats of your love, your kindness, your knowledge, your aliveness? Do you only give it to the ones you feel are deserving of it or do you selflessly give it away? One beat may not even be noticed by us, but to a person in need, it could make all the difference.

"I'll carry your heartbeat in mine."

xo,
Carrie

Questions

I was away on my annual retreat last weekend and usually, before I return, I'm inspired to write something. Whether poetry or prose, being on the grounds of the Mercy Center tends to bring me to that deep place where all the juicy stuff resides! This year, I wasn't feeling well and because of that, I felt like I didn't really have the energy to go there. I loved being with the other women, as I always do, but my brain just wouldn't allow me to go there.

I've been doing these retreats long enough to know not to fight anything about the experience. You know that popular saying, "It is what it is"? That's my complete truth when I'm at Mercy Center. No shoulds, no expectations. Just what is, moment by moment. So I came home thinking that I wouldn't have much to share with you about the weekend, and that was okay.

While there, one of the women purchased a book called "A Book of Questions". That's exactly what it was. A book/journal, filled with many profound questions. After looking through it, I decided that I would write down the questions that really spoke to me, deducing that the ones that didn't, must already be resolved within myself. Life has already answered those questions for me. In looking at the questions now, some of these are pretty deep. In answering these, I will need to go to that place where the juicy stuff lives. So even though I gave myself a pass for the weekend, I can see that my soul was still paying attention, "Rest if you must Carrie, but don't think you're off the hook!". Yes! Lots of good material for my blog.

So my hope is that as I periodically share a question and my answer with you, you will allow yourself to go to that place as well. I want you to share in this journey with me, and ask yourself the questions that speak to you. It's amazing what a simple question can foster. In this world where we can google the answer to just about any question we can think of, it's nice to give ourselves the opportunity to go to that place where no one else can, and find our own answers. They're always there, just waiting to be discovered.

xo,
Carrie

Pets

Friends of ours discovered this past week that their dog had bone cancer. They suspected this might be the case when the exact same symptoms showed up in this Rottweiler that had in a previous one they owned when he was diagnosed with it. Though they had their suspicions, they were hopeful that the trip to the vet that afternoon would reveal something non life threatening. Arthritis perhaps, or a sprained leg. It wasn't to be the case.

Having witnessed what their last dog had endured with this particular diagnosis, they knew what they must do. As heart wrenching a decision as it was, they knew they didn't want him to suffer, and he was already showing signs of discomfort. They made an appointment for a few days out, needing that time to try and digest what was happening. When the day came, somehow they managed to carry through with their decision and less than a week after the diagnosis, he was laid to rest.

If you've ever had to make this decision for a beloved pet, then you understand the almost unbearable heaviness that accompanies it. My husband and I had to once, and it's an experience we'll never forget. I've always joked that my husband has enough testosterone for ten men (or more!). He works in the trades and has a very physical job. He hunts, he fishes, he works on cars, on boats, he spends eight hours climbing to the top of a mountain for fun. He'd wear a cowboy hat if he lived in Montana like he wishes he did. Luckily, he doesn't engage in the nasty habit of chewing tobacco. That would be a deal breaker for sure! My point is, he doesn't cry easily. But the day we brought our Golden Retriever to be put down, he couldn't hold back the tears. How could he? This was his baby.

My sister in laws cat passed away recently. She'd had this cat for about twenty years. She had a bond with her cat that only the two of them understood. Her cat was there when her attacker shot her and left her for dead. Her cat was there, every day and night, laying by her side as she went through the agony of healing and it was there, giving her love, as she attempted to figure out how to move forward in her life as a paraplegic. Only her cat shared in that traumatic experience with her and no one understood like her Cocoa.

Why would anyone willingly subject themselves to being a pet owner when the inevitable outcome will be to one day bury them? Isn't life filled with enough loss? Don't we humans experience enough painful goodbyes without setting ourselves up for more? Well, if you've ever had a four legged family member, I need not go any further. You just know.

To my friends who are hurting, I hope you find comfort in knowing that you're not alone in your pain. When your hearts begin to heal and the hurting starts to subside, all the things that made your pup so special to you will remain.

xo,
Carrie

Disappearing

I don't live a very exciting life. We don't do a lot of traveling and I definitely don't have a very adventurous spirit so there's not a lot of those types of experiences for me to share with you. You won't be reading about me jumping out of an airplane (kudos to my girlfriend who did in honor of her 50th!), or sailing the ocean blue or attempting to achieve some wildly physical activity to push my body beyond it's boundaries. My fifty three year old joints just ain't havin' that! My experiences come from observing life day in and day out. My job, my family, my friends, my daily excursions. My life is pretty boring. There was a time, many years in fact, when it was anything but. So maybe the truth is, I welcome the calm, boring place that my life has moved into. Oh sure, I'd like a change of scenery more often than I get it, I read that's really good for an aging brain! For the most part though, I feel settled in my life, and that's not such a bad thing. I know people my age who feel very unsettled, and I watch the turmoil, the drama, the chaos, as they attempt to shift and it makes me feel grateful. I don't pretend to think that all of my shifting is done, is it ever? But at my age, I'll take boring over inner turmoil and chaos any day.

As you know, writing is something I've done off and on my whole life. Journal writing, letter writing (when's the last time you sat down, pen and paper, and wrote someone a nice letter?), song writing and now blog writing. I'm no stranger to writing my feelings out on paper, but I've discovered that sharing yourself in a blog is very different than journal writing. There's no real sense of responsibility when you write for your eyes only, after all, who's going to read it but you? But when you know others will be reading what you write, there most definitely is a feeling of responsibility. A responsibility to be interesting enough so people will have a desire to come back. A responsibility to be relatable to people and the biggest one of all, a responsibility to be honest. The only way you can truly be relatable to people, is to be completely honest with them and the only way to be completely honest with them, is to be completely honest with yourself (I suddenly hear a little bell chiming, "Ding, ding, ding" and a voice shouting out "BINGO!"). That, my friends, is not always an easy thing to do. You must be willing to accept your flaws, your faults, your human-ness, and put it out there for others to see. Sometimes, it's wonderfully therapeutic, other times, it's scary as hell!

I remember when I first began writing this blog, I promised to be honest. I said something like, "Because if not, then really, what's the point?". There are enough people in our world who are all too happy to feed us bullshit, and there are enough places we can go to hear the bullshit. I don't want to be that person and I don't want my blog to be that place. When I show up here, I want to show up with all of me, not just the pieces that are easy to reveal.

So, at the times in my life when, for whatever reason, I am unwilling to share my truth, I will be silent. During the times that it's just too painful for me to dig deep enough, I will be silent. When my life perceptions are running at surface level and I feel they will bore you to tears, I will be silent. But I'll be back. I always am. And when I am, I am oh so happy to be here!

"The pen and paper has no judgment, no vote, it simply receives my truth and allows me to turn the page. And today, this is my truth." - Sons of Anarchy

xo,
Carrie

Be nice!

I was driving around Whole Foods parking lot yesterday, two kids in tow, looking for a parking space. I got super excited when I spied a space right next to the handicapped spot by the door, as we've been having some FRIGID weather lately. Tackling Whole Foods with kids is always somewhat of a challenge, throwing in sub-zero temps makes the experience that much more fun! This space had one of those signs that read, "Reserved for patrons with small children" in front of it. Fantastic! I have small children. I was about three spaces away from pulling in when, as happens so often in that parking lot, a car appeared out of nowhere. It came around the corner from the opposite direction and sped in to the space before I could get to it. Needless to say, I wasn't happy! I pulled up closer to the car and mumbled under my breath, "There better be a *%&#ing child in that car!". Out ran the driver, a woman, sans children. She quickly scooted to the entrance as I sat, blood boiling, thinking, what do I do? Toot my horn? Block her from going in? Run her down? I pulled around, hand on my window control button, preparing to completely lose it on this woman, "Damn it! This window is not going down quick enough!", and in she went with her carriage, completely oblivious to the wrath that was just a moment away from being put upon her.

I drove around the parking lot, blood still boiling, found an open space, got the kids out of their car seats, walked them to the door, got them situated in a carriage, and in we went. I was on a mission! I was going to find this dark haired lady with the pretty blue hat if it was the last thing I did. I felt myself walking at a pace that was not usual for me when I visit Whole Foods. Probably a pace similar to that of a marathoner! This woman's face was etched in my mind so clearly, had she been a murder suspect that I was describing to a police sketcher, she never would have gone free. I paced, and breathed, and paced, and breathed, nothing. A few more aisles of pacing and breathing, and still nothing. Eventually I felt my pace slowing to the more familiar browse mode, and my boiling blood was now just barely a simmer. Rational thinking was coming back, "Okay, I'm not going to seek her out, but if I happen to run into her, I'm going to explain to her nicely why that wasn't the right thing to do. After all, I certainly don't want to make a scene in front of these kids". We finished our shopping trip and when we left, I saw her car was gone. Not even a chance to leave  a note on her windshield. The opportunity was gone.

As I drove home, I began to feel grateful that my window didn't go down just a few seconds quicker, that she wasn't standing right there, in the produce aisle, when we entered the store and that I never spied the lady in the blue hat. I felt extremely grateful that the opportunity to become someone I definitely have no desire to be, did not present itself. I even remembered a time when I had done the exact same thing this woman had done, thinking I would only be a few minutes in the store and convincing myself that the three empty car seats in my back seat counted for something. They didn't.

In those life moments that we all have, when our blood is boiling, and our minds are racing so fast we can barely think straight, and we feel we are entitled to behave however we see fit because we've been wronged, it really pays to just stop. STOP. Breathe, pace, cry if you need to, but don't become that person. That person that you will always regret you became when the moment passes...and it will.

"Does my speech carry the language of love and compassion?" - Thich Nhat Hanh

xo,
Carrie