The In Between-ness of Being

This is day two after Lila left to attend summer camp on the east coast.  She will be there for the next seven weeks or so and then she will have just four weeks before she goes to school.

I miss her already.

This summer departure was quite different from years past because I know that I will only get to see her for two weeks before she heads to her new school and then I won't get to see her until Thanksgiving. She isn't even there yet and I'm already counting down the days.

I've been preparing for my own big move to the East by cleaning out my house filled with eight years of memories. An unprecedented span of time of living in one home for me. Some of the stuff I haven't even looked at since 2010.  Part of me feels relieved to get rid of things but each item has some kind of a memory attached to it and that part of it tears my heart in two.

It is the in between-ness that drives me batty.  Lila is not here but she isn't in school yet.  I am moving but I have to settle my affairs before navigating the path across the country. I haven't given notice at work yet because I'm not 100% sure I am leaving since the move is contingent on selling my home within a defined timeframe.  I will know by mid-July whether or not Portland is stuck with me for another year and I really don't know how I feel about that uncertainty.  I am stuck in the in between-ness of being in one place but almost in another.

There have been moments when I am stopped in my tracks when the voice in my head, very pointedly asks, "What are you doing, Dennise, thinking you can just pick up and move across the country?!?!".  I have had my moments of freaking out and I'm sure those moments are far from over.

I watch my teenage daughter fearlessly stretch herself between childhood and being an adult.  The in between-ness of her growing up is fascinating to watch.  Sometimes she can't bear to let go; other times, she is running towards her own life experiences.

                             

I'm one of those people who needs to know.  I need to know what the outcome will be so I can get on with it.  Do I stay or do I go?  Will I be okay with 'no matter what'?  I don't know.  My gut and my heart think I will be but I need to know!

There are moments of elated excitement about the unknown newness of pursuing this Big Adventure. I talk as if it will happen next week but so much needs to be dealt with before that happens and I also need to find a job, too.

(Yes, what the hell are you thinking, Dennise!?!?)

In conversation with friends and acquaintances, everyone I have spoken with about my plans has been supportive and I am elevated by that kindness and vote of confidence.  But sometimes, secretly, I wish it was sixty days ago and things were back to normal.  Fear is gnawing at my confidence and I won't ignore it because by doing so will only leave it to pursue a sneak attack in the middle of the night when I least expect it. But sometimes, I just want to swim in it because it keeps me from doing what I need to do.

I started meditating once again and if you haven't done the practice, I can't say enough about how centering and helpful it is.  The simple act of just paying attention to your breath and being in the here and now has helped me over a few fearful moments. It has helped me look at my anxiety and doubt square in the eye.

The other thing that can really knock the wind out of fear's sails is joy.  I just tell myself I am happy and before I know it, I am. Of course, I don't ignore those less-than-fun feelings but I don't let them bury me alive.

Part of me wants this to be all finished.  I want to know someone will buy my house and love it as much as I have.  I want to know that my new home will welcome me with open arms and an exciting professional opportunity is waiting for me to claim it as soon as I arrive.  I want to know that I will not be overcome with homesickness for my beloved friends and family who live here in Oregon.  But I know that I cannot know any of this until it happens when it is supposed to happen.

It sucks being in the in between-ness of being, the I-don't-know-what-is-going-to-happen-but-just-keep-believing-in-yourself living.  I don't like not knowing but that is how life flows, baby.  I will continue to daydream about the possibilities of what might happen in Providence, RI.  I will believe that I am capable to do this and adventure is far from over.  I put a wish out to the Universe and it responded back in some magnificent ways.  I will remind myself that it is okay to take a chance like this and that no matter what, the blessings of the experience will only take me to the next fantastic adventure.

The Next Big Adventure

Eight minutes and 3 weeks ago, I made a final decision about a major life change: I'm moving.  Of course it has been quite the journey up to that moment and I don't recall the exact time the seed of change took root.  But then I spotted the start of a post from November 2017:

Being in one place for a long period of time is not my thing, not my schtick. It is not something I know and it isn't something that feels right to me.

I grew up moving all the time.  We didn't stay anywhere for long and then I grew used to being a mover.  New schools, new homes, new friends.  That last thing did not come so easy, but I do recall making new friends along the way. 

That was then and this is now. I was fortunate to purchase my very first house in 2010 and here I am, seven years later, in the same space.  This is unprecedented and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. I started feeling disenchanted with the city that I live in because I felt like Life popped me with a few sucker punches but I survived each one. 

But the city that I swore was my own, felt like an out of date concert ticket.  Living here feels faded and I feel disconnected. 

Of course, the people I call True Friends are my True Family. They are my home.  But how do you reconcile a driving need to leave?  Am I running away or running to?  What is it that I feel is missing and why do I feel like I need to hightail it out of the state that offers up pixie forests and salty ocean air? 

I simply don't know that answer and I think, I believe, that it can be found somewhere else.  But what if I am absolutely wrong?

Wow.  Apparently I have been thinking about this for some time. I've lived in Portland, Oregon for pretty much the past two decades (with a brief stint back in my home state of Pennsylvania). It was a spur of the moment decision to move here and then it became a home where I found my way to politics, activism, and community radio. It is where I became a mother.  It is where I found my voice.

When I moved here in the mid-nineties, it was the original Big Adventure for me, and I have never regretted it for an instance.  Not when I lost my job for the first time or that second time...had my heartbroken countless times...or after some schmuck broke into my house.  No, those things are not pushing me to pursue a change of scenery.  I just don't feel that this is my 'place' any longer and I long for adventure.

I have the privilege to sit in a peaceful backyard and contemplate the option to relocate across the country.  I have the privilege to move to another state because of access to some resources many people don't have. But as I sit in this peaceful moment as Chet Baker shares his musical musings with me, I think about all the changes that are coming based on that decision that I made (now) 10 minutes and 3 weeks ago: I'm moving to Providence, RI as my Next Big Adventure!

My daughter has the opportunity to attend a magnificent school in New York call The Masters School. She will be boarding there as she attends high school.  I am moving back East to be closer to her and selected Rhode Island because, well, I don't know why. I started looking at possible destinations like Richmond, VA and Baltimore, MD but once I discovered PVD, it kept speaking to my spirit of adventure that I thought was long buried.

   

As found on Wikipedia:

Providence is the capital and most populous city of the U.S. state of Rhode Island and is one of the oldest cities in the United States.^[6] It was founded in 1636 by Roger Williams, a Reformed Baptist theologian and religious exile from the Massachusetts Bay Colony. He named the area in honor of "God's merciful Providence" which he believed was responsible for revealing such a haven for him and his followers to settle. The city is situated at the mouth of the Providence River at the head of Narragansett Bay. It is also known as the "Creative Capital" and "PVD". Providence also shares Rhode Island's affinity for coffee, with the most coffee and doughnut shops per capita of any city in the country.^[91] Providence is also reputed to have the highest number of restaurants per capita of major U.S. cities.

I have already connected with some folks who live there (thanks to Deborah, Kelly, and Jackleen!) and hopefully, it is the start of creating a new community of friends.  In the meantime, I take on the huge heartfelt task of packing up my life and it has already proven to be a bit of an emotional ride. However, clearing out things that I no longer use to pass onto someone else to enjoy helps me feel lighter.

I have a lot of work to do.  Not only am I saying goodbye to a former favorite sweater, I am also saying farewell to the nearest and dearest people in my life.  I will be sharing bits of my journey along the way here on my blog and hope to also share stories on The Politics of Living.

Stay tuned.

The A Word

Recently, I have had a few conversations with friends and colleagues about new opportunities and those conversations have stirred up some mixed feelings I have about ambition.

One particular conversation came about with regards to a potential professional opportunity that would provide more pay, more challenge, and certainly more stress.  I wasn't sure if it was something to look into and pursue or not.  I decided not to do so and yet, it stays with me.

It has also prompted me to rethink how I see ambition.  Back in my thirties, I was the gal who worked 60 hour work weeks without complaint. I actually thrived on it! Not only was I working all those hours at my job, I was actively volunteering and living a fantastic social life.  How did I do it?

Once I had my daughter, life shifted gears.  Both based on my lead and due to things way out of my control.  Over the past decade, my definition of ambition has changed due to my choices and several life circumstances that packed a few punches.

As I reflect on the past twelve months, I am astonished by how infrequent episodes that would typically cause me to freak out have come up.  Yes, I had that water main break and my oil furnace needed to be replaced. Yes, my sister died. Yes, our country elected a less than dreamy candidate to serve as our president. Yes, our world is filled with chaos and heartbreak.  But thinking about my personal struggles with stress and depression, I would have expected a bit more of a dip.

It didn't happen.

How does this correlate with ambition? I'm feeling the best I have felt in my life since, well, I don't know when. Why wouldn't I be more ambitious since I have the energy? Perhaps I simply don't have the desire for what I thought was important: a high-paying job; fancy clothing; eating out at expensive restaurants. To be honest, those things were not things I actively strived for but thought I should be interested in them. Instead, I work at a relatively stress-free job that I enjoy but doesn't pay what I have typically earned at previous jobs. I also get to develop my consulting business in communications work, something that really energizes me.  I also spend time with the people I love: my daughter and my closest friends.

Earlier this year when my taxes were being prepared by my aunt, she shared that I 'had a REALLY BAD year'.  Well, on paper, it sure did look bad:  I lost my job and it took me most of the year to find a new one.  From that perspective, it did suck.  But I didn't lose my house or car and I paid off my credit card to boot.  I also had marvelous adventures with my kid and with my dear friends.  I had a REALLY GOOD year, come to think of it.  And it wasn't full of ambition outside of learning to find my grit and optimism during some tougher than usual times.

Granted, I don't have the ambition to take on the world 24/7.  Instead, I've reclaimed my optimism that I thought I lost and spend my days in the 'what is' mindset. Perhaps ambition is more about answering the question, 'what if?'.

I made a final decision about that job and decided not to pursue it.  I thought for about a nano-second that in doing so it would fulfill my need for validation that serving in that role meant prestige and would acknowledge me for my abilities as a leader.  Instead, I will look at what I discovered that was underneath that nano-second of thought:  remembering and acknowledging my true abilities as a leader and how I can use those skills in anything I pursue, whether it is running an organization or changing the world.


It is all a matter of perspective.

A Series of Reflections - Part 1

There's nothing like a death to shake things up.  And the dance that ensues between the guilt and the relief can be exhausting.

My sister, Jenny, died in the quiet, early morning hours of June 18, 2017.  As I write this post, it has only been two months since her passing but I feel like a lifetime as passed.  And in sense, one has.

I keep thinking, how could this have happened? Although the two of us were so far away from being close, we were still family.  Now I wonder about the mothering her two daughters will now need.

Jenny struggled in her early years. Our mother lacked healthy parenting skills and coupled with an undiagnosed mental illness, she couldn't be the mother that any of us needed, let alone for her youngest child who started to struggle with her own mental health issues.

I have vague memories of that tumultuous time when our mom pretty much stopped parenting any of us.  I was almost an adult but Jenny was just entering her teens.  All of us kids were figuring out ways to make it to the other side and although we joined together to navigate surviving our mom's second abusive marriage, we were now splintered entering our own worlds of figuring things out on the eve of our individual adulthood.

Jenny was left alone.

I sit and reread that sentence and feel the acute heaviness in my heart because I know it to be true. She shared as much in her book, Crooked Tales: The Short Stories.  She wrote her first and only book and published it in 2015. It took me until her death to purchase and start reading it. In it, her loneliness fills so many pages.

We were so different from one another and with a five year age gap felt more like decades.  We had different fathers.  We looked different from one another.  We had different temperaments.  The only thing we had in common was living in a dysfunctional home riddled with so much lack and poverty, laced with abuse.

I have very little recollection of those early days as they have long been buried under years of weathering later in life wars.  My own inward focus on trying to figure out who I was to be in the world continues in my present day.  So many layers.  I left the house - well, I was kicked out because I was the only working adult in the household and refused to continue underwriting everyone's financial needs. It was the best thing that could have happened at the time but not without the emotional bruises to carry with me.  I became even more disconnected from my siblings as I tried to figure out where to land.  One of those pursuits was getting married, very young.  My mother and I had a falling out a couple of weeks before the wedding, and all of my siblings were forbidden to attend.

Later, Jenny and I reconnected when she became a mother.  I was freshly divorced and Hell bent on adding more of those 'layers' to keep me as distant from the real stuff of 'being'.  Admittedly, the last thing on my mind was how to be a supportive older sister to Jenny as she was a teen mom when she had her first child.

Eventually, I made a life that was not only physically distant but emotionally miles away by moving from Pennsylvania to Oregon.  I didn't keep in touch with my siblings very much.  My brother, Michael, continued to battle his own mental health demons and I lost track of him.  I loosely kept in touch with Jenny and my other brother, Steve, but that was when I came back East to visit.

Our mother died unexpectedly on February 12, 2002 - two week shy of her 59th birthday.  I came to discover a few years after her passing that she battled her mental health demons around bulimia.  For years, that disease destroyed her body and spirit until she couldn't take it any longer.  A cold stumbled into pneumonia and that Beast took her in a matter of days.

I flew home within days of her passing and a beautiful thing happened:  our family united to support one another, emotionally.  All the 'crap' in our collective history disappeared as we mourned the loss of the only mother we ever knew.  Four years later, we once again rallied to one another's side when our brother, Michael, died from an overdose.

I was once baffled that we had the capacity to be there for one another but while writing this reflection it occurred to me that we had good practice in our early childhood dealing with poverty and abuse. We knew how to hold each other up because we learned how to do that so early in our lives.

In subsequent years, I kept in touch with Jenny and when I came to visit on another occasion, she had become a mom for a second time and things seem to be settling down a bit for her.  Once Facebook came into all of our lives, that was how we kept up to date on each other, albeit sporadically.

Recently, I came across our thread of connection I had with Jenny on Facebook and it was heartbreaking and illuminating.  A total reframing of what I recall we spoke about.  I clearly had blinders on when it came to my sister and as I read those exchanges as I also read her book, I paused and asked her to forgive me for not knowing, not realizing what she was sharing with me was truly who she was.  Not the intense posts that she was sharing on social media. Had I paid more attention...well, who knows what could have come of that conversation with her. But I learned something deep and meaningful about Jenny in those moments.  She was heartbreakingly alone and yet was doing everything she could to remain connected to the world she lived in.  Her daughters and later, her grandkids were her saving grace in so many ways.  She could love them as fiercely as she wanted to and nothing could take that away from her.  Even cancer.

The Epic Road Trip

She's been gone for about twelve hours now.  I dropped her off at her father's house after spending two solid weeks with her on the east coast.

I miss her already.

My daughter and I have a relationship that is intense, loving, argumentative, and sweet.  It looks nothing like what I had with my own mom and that is a very good thing.

Lila and I spent the past couple of weeks on a true blue vacation.  We visited six states and spent the most time in three of them.  We drove all around Vermont, New York, and Pennsylvania.  I am exhausted but my, oh my - what a magnificent trip!


It all started when I posed the possibility of picking her up from camp.  It was a done deal when Lila suggested we visit my home state of Pennsylvania so she could see where I grew up.  She has spent many a visit with her father's side of the family but a nanosecond with my family.

I couldn't wait to drive her around my childhood haunts and introduce her to my childhood friends. I so looked forward to introducing her to her cousins! She was a total rock star hanging out with all of the adults and two of my favorite memories include her sitting on the couch with her baby cousins and her spending time with the daughter of one of my dearest friends.

Wendy has been part of my life for over 40 years and she has always been there, no matter what.  The kindest of souls (and one of my favorite Christians!) as she prays for me even though I am not religious.  It is the ultimate in acceptance, our differences.  And that is why I love her so much.

To share the past with my own child.  To take her to places I frequented when I was her age, was a true gift.

The trip was one of a lifetime. We talked about doing it again next year, but I know that we cannot repeat the experience. We will go, no doubt about it, but as time moves forward there is always this faint call to pause in the moment.  I did that a lot during this trip.  I was as fully present as I could ever be and carry those experiences in my cells now.

I suppose the takeaway from the trip was to not sweat the inconvenient small things that were tossed under our feet but to look beyond those moments for all the goodness that wrapped around us, keeping us safe and loved.


I dreamt of many glorious possibilities as I walked around Manhattan, pretending to be a New Yorker. A priceless moment came in the last few hours being in the city.  I walked and smiled as I strolled in Central Park so joyful to be alive. I even have a picture that captures the moment for me.

Someday, I will go back with my girl.  It may be next year or the next year after that - who knows. Regardless, we will always have the Momma and Daughter Epic Road Trip of 2017 to remind us of family, friends, and our ability to be adventurers.

True Blue Ripple Effect

To be honest, I really didn't know where to start.  Does this story begin today or a few weeks ago?  Or, did it all begin earlier this year?

I suppose I will start with the latter as I have a tendency to think about stories based on some kind of major life event.  

In January 2016 I found myself, unemployed. Again. This turned out to be quite a different experience by contrast to the first time I was ever laid off a year and a half ago.  I thought I was prepared based on my previous experience, like putting on a familiar but uncomfortable sweater.  

I was wrong.

So much has happened in the past 11 months-some good and some not so good.  I applied to 127 jobs and interviewed 33 times (interviews that didn't include 2nd and 3rd interviews for a few of those jobs).   So many people told me that my 'numbers' were great.  It didn't feel so great. It felt demoralizing and I slid in and out of mild depression during that time.

It was a time of real struggle for me.  I battled hopelessness and really struggled to hold my head up during that time of despair.  I am one of those people who align much of who I am with my professional identity.  If I didn't have a job, who was I in the world?

Even though my interview numbers were high and would lead you to believe that is all I did between January and August, that would not be true.  I did all kinds of things outside of job seeking: visited Manzanita, my favorite place on the coast several times; went out to hear some great classical music performed in Lauralhurst Park; spent time having fun with my twelve year old daughter, Lila; returned to a passionate pursuit:  community radio; I learned about my depression and how to deal with it; and, I enjoyed time with dear friends. We shared meals together and we took hikes in such glorious places like the forests near Mt. Hood.  All of these things helped me remember to be hopeful and to climb out of depression.

I also spent a lot of that time reading, meditating and reflecting on what all of "it" could mean.  Well, I already knew that it totally sucked. I guess my point is, with all the ups and all the downs, what kind of lessons were made available to me at that time that could teach me something? 

My luck started to change just as my unemployment benefits were about to end.  The day after my last check from the State of Oregon was deposited, I secured a temporary, part-time job.  The timing was impeccable.  Just as I was starting to think I might have to sell my home and move to some non-descript town in rural Texas because I couldn't afford to live in Portland any longer! Within the month of starting, I then found a full-time, permanent job.  I landed in a fundraising position with a non-profit in Portland. My work motivates me to really engage in my life in a meaningful way as it is all about helping foster and adopted children.

Recently, I've been rehashing what it means to be jobless and finally finding a dream job. But the initial experience has me still scratching my head.  On my first week on my new job, I developed my very first cold sore (ick!) and experienced my first bout of bursitis.  Once both healed, I was then a victim of debit card fraud.  Fortunately, the thief only depleted my account by a little over a hundred bucks, but the time claiming my new card and reclaiming my stolen money was a pain in the butt.

After such an eventful few weeks, I thought I was set for some drama-free time.  You would think that's possible, right?

Wrong.

The next crisis struck. It was a regular Tuesday morning when I heard a strange noise in the bathroom walls.  It sounded like a constant drip but after checking out some troubleshooting suggestions made by a few of my Facebook pals, I discovered that the water line to my house burst.  Not a fun discovery, particularly at 6 a.m. in your pajamas making your way through spider webs and bushes!

Fortunately, the City came out and turned off the water for me in a short time and then I turned to figure out a way to get it repaired.

Now, here are a couple of thoughts that came to mind during the drama:  

• As soon as the telltale feeling of helplessness set in, I heard my (new) self-talk telling me to 'quit whining and get that water back on'.  This is HUGE because it would have taken at least two phone calls to friends, and several hours ruminating on how screwed I was, before I found that inner 'take care of business' attitude I needed to fix things.
• As we jumped in the car to head out to school and work, my daughter remarked, "Mom.  I am so impressed with how calm you are right now."  In the past, I would have demonstrated quite the opposite reaction.  

I found both reflections quite interesting.  Is it possible that all the meditation and breathing practices are paying off?

I reached out to my network and found a plumber who came by that day.  Still, it would be three days before we would have running water in the house.  In the meantime, something beautiful happened.

My neighbors gave my daughter and I full access to their house so we could shower, do dishes and get fresh water.   I felt calm about when I learned the cost of the water main repairs.  I had a credit card - thank goodness!  Yet a nagging voice kept talking in my head tempting me to freak out. Instead, I got clever.  I fought back with more positive self-talk to stay calm and encouraged me to look for solutions. I figured out a potential way to help offset the expenses.  I figured out that I could ask for help and it might come my way. 

I had no idea.

I was inspired to set up a GoFundMe campaign because I learned that it was going to cost me about $2300 to fix the problem.  I sweetened the pitch for support by offering to volunteer one hour for each $100 raised. I thought it would be a nice way to continue a ripple effect of any donations I received through the campaign.

Within a few hours a friend made the first donation and later called me to share the stunning news that her real estate colleagues also agreed to donate to my campaign.  After it was all said and done, 70% of the total money raised came from her network of brokers.  All of which were people I'd never met.  I am still blown away by the kindness of these strangers and all of my friends who also donated to it.  It was overwhelming to learn along with strangers, even friends who were unemployed, participated. Within two days of launching my campaign, over 70 people decided to help someone in need.   As a result, I'll be donating 24 hours of my time doing all kinds of volunteer work from training someone on how to make a podcast, to phone banking for the Democratic party, to helping out at a food bank. 

And then there was a major 'woo woo' moment during the last few hours of the campaign. I was parking my car to head into the bank to deal with the last details of my debit card fraud situation when I spotted someone drive by who looked remarkably like someone I had not seen in about 10 years.  I went into the bank and was pinged by my campaign with the notice that I hit goal.  When I looked at the final donation record, guess who made it?  Yup, the person I haven't seen in a decade.  To top it all off, in the wake of the water pipe drama, other friends gifted me with a weekend visit to Manzanita. They had no idea that the previous week, I had just canceled a future trip to my favorite place due to some other financial challenges I was managing.

The entire experience was remarkable.  I am sharing it because of the messages I spotted in the middle of all of that mess:  people are kind beyond imagination and just when the poop storm hits there are beautiful moments to be cherished in spite of life's grand messes. 

So what have I learned from all of this? It is true - ask and you will receive.  Sometimes, you are also given gifts you don't ask for because people are just like that. People are loving and generous, just because.

One Word: Fearless

One of my friends, Meredyth, recommended a book for me to read called "One Word That Will Change Your Life" by Jon Gordon, Dan Britton and Jimmy Page.  The book helps you find a word to serve as your focus, your mission statement, for the year.

It is a super quick read and for those who bristle at any reference to God or the likes, be forewarned that these fellas are Christians and do make mention of such matters in the book.  However, I am not a Christian and I found this book to be very helpful and enjoyable!

My word jumped out at me very quickly:  Fearless.  This word has been coming up for me for the past couple of years, and I had decided to make it a personal goal to become - to reclaim - my fearlessness.

Our journeys are unique in every imaginable way, but I have say having that moment when my word almost appeared in front of my face was pretty spectacular!  Somehow, over the past few years, I learned some bad habits and lost my fearless mojo along the way.  Granted, things like becoming a parent causes one to pause and possibly be a bit more conservative in one's choices, but I found that I was becoming a totally risk adverse, scaredy cat!

 

Well, this is the year when all of that changes.  There's a quote that I see all the time and truly resonates with me today:

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."  - Anais Nin

For the year, I will make choices based on being fearless whether it be changing careers, (finally!) pursuing my dream to write, or inviting romantic love back into my life - these are just a few of the ways I am going to explore how to be less fearless.  How about you?