This year, 2014, the Seattle Seahawks are IN the Super Bowl. The mother of all football games. I am beyond excited. I’ve been a Seahawks fan since the days of the Kingdome in Seattle, when my parents held season tickets, and now I hold the season tickets. I’ve always loved football but started really paying attention to football in the days of quarterback Matt Hasslebeck and head coach Mike Holmgren. Now we have quarterback Russell Wilson and head coach Pete Carroll. I remember a few years ago, when they first hired Pete Carroll to be the Seahawks new head coach, my mother asked me whether we should renew the tickets. I encouraged her to give the team another year and see what happened. She died in June, 2012, before this wonderful season began but attended games at Century Link (previously Qwest) stadium until she was 90 years old.
But I digress…
Sports – all sports - exemplify the quest for superiority, for greatness, for perfection, and mastery of the physical body. Watch any football player go flying through the air at maximum velocity, catch the football, and then land with both tiptoes in the corner of an end zone and tell me that’s not artistry in motion. It’s seems almost implausible that a lumbering, six-foot-plus man could be so much like a ballerina at times.
It’s human nature to strive for excellence, to be the best we can be. The commercials and movies that capture our attention often include stories of the underdog coming out on top, of the struggles within ourselves and our circumstances, and the lengths to which we will go to overcome them. We persist. We try. We fall. We get back up. We try again. We always, always have hope.
We cheer and salute the Nelson Mandela’s and Steve Jobs’ of the world, the child who survives a heart transplant, the woman who kicks breast cancer and the person who doesn’t allow circumstances (poor health, bad family, dangerous neighborhood, violence, captivity, or loss of any kind) to define them. We cry at these stories. We feel empowered by these stories because they tell us that we are only limited by our own minds. If we think we can’t, we can’t. Conversely, if we think we can, we CAN. In the words of the Seahawks quarterback, Russell Wilson, “Why not me?” and “Why not us?”
Why not us? Why not the Seahawks? This is a team that since its inception has been the butt of jokes, has been called disparaging nick-names, has been laughed at and rarely taken seriously by other fans and the National Football League, in general. In our one other visit to the Super Bowl, we were definitely the underdogs, and even the refs didn’t take us seriously at times.
Did that stop us? Did that stop the Seahawks fans from believing? Not at all. In fact, I believe that this adversity caused us to be stronger, more loyal, and more vehement in our support of our team. #LOUDER, in fact.
Today, we play the Denver Broncos who have a two-time Super Bowl winner in Peyton Manning. He clearly is a great quarterback, and, by comparison, our quarterback, Russell Wilson, is only in his second year in the NFL with his first trip to the Super Bowl. The odds are against us, some would say. The Broncos may be favored but don’t count us out. We have some things on our side that are unseen to many, I believe, and not overly mentioned in the media. We have a quarterback who believes in God and doesn’t hide that fact. We have a team that exemplifies the definition of teamwork – they LIKE each other. They play TOGETHER. No one man is a star without the others and they all willingly acknowledge that. They play together as if each game is a championship game. They play at their very best without focusing on the outcome.
I have a saying in my life that has helped me along my journey: Do the footwork and leave the results up to God. I believe, in some way, the Seahawks follow that same philosophy. Seahawks running back Marshawn Lynch says, “I’m just about that action, Boss.” Actions speak louder than words, and he personifies this.
I love the Seahawks because of all this, and more that I find hard to articulate. We have passion, camaraderie, spirit, volume, energy, and FAITH. This is our time. We believe. We believe we can prevail and succeed – heck, we’ve succeeded just getting this far. We have every chance to win this game. Why not us? And
if when we win, I’m sure the volume of the 12s (fans) will be heard all the way from MetLife Stadium in New Jersey to Century Link Field in Seattle.
Let’s get fired up!
Let’s see. When we last chatted, I was shacked up at a local hotel waiting for my condo to finish drying out and getting the repairs started. After exactly one month, I was finally able to come home. Is my house completed? No. Are all the repairs done? No. But I do have a new hot water tank (my expense) and a shower. At the time I came home last Friday, no repairs had yet to be started other than the drywall and paint in the half bath.
So what happened? Why is this taking so long?
Long story short, and because I think the story’s a bit tedious and tiresome, I fired the first contractors because they were essentially no-call no-shows all the way around from the general contractor to the sub-sub-contractors and they left me hanging without care or concern to how this all had traumatized me. I won’t go into all the minutiae of how the insurance adjuster was an ass and pulled the rug out from under me complicating matters. I won’t go into how I had a major meltdown and cried for nearly a day straight. But now I am home and starting to feel more centered and more me.
This picture is how the master bath looked for about two weeks. I have to walk through that bath to get to my bedroom.
Yesterday, the new contractors laid the floor in my half bath, hung the door, reframed the ceiling in my master bath, and scraped off the cement board on the floor of the master bath. Today, they moved a drain pipe into the studs of the wall, allowing me to have a flat wall for my new bathtub and tile. They framed the tub seat and the shower niche that I want, and started hanging the right type of backer-board and sheetrock. They painted the trim around the half-bath doors. Now we’re just waiting for the tub to be delivered.
Many of my friends think I’m going to end up with a new house out of all this, and no, not really. My half bath, which is on the main level of the house, will be returned to precisely how it was before the water catastrophe, with the exception of a new five-panel door (very inexpensive) because the one there was junk. My master bath, on the lower level, was where the majority of the damage occurred. It had a cabinet that was removed and destroyed as it was covered in mold. Once the mitigation crew pulled off the walls, I had the plumber remove the entire tub and surround – one of those plastic four-piece kits – so I could be assured that there was no further water or mold damage behind the bathtub. The insurance is only responsible for restoring a place to how it was before the event. This means, the new tub, tile, and floor is all my responsibility. The sheetrock, insulation, and painting, is the insurance’s responsibility.
Things are coming together so much faster in the last two days that I’m actually quite emotional about it. The relief I feel is overwhelming and at the same time exhausting. I can barely move because I’m so tired. The excitement for a pretty new bathroom that meets my (high) standards is mounting. Soon this nightmare – and it was a nightmare – will be only a memory.
The picture (left) shows the master now framed in and waiting for the tub. There will be a “bench” at the end of the tub that will hold shampoos, baskets, candles, whatever. The niche on the back wall will have mosaic tiles inset into it, and there will be a decorative grab bar just below it for safety.
You know the saying…”If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.”
Here I was, getting all settled in – well, starting to settle in – to my new place and seems that God and the universe had different plans for me.
I had been in my new-to-me condo for almost exactly one month when I noticed water under a floorboard in the half-bath on the main level of my home. (My home is three levels – top level is guest suite, main level is living areas, and lower level is the master bedroom and master bath.) The water was in close proximity to the hot water tank, but the area around the hot water tank was dry, so I assumed the issue was within the pipes inside the walls. I immediately scheduled a plumber and then called the HOA (homeowners association) property manager to let him know what I noticed and ask for guidance. (In a condo, pipes inside a wall are the responsibility of the association, anything inside the unit from the wall surfaces and personal belongings is the responsibility of the owner.) At this point, I wasn’t too alarmed because it didn’t look like much water but the floor was a bit squishy when I stepped on it. Still… water is nothing to mess with.
The next morning, I noticed some puckers in the ceiling of the master bath directly below the bath where I spotted the water the day before. When I touched the ceiling, it was soft and I could easily press up on the ceiling, leaving a dent. Now I was alarmed. It had to be a great deal of water to do that to the ceiling.
So, after several emails and attempts later to reach people in authority, I finally got guidance to get someone out right away. It was still the next morning before the plumber arrived. It took him no time at all to determine that there was “a lot of water” in the floor between the two bathrooms. However, we didn’t know the source of the leak. We had to call in a second company who tore off drywall and opened walls and floors to reveal a lot of water and… MOLD. Eeww, God.
The following picture is from behind a cabinet that was in my master bath. I had been breathing this for a month. I smelled it, I knew the downstairs had humidity issues (was wet somehow) but I didn’t know how. I have a bionic sniffer, for sure. Not to mention that this was causing me dizziness and fatigue. I even went to the doctor to figure out why I was dizzy and chalked it up to extreme exhaustion from the stress of the last year or so.
After a few hours of opening walls, removing water, shutting off water (not all in that order, of course), we determined that the cause of the leak was a nail that pierced a copper pipe. This happened, evidently, last November when the prior owner had the half bath remodeled. The nail was the incorrect length to use and went straight through the metal protector piece and into the pipe. The leak started then, continued slowly, was not evident through the pre-closing inspection, and finally gave way one month into my living there.
So, here I am in construction zone again… again! The first two days of this journey, I was so stoic, moving straight into my normal get-er-done mode that I didn’t stop to really digest what had just happened. When I woke up in my hotel room on Monday morning, I broke down. This was NOT WHAT I HAD PLANNED. I had chosen a home that I figured would be move-in ready, which I could upgrade with my own choices of paint and flooring as I went along, but essentially I’d be done with all the heavy homeownership requirements. I’d be free to work, play, knit, travel, ride my bike, and just relax for a while and live my life.
In hindsight, now 12 days into this adventure, what happened is exactly as it should be and a blessing in disguise. It’s a blessing because the source of the musty smell and humidity has been solved and will be eliminated. The house will be dry and I’ll be able to have zero mold and clean paint, and even toss in some of my own money to put my own touch in the master bathroom.
After a couple days, I started laughing and understanding the humor in all this. I – the overachiever, the go-100mph-nonstop woman, the caretaker – needed a rest. The universe knew that the only way I would stop and rest would be if I was stuck in a hotel room with my puppy and not much else to do.
Once again, God knew better than I what I needed. And thank you for that.
It’s going to be another week or so before I’m back in my home. By that time I will have been out of my home for nearly as long as I was in it. I have days I cry inside because I’m so tired and exhausted, and moments where I’m energized and eager to continue picking out paint for my walls and flowers for my outdoor pots. But mostly I’m just grateful. Grateful that the problem was found and I’m not going bankrupt because of it. It’s just a pothole on the road of life and I’m maneuvering around it just fine, with help from my friends, family, and of course, my higher power.
And blessed. Really blessed. This is the view from my hotel room.
This picture sums up how we feel about moving here. That is my daughter’s dog, Trixie. Who said dogs don’t smile?
We just love our new homes. There have been so many coincidences and serendipitous moments that prove to us that we definitely made the right decision to move here. It’s been a long, hard move with too much stuff to deal with and very little physical labor help. It’s been a slow process opening boxes and unpacking and wondering just why in Hades I packed that thing. As I unpack, I have boxes quickly filling up that will go to the local Goodwill donation center. Some things still up in a storage locker in Seattle will also get donated before bringing the rest of the stuff down here. Most of what’s left is memorabilia and things that were my mom’s. I have to sort through that stuff still and that takes time. I can’t make snap decisions about that stuff like I can my own stuff.
In hindsight, there are a few things I would do differently next time, particularly when moving from one state to another. (My thoughts have to do with the DIY move, not where you have professionals come in and pack and move you, as you might have with a job relocation where the company pays for your move.)
Sell everything. Seriously. Sell everything except clothes and personal items that you really must keep. Even the large furniture, unless it’s a family heirloom or something, can be sold, if you have the time to do it. The money spent to hire movers to move the stuff could be better spent purchasing new items in your new location. And shopping is way more fun. I had just purchased a brand new bedroom set, so I wasn’t about to sell that. However, pretty much everything else except for a couple antique tables could have been sold and I would have been happy sitting on the floor while shopping for new sofas.
Don’t ask friends to help you move, even if you’re willing to pay them. I did and was disappointed and hurt. One said he had to work the whole weekend, and the other who was a professional driver didn’t respond until the day before we were scheduled to move (I’d given him several days notice when I asked.) People are human and they will disappoint you. It’s a sad lesson to learn. On the other hand, I did have some willing helpers in my oldest daughter and step-daughter and for them I am eternally grateful – even if one box they packed was labeled “Kitchen Crap.” Ouch.
Hire professional laborers. Yes, you can hire muscle only. With the exception of some really stupid loading mistakes, the workers I hired worked really hard and were very conscientious about my items. The stupid loading mistakes were mostly from the workers not working “smart” and paying attention to the word “fragile” written on the boxes.
Pack your own items. If you can, pack your own boxes. You know better than anyone else the value of your items, and stuff that is really irreplaceable should be hand-carried by you to the new location, if at all possible. If not hand-carried, then make sure it’s packed safely in boxes surrounded with your sofa pillows, plenty of bubble wrap, and/or towels and linens. That’s the only way my mother’s heirloom lamps survived the move.
Sort and purge as you pack, not as you unpack. This sounds like a no-brainer, but honestly, it kind of goes back to my first point. There is so much less that you need in your new place than you think. I needed to remember that I was downsizing and would not have room for half the stuff I packed and moved. The rule of thumb I always like to remember is that if I haven’t used it in a year, I probably don’t need to bring it with me.
Slow down. This applies mostly to the loading and unloading. I hired muscle (laborers) who were paid by the hour. They were hard workers and worked quickly and steadily. However, in hindsight, I wish I had urged them to slow down a bit – even if I had to pay for an additional hour or two – and let me think as things were being loaded and unloaded. I could have supervised the loading a bit better and helped to ensure that the hardware to the bed made it along with the bed (it didn’t), and I could have directed the unloading a bit better so that the boxes and furniture made it to the right rooms (they didn’t.) My daughter’s apartment looked like a hoarder’s apartment because they stacked all the furniture and boxes in the living room. At my house, most of the stuff landed in the garage or in the wrong rooms. We had to pay for additional help to get the stuff moved to all the right places.
Remember to rest and eat right. I forgot this one a lot. Mostly because I just don’t stop. I become driven and machine-like. By forgetting to eat and rest, I ended up being beyond exhausted. My inner doctor (self) figured I was severely exhausted, suffering from dizziness and extreme fatigue. It was like a mega-flare of fibro combined with lightheadedness and heat exhaustion. I’m better now.
Enjoy the journey. This is probably the most important tip I have. One chapter closes, another opens. Remember to stop and acknowledge that everything in life changes and be grateful for the blessings received in both locations. I consciously made time in the process to stop for a few moments and acknowledge the home (not just a house) that I sold and left behind and all the memories I had (good and not-so-good) about where I was. I was then able to enjoy the process of hope and excitement about where I am headed.
All that said, I’m happy the move is behind me. Now comes all the unpacking, painting, and decorating. That’s kind of the fun part. Oh, and exploring my new town. More about all that in future posts.
Do you have any additional tips for moving? What was the biggest lesson for moving that you learned in hindsight?
I am a nature girl at heart. I am not a city girl at all. Give me trees, rivers, oceans, and even cow farms and I am happy. I particularly love water in all forms- lake, river, pond, fountain, ocean. I like to be in the water or on it, but even just gazing at it is rejuvenating.
Every day in my new town brings new opportunities to explore, and so far I have not been disappointed.
Today we found a new park near a river. The park had ample picnic tables, a pebble beach for the kids, a spray pad and giant jungle gym. (Probably the new word for them these days is playground structure. Who knows.) I had all three grandkids with me and they all loved it. We are ending the day with the two boys (who are spending a week with me before school starts) at the local skate park. They love this skate park and if they could would be here 24/7.
We only moved about 200 miles away, but one would think we were moving to the opposite side of the country. It’s been a long haul and seemingly never ending. It’s been a huge burden, but one I’ve carried willingly because the goal outweighs the process.
I’ve moved too many people and belongings over the last two years. This last move, however, has been the most eye opening. I thought my mom had a lot of stuff. I knew my daughter had a lot of stuff. The real eye opener was learning that *I* had a lot of stuff. Too much stuff.
How does this happen? The collection of stuff… My friend and I were discussing this yesterday. It happens slowly and gradually, and no one ever goes out and consciously says, “I’m going to accumulate way more than my house can hold or than I truly need.” We gather belongings because they’re pretty, they may be priced cheaply, or they make us feel good in some way.
At some point, however, all those things become a burden. A huge heavy burden and an expensive one when it comes time to move. The expense of all the stuff that my daughter and I have accumulated now exceeds the cost of purchasing all those items – particularly all the stuff purchased because it was “on sale”.
The original plan for our move was to rent one truck, pack our belongings, and tow her car, tow a cargo trailer behind my car for my large potted plants and fragile items, and move everything on down the road. However, during the loading process, we realized we had way more stuff than a single 26’ U-haul truck could accommodate. So we took the essentials and moved. We left behind the excess stuff contained in half a garage (hers), two storage lockers (mine but includes some of hers and excess furniture I haven’t yet sold), and some items at my old home (garden stuff, patio chairs, beautiful potted flowers).
The first trip went fairly smoothly, although it took forever (10+ hours to load, 6+ hours to unload), and some of the hardware to furniture got lost. We had to hire helpers at quite a cost because all those “friends” who said they would help suddenly disappeared. (Yes, I have a resentment about that but whatever… I digress…) We finally moved into our respective homes, but the burden of how to get the rest of our stuff has still landed squarely on my shoulders.
The result is that we have to do the whole trip a second time. The difference is that this time everything goes straight to storage where we can then start a serious attack of purging stuff. Do we really need 10 bins of Halloween decorations? Do we have room for that cute little pink desk that I got for free from a friend? Yes, we need to keep the memorabilia, but I surely don’t need half the crap I stored.
Today, my daughter has headed north to gather up all this stuff while I stay behind and secure a storage unit and watch (play) with little Laila. Again, we are hiring muscle to load and unload our stuff, and she is driving the truck and towing her car. The burden is about to be lifted, or eased at least. Once I have all our
crap stuff here, I can exhale and start releasing the burden and the stuff. It’s time to downsize not only my physical surroundings but everything I pack into those surroundings. This will free up my soul and my mind for more lightweight and fun activities and experiences. Much needed!
Let’s go on a little tour of the new digs, shall we?
I’m so excited to be here. The prior owner had completely different taste in decorating than I have so there are several things I’m changing or will eventually change as time and money permits.
This condo is a multi-level condo. You enter up the stairs on the middle level. The kitchen and dining room are the two windows above the double garage. The lower level is the master suite. The upper level is the guest suite. In total, there are 26 steps between the top level and the bottom. The condo is built on a hillside and backs up to a greenbelt where, I’m told, deer have been seen to come right up to the bedroom window. I love that!
This view is standing in the living room looking back at the entry. The light fixture on the wall is hideous. Eventually, I’ll find the right replacement light. In this picture, I am quickly covering up the peach and terra cotta colors that the prior owner seemed to love. (The furnished picture is from the listing photos.)
Here you can see the slider that goes out to the deck
And the deck, decorated by me.
The very first thing I did was get rid of the orange wall. I do have my calming, favorite colors, don’t I?
These are the stairs that lead up half a flight to the kitchen and dining room. Oh, by the way, the floor is a mahogany wood laminate. Not hardwood, but laminate. I guess I’ll have to deal for now. At least it cleans easily.
This is the dining room with a wicked cool ceiling fan. It needs the ceiling fan because those windows get a lot of sun – and heat.
And the piece de resistance: The 1979 kitchen. I swear these are the original fake wood formica countertops. They will be gone within the year, I hope. The prior owner painted only the cabinet fronts. Weird.
There is this cool little desk area, however. I am using it as my mini-office. It overlooks the family room and gets a lot of light. You can see the 12-foot ceilings and extra set of windows, which open, by the way. How you get that high to open them is a mystery. Actually, you have to have a very tall ladder.
Looking back into the living area from the dining room. (Photo taken when we toured.)
Here’s looking back at the front door. You can see the improvement in the wall color.
Looking up at the stairs. See in the back behind the rails? There is another half flight of stairs that leads up to a guest suite and washer/dryer. It came with a lovely super-capacity stackable washer and dryer. The guest suite includes a full bath. I call it a guest suite because there will be a place for my grandsons to sleep or for friends when they come visit, but in all reality, it will be my sewing room. Woohoo!
Windows looking out to the green belt. I seriously love this view. I think this is what sold me.
Guest half bath on the main level before and after paint color.
These are the stairs leading down to the lower level. Halfway down is the door to the garage. The stairs turn and lead down to the master suite. I will eventually be changing out all those handrails and bannisters. They are weird.
Don’t you love the racing stripes? And the carpet is an olive green. I want a sandy color carpet. Eventually.
Neither do I so they are going, going…
This bedroom is the size of my prior bedroom and bath combined.
And here’s the master bath. This condo has a TON of storage and places for linen – just the opposite of my prior home.
So, there you have it, more or less. I’m happy here. I’m getting used to the climate change as well. Even though I’m only about 200 miles south from where I was, the climate is warmer. It’s more humid, too. I’m acclimating. In more ways than one. I honestly know I’m going to be very happy here and good things will result.
Hello friends. Miss me? It’s been almost three months since I’ve blogged. I’m really tired of writing about epic changes, but indeed, that’s how my life has been lately.
A while back, I had an epiphany. I had a dream where my parents both came and spoke to me, along with my grandmother, and another woman I knew who has passed on. My parents told me to let go and move on so that THEY could move on. This dream made me literally wake up, but also to take notice, and move forward out of my grief. I needed to stop deciding what to do with my life based on a motive that it would make my parents proud. In the dream, my parents made it clear that they were already proud of me and that I needed to start to live my life for myself, and not for others.
A while after having that dream, I suddenly had the thought that it was time to move. Time to sell the too-large house and downsize. Actually, I had been thinking about it for some time – years, even. Back when my mom was alive, I had admitted to myself that my house, even though I loved it, was too much for me and that I was overextended. The poor housing market made it a bad time to sell, as well as being too busy caring for my mom and the rest of my family. The house took up all my time and there was no time for socializing, even sewing. It seemed that all I did was take care of the yard and interior. Some of that was fun, yes, but some of it was just a burden.
Now, in Seattle, the housing market is bubbling up. I estimate that it’s nearly where it was pre-bust 2008. I recall saying then, “Just wait five years, it will come back.” And it certainly has. As a result, it seemed to be the most opportune time for me to sell my lovely home and make the most from it that I possibly could. And sell it I did –and fast. It was on the market for eight days and I got a full price offer. I sold it for just a bit less than the price my neighbor got in 2008.
The funny thing is that in my life when I make a decision, or am inspired to make a change, if it is meant to be, things usually move rapidly and smoothly. And boy, did everything happen quickly. The house sold, I found a sweet little condo, and moved myself as well as my youngest daughter and my granddaughter. We are now in Portland, Oregon, here is where my story started. I hope you hang in there with me. I have so much to share with you. Time to continue this story – for me.
I love Laila’s dreamy expression as she poses on a pile of dirt bags from the big box hardware store. I have the dreamy look going on these days. I was taught a long time ago not to make any major changes within a year following a traumatic or life-altering event in your life. I see why. Emotions have to be processed. Things need to settle down. The cloud of grief needs to lift, at least somewhat, so that things can be seen clearly. Decisions can then be made based on reality, rational thought, and objectivity.
It’s nearing the one-year anniversary of when I lost my mom–my only remaining parent. Since her death, I’ve still been taking care of her estate and everything that was left behind. I’ve been selling the properties, closing accounts, dealing with taxes, and so forth. All this is winding down and likely will be finished by the end of the summer, if not sooner. There are only a couple more things to close out, and I’ll be done.
The universe is now conspiring to make me live my life for me. How cool is that? I don’t have a job that ties me down or limits me to any location or schedule. My future is currently determined by how much effort I’m willing to put forth into creating it. The canvas is blank. I can use any medium, color palette, or texture I want to create my future. And it’s not lost on me just how rare an opportunity, a gift, this is for me, or for anyone, really.
Even a month ago, maybe two, this prospect scared the bejeebs out of me. I’ve wanted to stay hidden under my shell, protecting myself from further hurt and pain. Scared of living a life. However, I’ve gradually come to terms with losing mom, and come to terms with the fragility of my own life, and that it’s not waiting for me to catch up. So many things I dream of doing and the time is now.
Starting with an epic road trip this summer. Coast to coast. I will visit places that are on my “leap” list. For realz, friends. And yes, I’ll blog it (and journal it for my future book).
This is just the start. I am energized yet pragmatic, scared but confident. I am more me now than I have ever been and it feels fantastic.
Has it really been a month since I wrote a blog post? Not like there hasn’t been an overflow of post-worthy thoughts running through my head. There was a time I’d blog almost everything that was happening in my life. I don’t know what happened – no, I do. Life changed and I had to retreat into privacy and deal with the massive blow of losing my mother and the manner in which she died. A year ago yesterday, I signed the papers for her to be admitted into the hospice care program. She was able to stay where she lived, and the hospice people came to her, and the facility in which she lived was charged with her care and medication management. They made a gross error and overdosed – aka killed – her with morphine. You can read about that here.
Since then, I’ve been managing the execution of her estate, selling her properties, closing out accounts, and handling all her affairs. Still, in many ways, taking care of my mom, long after her death. Now comes the really hard part of learning to let go and move on. As the saying goes, “feel the fear and do it anyway.”
What’s next is me taking charge of my own life and directing my path, not reacting to events surrounding me as a way to live my life. I have some grand plans, and some modest plans, ahead. I’ve been unemployed since the end of January, and loving every single minute of it. Honestly, that was the best thing I never chose to have happen. I’ve been able to relax, feel, live, breath, recuperate, regenerate, and refocus. I’ve actually been quite busy. I don’t miss my prior job one single bit. I love not being chained to my computer or my desk from 8-5. Believe me, even working at home, with a job like that it was nearly impossible to take a break or have any sort of freedom without massive guilt pangs or needing to check my email every 10 minutes. I was so grateful for that job, and I learned so much from it. I don’t regret it at all. However, now I have a chance to write my own job, set my own schedule and hours, and be the author of my own life for the next 50 years.
The hard work of processing the loss and letting go of my mother begins now. I have joined the club of what I call adult orphans – adults who have lost both parents. We all lose parents. People tell me that all the time – sometimes with exasperation because they’re sick of hearing about my loss (you may be as well) – but the experience for each person is unique and personal and there is no preset time in which a person “gets over it”. In fact, people don’t get over the loss of a loved one. They just adapt to the emptiness and move along and make the best of the rest of their life. That’s what I’m doing.
My promise to you – if you’ve followed along this far with me and not thrown in the towel – is that I promise to have more uplifting and happy posts, but honest and real. Fun posts like I did before, several years ago on my sewing blog and even here. Posts about sewing, gardening, fitness, grandchildren and children, and my new life journey. And I have some EPIC plans in store for myself. (Epic: my new favorite word.)
This really is about my cadence of life.