bits of sunshine

hello! and how are you?

hello friends,

how are you holding up?    

i feel like i am in the twilight zone - like nothing makes a whole lot of sense right now. 

in a lot of ways, i am grateful for the slowing down. 

but this is also very strange.  

for the first two weeks that i worked from home, i was sick.  really sick.  sick enough that i was tested first for influenza, and when that came back negative, i was tested for COVID-19.  that test also returned a negative result.  some warmer days, and some ease in certain stresses, and just enough time for whatever my body was fighting to run its course, and i am mostly feeling better.  

yesterday, though, i felt, all day, like i was slogging through the thickest mud.  i got a lot of work done, but it all took far too long.  i helped ben do some writing for work.  and at 8:30, i shut my computer and sat down on the couch. 

i wrote in my journal for a little while.  and mostly what i could come up with was all the things i hadn't done yesterday.  and all the things i want to do while we are all home.  i wrote that i did a lot, but i don't think it feels like enough.  

yesterday, a facebook friend shared a list of eight things that can be indicators of being mentally and emotionally exhausted: a few of those things rang so true with me.  

you feel completely unmotivated - even to do things you normally enjoy.

you have almost no patience - even for the people you love the most.

you start crying unexpectedly.

you feel detached from reality.  you go through your days without really emotionally responding to or connecting with anything.  

yes. and yes. and yes. and yes.  

none of these are lasting forever, but i have experienced all of them over the past three weeks.

and i don't want to feel any of these ways.  or lack all of the feels.  i don't want to just disappear into the twilight zone.  i want to be the happy little chickadee.  so i am very intentional about doing my work to-do's and reading some and journaling some and writing a letter now and then.  and here i am writing a blog post.   

mostly, i just wanted to tell you all that things are good here at number six-twelve, that i feel really off-kilter, that i am starting to really miss people (really, really), that there are things i am enjoying (movies with my family, a campfire the other night, sitting in the sunshine, walks with ben), and that there are things i feel like i am not doing well at all.  that there are moments where i don't feel anything and moments where i feel too much or feel helpless or like i'm failing. 

i also wanted to tell you that today, we woke up to snow.  about three inches.  on monday i sat in the sunshine and soaked up enough to have a noticeable tan.  yesterday, the weather started to take turn, and today i wore my parka and mukluks when ben and i went for a walk.      

and still i have friends who remind me to breathe and so many gratitudes to count.  so many.  so very many. 

the other thing i wanted to tell you is simply this:

go gently.  you are wonderful.

love, e 

hold it all loosely

if you know what it's like to hold all the plans and expectations loosely, because at any moment, things may change, you'll be ok. 

if you don't, you can learn, and you'll be ok.

if you've never worked in healthcare, the idea of singing a song while you wash your hands has maybe never occurred to you before.  now, you've been introduced to the concept.  

you may have a loved one in hospice care and are not able to visit.  you may have postponed a wedding.  you may have a friend or relative with a new baby that you want to meet.  

human connection is necessary.

you may be feeling helpless.

you may have a tournament or a presentation or a really important meeting that you have practiced and trained and prepared for that is just not going to happen.

you may have just completed the sign-up for a sport or a class and paid the fees and bought the equipment only to realize that the first weeks or the entire duration may not happen.  

you might have had the most wonderful vacation planned and are now not going.

you may be spending time at home with people you don't usually spend a whole lot of time with.  you might love this.  or you might need to learn how to love this.  or you might need to survive this.  

you may find yourself feeling like this a great time to reset.  you may feel peaceful or even energized.

you may find your self feeling anxious, about the physical affects of the virus, about the dramatic change to so many things that had been normal parts of life, about your current situation, about the situations of others.  

you may find yourself angry and feeling like there is a whole lot of over-reacting going on.  

you may believe the conspiracy theories (you might have one of your own).

you may be slightly sick and feeling crummy.

you may be one of the people still going to work.  this may make you feel super glad or super strange.  

you may be working from home and feeling like your workload is even heavier than if you were going to the office.  

you might not be able to work now, and you may be wondering just how long the money from the most recent paycheck will last.

i don't believe that there is one of us who isn't affected in some way.  i don't believe there is anyone of us who doesn't have something we have had to let go of.  

i know that for us, for our kids, this is par for the course.  it doesn't make it easy, but it isn't uncharted territory.  the advice i would give, is feel the feels.  let yourself navigate the sadness, anger, loss, anxiety, all of the feelings.  and then look objectively at the situation.  count some blessings.  look for the glimmers of good.  and give yourself a good pep talk.  know that you can make it through and come out even better. 

something i tell myself (and friends in tough situations) is, let yourself have a day.  cry if you need to.  stomp and yell if you need to.  feel really, really bad.  but don't unpack and live there.  move on.  don't let the low day win.  you win.  you flex your muscles and do the hard things.  and find the next joy.  there will be more joy. 

hold your plans and expectations loosely, and look for the glimmers of joy.

go gently, love fiercely, and be wonderful.

love, e  

writing

this morning, i wrote a note to a friend in minnesota:  it is already 7:30 at your house . . .6:30 at mine, and dark, and freezing rain outside - freezing rain that i just drove through to drop isaac at driver's ed.  now, i'm sipping some coffee and bumping about home, about to get ready for the day.  i hope your thursday has lots and lots of wonderful moments in it.  

later this morning, i wrote a note to my youngest brother.  it is his thirty-second birthday today.  32 seems like a long time ago to me!  he has some full and busy and amazing years ahead of him.  eight years ago . . . i went on a little wander in my mind . . . maddie was eight years old, isaac had just turned seven.  we were home together most days - doing homeschool and babysitting some tiny kiddos and playing outside and building with legos and reading together - making so many memories.  but there was also an undercurrent of so much being so hard.  in the last eight years, oh the places we've been and gone, oh the things we've done and accomplished, oh the tears we've cried and the laughter that has bubbled over, oh how fiercely we have loved and lived.  for my little brother, i hope for so. much. good in his relationships and his work, in his heart and his mind, for this year and in the next eight.  

i wrote a few paragraphs in my journal.

i wrote a letter and some emails for projects that i am currently working on.

and, now, this bit of a blog post.  

go gently, love fiercely, and be wonderful, my friends. 

love,e

12.16.19

breathe - so many times in a day i remind myself to breathe.

when i step outside - breathe deep - and feel-taste the air.  lately, it has been breathes of cool, damp air.

when i have been sitting for a while - working at my computer - a deep breath - filling my lungs all the way to the bottom.

when i am standing up to stretch - breathing deep into all my muscles.

when i think about the list of work to-dos and meetings this week - a breath to remind myself that even though the calendar is full, i can take a moment to breathe, to drink coffee, to look out the window, to walk the long way, to connect with people.

when i take a moment to read some thoughts about advent, about christmas, about joy and light - a deep breath to invite the merry and bright, the good news into the core of my being.  

when i count gratitudes - a deep breath - gratitude for breath and life and health.

when i wish that i could spend days during this season with some far-away family and friends - a deep breath to remind myself that i will send my love, i will make the phone calls, i will text the pictures, i will connect in the ways that i can this year.  

when i am with ben and maddie and isaac - a breath to remind myself to savor the moments, to mark the goodness and make memories.

and when i lie down at night, a deep breath to settle in, to invite rest. 

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 

here's to deep breaths and joy and merry and bright, my friends.

go gently, love fiercely, and be wonderful.

love, e

12.10.19

peace - this morning - in my office 
christmas music playing
heater humming
knowing our days are held in His hands
knowing that His peace passes all understanding
reminding myself to breathe peace all through myself – no matter what today may bring

12.4.19

gifts today: 

kyla not being able to wait to give me my christmas gift - beautiful earrings from girl ran away with the spoon

a few extra minutes to sit in my backyard in the sun in the fresh air

a coffee meeting with a co-worker who is also a friend 

all four pattens doing the grocery shopping together

conversation that helped isaac and ben and i understand each other better 

.. .. .. .. .. .. 

listing #justfivethings with michelle 

12.3.19

Sometimes you need to sit lonely on the floor in a quiet room in order to hear your own voice and not let it drown in the noise of others.~ Charlotte Eriksson ~

some days are like that.  time to sit on the floor.  with moments for quiet, for alone. 

and sometimes i sit in the living room, on the couch, while my family sits at the table, my son making crazy music - sort of a hum, sort of a trumpet, sort of an elk call . . .my daughter laughing and laughing . . . my husband tying flies and finding his own quiet in the midst of the joyful cacophony of teenage music and talking and laughing and riotous story telling.  

yesterday, i took about ten minutes for myself, in the sunlight, in my backyard, just me.  breathing and feeling the warmth through my jacket, sitting quietly and listing gratitudes.  

today, i did not take time for listing.  but i did take time for tea with a lovely girl.  and i took time to sit at the table and eat supper with my husband.  and i am writing this post, here on the couch, with my family bumping all around me. 

tomorrow, i will look for some moments to take for myself, for quiet, just a few.  

 

 

taken hostage by anxiety {written may 5, 2015 . . . finally posted october 29, 2019}

you know the feeling, when your chair tips back, and for a split second, you don't know if you are going to fall backward, or if all four feet will land and you'll be just fine?

that feeling is only supposed to last for a split second

but sometimes, for me, that feeling starts and lasts and lasts and lasts

i'm stuck in that anxious moment of extremely precarious balance

not just for a moment, but for moments, minutes, hours, even days

my breathing gets tight and shallow

my stomach clenches

my neck tightens

my shoulders tense and hold

i feel like i am on the edge of . . . of i don't know what . . .

i realized last spring that i could name this feeling - anxiety

and that i could describe this feeling - like i just did, here

and that this feeling isn't normal - i shouldn't regularly have this feeling - it should be reserved for split seconds and for traumatic events, like a phone call we hope will never happen, or investigating a scream from the backyard . . . it shouldn't happen when an everyday difficulty pops up, or for no apparent reason whatsoever . . .

i started to put this all together after ben brought it up to me - in an oh-so-kind and gentle way.  he asked me some questions and shared some thoughts with me after a class he took about trauma and anxiety and their symptoms and treatments.

and once i realized that i could name this feeling, and describe it, i started to think that i can maybe get beyond it . . . maybe i can start to relegate it to the situations where it is appropriate . . . maybe by naming the feelings, the body systems, the chemical reactions and nerve impulses, by recognizing, by being recognized, by naming situations and lengths of time and relationships that are part of my past, part of my story, maybe this naming will allow me to process, to build a framework for owning, controlling, and/or riding out the anxiety.

i also talked these things over with my health practitioner.  she helped me to find which foods i might need more of or less of or none at all of and which vitamins and minerals my body might need more of so that it correctly sends nerve impulses, so that my brain and systems will be more in sync within my body, and function within reality, not my perceived reality. 

ben has helped me to make some changes - drastic ones (where we live, what job i am doing), and seemingly smaller ones (in my own expectations of myself, in my perception of his expectations of me).

i have changed some of how i communicate with ben and with my kids.  i let them know where i'm at mentally, and i (usually) don't snap when they ask me if i'm ok or how i'm doing; i (usually) honestly, gratefully let them know.  and they have changed some of how they communicate with me.  because sometimes a listen is the very best medicine.  sometimes the only solution, the only answer needed, is a hug or an affirmation.   

and you know what?  since we moved (almost exactly one year ago), since i have been working on the naming, on the changing, on the eating, on the supplementing, on the talking, on the breathing, on the good stuff - in the last year, i have only had a couple hours taken hostage by anxiety.  just a couple hours of a very few days.

there is hope.  there is power in the naming, in the acknowledging, in the inviting other people in.  there is also power in the great love of someone recognizing and empathizing and standing by.  and hope is a beautiful usher to freedom.

  

on blogging

yesterday afternoon, i was thinking about writing a blog post, and i was thinking about how i have not blogged much in the past few years, and why . . .

i do use instagram, and post there almost daily.  find me @bits_of_sunshine 

but, an instagram post isn't a blog post.  it is a different platform.  one i like.  but one where i miss the opportunity to post pictures that i would think will be viewed in a larger format, and one where i miss the opportunity to put fingers to keyboard and type more words much more quickly than i can with just my thumbs on my phone.  

so . . . thinking about why i don't blog as often . . . when i started blogging, i was home every day with my kiddos.  they were little, their stories were my stories were their stories were my stories.  i wasn't working 40+ hour weeks outside my home.  ben was home every evening and weekend.  i was really starting to think through a lot of ideas and opinions and starting to form variations on the ones i grew up with and beginning to form altogether new ones.  facebook wasn't the thing it is now.  there was no instagram, no snapchat, no lots of things.  

now, here i am, with two teens, a husband who is stationed away from home for a good portion of the year, a 40+ hour a week job, and years of evolving thought processes and all kinds of experiences that make up my story, but that involve so many others . . . and what parts of those stories are truly mine to tell . . . and what parts of those stories aren't mine . . . and where. is. that. line?

this evening, as i was mulling this over again, i popped onto instagram and read a post by candace @myheartinasquare where she wrote that she had written a post about her and one of her daughters and she had it all ready to post . . . she had it all wrapped up and tied with a bow, then she ripped off the bow and retied and ripped off . . . and isn't this mothering? and writing? and living? . . . i have the answer, then i don't, then i do, then i do and don't - both at the same time . . . 

this is blogging for me . . . but, my friends, i miss blogging.  and i keep coming back to it.  and maybe, just maybe, i'll get into a rhythm of posting more often.  because the time that isaac and i spent yesterday at lunch, looking back through old blog posts, remembering together - i need that, my heart needs that.  my blog as catalyst for memory is really, really important to me.  so.  here goes nothin'.  or somethin'.  

and in the meantime - go gently, love fiercely, and be wonderful, my friends.

beyond the middle of april

beyond the middle of april - and here i am - with a big hole in this blog where i meant to have post after post - almost thirty of them where there are currently zero

life has a funny way of taking what i mean to do and throwing all those intentions in the mixer - rumbling and roaring and tossing what i intended against all the raw reality of the lives mine is intertwined with - and sometimes my intentions work through the mix and are accomplished - and sometimes they are rubbed and twisted and rolled and stretched and cut and shrunk all at once into something i never would have imagined - 

so - here i am now - on the eve of april twenty-third - writing a little something - and leaving you all with some pictures of where i was blessed to walk today - i was with my three favorites and two others - but these pictures are of the big, wide open - i wish i could give you lungs full of the clear air, shoulders warm in the sun, hair lifted gently by the breeze, ears filled with air broken by the voices of sandhill cranes and pheasants and meadow larks, eyes open to the space and space and space - i wish i could fill you up with the same wide peace that i felt all afternoon - 

go gently, my friends, love fiercely, and be wonderful, 

love, e