In This Room

I will sit in the same room as you.

Sometimes, there just aren't any words. Sometimes, it isn't about having answers or solutions. Sometimes, conversations are unnecessary. Sometimes, being there for each other is just that, being there. Sometimes, we do not have to talk. But we can sit in the same room.

In that room, we can find strength. We are not alone in our sorrow or our grief or our hurt. We have each other to help bear the weight. We do not need to say it because we already know. In that room, we are free to experience emotion. We do not apologize for our tears. We do not apologize for our anger. In that room, we are whoever we need to be, and we do whatever we need to do. In that room, there are no guidelines, no rights and wrongs, no censorship of our emotions. In that room, there is only us and complete acceptance.

There is no time limit on how long we can sit in this room. We can talk or not talk. Yell or not yell. Cry or not cry. We can welcome distractions or face it head-on or pretend like everything is the same as before outside of this room. We do not have to leave until you are ready. I will not leave until you are ready.

You didn't leave until I was ready.

When there was nothing anyone could say to me to make it better, you sat in the same room as me. We were alternately silent and loud. We were sad and angry and peaceful and optimistic all at once. You held my hand as I felt all of these things. You were there with me in the same room, and you did not leave. When we finally departed, I still wasn't better. I was not healed, but I knew I was not alone.

I would do anything to make it better for you. I know I can't. But I can sit in the same room as you.

Time After Time

Margaret Atwood, my favorite author, says in Cat's Eye, "Time is not a line but a dimension. You don't look back along time but down through it, like water.  Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing.  Nothing ever goes away."

This makes sense to me.  Good sense. It also helps me justify time travel in my head.  And I love the idea of time travel.  (Side note:  God, I miss LOST.)

But even so, isn't it strange how, after a relationship ends, it's so hard to remember the details later on.  The edges are blurry, like you forgot to put your contacts in that day.  It's almost like a dream, or a story you heard from someone else a long time ago.  Like it never really happened to you at all.

But every once in a while, all of a sudden, something reminds you of him.  A song, a smell, a voice, and there it is.  There he is, in your face, clear as day, all sharp edges and detailed lines.   So I guess Margaret is right.  Nothing ever goes away.

Even when you wish it would.

Pretty Good Year

As I've said, I am a professional marketer, a professional mama, and a professional good time girl. (Note: this does not mean "prostitute".)  Gentle Reader, that is THREE full time jobs. How in the world was there ever time for everything in 2012?

1. Successfully made it to my son's first birthday
2. Planned a wedding IN MY BACKYARD while working & baby-wrangling full-time
3. Overhauled our entire home including paint, carpet, and various other home improvement projects
4. Coped with the baby blues and cried quite a bit
5. Learned that taking 30 minutes to eat lunch silent and alone is essential to my well-being
6. Lost the baby weight 
7. Gained some of it back
8. Finally married the love of my life after a 7-year courtship
9. Reconnected with several of my closest friends from the past 
10. Learned the importance of making time for friends, both near & far
11. Looked out at a sea of faces of all of the people I love most in my life and felt like the luckiest girl in the world
12. Ran (mostly) my first 5K
13. Had a fight with my Mom that has likely forever changed the nature of our relationship
14. Finally embraced my love of being a mother
15. Came to the sad conclusion that wheat & dairy do not make me feel good
16. Colored a lot of gray hair and obsessed over many new lines on my face
17. Said goodbye to my Grandma 
18. Spent all day at a cabana in Vegas with 8 of my very best girls
19. Unexpectedly, felt endless gratitude & respect for my in-laws
20. Drank my weight in beer in Bend on our very short but sweet honeymoon
21. Cried and cried and cried and hurt and hurt and hurt for those lost and the families affected by so many tragedies of this past year
22. Discovered that my husband is not only a great partner, he's a terrific father
23. Celebrated births and grieved the death of relationships with my dear Seattle girlfriends
24. Took a giant leap of faith and left my secure job to pursue a new career 
25. Continued my love affair with wine
26. Watched too much reality TV
27. Made peace with myself for some of the larger mistakes I've made
28. Swelled with joy & pride as I watched my son roll over, crawl, take his first steps, say his first words, give his first kisses, snuggle his first stuffed toy, eat his first foods, and call out "Mommy!" for the first time
29. Felt both joy & sorrow more deeply than ever before 
30. Thought to myself time and time and time again, "I must be one of the luckiest women on Earth."

Yeah, it was a pretty good year.  

Love Is All Around

I've been trying to get my thoughts together.  I've been trying to figure out the how, the what, and, most importantly, the why.  I have nothing.  I have realized that I am just not equipped as a writer, as a mother, as an activist, or as a human being to write about the tragedy of last week.  And so, I'm not even going to try.

Instead, I am going to write about love.

On the days that our hearts are particularly heavy, it is love that gets us through.  We snuggle our Boos a little tighter and a little closer.  When we can't stop the tears from coming, we allow them to be kissed away.  We say our "I love yous" a little more frequently, a little more easily, a little more openly.  Our smiles are a little wider when we see the loves of our lives.  We call up those that we have grown apart from and bring them back into our fold.  Baby laughs and girlfriend giggles become musical.  We pull out the old photo albums, smile at the faces of those we have loved and remember happy times.  The chores and to-do lists suddenly don't seem as important as playing with our children, holding hands with our partners, talking to our parents.  Hugs become a little longer, kisses become a little deeper.  Love becomes us.

I do believe, even in these hardest of hard times, even on the darkest of days, that love actually is all around.  

Wishing you and yours love and peace today and every day.