Today is January 439

Maybe I’m being a bit dramatic, but this month is just forever long. It’s still dark and it’s still cold, ALL. THE. TIME.

And it’s doing its number on me.

I had a bit of a breakdown earlier in the week with tears and ugly crying as a result of a podcast (amongst other recent soul work), jotted some things down and called my sponsor. I feel a lot better today, less anxious and more grounded.

I had enough clarity after all of that to finish getting the business registration paperwork filed. I have articles of incorporation and an EIN and I feel like I just summited one of many mountains on this next business journey. There’s been part of my brain that couldn’t fathom doing this work until I knew my dad’s situation was a little more solid (I’m STILL waiting on Medicaid to kick in here, 4 months and 3 attempts at applying later), it’s no wonder I’m adverse to any government agency/process. It’s all just so many broken systems one after the other. Perhaps the focus on my own thing was just what has been needed to ease my anxiety about the other thing. Let’s hope that proves to be the case.

I thought I’d have more profound things to say, but as the hard week unfolded news-wise my thoughts diminished. I’m just so sad that we are so sick a country that we STILL glorify guns and police abuse of power over actual human lives.

I’m powerless over these systems that are working exactly how they were designed. The part I can do is offer comfort and support to those who are suffering. I can keep being a voice of reason and hope. I can look around my tiny community and see more in common rather than other. And with that, I heal and hopefully that healing feeds into those whose lives intersect with ours.

What do six month roots look like?

A list:

Seeing more livestock than people in your average day

Baby plants and garlic bulbs in the now frozen ground, burrowed in for their long winter’s rest

noticing distinct lines in the seasons from hot, dry summer to windy, colorful fall, to snow covered mountains anticipating an ever darkening winter.

watching and syncing to the moon and sun cycles, knowing which stars to look for as seasons pass from one to the next

A deep appreciation, for all of these things that I neglected to notice living in the city

Daily and weekly rhythms, caregiving and kid activities that attempt to ground me

A dog that relentlessly pushes me to walk at least 5 miles a day, for her health as much as my own

Three little kitties that follow us around the yard with their little mew mews and their playful spirits, their tiny paw prints in the snow

A neighborhood bald eagle perched in one of our old trees, as well as two hooting owls in the next

A lingering Quiet and being comfortable being with myself, this must be peace

Cooking nourishing food nearly every night of the week, the removal of convenience replaced with hearty preparedness, knowing that there will always be more than enough

That feeling of coming home, whether from a day spent errand running in the city or from the long sense of drifting we experienced before landing in this place, we are here, right where we are meant to be, in this moment and with these people. And that is contentedness.

The Slight Shifts

First signs of fall up in the higher elevations

On exiting one liminal season and entering into a literal one.

It’s October here in Utah, we’ve officially crossed into fall – mornings and evenings are crisp and cool but you can still wear short sleeves most of the day, the leaves are still green and holding on, but that soon will turn as evidenced in the higher elevations. It’s dark now on our evening walks and we’re all prone to going to bed much earlier, following our circadian rhythm’s.

What I’m letting go of and sketching into existence are some of the thoughts on my mind in this changing season.

I have written about this season before because it is so profound to me and I think I most certainly carry some of the traumas from my past that are more felt this time of year. In 2011 my mom got sick right around the beginning of October, she passed away just over a month later that November, shy of her 56th birthday. Last year around this time we were wrapping up our volunteer stint on our friend Roger’s farm and had very few prospects or ideas on where to drift next, it was the ushering in of a very dark and hard season experiencing houselessness far beyond what we thought life would look like as nomads and way past our comfort zone.

This year prospects are physically much much improved. We’ve been in one place long enough to literally put plants in the ground and to start growing roots, just as intended. Stability has done wonders for my mental state (as well as therapy and meds earlier this year when we were still unsettled). There are enough resources and a little extra every month so we are no longer in the trap of existing to pay for our lives. The cost of living is much more palatable for us here, so while inflation takes its toll we are prepared and feel lucky to be where we are at.

On that sturdier foundation I’ve been reflecting a lot on what I need and want going forward, what to continue letting go of, and what drawing up a long term future for myself (I’m purposefully making it about me so I don’t get distracted by others) looks like here. Here’s my lists in no exhaustive order.

💚 Things that are filling my body, mind, and soul:

🌄 Seeing the sunrise and sunset

📞 At least one long weekly phone call with at least one far away friend,

☀️ Getting outside in the midday sunshine for a half hour or so letting as much of my skin see some light and absorb that vitamin D

🚿 A cold blast for the last minute of my showers

🐶 Walking Millie every morning for 2 miles

📖 Getting to an in-person Alanon meeting once a week

🦶 Walking barefoot inside AND outside

🐮 Drinking raw milk

🥩 Eating simply, intuitively, and focusing on high quality proteins like grass fed beef

🪴 Taking care of our houseplants

🧹 Finding ways to be of service outside of home

✔️ Things that are have to do’s, but when I do them it’s a relief:

🤸🏼‍♀️ Pilates

🏋🏼‍♀️ Any phone calls or scheduling or administrative stuff for this household or my dad

🥙 Planning meals

🧼 Some chores, like I like the house vacuumed everyday, but we live in a dusty place so sometimes there’s just dust on things and it’s okay

🪫 Things I’m letting go of:

🚫 Other people’s opinions of me or my actions

📝 Things that are not on my list

Doing something for someone else if I’ve attached and expectation (a tit for tat mentality)

📱Doom-scrolling and mindless social media scrolling, especially upon waking up

🙅🏻‍♀️ Wearing fake crap that doesn’t feel good on my skin

🫢 Eating fake crap that doesn’t feel good in my body

I have journal pages full of ideas and notes from podcasts and drawings of future uses for space here, and am okay with them being in their draft stages in this moment. In the meantime, I’m going to just keep taking care in the ways that serve me, so that I can draw from a deep well when the next season is upon us. I think that is a very good use of what to do in a liminal space.

Questions for you dear reader: What are you up to this fall? How do you usher in a change of season?

The watermelon has expired and now it’s slime

(File this title in something I never thought I’d text my kids)

I pride myself on running a pretty tight ship around here. Not in a controlling or dominating way, but since I have the idle hours that I mentioned in one of my recent posts, some of those hours are used to keep it tidy and running smoothly. I like it that way and clean and organized helps to keep my mind in a good place too. This week the wheels fell off. Sorry for the mixed metaphors, some of my recovery friends use this term, I think I discovered my new term for when this happens: the watermelon has turned to slime.

Let’s back up to moving my dad. A couple weekends ago we trekked back to Denver to pack up his things and bring him to an assisted living facility in Utah. The road trip part of the move went far better than we could have expected. Even with a very very long driving day, unanticipated longer than usual stops because charging an EV in the extreme heat takes awhile. We’d get out, eat something, walk around, then get back on the road. He remembered so many landmarks along the way despite his dementia and probably more than a decade between him and the last time he ventured this far west. He didn’t seem to want the driving to end and the rest of us were far more exhausted than he was that day. I was informed that he slept really well that first night, like 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Amazing. So far, so good, so great actually. Maybe he’d adjust well to these new surroundings.

The following weekend we grabbed dad out for much of Saturday afternoon, we brought him to our house to explore and relax, an easy, mundane visit really, but things shifted as soon as we took him back to his new home. And I’m learning what his limits are, which is good for future planning. We got him back around 4:30 pm and he was fatigued and agitated, sundowning as it’s known in the memory care world. A visible shift from easy going and laughter to anger, confusion, and sadness. I gently explained that this was his home, I’d come back to see him in another few days, and even though he was upset he seemed to get to a place of acceptance I was able to leave mostly guilt free. This is akin to leaving your crying toddler at daycare and trusting that the overflow of emotion will only last a minute or two as you the parent drive off sobbing. Transitions are hard, and at certain parts of the day for him should be avoided.

A few days later I got a call that dad had tried to leave. He explained to the house staff that he was walking down to the store to buy cigarettes. He made it as far as the park a block away. This is the boundary we are exploring in this assisted living setting. His former home was a locked unit, so the temptation to leave didn’t exist. Here, the population of residents is mixed and folks can come and go as they please. I love that he can be outside as much as he would like to be, each time I go to visit him he’s sitting or snoozing peacefully on the front porch. Outside is good for all of us, I wish more places for the aging had the capacity to let their residents be outside for at least a little bit each day.

Two nights ago, the exploring became a little more fraught. I got a call a little before 6pm, dad had wandered off, did they want me to call the police or look for him for a few minutes first?. I said look first, and not five minutes later got another call that he had been located (in the park again), but was now refusing to get of the staff member’s car and was threatening to get violent. I offered to drive down to help get him deescalated since I likely have more sway with him than the people still just getting to know him. By the time I arrived about 40 minutes later, he had indeed exited the car but refused to go back in the house. Similar to the late afternoon drop off/transition last weekend, his haunches were up and he was quite agitated. But this dad is the one I remember from my childhood, alcohol had made him unpredictable and angry like this lots of times, there’s no reasoning with anyone in that kind of state, so instead of fighting him about going in I offered to take him for a car ride.

We cruised Main Street, grabbed him a Big Mac at McDonald’s, I stumbled upon a smoothie shop for something for myself, and very suddenly his mood started to visibly shift. I offered going back to his new home, and while he stated very clearly he wasn’t going back there, his tone was more matter of fact than angrily felt. I offered to buy him some (non alcoholic) beer and watch something on tv with him (this was his nightly ritual pre-dementia after all). He acquiesced and settling him back into the house was easy from there.

Yesterday I returned to visit during the early part of the day, took him out to lunch, and we have plans to bring him on an outing tomorrow earlier in the day now that we know better when he’s more available and less likely to become agitated. Now I get to balance the dog’s incredible separation anxiety with the human needs around me, but that’s a different issue altogether.

While I’m so grateful to be available to my dad like this, it takes a huge emotional and physical toll. Maybe that’s what my idle time has been for, for storing up some reserves so that I have the capacity to jump into action when the situation arises. It seems I have infinite patience for him and immediately know what to do when things like this happen. I don’t get panicked, even if told they don’t know where he’s at momentarily. But yesterday afternoon and much of today have been spent recuperating from the whole ordeal. I have to keep coming back to me and my needs or I’ll quickly get lost in what everyone else needs around me, yes even the dog (hello recovering codependent).

Back to the melted watermelon though. I woke up today to a mysterious liquid on the counter and traced it to a watermelon I had cut half of earlier in the week and then neglected to finish cutting a day or two later. I looked around and yes, Zach and the kids do a fine job at tidying up, making their own meals, etc. but it’s the little jobs like finishing cutting the watermelon that get overlooked. There’s a give and take, a balance, a dance we all do around my dad’s caretaking that does and will continue to shift and shape how we do things around the homestead and where and when we each contribute. A fellow sandwich mom (the generation of caregivers that are sandwiched between still raising kids while their parents age and need more help) that I follow on socials summed it up pretty succinctly, my kids may not need me the way they once did and it’s in different hours now. They have emotional needs that they didn’t before, and same goes for my dad. So I keep different business hours so to speak. And in all that I’m grateful once again for the time and space to come back to me and this place and get the wheels back on, or the slime mopped up or insert your preferred metaphors here.

Lived-in

The summer has absolutely flown by, what even is time?

We’ve been making this old house our cozy home for the past 7ish weeks, and still have a ways to go. The projects, at times, feel endless, but we also save plenty of space for rest and recreation. Our favorite close place is Palisade State Park, a 20 minute drive to a small lake where we can paddle board and jump off rocks. There’s also close hiking and easy access to recreation all around us.

Day trip to Manti-La Sal National Forest

The kids are both registered for public school five miles down the road in Gunnison. (BTW there is a lot of overlap with names of places here that Colorado has, sorry for any confusion). The feelings about school are a mixed bag around here. One kid thrives on structure and is excited, the other is more reserved and pensive. Fortunately they both already knows at least a handful of kids, so perhaps some of the first day jitters don’t have to show up. They start this Thursday (!), I’m quite excited for a return to solitary days since it’s been more than two years. We’ve had A LOT of one another during this whole pandemic/tiny travel life/houseless/couch surfing situation. Don’t get me wrong, I love those two nuggets like nothing else, but mama needs some alone time to get her brain screwed back on straight.

We had a fantastic visit with our Denver friends to celebrate both Sara and Utah’s birthday. Who will be our next visitors?

Work work work… the travel fatigue has worn off for Zach who commutes 90 miles each way to work everyday. He got himself an electric car after doing the math of car payment vs. paying for rent on a place in Provo. I go up to Provo either solo or with kids about once every three weeks for the bigger supply runs and to attend an Alanon meeting in person. I can say with certainty that I much prefer this drive to anything in the metro Denver area. The miles are big but there is virtually zero traffic, and now with gas prices easing up a bit it’s not nearly as painful on the wallet. Needs continue to be a couch (want something very specific second hand) and a deep freeze as we hope to get a half a cow in this fall, to also go easier on the weekly grocery budget.

Projects we’ve already knocked out include fence mending, building some gates from repurposed screen doors that were left here, furniture sourcing and mending, general electrical tidying up, drywall mending and paint, bathtub sealing, nonstop cutting and trimming of the big elm trees that drop things nearly every day. Yes, this place came remodeled, no not everything is perfect or was done in the most sensical manner, so we’re making it make sense for us with what we have and whatever else can come later. There’s plenty more on the horizon including getting some chickens and gardens going, we just got here a little too late into the growing season to make much happen thus far. I did apply for a native pollinator grant that the state was offering and I’ll receive 150 native plants in about a month, very excited about that.

Update on dad: The biggest impending update to share is that we are moving my dad to Utah at the end of the month! It’s been extremely difficult making decisions for him these past two months. Getting a call from his assisted living home ties my stomach in knots because there’s not a lot I can do from this distance. We played with the idea of him living with us and me being his full time caregiver, but in the end have decided on another assisted living facility so he can get the hands on support he needs and I don’t have to be worried about him falling in this old house that has so many weird half steps and thresholds, not to mention the claw foot tub situation, (like how would he even get in there?). Huge kudos to anyone giving an aging or sick loved one full time care, it is so much work and there are not nearly enough supports, that is what ultimately made our decision here. Could I do it, yes, Does it mean I should? For the time being, it’s a no.

Writing, dreaming, business-ing: With this much needed shift in available time, I hope to get back into wring this long form more often. I shared a lot over these last two years, the heights of our adventures and the depths of my sorrows with dad’s quick diagnosis and decline. I want to continue documenting the journey, and the writing process is so much more meaningful to me as opposed to quick blurbs on Instagram. We also have this whole storefront that we get to dream into something meaningful for our community. The wheels have been turning on ideas since before we even got here, more is always being revealed. We’ve been collecting intel on other historic mercantile buildings in the surrounding small towns, time to get some ideas into action. These last few months have felt quite surreal, Camden often mutters “this place is too good for us”, but I have a different perspective. This place is what we dreamed of for a good long while and the willingness to go on the journey that got us here makes us that much more grateful and appreciative of all the things big and small that make it so good. The locals often ask us how we found ourselves here. We joke that it was the house that found us. I still can’t believe that it’s true, but we are rooting in here just fine and the doors are always open for a visit.