Today is January 1, 2022

I cried when I heard Betty White died. It was the collective grief-filled end to a hard year for a lot of us. I’ve lamented here and in other places plenty, but also reflected on the good parts. And I think that’s what makes this week in the year such a unique one. The introspection and hope of looking forward coupled with the reminiscing of the past.

The trick for me is to not get too caught up in either the past or the future, so I’m also hyper focused on what am I doing in this day.

I’m usually much more eloquent in my writing about what I’ve been mulling over lately, but I’m still in a tired and depressed state that isn’t allowing for much creativity. I’m also working a little and looking for more long term jobs that align with the values and lifestyle we dream of creating, which is a huge time undertaking.

It’s definitely getting better little by little, so long as I keep putting my oxygen mask on first and prioritize my program and well being before trying to do anything else for anyone else. (Gosh that still sounds so selfish, chalk it partially up on being raised by a martyr.) I’m also trying hard not to project or plan too far into the future because addressing our current and immediate needs is enough for now. Is this how you do it? Live in the now? I’ve spent so little time here these past two years. But when I practice in the now, even when the now is not all that glamorous, I find my way back to the flow. And that is also what I call God.

Just for today I can slow down enough to see the beauty in everything.

Just for today I can be grateful for a warm house to share with my soul friend.

In Solidarity

Wow, all of your words, suggestions, and encouragement in my last post were truly touching. I’m hanging in there. Once we got back to Denver, a small weight of this season was lifted. Evidently, it may be awhile before I can be seen by a therapist … like, February. I mean, what the actual?! But by your comments and the general shit show that is our country right now I’m not even remotely surprised. We’re all falling apart at the same(ish) time, and there are not enough supports to keep these systems running in their current state. There’s solidarity in that, but also a lot of pain coming to the surface that must be realized both individually as a collective.

We can smile and laugh even amidst hard pain

Last week, I somewhat wallowed in this frustrating reality, having a significant need yet being denied or stalled when that need is acute. But I have a lot of tools and have been fully employing them. Not surprisingly, they all revolve around community.

Living simply and nomadically for 18 months, we established the foundations like sleeping well, eating two to three from scratch and nourishing meals together everyday, and by being outside and moving our bodies a lot.

Coming back to Denver I have only built on that foundation, I went to meetings and talked to my sponsor more, I got a haircut (how humanizing!), went to my chiropractor, said yes to dog sitting and baby holding – two of my favorite things. This week I will bake bread and brew kombucha. I’m trying to read and write more and scroll less, (probably the hardest bad habit for me to break).

I’m far from where I want to be, and it’s still hard. But hard is not good or bad, it just is. I’m settling into this season of hard with both kicking and screaming and grace, they take turns. For now that is enough and it is okay.

We’re still waiting, so let’s make some new memories.

I’ve laughed at myself a lot as these weeks have slowly turned into months and I’ve fought this unfair marching on of time almost the entire way. The latest came early last week when after having a favorable hearing for permanent Guardianship and Conservatorship over my dad on the 24th, I thought we’d get written orders from the court by week’s end, maybe this week at the latest. Once we have orders we can finally move forward with closing on the house, we can also get all of my dad’s outstanding bills paid, and make plans for all of our next chapters. Wouldn’t you know it, the magistrate took the week off, so yet another week setback. 🤣🤣🤣 (if I don’t laugh about it I cry, so this is better.)

So after all of the resisting and whining, I decided to finally surrender. It’s been a slow surrender as I’ve realized how dug in I was with my plan of only wanting to be back in Colorado for two months (I know, how cute and naïve of me). Surrender has looked like giving ourselves mountain breaks for two weeks in a row, (despite the guilt that I’ll likely always carry anytime we go anywhere forever now, especially when dad’s care facility is calling me as we head out of service).

Back to the mountains for some camping on my sweet friend Betsy’s land

Surrender also looks like soul filling convos with friends, impromptu drop ins, celebrating G-Pa’s 70th birthday with family we haven’t seen in over a year, random errands to look for bus inspiration, planting flowers and veggies at the memory care facility and tending to our tiny plants. We may as well settle in and make new memories here while we can. The timeframe will play out as it is supposed to, and there is absolutely nothing I can do in my power to move that along. There’s a lightness and levity in surrender. There’s clarity in stepping back, not trying to force solutions, there’s laughter and love to be shared in the here and now. Just like always. Now is all we have, having a dad with dementia shows me that in every conversation or moment shared with him. I have a choice in how I want to spend my now. Do I do it with anger and fear or with ease and serenity? When it’s posed that way the choice seems very clear to me. Let me remember this next time I slip back into trying to control any situation.