Cool Autumn Days

We have gone from summer to autumn, here in the Austin area, and the suddenness of the change makes it feel that much colder. It’s not cold compared to the northeast, of course, but it feels cold to me. So I baked oatmeal raisin cookies today—and celebrated the fact that I can because here I have an actual stove with an oven! I also roasted a chicken breast and ate dinner using my mother’s Ginori china. I may make chicken soup with the leftovers tomorrow.

Best of all, I may light a fire in my fireplace tonight. I’m guessing native Austinites will laugh that anyone would think it cold enough to do so but we may get a mild frost and why not? All my life I have wanted a house with a fireplace and now I have one. I will, of course, check with a match to see if the chimney seems to draw properly before I set up the fire.

With regard to the classes I want to teach, I have the chairs set up now in my den/study/classroom to be. Only 6 chairs so far, but I’d like to keep classes small. They are padded with a blue grey fabric and are remarkably comfortable for folding chairs. I want that for my students—whoever they will turn out to be.

At any rate, I'm looking forward to this evening. A glass of wine, a brightly burning fire, warm cookies and a good book to read--I find myself smiling just thinking about it.

Hoping all of you are having lovely evenings of your own doing something that brings you comfort and makes you smile.

April

Broken Pieces and Other Surprises

My boxes are arriving from New Jersey and I am discovering surprises—lovely little things I didn’t remember I had. I am also discovering things I have outgrown and wish I hadn’t paid to ship here. But that’s okay. If nothing else, those things are reminders of how far I’ve come in the close to two years since I put them into storage.

I am delighted by some of the things I'm unpacking. I love my fairy water fountain, fabric that makes me smile just to look at it, pieces of jewelry I didn’t know if I’d given away, an angel music box someone gave me after my divorce. These are part of who I am and I love having them. At the same time, I’m also delighted that I could manage without them when I needed to. I never want to become a person who thinks her value is tied to what she owns. Possessions matter only in the ways they make us smile and bring back memories we want to hold onto.

There are other things that make me want to cry, like the broken pieces of things I thought I’d packed carefully enough to survive the trip. That includes the broken garden fairy statue, the broken music boxes, two broken plates and a soup bowl from my mother’s set of Ginori china.

The china maybe hits me the worst. I’ve never used it, you see. I kept it in sealed boxes in my attic while I was married when it came to me after my mother’s death. Far worse, in all the years I was growing up, I never saw my mother use that china. She got it from her mother and kept it boxed up. I didn’t even know what it looked like until I unboxed it. But I will use it. I will use it when my daughter and her friends come over Christmas. I will use it every day when I want to remind myself that possessions matter not because of the monetary value they might have, that they matter instead for how they can make us feel and the memories they hold.

When I use this china, it will connect me to my mother and my mother’s mother—women who didn’t believe that they deserved to use something this special. It will connect me to women who didn’t know how to be happy and it will remind me that yet again, in yet another way, I have broken the pattern that went on for generations. I will mend, if I can, the broken pieces of china and keep them to remind me that while some things that get broken can’t be fixed, others can—like the music boxes and my fairy garden statue, and the china.

If the only value these pieces had was what I could sell them for, the broken dishes would be worthless. But if the value of these pieces is bringing me joy when I use them, then if they can be glued back together, they are just as valuable as ever.

I have only begun to unpack the 40 plus packages I shipped to myself. I have no doubt I will find more wonderful surprises and more broken pieces. I will grieve the broken things and do what I can to save them. I will also celebrate the good surprises, the ones that make me smile.

And with each box unpacked, this house becomes more and more my home.

Celebrate the surprises in your life. Even the broken pieces can have meaning for us if we choose to let them.

April

Good-byes

I began an email, when I was on my Pink Refrigerator/Desperate Housewife Escapes journey that began: I’m drunk. It was the day I visited my parents’ graves. I begin today’s post the same way. I do not do this lightly. I do not ordinarily have enough alcohol to be considered drunk and rest assured that I am safely in my home and do not intend to go anywhere, much less drive!

But I am home. Just come home from New Jersey where I said good-bye to the person I once was and a place that was home for over 20 years. I said good-bye to hopes and dreams that were born and died there.

I am so blessed in the ways my life is turning out now. I know that even the mistakes I’ve made in my life have led to where I am now and I am grateful for that. People I’ve known have enriched my life immeasurably.

But part of my life is over. The next phase promises joy and success and even more self-confidence. Funny to think it should be coming at my age. But that’s how it looks. I don’t mean to sound as if I am unhappy!

I suppose I’m writing about this because I think it’s important to understand we don’t need to always avoid painful emotions. I will grieve what is lost or changed in my life that I wish hadn’t and then I will be able to move on. If I tried to suppress or pretend there wasn’t any grief—over mistakes I’ve made or things I’m leaving behind—it would take far too much of my energy to try not to feel what I feel.

There is power in knowing we can survive this kind of change. The death of one part of our life opens up the possibility of rebirth into something even better. If we know we can survive the painful feelings, if we are comfortable embracing those emotions and then letting go, then we are for more likely to embrace and welcome the new possibilities that occur knowing it’s okay even if it means letting go of something else.

So...tonight I drank champagne to celebrate the good coming into my life and to acknowledge the pain of what I am letting go. I am toasting the courage it has taken to make these changes in my life. I am toasting all the other women who find the courage to let go of what is a familiar but painful situation to embrace the unknown and the possibility of happiness. I know it is not just women who face this kind of choice but I think that women often have a harder time believing they matter enough to reach for that possibility of happiness.

And so tonight I drink champagne and toast—to life!

April

Little Things

It’s the little things that get to me: driving past my kids’ old school, the craft store where I used to buy presents for them and supplies for the yearly birthday parties, the bookstore where I did so many book signings, the library where I did research for my books, the mall I walked for hours when I was so unhappy.

Friends have stayed in touch. We still see each other sometimes and we communicate all the time via email. These places...are no longer part of my life and it will hit me suddenly, the tears, as I go by or walk through them.

This is a bittersweet trip. I love my new home and look forward to going back there. I’m saying good-bye to what was part of my life for a very long time. I’m seeing the friends I can see and grieving other relationships that either ended or have changed in profound ways.

Last night I went back to my old Toastmasters club. It was so good to see old friends from the club and I even ended up giving a speech. I hadn’t planned on that but it says something about how my confidence has grown over the past couple of years that I didn’t hesitate when they asked if I wanted to do so.

It is the little things that fill our lives and hearts with emotion. The big things we somehow brace for but the little things get under our guard. I’m not complaining though. Tears are part of life and connect me to the past. They remind me that no matter how much hurt I have had in my life, I have always been able to still love, still hope, still dream, still go on. They remind me that I am creating new memories in my new life, too.

I am saying good-bye. Not just to a place, but to who I once was, as well. I am no longer the person who needs so much to be loved and is so terrified of being abandoned that she will tolerate things other people would not. I know now that I want and will have kindness and respect from people with whom I am close. I know now that I do not have to settle for less. I tell my daughter, too, that these are the bottom line defining characteristics of truly loving relationships—kindness and respect. Without those, it is only an illusion of love and one not worth having.

It’s the little things that get to me here as I close one chapter of my life, once and for all, so that I am ready to begin the next.

April

Going Home 3

There’s something I forgot to talk about in my last post. I said that sometimes people don’t see the change in us when we go home or they don’t welcome it. I forgot to talk about the other side of the coin.

How often do we go home and not see that the ones who stayed have changed and grown as well? How often do we assume they will react and act the way they always did before? There is power in going to see old friends or family and being open to the possibility that they have changed and will act/react differently with us now.

I’ll grant you that sometimes they have not changed. And if the person hurt us in the past, it’s wise to be prepared to walk away if it should happen again. Even forgiveness does NOT mean we must let the person hurt us all over again!

But if we live our lives afraid or if we live our lives not seeing changes that take place in others, we can cheat ourselves of friendships or family connections that could enrich our lives. Even if they have not changed, it is possible that the person we thought we used to see is not really the person they are or were.

So I ask you to look at the people around you, not just when you go home but every day, and be open to the possibility that they are growing and changing. Be open to the possibility that there is a side to that person which—good or bad—you have not noticed before. One of the greatest gifts we can give those we care about is permission and even encouragement to grow and explore the possibilities of who they are meant to be.

April

Going Home 2

Not home from childhood, but still, more than 20 years of my life. And it feels both familiar and as if I am on the outside looking in. That says more about who I am now than it does about this place.

Some things I have learned:

1) If there is a transit strike in a town, make sure you have a rental car already reserved.

2) If you have a rental car reserved and they ask if you want to upgrade, say “no.” You may still end up with a luxury car at a discount price.

3) Keep a space for yourself where you can retreat to recoup when necessary.

4) Keep a sense of humor. Phone lines and internet access may disappear when you need them the most.

5) Keep a sense of humor dealing with people. Odds are they will see you as you once were rather than who you are now. It isn’t necessarily malicious; they just have recognized the changes yet.

6) Understand that perhaps you haven’t changed so much as just let the real you come to the surface.

7) Celebrate the happy moments, allow yourself permission to grieve whatever is lost, and look for what is good about what you see.

8) If you hang in there, some people can change how they see you. Some people can learn and grow and accept that you have done so, too.

9) It isn’t all or nothing. People who don’t recognize the change won’t necessarily always be blind to that change.

10) It’s up to us to help others see us as we are now.

11) Sometimes when we go home we can’t see the people we most want to see. It’s best to be prepared for that.

12) We are who we are. The more at peace we are with that, the more at ease we will be with others—whether they can see and celebrate who we have become or not.

13) The moments that feel the worst will not last forever.

14) Breathe. Remind yourself of the successes in your life. Find a way to smile, and then look at the situation again. Odds are that if your stress level comes down, you will find a solution to the situation.

15) No one has the power to take you back to who and where you were. You are not hostage to what others say and do if you choose not to be. You do not have to stay locked into old patterns. It IS possible to find new paths even when situations are as they once were.

16) Keep a sense of humor, no matter what. (Are you starting to notice a theme?) A trip home is only that—a trip home. It is generally finite and even if the trip were a complete disaster, you will go back to the life that is yours NOW. You will go back to the life where people know you for who you have become, not who you once were—or who they perceived you to be.

If you get the sense that my own trip home has been a mixed blessing, you would be right. But even that is not entirely a bad thing. I am discovering how resilient I am and how resourceful I can be. Within every challenge are the seeds of opportunity and blessings if we look for them. Mind you, over the past few days I have found myself thinking this is one of those blessings it’s really hard to be grateful for but....it is nonetheless a blessing and knowing that makes the...challenges...easier to deal with. I am still, as I have sometimes signed myself, April the Optimist. I hope that I will always have the courage--and wisdom!--to see life this way.

So...wishing you luck with your own trips home this holiday season and with the blessings that may be difficult to give thanks for at the time they first appear.

April

Names

Someone had a great suggestion for my upcoming trip back to my old home. She suggested calling people by different versions of their name than I have in the past as a way to alter how I interact with them. I thought that was brilliant! After all, as a writer, I know the power of names. In my books, names are something I agonize over and may change a half dozen times before I feel sure I have them right. So I know the power of names.

In my new life, I know how to set boundaries. In my new life, I feel confident and strong and trust my instincts and my intelligence. The challenge when I go back will be to hold onto that knowledge and trust in myself. The challenge will be to remember that even though some people there don’t believe in me, far more, everywhere else, do. The challenge will be to remember all that I have accomplished since I left and also to recognize what I was accomplishing even back there, despite some real barriers.

And isn’t that what we all need to do as we move forward in our lives? Every time we grow and change, there will be people in our lives who have trouble seeing that. Every time we become stronger, wiser, more who we are meant to be, there will be some people who don’t want us to change and who will try to stop us or try to make us doubt the importance of what we are doing.

So if you are making changes in your lives and have someone trying to stand in your way, I pass on the suggestion of choosing a new way to say their name. If you use the full name, try a shortened version. If you use a shortened version, try the full name. Above all else, hold onto the knowledge of who you are and the very real strengths within you.

April