Column 117 – The world is changing…but not fast enough.
Mud season is nearly upon us. Or, rather, under us. Soon it’ll be tracked in on muck boots, on the back of everyone’s pant legs, coating our vehicles and painting our progress towards spring. This time of year the snow is going, but not fast enough. Or so my mind whispers when I imagine putting the boots away and having the freedom of leaving home in mere flip flops or even barefoot. Continue reading “Not Fast Enough”
March 8th snuck up on us. Busy with the wee babe and the six-year old, we were surprised by our Sobriversary this year. Last year felt like a major accomplishment; this year felt like just another day.
Because it was.
At three years sober, we’re well–settled into a life without alcohol. That old life and who we used to be feels very much in the past. So much so, that at times I look at my ever-present ups and downs and wonder if I truly am better off. I still experience depression. I still have much to learn as a parent. I still have a messy house. I still have weight to lose. I still don’t accomplish everything I’d like to. Continue reading “Three Years Sober and Counting”
Several times over the past week I sat down to write about the serious topics at hand and it just didn’t work. I thought I was ready, and I am, but life as it tends to do had other plans.
When it comes to writing, I’ve learned not to force it. It’s no good if I do. The words will come when they’re ready. When conditions are right. Like the weather. Or spring blooms. Or a good bowel movement.
“Mom, why is there poop on the carpet?” the six-year old asked loudly. Continue reading “Surrounded”
It occurred to me as I was cleaning floors this past weekend that though I count myself as a compassionate progressive, I can be quite oblivious to the pain of others at times.
I wrote last week about doing “hard things”, like community projects and letting my natural hair color grow out. Can you hear the eye roll? These are NOT hard in the grand scheme of things, especially compared to what many people go through on a daily basis just to survive. The fact that I have hair to grow out or time for extracurricular ideas or even a forum to voice them publicly is a tremendous privilege for which I ought to express more gratitude.
I thought and I thought about it. My floors were sparkling.
It would have been easy to berate and hate myself, to see the cleaning as punishment for how I behave instead of worship for who I am and what I have, but I resisted. As Marianne Williamson says, “It is tempting to proceed without love; hatred is always looking for recruits.” Continue reading “What’s Next”
I kept track of my time on a recent day, just as I would if I were billing a client. I wrote detailed entries about what I accomplished (or attempted to) down to each fifteen-minute interval. It was a pain. But it made me see that I’m not idle in this stay-at-home time and have no cause for guilt, as my over-bearing ego would have me believe. Continue reading “Doing Hard Things”
This likely won’t be the place to get any sort of Angle update anytime soon, just as it hasn’t been for the past many months. My view is submerged. My season is hibernation. My mind is single-tracked. And my cub is the reason.
Kids. Plural. Yes, I’m still jangling on that. Continue reading “Periscope Down”
“Go sit down, Love,” he says, rubbing the small of my back as he passes me in the kitchen.
Baby Julian’s been asleep for half an hour. And after bath time, story time, last ditch run-around time, glass of water time, and two dozen loudly whispered “SHHHHHH’s” on our part, five-year old Iris is finally in bed too.
He tells me to go sit down every night on his way to go sit down. He takes his usual place on the couch, gets out his Kindle and settles in. “I will,” I say, looking at my comfortable blue reading chair. Continue reading “This Precious Time”