Easy Silence (10 years, 25 days)

10 years and 25 days.  That's how long it's been since I've seen my dad.  Actually longer.  The last time I saw him was in June 2006, he died in August.  But that's how long since he breathed the same air we breathe.  

I wrote the below blog post on August 8th, the day after the 10 year mark....but I couldn't post it.  I've been a bigger mess about this 10 year mark than I anticipated.  I've been pretty OK the last few years as the 7th of Augusts have come and gone.  There have now been ten 7th of Augusts.  And I thought this year would sorta be no biggie either.  But I was wrong.  And I haven't been able to go there.  To talk about it or think about it . I couldn't.  I just couldn't.  As soon as I've allowed my self to go there, to think about it, I melt.  I get that old familiar sunken chest feeling.  And then I think "What the fuck man?  It's been 10 years, get your shit together".  My sister has written 2 beautiful blogs posts about this.  And the one yesterday did me in.  I read the first few sentences and had to stop.  Had to save it for later.  I shook it off and went about my day.  I had an unexpected day off and took the opportunity to hit up the grocery store on a weekday morning.  My sister and I had been texting back and forth about all kinds of random stuff and I told her I couldn't read her blog today b/c I'm a mess about #10.  And then, I think because I finally admitted it to someone else, I let it rip.  In the busy parking lot of the grocery store, I sobbed.  Big ugly sobs.  I knew I needed to get out, so I just went with it.  Then told myself to get it together and go get some butter and cheese and other crap for my family to eat.  And that was it.  I was done.  I had stuff to do and I pulled myself together.  I've had to learn the lesson of just letting the sobs out over and over again throughout the years, but it seems I always forget.  

Anyways, here are the words I wrote on 8.8.16 - 10 years and 1 day after 8.7.6.  I really want to go back and edit them, but I'm going to go ahead and let them be....

__________________________________

So my dad died 10 years ago yesterday on 8.7.06.  It's an easy date to remember.  8.7.6.  And the day after my little brother's birthday.  That's sucks for him.  

10 years.  Damn.  So much life has happened in 10 years.  My sister's kids have grown up.  Hell, I HAD kids.  I've written about how I moved away 1 year before he died.  I've written about that regret.   

Anyways, as this date barreled towards me I kinda thought it was going to come and go without event.  I was feeling like this date didn't own me anymore. Jennifer had been talking about taking back August - not letting it be about "that" - and it sounded like a good plan to me.  Mom and Jen were coming to town for the Dixie Chicks concert.  We all planned to take this day back without ever really talking about it.  We just planned to do something fun because something fun just happened to be happening that day.  So they came.  We went to see a super funny movie one night.  And then went to see the Chicks on "that day". 

Done. 

But not really. 

I made it the whole day without crying.  That was a first.  I had a crazy day.  There was sewage coming up out of my shower.  Like, shit was floating in my shower.  And then in my bathtub.  That sucked bad.  But no time for wallowing in sadness.  We had shit to clean.  Literally  

So later we head out to the concert and I'm happy.  We're laughing.  I mean, I had thought about dad all day.  But I was totally OK.  Feeling almost guilty for feeling so OK.  And I took my first ever pedicab ride in 8000 degree weather.  Laughing and giggling with my mom and sister.  

The Chicks opened with Taking the Long Way.  And when they sang "It's been 2 long years now since the top of the world came crashing down" my sister and I lean into each other, totally unplanned, and both sing at the top of our lungs "it's been 10 long years now since the top of the world come crashing down.  And I'm getting' it back on the road now." 

That was fun.  Take THAT 10 years. 

Several songs later came one I love - one I was almost hoping they didn't play.  Easy Silence. 

"I've come to find a refuge in the 
Easy silence that you make for me.
It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me.
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me
The way you keep the world at bay"


This song has made me cry almost every time I've heard it since my dad died.  I KNOW it's not about loss.  It's political.  And I love the chicks for that. And I just so happen to lean the same way they do.  But I'd love them either way.  Because I think it's important that freedom of speech be supported.  

"It's a sad, sad story when a mother will teach her
daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger 
and how in the world can the words that I said send 
somebody so over the edge that they'd write me a 
letter saying that I better shut up and sing or my life will be over?"

WTF.  That's crazy.  

Anyways.  Easy Silence.  "It's OK when there's nothing more to say to me"...almost feels like forgiveness to my dad for leaving.  Even though I KNOW he would have never chosen to leave.  But still there's anger.  Anger he was on that trip to begin with.  Anger that the damn deer jumped out in front of him.  Anger that he was the one in the back of the pack of motorcycles so he was the one in the right spot at the right time when the deer that was spooked by the roar of Harleys jumped out from the trees into the road.  So when this song plays at the concert , it's FIRST TIME all day I get sappy.  The imagery on the giant screen behind them was beautiful and powerful and for a song that already gets me every time, well, it GOT me. 

A few songs later they did what all groups do - they introduced their band.  But this night was special.  Natalie Maines' dad was playing with them.  He was only joining the tour for the Texas dates.  He's a legend in his own right so it was an honor to hear him play.  But the fact that her dad was there when he usually doesn't perform with them and she gushed over him on a night when we were trying not to give in to 10 years of grief and loss was not lost on me. 

Overall yesterday felt kinda sacred...holy.  Time spent with Mom and Jen and the Dixie Chicks and Natalie's dad.  Even with all the literal shit and figurative shit, it was a good day.  These "anniversaries" are a funny thing...most anniversaries are celebrated.  The anniversary of someone's passing is awkward though.  You feel the need to acknowledge it.  But recognizing it feels a little like celebrating it, and you for sure are NOT celebrating.   Or maybe you are.  Maybe you celebrate surviving another year of grief.  With a Coors Light can or Shiner Draft, of course.  Dad's favs.  Shiner always ONLY on draft.  It's no good in a can.  My Dad said so.  Cheers, Dad.  Love you.  Miss you.  

Busy People Get Sh*t Done....and Then They Have Anxiety Attacks

I have always prided myself on being able to handle lots of stress.    I juggle a LOT of things.  A lot.   Here's what I juggle from day-to-day:



CAREER:  I have a full time-career at a place I really like working...most days. I mean, if we're all honest, we'd like to win the lottery and live life on our own terms at the beach, right.  But if you HAVE to have a job, I lucked out.

I've been here nearly 11 years, they are good to me, in fact they were AWESOME to me when I had babies and I basically worked from home for two years in a row.  I have good benefits and a stupid amount of vacation time. I've been here so long I'm trusted to do pretty much whatever and have the chops to back it up.  It's good here.

PASSION/SIDE HUSTLE:  I have a second "job"....it's actually my passion gig.  I am passionate about questioning the "established norms", researching health and wellness and proactively using only natural things on and in our bodes when appropriate to support our bodies.   Essential Oils are the primary focus of this passion.  And I REALLY love helping other people with this.  When I see the light bulb go off in others that there are other means to an end, WHOA, that gets me all jazzed up!  I host online classes and live classes on weekends and answer a bazillion messages everyday day from people just learning about essential oils and wellness.   I love it.  I love it, love it, love it.

BABIES:  OK,most of you know my husband and I have two precious tornadoes known as Ellis (age 3) and Lucy Bell (age 2).  These little darlings are only 13 months apart in age and whew, are they exhausting!  I realize there are families out there with more kids, like double or triple the amount of kids, and that often there's a single parent doing it all.  Props to single mamas or daddies doing it all alone because OH.MY.GAWD this crap is hard.  However, I also realize there are those dealing with infertility that would give anything to have my little tornadoes and I don't take one single second with these beauties for granted.  We have also been blessed with the most amazing nanny.  She is the bomb-diggity and loves our girls like her own.   We for sure could not mange our busy lives without her.

LIFE:  and then there's everything else in life like laundry, bills, housework,sweeping endless amounts of dog hair, groceries, cooking, attempting to maintain relationships with family and friends, hoping to get a date nights every now and then, maintaining our own health and wellness.....and the list goes on and on and one and on.....

People often ask how I have time to do everything  but you know what?  Busy people get shit done.   You just do it.  If you're busy, be busier.  Just do it.  Get 'er done.  If you want something, go after it.

I think I've done a pretty good job so far at "having it all".  I mean, I'm impatient as all get out and have little tolerance for people that don't plan ahead.  Lack of planning on your part is not grounds for an emergency on my part.  I'm busy yo, get your shit together.   I struggle to understated other people when they say "I'm busy" and I'm like "with what?...so you have a job and some kids.  OK, well so does the rest of the world.  Pull your big girl panties up and get shit done sister.  Let's go.

But I never actually say anything like that to people because I'm also a bleeding heart compassionate. And it's rude. My mama raised be better.  I just internalize my annoyance and say "they aren't me....maybe their capacity for life just isn't what mine is".  How condescending is that?  What a bitchy way to think.  But I do.  Also I just go home and bore Jade with all the reasons why people annoy me.  Or lash out at him, which sucks.

And here's an ugly truth:  I used to roll my eyes at people that said they have anxiety.  What?  Why?   Suck it up and get to work.  Ain't nobody got time to worry about stuff.  Just do it.  Stress and anxiety is for sissies.

Until Saturday morning at 2:30am when I woke with what we now know was a full blown panic/anxiety attack.  You see, for weeks I've been having these little episodes where I felt like my heart was racing.  Like I couldn't catch my breath.  I would take lots of the deep breaths, drink some cold water, inhale and apply some essential oils and calm myself down.  Lately I've been burning the candle at both ends and knew I just needed to chill out......work as been a bit more stressful lately, Lucy Bell is forgetting how to sleep through the night, my little passion/side gig isn't growing as fast as I'd like, my house is always a mess, I had to make a decision to miss my dad's mom's 90th birthday which makes me feel very selfish and very sad, and, and ,and....ya know?  Just lots of life stuff.   These these little breathing episodes were happening intermittently for several weeks but became more and more frequent in the last few days.  Friday I was at Texas State interviewing students for internship positions and it kept happening over and over.  I was like "what the hell is happening, I AM NOT STRESSED about interviewing these kids.  I have interviewed literally 1000's of kids over the last 11 years at this job.  I could interview them in my sleep.   I know within about 10 seconds if they are right for the job.  This is not stressful and yet I could not catch my breath.  Ugh.

Fast forward to the next day, my mom was in town and we went and got massages.    I was hopeful that this would relax me and put an end to these little episodes.  Then Jade and I went out on a date night.  We went to dinner, had a few drinks and were home by 9:30 (I know, real party animals).  Jade made us come home early because I started having one of my episodes - and because I was kicking his ass at giant jenga :)   I'm aware that my competitive nature may have led to the episode.  He's been bugging me to go to the doctor about this for a while, but I'm stubborn and who has time for that?  And I already knew what was wrong- I was stressed.  And going to the doctor for stress is stupid.  I can handle it.  I'm fine.  I've got my big girl panties on and I will get through this.  The stress will be over soon.

Anyways, I went to bed around 10:30 and then woke at 2:30 am gasping for air.  I woke from a deep sleep into a full on "episode" where I couldn't catch my breath. And then I was crying because I couldn't catch my breath, which wasn't helping me to be able to catch my breath.   Jade wanted to take me to the ER and I didn't really want to go...ER's are for people in REAL need.  Like broken bones, car accidents and babies with scary high fevers.  I'm fine, it will pass.  But Jade put his foot down, woke my mom to tell her we were leaving took me to the ER.  An EKG and a shot of some kind of anxiety drug led to a diagnosis of an anxiety attack.  I felt so stupid.  Handle your stress, girl!  Geez.   The doc gave me prescription and instructions to follow up with my doc.   So now, the girl that rolls her eyes at anxiety is having temporary full blown anxiety issues.  The is all new to me, so of course I'll be researching natural ways to address this, but in the meantime I will pop these pills because they work and because I'm too busy to be running around taking deep breaths in and out everywhere I go.  Plus that's just weird....oh excuse me, don't mind me, I'll just be over here huffing and puffing...


So with that, I apologize to all of you anxiety sufferers that I previously rolled my eyes at.  This shit is no joke.

I still believe that busy people get shit done and I'm not really willing to give up any of that stuff I listed above, I'll just learn to cope with my occasional anxiety with essential oils.  And maybe I'll start exercising.... and when it gets to a point that needs medical attention, I'll pop the pills too :)  Also, I need a housewife!

110,000 Miles

I moved away to Atlanta ten and a half years ago.  I wrote a little about it here.  It was August 2005 and hot, hot, hot driving across Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia.   My bestie Amy was with me on that journey.  She already lived in Atlanta and was responsible for recruiting me to live there.  She made several road trip CDs with songs we both loved and we both had dry cuticles and applied cuticle oil every hour - weird the things I remember.   This was before Facebook was really a thing and before iPhones and before lots of stuff....so we talked and sang and moisturized our cuticles and watched out the window as the landscape changed from one state to the next and we headed towards my new life.   My new job.  My new apartment.  My future.

A few months prior to moving, I had been in an accident with a drunk driver - he ran a red light and hit me head on.  Thank goodness I walked away with only a broken wrist from honking my horn when the airbag deployed.   My car at the time was a Honda Pilot and it should have been totaled but the insurance company had it repaired and it was never the same.  It drove kinda wonky and made some funny noises.

After I got moved and settled in Atlanta, I knew I'd need to go car shopping.  I was terrified that I wouldn't get any thing for the trade in.  If the car dealership took one look under the car, they would have known it was a hot mess.  My parents came in town to visit me in March 2006.  My mom was a teacher and my dad always took off the same week as her spring break so they could vacation.  That year they choose to come see me on their vacation and I thanked them by making them go car shopping with me.  It was the first and only time my dad would get to visit me there.

My brother was a Mercedes technician and knew a thing or two about cars.  I wanted a small SUV and he recommended a Jeep Liberty as a good, solid car choice for me that would be in my price range.  So we drove all over Atlanta and the surrounding areas to various Chrysler dealerships to check out what they had in stock.  I opened my big mouth about my accident at one place and they were like....um, no thank you.  Dad coached me a little to keep my mouth shut from there on out.  Then we came really close to making a deal on one at another place, but they finally looked at my (should have been totaled) trade in and basically offered jack-squat for it.  We left with me in tears and my mom and dad reassuring me we'd find something.  I was 28 and should have been able to handle this on my own, but I didn't have to because I have amazing parents.  It was late in the day on Saturday and dealerships are closed on Sunday, so I was panicked.  My parents would also be leaving Sunday, so I wanted this done.

We finally found a place that didn't inspect the car and I drove away with a cute, silver Jeep Liberty. It was zippy, fun to drive and could whip into tight parking spaces like no other.

Five months later in August, my dad died in a stupid motorcycle accident.  I did see him one more time on a visit home in June for my Nanny's 80th birthday party.   I still have the job and I still have the Jeep.  Along the way, I met Jade, moved back to Texas and had some (really damn cute) kids.

Jade mostly drives it now while I drive the kid friendly mini-van but today, of all the days, while I'm driving it, the Jeep turned 110,000 miles.  Coincidence?  I think not.  Wow!  That's a lot of miles between that car shopping memory with my parents and today.  A lot of life has happened.  And I would kill for my dad to be here to have seen it all.  Makes me think of the song "You Should Be Here".  He'd be proud of all of it, especially the kids.  But he'd also be really proud that we still have that Jeep and that it only has 110,000 miles on it.  This car is 10 years old, but I know that even when it craps out and it's time for it to go to car heaven, I will have a difficult time letting it go since it's tied to one of the last memories with my dad.  In the meantime I'll keep the essential oil car diffuser going to maintain the "new car smell" in my 10 year old car!

Kudos to my brother on the car recommendation - it has been a really solid little SUV with minimal maintenance and no major issues just like you said it would be.  So far - knock on wood!!

I Started My Period at Church Camp

I stared my period at church camp.  

(If you think this is a crass topic, then stop reading here. But everyone has periods.  Heck we all wouldn't be here without them, so get over yourself.  If you'd like to read a funny little story about an innocent childhood experience, stay with me.)  

I have the worst memory.  I seriously have a terrible memory of all things old and recent. My friends and family tell stories about things and sometimes I'm like "ohhhhh yeah" but would have never remembered that story on my own. And sometimes  I tell them they are crazy, that wasn't me and I wasn't there.  They assure me I was and I have to believe them.  But today these memories I'm about to share popped into my head on a long flight home from New Jersey and I felt the need to document them before they escaped my brain again, so this entire post was written in my notes app on my phone (please forgive typos). 

If you know me or have read one of my previous blogs about how church makes me cry, it may surprise you how churchy I really was growing up. So churchy I went to church camp and went on church ski trips.   Like, a lot.  I must have been in early elementary the first time I went to camp with Valwood Park Baptist Church.  We were members there.  My grandparents and parents had gone there since forever and so we were all in.  Sunday school, vacation bible school, camp, the whole 9.  All in.   I remember we'd go to church every week then go to my dads parents house for lunch and the Cowboys games. Often my dad and grandpa just stayed home because they didn't want to miss kick off. The Cowboys are Jesus' team, so I'm sure He was OK with that. 

My first camp experience was at a place called Mt. Lebanon.    I just googled it and found that it's full name is Mt. Lebanon Baptist Encampment. I find that a very odd name now. But I digress.  It seemed like a planet away from my little Carrollton cocoon.  We drove FOREVER to get there. Except that we didn't.   Google just told me it is in Cedar Hill, which is in the DFW area about an hour from my childhood home. Funny.  Anyways, we bunked in cabins and rotated between daily outdoorsy activities, swimming, bible studies, church services and the like.  Fun fact:  at baptist camp the boys and girls were not allowed to swim at the same time.  And they encouraged us girls to swim with shirts over our suits for modesty even though there were no boys around. My sister went to Falls Creek, the camp for older kids.  It was the dead of summer in Texas and she wasn't allowed to wear shorts.   Later I'll tell you about going to Methodist church camp where we not only had co-ed swimming, but there was a dance on the last night!  

Anyways, at one of the church services that week at baptist church camp I remember them talking about accepting Jesus as your savior and I got really emotional and went to the front when they asked if anyone wanted to be saved.  We held hands and hugged and prayed and cried and I felt like a new person. I mean, I was like 8 or 10 but I felt so new and different and amazing. Looking back, I wonder what that was all really about. I'm not sure my 8 year old self really knew what she was doing. Or if she just got caught up in all that was going on around her. Or was somehow scared NOT to participate.   I don't think I ever even told my parents about that and I never formally got baptized or anything.  Actually, when camp was over life went back to the way it was before.  I went to church because my mom took us. But I wasn't overly religious.  I was only 8 after all.  

Fast forward a few years to when I opted to start going to Holy Covenant United Methodist Church with my best friend Katy Cook.  She had taken me with her a few times and it seemed more my speed.  Not knocking the baptists. But the Methodist church service was a little more lively.  I mean, we didn't dance in the aisles or anything. But it was more upbeat. The pastor was younger.  The members more diverse.  They ended every service with the same short song that ended with the word Shalom and I thought that was so cool that a Jewish word was used so freely.  So very progressive to my 11 year old self. 

So the summer before 6th grade I went to camp with HCUMC at Camp Bridgeport.  This camp was way different than Mt.  Lebanon.   It could be that I was a few years older so we were offered a little more freedom to move about camp on our own but it was less formal.  More interactive.  And we were allowed to talk to boys.  In fact we talked all week about which ones we had crushes on and hoped would ask us to dance at the little celebration on the last night.  They converted the dining hall into a dance hall with decorations - it was all very "Wonder Years".  Fun line dancing, awkward slow dancing and very pre-teen innocent.  

There was one bad thing about this week at camp though.  I started my period and didn't really realize it.  Like no clue what was happening.  I knew about periods.  I'd had "the talk". But it never occurred to me that THAT was what was happening to me.  I'll spare you all the gross details but let me just tell you that I couldn't figure out why I was getting dirty and my underwear kept getting stuff on them and I kept showering. I must have showered 20 times that week at camp.  I told activity leaders I needed to go to the bathroom and would sneak off to the cabin to shower.  I kept it all to myself.  I didn't tell Katy and never asked a counselor for help.  I just shoved my dirty clothes in my bag and showered.  I can't imagine my parents discovery of my laundry and I don't remember ever talking  about it with them.  It was over a year before I had a period again. Thinking it was my first one for the longest time until I put two and two together and realized what was going on that time at camp. 

Sorry if you find this in bad taste. 

Actually, no I'm not.  I think it's so very sad and funny and innocent.   And also awesome that what could and should have been my most embarrassing week ever is remembered more for boy crushes and sunrise sing-a-longs at the cross on the hill.  Bless my little 11 year old heart.