Seattle looking lovely

Remember me? Despite my lack of posting, I am still here. My West Coast trip to see family and friends was wonderful (see brief report below) and it’s fall, my favorite time of year—despite Florida’s marked lack of crisp weather and colorful leaves. It has been a t-i-n-y bit less steamy, and at the very least, we’re drawing ever closer to cool weather. I’ve been leaning hard into mending and tending, continuing to take care of myself (yearly physical and labs) and chip away at a few areas in the house that still need solutions (home office/guest room). The past month has been just what I needed. 

Closure and connection

In August, I flew to California to visit my stepmom, see my mom’s twin sister, and make a pilgrimage to my mom’s grave. After that, I flew to Seattle to visit my friend Kerri. In my mind, I started calling it the “closure and connection” tour.

I revisited my mom’s house (just a drive by since the property no longer belongs to our family), a favorite used bookstore in Redding, and the McConnell Botanical Gardens, also in Redding, a place where I found much comfort during my mom’s last illness. I feel it’s unlikely that I’ll be traveling that far north in California again.  

My aunt is now 88 years old and is in an assisted living facility. My cousin met me there and we all went to lunch together. I loved catching up with my aunt, and since she’s my mom’s twin, it was almost like being with her, too.

My stepmom is facing her own challenges, though thankfully they are not life-threatening ones. We talked almost non-stop, ate lots of good food, and made plans for future visits.

Next, I flew to Seattle to stay with my friend Kerri. As usual, we explored lots of fun places and (of course) talked a lot.

Here are a few photos from the trip:

Mom's final resting place

At McConnell Gardens

Flowers on a random neighborhood walk in Washington

Dambo Troll "Pia the Peacekeeper" (Bainbridge Island)

Pondering the future

While the trip was emotionally intense, it was also healing and comforting. There have been losses, but love, friendship, and beauty remain. I loved strengthening connections with my stepmom, aunt, and friend—it’s hard being so far from them, and I absolutely want to do better at staying in touch.

Now that I’m home and settled again, I’m thinking about the future and focus of Catching Happiness. So much has changed since I started this blog in 2009. Does Catching Happiness still serve a purpose, both for me and for you, the reader? I can’t imagine a life without some form of writing in it, but I’m unsure of the details. (Share your thoughts if you feel so inclined, either in comments or by hitting reply if you got this post via email.)

What have you been up to for the past month?!

Photo by Ako Tampo on Unsplash

I love Morgan Harper Nichol’s work, and I came across this this week and thought I’d share. August is usually a tough month for me, so these reminders are helpful. 

Let August

be August

by allowing

yourself to trust:

you do not have to be

so hard on yourself

if you cannot make sense

of all that is changing.

In the coming days,

you will find mystery,

and you will also

find room to breathe

and you might just find

even in these unknowns:

you are more prepared

than you think.

You are free to take the time you need to feel what you need to feel… including the good feelings.

Don’t let them rush you. You are traveling at the pace you were meant to.

You are still free to pursue peace right here in the in-betweens.

Whatever happens this month, be gentle with yourself.

Even here, there is still space for us to rise above the fear... propelled into motion by love.

There is more to come.

More love.

More joy.

More grace.

More peace.

Let this be the August

you look back on and say:

“somehow, through it all,

I learned to fall in love

with the journey.”

— Morgan Harper Nichols 

 

Photo by Ann Fossa on Unsplash

Despite years of fighting against it, I can’t seem to break the habit of being in a hurry. Wash the dishes and tidy the kitchen—hurry! Have a bunch of errands to do? Calculate the most efficient way to accomplish them all and drive faster than the speed limit to do so. Have your life upended by the deaths of important people (and animals), move, renovate a house, say goodbye to your last paying writing client, and survive a major hurricane—hurry up and recover from all that grief, stress, and change.

I’ve written several times about how the events of the past few years have challenged and broken me, and also about how I’m beginning to heal. I apologize if you’re sick of these topics. I’m a little sick of them myself, but they continue to be in the forefront of my mind and I continue to learn that you just can’t hurry things like grief, healing, and growth.

Healing staggers forward, swerves sideways, collapses on itself. One day I can be putting clean laundry away and think, “Hey, I feel pretty energetic today!” The next, a handful of errands leaves me exhausted and wanting a nap. I need to stop declaring the process done, even to myself.

My old life truly has been broken into pieces and a new one is slowly taking shape out of the rubble. I very much identify with Janice MacLeod’s words: “A lot of life was breaking down. I’m still in the crumble of some of it. I call that stage What am I gonna do what am I gonna do what am I gonna dooooo….” 

I feel you, Janice. I still don’t know what I’m “gonna dooooo” with the rest of my life.

I do know that I’m not going to rush it. I’m looking for clues in things that spark my curiosity, activities that bring delight, and routines that produce deep satisfaction. I question “the way I’ve always done it,” and open my mind and heart to alternatives. I’m very grateful for the privilege of time to sort all this out. This time of transition is taking longer than I expected.

And while you can’t—shouldn’t—hurry growth and healing, I’ve learned a few ways you can support it. If you are also recovering from a hard time, please be gentle with yourself. Don’t berate yourself for not being “over it.” Spend a lot of time listening to your inner voice. At my saddest, I drowned out internal whispers with music, comfort TV, podcasts, audiobooks—anything to distract myself from the spiraling pain and longing which filled my thoughts. As I’ve felt stronger, I’ve begun to welcome quiet times of reflection and listening, often with journal in hand.

For me, resting has been crucial: going to bed early, taking naps when necessary. Carefully guarding energy levels, because when I’m exhausted, my thoughts take a darker turn.

Of course, reading books that touch on grief, healing, and navigating hard times has been helpful, as well as sharing thoughts (and many quotes and memes) with a trusted friend going through many of the same experiences. Reminders that I’m not alone.

I’m not declaring the growth and healing process done—I know better than that now. I expect bad days will continue as new grief milestones appear. I’m not rushing into any major changes, and I am allowing a slower pace of daily life while still fulfilling responsibilities to running my household and supporting my husband who has done so much to support me.

Now and again I dip into the Catching Happiness archives to share a summer rerun. I hope you enjoy this one, written in 2021 following the the worst of the Covid pandemic. It feels timely to me because I feel like I’m entering a period of expanding, as I was beginning to do here.

For so many months I’ve felt confined to a narrow range of activities. For much of the past year, my world shrank to the few miles between my home, the grocery store, and the barn. And even though that radius has expanded to include the library, my hairdresser and a favorite coffee shop, I still feel my world has narrowed. And I know many people have left their homes even less than I have.

The Year That Must Not Be Named was a year of contracting for most of us. As the pandemic ravaged the world, most of us stayed close to home, limited our activities, and put plans on hold. My thinking undoubtedly became smaller as my day-to-day world shrank. Uncertainty, confusion, and limitations characterized 2020. And while the circumstances were undoubtedly unpleasant, if our reaction was to contract, that was entirely appropriate. In fact, the slower pace of life for many during the pandemic proved beneficial. As Amy Ward Brimmer wrote in “Expanding and Contracting,” “Contraction is an opportunity for mindfulness.”

If we allow it to, that mindfulness can guide us as we start expanding—allowing our thoughts and actions to widen again.

A natural cycle

The process of expanding and contracting is one of life’s natural cycles. Each condition is neither all good nor all bad; each practice serves a purpose. Just as breathing includes both inhalation and exhalation, so we also need times of contraction and expansion. As nature has times of expansion and growth, so it has seasons of loss and letting go.

Here are some examples of expanding and contracting:

Ways we expand:

• Be open hearted—listen, help, love, give, to the best of our abilities
• Plan future events and adventures
• Learn something new, or deepen our understanding
• Train our bodies for a physical contest, like a 5K or a charity walk; start an exercise program; or bump up one we already have
• Try to understand another person’s point of view

 Ways we contract:

• Seek safety and comfort in the familiar
• Take care of ourselves when we’re sick or injured
• Withdraw to conserve energy, or think something over
• Rest

Expanding pushes us outside our comfort zones. It can feel exciting—or it can feel scary as we reach beyond our previous limits. Contracting is a natural reaction to danger, threat, and even exhaustion. If we overextend ourselves while expanding, we may need to contract for a while to recover. (While working on this post, I realized that even my word of the year acronym—DARE: Dream, Act, Recharge, Evaluate—contains the concepts of both expansion and contraction.) 

We can also stay in a contracted state too long, fall into using false comforts or overuse real ones, thus stunting our own growth. We can make our world too small. This is where I am right now. I need to begin expanding again, finding inspiration, “filling the well.” I believe I can do this safely and responsibly, but I’m struggling. I shrink back from the very things that will inspire creativity and bring me happiness.

I’m still searching for the flow between expanding and contracting, as I imagine many of you are also. What feels right and safe and appropriate?

Let’s start simply: Take a big breath. Sit up straight. Smile. Now think of one little thing we could do to make our world bigger and brighter. Then do it! And let’s come back and share our experiences in the comments below.

As we begin to move back into more normal life, how can we expand thoughtfully while still being mindful of the benefits and need for contracting?