Allow Me to Explain

It was becoming my life’s motto. Allow me to explain why I don’t follow the career I want. Allow me to explain why I can’t afford to travel. Allow me to explain why I can’t go out with you to dinner. Allow me to explain why my shoes have holes and my pantry is empty and my bills are overdue. Sometimes there isn’t really an explanation it’s just a stall tactic to buy me some thinking time before the pity wave washed over me like warm piss. Often times, no one is judging me at all. In my mind, though, I read things that don’t exist. Every mouth twitch, every time someone looks away. I read into it what I secretly fear.

In truth, I shouldn’t have to explain any part of my life to anyone, including myself. I shouldn’t need to defend that I work sometimes 60 hours a week and still can’t pay my bills. I shouldn’t have to explain that while my life is not what I expected it doesn’t mean it’s not fulfilling. I don’t make a career with writing, like I always dreamed I would. I can’t afford the high quality products I want and in some cases need for health reasons. I work two jobs that are not fulfilling. My body is not physically where I’d like to see it. My diet is on occasion an oral exam on chemical warfare. My husband and I will probably not be able to have children. My home is in an almost constant state of half-done chores. There’s always dishes in the sink, piles of laundry, dirty carpeting, cobwebs, pet hair tumbleweeds, a ring around the tub. I mean really, I can continue.

At the end of the day, I’m still happy. Despite my bitching, my “first world problems,” my  menial complaints. I’m happy because I suck breath in and out. I have a loving husband. I have my ridiculous pets. I have my exercise keeping me sane. I have a house to go home to. I have friends who check in on me. I have a car almost fully paid off. I have a family.

If you are living the life you’ve always wanted, congratulations not everyone works hard enough to do so. I know I didn’t. I am scared of risks. I am scared of no safety nets. I am terrified of life a bit I suppose. I’m a person with an irrational fear of birds and doorknobs. I’m a person who builds ants to monsters in her mind. I’m a mad scientist with fears. Yes, I could abandon my ship and work hard to live the life I think I’m destined. Life is what you make of it. I’m happy where I am. I will always strive to be better. I will perpetually make excuses that never need to be uttered. Perhaps someday I will look at my successful, smart friends without envy but as equals. People work hard for their lives. They do all they can for what they have etched out in hard work, risks, dreams and love.

Let me explain why I’m okay. Let me explain why I love to laugh. Let me explain how much I love the sun. Let me explain why I’m great.

HER Life

It was when her perceived world shifted that she began to understand. Life was not about money or love or her dogs. Life was about breathing and putting her feet in front of her. Recognizing that they are her feet and they’re weird and unique and hers. Worlds shift and crumble and shake and fall apart. Worlds are formed and melted in a day. They’re fluid. She was fluid. She had to be willing to feel the tides, taste the wind, see the obstacles and smell the decay. Everything was temporary except for her will, which carried her out the door.

She dragged her feet. She dreaded her steps. Slow but willing her feet met the ground one step at a time. Her life was not what she wanted but it was the life she made. No one had a life exactly like hers. In many people’s eyes, she was a failure. She knew this. It was an accepted fact.  Living with the fact didn’t make it any easier but she continued down the path she made. Her low pay, working several jobs and still not making ends meet. People saw her degrees, her hard work, as trash. That’s okay. She used it as temporary fuel. Burned her papers to keep her warm for the hour, for that one job interview, for that one moment. People suggested changes, other career paths. They suggested she read books and follow what their sister’s daughter’s cousin did who now makes such a substantial amount of money more than her. She smiled, said “Thank You.” Moved on, moved away. Maybe her life isn’t measured in dollars and cents. Maybe it’s not measured in children or careers. It’s not measured in coffee spoons and sawdust restaurant with oyster shells.

Her life is measured in cooking meals, not elaborate meals, not fancy meals but meals made with her heart for people who appreciate it. Her life is measured in hikes and long walks with her dogs and kindred spirits. Measured in laughs and smiles and singing.  Measured in conversations and debates. It’s measure in kisses and hugs and feelings and ideas and expressions. Her life is her own. Her world is being torn down and rebuilt daily.  She takes the pieces of her world and tries to reconfigure them. Daily. To see if there is another way. Out.

A Day

I feel it is okay to have a day. Whether it’s a day to yourself or to be sad, happy, to reconnect with nature, to eat a pint of ice cream, to sleep, to drink till you forget, the list continues. It’s okay to have a day. Don’t beat yourself up. Don’t regret your day; don’t be upset that you had it.

I am many things – Awesome, fragile, loving, supportive, petty, funny, smart, stupid, beautiful, etc., etc. I’m not one thing. I am a writer simply because it’s in my heart. Do I get published or even write much anymore, nope. Would I like to, yep but I’m not going to be upset with myself because of my time restrictions or lack of motivation. I can’t be mad at me all the time. Recently it’s been drawn to my attention that I am apparently a photographer too, though I am very, very hesitant to say that. I know many photographers and I by no means can compete with them but I am selling prints of my scenery so I guess I have to accept that I am what I am and that’s all that I am. I am a hula dancer. This I can say confidently. I’ve dance with 3 halaus and 1 group spanning 14 years. I am not a kumu, I would like to be someday, though. I’m just a little brown girl in a little grass skirt in love with my culture, my heritage and the graceful beauty that is hula dancing. I am a runner. No explanation needed, I hope. It took many people to make me realize what I am, what I have the potential to be and what I need to appreciate about myself.

My day today is a pitiful one. My husband and I just moved to California from Washington leaving behind, for me friendships that I cannot replace. Today he leaves for a 2-day trip. I’m alone with my dog in a house full of boxes. I miss my friends, my Washington sunrises, my husband and my crafts. There is the crushing weight of defeat pressing down on me today. This move was stressful our stuff got thrashed in the move, our financial situation is nonexistent, my job got reformed and I was fearing I’d lose it, there was a lot that went into this move. To top it off the move made running sort of null and void for a while and I find myself starting from scratch. Slowly building up my endurance again. My wrist and left hip are both damaged. Hula dancing is on the back burner as is photography. Writing has been on the back burner since 2006.

I feel off track, disassembled, lost. I’m allowing these feelings. I’m letting them happen. I’m letting them wash over me. I’m allowing all the fear, guilt, sadness and pain soak in through my skin. I’m giving myself this day because I know tomorrow is a new day. One where if I need to I will list the benefits of this move. Life is interesting it pulls a lot of magic tricks, a lot of suspense, a lot of pit falls. Give yourself a day to appreciate what you are truly feeling. Let it be one day, then wash that day right out of your hair and send it down the drain.

Something I wrote (somewhat) recently:

Other People

One of my favorite Photos I've ever taken:

Change in the Winds

Change is necessary in life. It’s good. It’s bad. It has its moments. It can tear you apart or put you back together. I am not afraid of change. I embrace it. The Good, The Bad, The Ugly it adds to my character and develops me as a person.

   

Last night my husband told me he accepted a job offer. It’s for a company that the more he gets to know the more he smiles when he talks about them. My husband has hated his job for 9 years; I want him to know what it feels like to be with a company you can stand behind. To be proud of your work, to look forward to the mornings. I wanted him to be happy.

To work for this company means leaving my beloved Pacific Northwest and heading below the mist into the golden state. At first I was devastated I’ve made Washington my home in many, many ways. Then I realized we are what we make of our surroundings and our actions. California is where the job is. It doesn’t mean we have to stay there forever and it doesn’t mean we had a choice in the matter. We would have loved to stay in Seattle or Portland but we go and do what we can and what is best for us as a couple. My husband is a great man and I will always stand behind him, just as when I need it, he will stand behind me. A move is not the end or a beginning. It's just change. This move will be our first as a married couple.

This morning I went for a run. It was dark, even with my head lamp. It was chilly, even with my layers. There was no wind and no sounds. I began running and let my mind flood with emotions and thoughts and worries and everything else. Those four miles became 40+ minutes of pure mental flow. At one point I looked up at the sky. The clouds had parted and there was nothing but stars above me and my feet pounding below me. My layers melted away as my body warmed up. I ran and I ran until the sky lightened, my brain was happy and  my view on the move shifted.

Panting, I was stretching out next to my car when I noticed not only my breath steamed and dissipated in the cold but my whole body steamed, radiated and flowed out into the universe. It was as though my soul was exhaling. I smiled.