Vacation Blues

June 21, 2017June 20, 2017 confidentwriter1 Comment

I’ve got the back-from-vacation blues.

Even after being home for a week, all I want to do is go back to the beach.

Life is great at the beach. No responsibilities. Very little clothing. Quiet waves rolling in and out. Throw in a cocktail and good book, and it’s just about perfect. Why would anyone want to leave?

But the resistance to returning to my real life feels as if it’s rooted deeper than the vacation itself. Truth be told, I didn’t want to come back from our trip to Europe a few months ago.

Sure, I miss my bed. But if I had Oprah’s money and could take my bed along, there would be nothing pulling me back to Georgia.

I don’t have anything against Georgia. Living here has taught me to appreciate nature in ways I never imagined. Now I seek out nature the same way I look for cute boutiques. And while I still get my shopping in, I feel an unexplainable thrill when I experience the beauty of creation. I thank Georgia’s numerous trees, rolling hills, and waterfalls for that.

So, what is it about this place that makes me not want to come back? Is it the place? Or could it be what the place represents?

I used to think it was our house. The first time I saw it, I cried. Though it looked similar to the house we left in Naperville, it didn’t feel like home. But the timing and location worked, so we bought it. For many years, it served us well as our three children, friends and family floated in and out. There were lots of parties, laughing and deep conversations after dinner at the kitchen table. It started to feel like home. But then we lost Matt. And what was a huge active family home now feels empty even when it’s full of people. It’s a huge reminder of the past. And though my husband and I have decided to sell it after our daughter graduates from college, I doubt a new house is going to fix my resistance to resuming my real life after vacation.

The thing about vacation is we get a break from reality. Also, we can change how we see ourselves. At the beach, I am laidback and calm. Traveling around Europe, I was adventurous and cosmopolitan. It’s a bit like playing dress up. You get to try on different ways of being. But what happens when you don’t want to return to the real you?

That’s exactly where I am. I don’t want to wear the-Kim-who-lives-in-Georgia anymore, and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with my house or the town I live in.

Is this a fresh face of grief?

At home, I come face to face with my disappointments, failings and let’s face it –mourning. On vacation, I don’t have to think about my life. I don’t spend so much time alone, trying to make the best of my sorrow and loss. I’m not reminded of all that was.

No wonder I’d rather be on vacation.

The beach feels hopeful. Europe feels carefree. But the truth is I don’t need another trip. I need to figure out how to make my life work as it is here.

So, how do I do that?

Perhaps the first place to start is by getting out of my comfort zone. Too often we do the things the way we’ve always done them and wonder why we feel uninspired.

What would happen if I approached my time at home with same sense of adventure I have when I’m vacationing. What if I tried new places? Or took a cool class? Explored a new side of town?

Another key to being content where I am is accepting who I am. And if I don’t like who that is, I have to be willing to change it. We are never too old to be the person we’ve always longed to be.

We may not be able to change the reality of our life, but we can change how we experience it.

How are you, really?

March 21, 2017 confidentwriter3 Comments

How are you?

No, really.

How. Are. You?

Not a simple question to answer, especially when it is asked in passing as a pleasantry rather than a real inquiry.

Generally, our response ranges from good to well, demanding on where we reside on the grammar scale – by the way, Grammar Girl states it’s okay to say good. Anyway, neither good nor well adequately describes the ebb and flow of our lives.

At any given time, we have a million and one things affecting how we feel. We worry. We’re anxious. We’re lonely. We’re unsure. We’re sad. And yet we keep all of it hidden. We settle for polite conversation rather than fulfilling our need for connection and understanding.

This really hit me hard Sunday afternoon at church as I stood at the door of the auditorium greeting people. So many faces showed signs of preoccupation, worry and stress. But when I asked how are you, everyone answered either I’m good or even worse, I’m fine. Perhaps this really struck me because I was just as guilty. If I were being honest, I would have said I’m struggling with being here today. Not only didn’t I feel very well, I was battling a wave of sadness. I felt as if I didn’t matter. I couldn’t help but wonder how many other people walking through the doors of the church felt the same way I did.

The church is supposed to be a place of comfort and grace, but we allow pleasantry to take the place of compassion or even love. We keep our deepest needs buried beneath a thinly veiled smile. That’s crazy!

Of course, I know it isn’t practical for everyone to stop and tell the greeter their problems. Nor should the greeter kill the vibe by sharing her woes. But where does pleasantry end and realness begin?

The problem may be we spend too much time worrying about appearances. We don’t want people to think poorly of us or to know we don’t have it all together, which creates a breeding ground for depression. Loneliness and despair often lead to a belief that we don’t matter, or worse that the world would be better off without us. And this feeling is only intensified when we think we are the only person who isn’t okay.

I’m particularly sensitive to this because of my loss, but that doesn’t alleviate the fact that too many people suffer in silence. And for some of them, like my son, it’s a matter of life and death.

We have got to move beyond the pleasantry of I’m fine, particularly with the people we are closest to. Ask deeper questions and be willing to listen. Share your own experiences with the ebb and flow of life.

A lot of this was swirling through my head as I stood at the door, and it all came to a head when one of the team leaders stopped to check how things were going. She asked me how I was doing. Rather than giving her a pat answer, I told her the truth. And to my surprise, she told me she wasn’t okay either. Her grandfather had died the week before and she was struggling with sadness and grief. Though brief, our honest conversation became an opportunity for us to comfort one another. And when she walked away, I truly felt better.

Maybe we can’t dive into every I’m good, but we can make a special effort with the people who we’re in relationship with, whether professional or personal. Ask follow-up questions. Or better yet, ask deeper questions which require real conversation. It may take more time, but it could make the difference between life and death.

December Writing Challenge · Grieving

Trusting God

December 29, 2015 confidentwriterLeave a comment

I’m struggling today to come up with a topic to write about. I thought I’d go back to procrastinating but that doesn’t really interest me. My thoughts are split between planning for the New Year and reflecting on this year.

It’s been a tough year. That goes without saying.

Experiencing all the painful “first” while still trying to live my life to the fullest has taught me a lot about myself. The most valuable lesson being that I am a lot stronger than I thought I was. That strength comes from trusting the Lord and His Sovereignty. It hasn’t been easy to trust that God is good in the face of such a loss. I questioned why a lot. I also resented that He didn’t intervene so that things would have been different. But as I look back over the course of this year, I see all the times that He did intervene. His greatest gift to me has been the people He has placed in my life.

There’s the staff at Whole Foods whose hugs and kind words have helped me through several difficult afternoons. Then there’s the friends who not only remember the hard days like anniversaries and birthdays, but don’t hesitate to call or text to say I’m thinking about you just when I need it. And most miraculously are the random women I have met who have also lost children, especially the woman I met in the shoe department.

It had been a particularly difficult day. I went to the mall in hopes of maybe raising my spirits some. While looking at shoes, I noticed the tattoo on her arm because it was in the same spot as mine. I asked about it and she shared it was for her sweet daughter who had died three years ago in a horrible car accident. I pulled up my sleeve to show her my tattoo and told her about Matt. We hugged each other and cried. As she pulled away she remind me that God is with me. Those words were so powerful coming from someone who intimately understood my pain. We exchanged numbers and each went on our way. Meeting her was definitely Divine Intervention because I felt remarkably better after our interaction.

Those are only a few instances of how God has cared for me through my journey so far. Through it all I have learned that trusting God isn’t about an assurance that things well go our way. It’s about knowing that even in the worse storm of your life you can count on Him to take care of us. We can count on Him to provide what we need and strengthen us. And even when we are all alone He will still be there to comfort us. Knowing that has given me all I needed to stand strong this year.

As I think about the coming year, I feel more and more compelled to leverage my life in such a way that I can use my experience to encourage others. I’m not sure exactly what that looks like. I’m sure that it will be more clear in the coming days.

Until next time. . .

December Writing Challenge · Grieving

The Sunday before Christmas

December 20, 2015 confidentwriter1 Comment

The cardinal was the first this morning, followed by a woodpecker and then a blue bird. Each pecks at the feeder a few times and flies away. But the cardinal stayed the longest. He didn’t exactly look at me, but he turned toward the window.

Some believe that cardinals carry spiritual messages from precious love ones who have passed on. Maybe that’s why I wanted the bird to come closer, to stay longer.

Today is the Sunday before Christmas, the day of our tradition Christmas brunch. A day when both of my sons would happily dress in their nicest clothes without any prompting. We’d go to an early service at church and then head directly to the nicest champagne brunch I could find. The tradition started a month after my daughter was born. That Sunday also happened to be Christmas Eve. One of the nicer restaurants near our house had a bunch with Santa. We generally avoided nice restaurants back then, but I thought the boys would enjoy seeing Santa. Before we ate, I took a picture of the boys holding their new sister by the Christmas tree. The whole experience was such a success that my husband and I decided we would do it again the next year.

Over the years we went to a variety of restaurants, but The Club House in Oak Brook, Illinois was our favorite. Everyone was always in a great mood as we climbed the grand staircase to our table. Each of us had a method for attacking the all-you-can-eat buffet. The boys would go deep, fast with piles of bacon, French toast and pastries. I’d start with the salad, peel and eat shrimp and salmon. The feeding frenzy would go on for a while amid lively conversation. My husband and I drank champagne, the kids hot chocolate with whipped cream. At the end of the brunch we would joke about our family being the reason restaurants stopped having all-you-can-eat buffets.

Two years ago, we went to Ray’s on the River in Atlanta. I hadn’t made a reservation, so we had to wait for a table. We weren’t in the greatest mood, though I don’t remember way. But once we sat down and started to eat, things were as they had always been. The champagne flowed liberally. The boys, who were also able to drink, gladly turned the keys over to their sister, who was not. As we were winding down, I noted that it was the nineteenth anniversary of our brunch tradition. I took out my phone and snapped a few pictures of my three kids together, as I did that first brunch.

I look at that picture every day. It’s the screen saver on my phone.

Last year it was too painful to even think about going to brunch. In fact, we collectively decided that we wouldn’t do brunch anymore. That was definitely the right decision for the place we were in our grief. But much like the music a few weeks again, I’ve felt Matt urging us back to the things we loved as a family. We have all felt it. We decided to go back to our tradition next Sunday on what would have been his twenty-seventh birthday.

The cardinal came back. He didn’t look at me or even come on my side of the feeder. I don’t know if it’s just a coincidence or if it’s a sign. Lots of other birds have been in and around the feeder this morning. But seeing that cardinal gives me a sense of peace this morning and that’s all that matters.

December Writing Challenge · Inspirational Musing

How do you define fun?

December 19, 2015 confidentwriterLeave a comment

I don’t feel like writing today. I also don’t feel like Christmas shopping, or wrapping the few gifts I bought yesterday, or going to the grocery store, or cleaning the kitchen, or thinking about what to cook for dinner tonight, or picking up the books and papers from around my office, or reading submissions, or answering emails. I feel a bit like Jack Nicholson in The Shining, all work and no play makes Kim a dull girl.

I need a free day to just have fun. Although, I sometimes struggle with the concept of having fun. Does it have to be playful? Or adventurous? Or a special event? Does it involve laughter and other people? Or can it be quiet and relaxing? I really enjoyed the Star Wars last night, but would I describe that as having fun?

I loved the throw-back aspect of the story and the way they worked the original characters into the story. It felt much like putting on an old comfortable pair of slippers. So I suppose that was definitely fun. But I was troubled by my son’s reaction to the movie. He was disappointed that there wasn’t anything spectacular or different about the way they approached the story. He clearly wouldn’t have described the whole experience as fun. In fact, he likened his feelings about the movie to the way he feels when Michigan State loses a football game. But I don’t think it had anything to do with the movie itself. It probably was one of those unexpected consequences of grief.

Matt was by far the biggest movie buff in our family. His knowledge of movies and directors was nothing short of amazing. A few days ago we were having a discussion about Al Pacino, and I asked what did he get an Oscar for. We looked it up on Google. Matt would have been able to tell us not only the movie, but the director and if that director had won for any other movies^**. The was always a big build up for blockbusters like Star Wars, and after the movie he would give a post-movie commentary.

I noticed his absence, too. I always do. Last night when they ran the previews of the next X-men movie, I remembered the way he talked me through the last X-men movie. Memories like that make me smile. And as we left the movie theater, I wondered what he would have thought about the movie.

The more I think about it, I did have fun last night.

Fun doesn’t have to have a ton of excitement and special effects. If you come away from the activity feeling a sense of satisfaction and enjoyment, then it was fun. Truth is every time I finish one of these blogs I come away with a huge sense satisfaction. So maybe writing is fun, too. It’s all in the way you think about it. Of course, cleaning the kitchen or grocery shopping may require a lot more thought.

Until next time. . .

** Al Pacino won best actor in 1993 for Scent of a Woman. The director was Martin Brest, who also directed Meet Joe Black (1998) and Beverly Hills Cop (1984).

Books

Best Book I’ve Read This Year

December 13, 2015 confidentwriterLeave a comment

The Bookends column in Sunday’s New York Times Book Review asked sixteen authors what was the best book, new or old, he or she read this year. Only two of the books listed stood out to me.

The first one was Outline by Rachel Cusk. It’s about a woman writer who goes to Athens in the summer to teach a creative writing class. Not only do I love reading stories about writers, I also enjoy reading about places I’m either familiar with or curious about it. Although its only an hour and half away from where I live, I’ve never been to Athens. I think it would be cool to read the book and then spend the day in Athens. But the last line of Siddhartha Deb’s explanation for why he loved the book hooked me. He wrote, “The last word in this amazing novel is “solitude.” Who wouldn’t want to read a book that is described that way?

The second book is Fierce Attachments by Vivian Gornick. It’s about the complicated relationship between mothers and daughters. I wrote about this issue in my still-not-revised first novel. I thought it might provide much-needed insight into the subject. And as an added bonus, it might be just the motivation I need to revise my novel.

Reading the article made me look back over the books I read this year in order to determine which one was the best. The Alchemist wins hands down. The last twenty or so pages in my book are filled with asterisk, underlines and comments. The passages spoke directly to my heart, which only seems fitting since the book was really about following your heart in pursuit of your dreams. I had planned to go back to those notes and write about them once I finished book. But you know how that is.

In the margin of one page, I wrote a question: what is my heart saying? I wasn’t able to answer the question. My heart just ached from losing Matt. Fortunately, I see a wonderful acupuncturist, who recommended that I rub rose oil over my heart every morning. She said it would help to lift some of the heaviness I was carrying just after the one year anniversary of Matt’s death. Throughout history, rose oil has been used to relieve symptoms of depression. Now, every morning after I get out of the shower, I rub rose oil over my heart. That simple act has helped me become better at listening to my heart.

All that from a novel. It truly was the best book I’ve read this year.

Inspirational Musing

Finding Joy in the Season

December 9, 2015December 9, 2015 confidentwriter4 Comments

Last year we didn’t put up any Christmas decorations. The general mood of the season was too much for me. The music too cheery. The lights too bright. The shopping too busy. And though I participated in a few Christmas activities, the spirit never hit me. Only a heightened sense of sadness. How could my family ever be normal again? The feeling of holiday joy seemed to die along with my son.

The season wasn’t a complete loss. The pastor of our church had just written an Advent book had a scripture verse and devotional each day through Christmas day. Reading it every day helped to connect me to the real reason for the season, though I still was extremely relieved when it was all over.

To be honest, I assumed what I experienced last year would be how I felt for the rest of my life. But few months after Christmas my daughter shared how sad it made her that we didn’t decorate the house for Christmas. I completely understood that it was a preemptive message.

Fortunately,that conversation happened early enough in the year that I didn’t have to think about it. But the closer it got to December, the more I started to worry about things like Christmas stockings. Our original stockings were thin red felt with our names written in a glitter pen. When I bought them twenty something years ago, I wasn’t thinking long-term. The boys were toddlers, and I figured we’d get nicer ones at some point down the line. When my daughter was born, I bought her one that looked similar to the ones we already had. Family joked for years that hers was bigger than everyone else’s. I intended to buy new velvet stockings with our name embroidered on them, but never got around to it. Now I could never buy new stockings.

Then I worried about Christmas morning. Last year, we decided to go on a cruise at the last-minute so that we wouldn’t have to face Christmas at home without him. But there were no plans for a cruise this year. How would we get through the day?

I began to look at HomeAway and other vacation rental sites to find somewhere to go close to home. The challenge was finding a location that had activities on Christmas day. Hanging out in a strange place with nothing to do wasn’t going to make the day any easier than sitting at home.

I even tried to find something near Disney World. The kids would be able to hang out at the parks or Downtown Disney if they wanted to. But I couldn’t find anything that worked for us.

We seemed destine to spend Christmas at home. There was no way I getting out of decorating. The thought of decorating was easier to accept once I decided to tune down what my younger son coined “the Christmas bomb”. We’d have a simple tree and that would be it.

But as fate would have it, that was not to be. A problem with the venue moved my husband’s company holiday party to our house. The plan quickly went from simple to full Christmas tilt.

I thought I could handle it all until we started to put up the first tree. The smell of eggnog and festive music in the background was too reminiscent of previous years. I could almost see Matt sitting on the sofa ribbing his brother as they drank bourbon spiked eggnog. Not a surprise that I found myself in tears. The next few days were really hard.

But even with the sadness I’ve felt the last few days, a thought keeps coming to mind. Matt loved Christmas. Even as an adult, he would be eager to get the decorations up.He never complained about helping. It almost felt as if he was encouraging me to not loss the joy of the season.

At a recent holiday event, the second verse “O, Come, All Ye Faithful” rang louder than ever before:

Sing, choirs of angels,

Sing in exultation;

Sing, all ye citizens of heav’n above!

Glory to God,

Glory in the highest;

DSC_0269_1344 Matt is a citizen of heaven. The thought of him celebrating Christmas with the Lord made me smile. And in that moment singing with 4,ooo other women, I felt the Christmas spirit.

It’s only the ninth of December. I still have a lot to get through, not the least of which is his birthday. But I’m feeling hopeful that joy of the season won’t pass me by.