Safety and Love

I was 14 years old walking to meet my ride to school.   A sunny spring day and I was wearing a sweet baby blue dress with puffy short sleeves that my grandmother had designed and made for me. And on my feet, white Dr. Scholl Sandals, the wood bottomed slip on shoes that clacked when I walked.  I weighed all of 95 pounds and didn't even wear makeup.  It was 1971 and I cannot get the clarity of that day out of my head even now.  

Because there was no bus service to my parents home 3 miles from school, I walked a mile and a half to my friend's home to catch a ride, her brothers and sisters had a car to drive them all to school and there was a spot for me if I made it to their house by the time they left for school.  The first part of my walk was a half mile  that was more like a road through a tunnel of trees than a regular street. Then there were scattered houses and twisty climbing streets until I reached my friend's home. 

On that day as I entered the tunnel of trees part of the walk, there was a pale blue VW bug parked on the side of the road. I walked about 200 yards into the tunnel clacking my new  white Dr. Scholls on the road.  Then there were footsteps behind me, that was unusual I remember thinking. But being a shy small 14 year old, I kept walking.  Until the footsteps caught up to me and I heard a man's voice say "Do you have a match?"  I turned around to answer...the man had his pants down and was exposing himself to me. I turned to run and just like in every bad dream, it felt like my feet were in cement. I must have somehow managed to take some running steps because I can still feel how hard it was to run in those pretty white wood bottom sandals of mine.  I heard him start to run after me, and I ran as fast as I could manage although it felt like I wasn't moving fast at all.   Then his footsteps sounded farther away as for some reason he stopped chasing me and  ran the other way. 

I burst through the darkness of the tunnel of trees to where the scattered houses were.  He was gone.   I now know I was falling into some kind of shock mode and I stood by the driveway of a house shaking for what felt like hours.  And then because I didn't know what else to do. I finished my walk to my friend's home.  I got in the car like always and rode to school feeling like I was going to throw up.  I didn't say anything, I didn't know what to say and I hadn't fully processed it all.

When I got to school, I went to a couple of classes and then the tears began. I found my way to a pay phone and called my mom. Who called the police. And they came to school.  The police called me out of my class and walked me to the office in front of everyone.  Then they interviewed me. It was awkward and horribly embarrassing.  And not once did anyone offer any degree of comfort or anything I could grab onto as concern.  The police left me at school still reeling and on the verge of falling apart. I believe I confided in a couple of close friends but the rumors had already started swirling as the entire school saw two officers walk me through the campus.  I may have shared the details with people who weren't close friends but I was being asked over and over why the police had been with me.   And then older boys started looking at me in the hallway and I was asked over and over again "Do you have a match?" I suppose they thought it was funny. I supposed the Juniors and Seniors who asked me out on dates thought I was the kind of girl who had asked for this to happen.  I don't know. I had never even been kissed. I was beyond naïve and they wanted to take me out.....

I got a ride from my parents the next day to school, but the day after that I walked the tunnel of trees and every other day until my friend told her mom what had happened and that mom had her kids drive towards my house and they picked me up at the entrance to the tunnel of trees road.  Nobody really spoke of it afterward. Nobody including me. It wasn't how it was done back then. I felt unsafe and afraid every single day.  Nobody asked if I was okay, nobody told me I was safe or that it wasn't my fault.  I never wore that baby blue dress again and I certainly didn't wear  Dr. Scholls sandals.  Because you can't run in them.

I was terrorized and  afraid for my life because a man thought a 14 year old was someone to assault and  victimize on a dark deserted road when she walked to school.  I had pushed this memory down where it was hidden in the deepness and although it surfaced once in a while, I worked hard  to leave it hidden. I hadn't thought much about it lately until I started to run into words being thrown around lately about men who can take what they want from women.  My memory and how it felt to be at the mercy of a stranger who inflicted so much damage with his actions came shooting to the top of my consciousness. The minimizing of this kind of thinking and talking and behavior has shaken my sense of safety and calm.  Men joking about locker room talk or people saying that those who speak this way are just joking. It doesn't feel like joking, it feels like some people's true thoughts showing up.  It doesn't feel okay. It makes my stomach hurt to be honest.  

I am sharing my story now because I am compelled to speak out for anyone who feels minimized and afraid.  Silence isn't how we heal, silence isn't how we stand for what is good.  Pushing down a memory of assault and fear isn't how we go forward for it will always come back to be talked about and dealt with.  I believe it's time for us to stand for what we believe in, that we should gather strength to stand for what matters. Hold ourselves and others to a higher standard.  Find a way to connect so that we see the humanity in everyone. I'm just a girl writing a small blog, I don't have answers to what is waging right now. I know it feels unsafe and everyone seems to be on high alert.  For me, I'm going to do for others what my 14 year old self needed in 1971. I'm going to check in on people, I'm going to make sure we are okay and I'm going to make sure I'm okay. I'm going to protect those who need it, stand up for what needs to be stood up for and love the fear right out of the space I am in.  If you need someone to check in on you, ask for it. Don't stay silent, reach out.  Take care of yourself, take care of the people around you.  Give and receive compassion, listen more, rant less. Let your light shine bright so that it is a beacon of goodness.    Love deeper. LOVE more. LOVE ON.

With Love and Hope
Barbara

Don't get lost in your feels...

I struggle at times with feeling sad....I do. I fall into a rabbit hole that drops me from doing okay to not so much in a short time.  I'm emotional and I'm not good at  hiding it.  So there.  I've made a serious serious decision to fight this deep rabbit hole at every turn to be happy and live happy.  But sometimes I fail at that because what sends me tumbling down there, is feeling unloved and forgotten. I realize this is my own doing, yes I do. .   For how many years have we heard "you have to love yourself before anyone else can love you"  I mean really... when you suck at feeling loved, how on earth can you love yourself so that you are able to accept and give love.  That statement has  baffled me... for many years/FOR ALL MY LIFE!!!!  Seriously. I didn't get it.  

 And then I read this......  

"It was my life-like all lives, mysterious and irrevocable and sacred.  So very close, so very present, so very belonging to me.  How wild it was, to let it be"
Cheryl Strayed~ Wild~

Let me tell you, I had to stop and read that over and over and over, about 10 overs and it was a light bulb moment.   My life is sacred and belongs to me. Let it be......  Even as I type these words, I am in tears because this is the deal.  If my life is sacred, if I was made this way, wired like this with love and raw emotion...  Who am I not to love that, to love myself.  Why wouldn't I give to me what I want to give to the world and what I want back.   LIFE CHANGING stuff at least for my messy heart.   If I am sacred, so is everyone else.  We are all worthy of love....from ourselves first.   Okay...I need to breathe after that...take in what that feels like to write it down, say it out loud and believe it deep in my soul....

I love deep talks with my sons, I love their perspective and their truths.  I love their wisdom, trust me, the wise words that come from teenagers will break you wide open.  I was rolling around in some less than happy emotions this morning, a little lonely and on the verge of tears... and my oldest said to me.  "Mom, don't get lost in your feels, do something that makes you laugh and lighten up a bit. Trust the world and trust yourself."  This from a kid who has been let down, stumbled and struggled more than anyone I know... I do get lost in my feels ( I love that name for my over thinking emotions) I think it's easy to do, one thing leads to another and there you are, heading for that place that won't serve you at all.  Maybe if we walk away from our social media for a bit, go outside, face to the sun.  Or have lunch with a friend, exercise your heart out, call someone you love and have a chat..MAKE SOMETHING.  Maybe if we just don't get lost in our feels so very much, it will all seem a little less hard. Maybe if we throw that love around a bit more and open up our windows a bit wider, maybe that is how we stay out of the rabbit holes.  Maybe we just trust that we are not alone in all of this...maybe that's it.  Our sacred lives connected to other sacred lives....Well isn't that the magic?

"TOGETHER. WE CAN DO HARD THINGS BECAUSE WE BELONG TO EACH OTHER."

~Glennon Doyle Melton~

http://momastery.com/blog/

Don't get lost in your feels, love your sacred life and let it be, belong to each other.   I think that is some good love to throw around.  Especially on a Thursday..  Let's do it again soon! 

Love you like wildflowers

B

The View from the Edge

The summer of 1973, I was 15 on the verge of 16 full of all kinds of teenage drama and angst. I had my first serious boyfriend and he was older, heading to college.  My parents brought him along on our annual summer backpack trip in an effort to keep me interested because truly the only thing I was interested in was him. And being kissed.  

Our trip that summer involved a 10 day camping and backpacking trip in and around Yosemite.  And the highlight was to be a night spent on the top of Half Dome.  I wasn't super excited because I was 15, almost 16 and I wanted to be anywhere but with my parents, family friends and a younger brother.  But because I was 15, I had no choice.  I honestly do not remember too much of that trip except like our other backpacking trips it was hard stuff. Because to get to the really great places you have to travel hard trails, walk loads of miles and it isn't always fun. (Can you see where I'm going with this story?).   So after 8 days of lots of hard stuff  with me rolling my eyes and kissing my boyfriend through some of the most beautiful back country anywhere, we hit the switchbacks that lead to the bottom of Half Dome.  8 days of hauling what I needed and some of what other people needed on my back, my 100 pound body carrying 35 pounds of stuff and I wasn't impressed at all with the steep and never ending switchbacks ahead of us in the afternoon sun.....at all. I was pretty pissed off at the ridiculousness of those switchbacks and in my defense, those things go on FOREVER.... At the top of the switchbacks we saw before us THE CABLES......

Awesome, more hard stuff although this held my interest because I loved to climb trees and things, I loved being up high in the sky and possibly more important, my mother is deathly afraid of heights and I wasn't.  I knew I could haul myself and all that stuff up the side of that rock and I did. My mom did in spite of her fears ( I never gave her the credit she deserved for all that, she was facing hard fears) and my brother did it by hanging onto the pack of our other male friend because he was too short to use the cables.  We all did it. And that alone should be an amazing story. But this is about what's at the top, the reason for the planning and hard work... At the top, you take off your pack of stuff and see how HUGE the top is. It's football field and more big....and then there is this...The view you cannot see from anywhere else in the world.   The view that feels like it's the whole world...

I mean really......even my 15 year old snotty high school girl self knew that this was a life changer. I let myself feel what it was like to have done something spectacular. I didn't think about my mom and one upping her, I didn't think about how much I hated these "family trips", I didn't think about my boyfriend and his kisses even though he was standing next to me. I for once let myself feel all my tangled and not cool self and I took in this crazy amazing moment...but then what I did next was where I found myself the most....

There is an outcropping on the top of Half Dome, a place where sheets of granite hang out over the edge of the face.  A place where there is so little under your feet and then nothing at all. Where the best views, the best air and the best of everything are found. On the edge of everything. A place where my breath was taken away, where I walked out and sat by myself and was totally okay with being 15 and awkward and unsure. Where I was suspended over everything and everything was mine. I could have stayed there forever letting the breeze cool my face. It felt like forever, it felt like everything..

Of course my mom with her deathly fear of heights about lost her mind with her only daughter sitting on the edge of nothing, hanging over the valley a bit precariously. So I came back to the safety of the football field size smooth rock top.  We unrolled sleeping bags and had a meager dinner of uncooked foods and a sip of brandy in our Sierra Cups which at that altitude and me being 15 went straight to my head. And slightly tipsy, I watched the full moon rise and light up the whole world. I made wishes on a million shooting stars and I looked down on all the campfires in the Valley below. All in a night spent on the top of Half Dome.   

I did sneak back to the outcropping a few more times before we climbed down the next morning. I hated to leave, wondered if ever I would experience anything so amazing as the edge of that rock...I wondered if I would ever feel that whole again. I wondered if ever I would feel like I fit in like that anywhere else. I wondered ifmaybe that was where I was leaving myself, on the outcropping looking down or instead I had found myself. Maybe both.

I returned to school to be a cheerleader, my boyfriend went away to college and dumped me and I resumed my slightly awkward but fun journey through school. But I knew that I was changed through the hard stuff, the switchbacks, the carrying of things, by the view from the top. For a moment, I wasn't just a girl at my school doing what looked like normal stuff, for  I had stood on the edge of the world and it was mine.  I held that knowledge and power in my heart for a while and then I put it away, not sure what to do with it.  .   

That summer, that trip came back to me in a dream the other day. I felt compelled to sort it out and figure out why after 42 years, I woke up in tears feeling once again changed but not quite sure why. It occurred to me that I've been doing the switchbacks for a good 5-6 years, personal switchbacks but switchbacks non-the-less.  The hard stuff, carrying what I need and what other people need on my back.  And I'm here at the base of the mountain with cables before me and I am good for the climb.  Because I need to stand on the edge and see what the world looks like again. Because I need to be suspended over nothing, over the world, see that view that you only see from the top, have my breath taken away and feel the power in my soul of all that. Remember that I am whole, that sometimes just leaning into the stuff that scares you most is when it gets super amazing and oh so real. Trust that the ground underneath will hold me. Go to  where I will feel the breeze cool my face and travel to where I am just me, a girl on the edge of everything.....

"I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center."

Kurt Vonnegut

Be Mighty

Barbara

p.s. these are not my photos. I found them by doing online searches of Half Dome and the Cables.  

Ta Da !......

 When I was a young girl, my dad liked to be silly in the middle of ordinary things. One my favorite silly things was when he would get eggs out of the refrigerator while my mom made breakfast and against her protests he would toss them one at a time. Like a circus performer and he even said "HUP" with each toss. She would protest and tell him to stop and he would just keep saying "HUP" and tossing the eggs.   I would giggle at her frustration and his circus tosses and when all the eggs were thrown and caught both he and I would throw our hands in the air and shout "TA DAAAAA!".....  A small circus act in our kitchen on a Sunday morning and it was worth celebrating.  

I find myself still throwing my arms in the air and shouting "TA DAAA!" for so many things, a well made dinner, a big project finished, a great idea or even a well mopped floor. After all those things worth celebrating I would think.  But lately as I tackle harder stuff, the inside stuff that is hard to even look at let alone out to play, I am ready to celebrate even those kind of little victories. Boundaries set (boundaries are totally a badass move for a girl like me),  saying no when I would have said yes but wanted to say no, being a parent when it's not a popular parental moment in the eyes of your child.  Cutting off my hair fearlessly, saving $5 instead of getting an iced coffee,  learning a new craft or technique....facing a fear (not like swimming with sharks, that will never happen).  I love my Ta DA moments .

In my handmade business world there are people I follow, people I have come to know and love and people who are in the same type of business as mine.  Each of us are forging our way because our vision and passions are too great not to do so. We are navigating uncharted waters and pioneering our way through the wilderness on our own.  There are days that are not great, some that are totally sucky and some that are amazingly wonderful. Small victories ...I also see them in people who aren't trying to create a business but creating a life that works for them, navigating their own kinds of passions and truths. More sweet small victories. And thanks to social media we get to see all of these moments. Don't forget that we should be celebrating with everyone in their moments of success and sitting down next to them in the moments of figuring out what to do with failure or setbacks.  I just think it would be so wonderful if we all became the Ta Da girls and guys for each other. When we can't see our own bits of victory and growth, hopefully someone we love will see it for us and become our celebrators and encouragers.    We just should all have our arms in the air and give a little Ta DA for all the victories and successes. We all need a little circus act in our lives and for sure we need some celebrating. Amaze yourself, amazing the world, throw your arms wide open and cheer...TA DA!

artist Unknown: found on  Pinterest

 Happy Day 

<3 Barbara

Riding Dragons.

 "We're all afraid. We just have to get to the point where we understand it doesn't mean that we can't also be brave."

~Brene Brown~

I've been waking up at night a lot...actually for the past 4-5 years...And when I'm doing my best to put the drunken squirrel party in my brain back to sleep, the dragons show up.  You know the fears and worries of life, my dragons. At 2 am they are pretty big and scary. I wanted to run and hide and keep the dragons out of my house, out of my life. I didn't want to have them there because they are HUGE and frightening.  And they don't leave even if you cry and beg them to leave you alone. I've tried all that. Whining doesn't help with things that scare you. Trust me on that.....

As it turns out....the stuff the dragons brought are probably the very things I needed to face and stop running from ..... And I needed to find a way to make peace because sleep deprivation was not the way to get through life. I needed to turn around and face the dragons right in the eye.  It isn't easy for me to do all of that but seriously...I was too tired to live like that. Chronic exhaustion sucks. Chronic fear sucks more.

I decided to entertain the dragons..Welcome to my bedroom, have a seat and let's talk a bit.  Stop being scary and just let me get used to you so I can stop running..... And they did. With my heart beating and my brain screaming RUN!  I let the fears settle in and put them in an order I could deal with one at a time. As I loosened my grip they got a little less scary.  And my time spent wrestling with them in the middle of the night shortened. The less I fought, the easier the struggle became until it was just truths wanting to be heard and accepted.  

I started to eat better, exercise and that helped but mostly I just listened to the fears and told them we would be okay.  I stopped running from, fighting with and being afraid of the dragons.  I decided that all these things that scared me the most were the very things I needed to embrace.  I decided to stand strong, to be brave and to ride my dragons. To let them become part of my strength. To fly. 

And ride them I have. I'm not saying fear doesn't come creeping in at night anymore. It does, there are some big scary but amazingly honest things ahead, that is how life works. Big scary amazing things and I'm okay with that. I don't have all the answers and I never will, it takes a bit of faith, bravery and trusting your dragon to face what is coming your way.  Don't be afraid of what frightens you, don't fight dragons in the night, don't run from anything. Get some sleep, be brave and for goodness sake ride your dragon through the night sky.  

<3

Barbara

The Unraveling.....

It's been a while because there is so much in my heart and head, I didn't know where to start or what to say for a while. So I stayed a little quiet while I gathered my thoughts and did some sorting...I want to warn you...this is a personal one, more than usual.

For nearly 19 years I set my alarm for 30 minutes before his, so I could make breakfast and often a lunch and a cup of hot chocolate that he called "coffee".  I did this to show my appreciation for his hard work at a hard job in all kinds of hard weather and my appreciation for him....And I did it when there was no work and he had no place to go except in front of the TV.  I did it on weekends and holidays. I did it when things were good and I did it when things were horribly wrong. I did it when I questioned and was up all night in tears with confusion and ache.  And I did it when I had work to go to.  Breakfast and "coffee"....Until about a year  ago on a Saturday when I was getting ready for work and didn't have time and he had all day, I told him I couldn't make it on time if I didn't finish getting dressed. And as I headed to the bathroom to dry my hair...... I heard it down the hallway from the spot on the couch where he was watching TV.... "Lazy Bitch"..... and that was the start of the unraveling. When the fight to save this stopped.

 I'm not a "this isn't working for me" kind of girl, I do NOT give up easy on anything I feel is important and I take marriage very seriously. I don't throw around words I don't mean, words like divorce and leaving until and only until I mean it. 19 years of pushing aside what I know isn't okay and hoping that the stuff I believed in was enough to help us rise. I LOVED this man deeply and without a thought for what I knew was  the hard truths about our relationship and huge differences.  I loved him, fought for that love, shouted out about that love and wore it like a favorite tee shirt. I did this until I couldn't do it anymore. What I said and felt wasn't a lie, it was my everything and I was letting go like pushing off from a life raft in a storm.   In the depths of agonizing, it became clear that what I had identified as love was at times something totally different. Love simply cannot hurt so much of the time.    And there  was some horrible horrible stuff about me that I had to wade through (that was fun) until I realized I had to love myself to survive....to stop fighting the fight to save something I couldn't and didn't want to save. It was beyond hard to admit I had failed.  I carried the weight of my children and their happiness.  I carried the weight of how it looks to family and friends. I carried the weight of not loving any longer. I carried fears and lost hopes and good memories along with the bad ones. I carried the weight and I was drowning, I simply had to start to swim towards the light, back up to the fresh air and breathe again.... If that is selfish then call me selfish.  I've heard worse.

I am writing this post this morning after a very long night and day of no sleep and lots of tears, this stuff, the unraveling doesn't and SHOULDN'T come easy.  So now this... I also feel the need to address something..... As I have shared my stories about many things, with an open heart and tendency to share truth that are a bit prickly and not so pretty. Because I know I am NOT ALONE in my experiences and truths. I hope by speaking out and being real that connections and uplifting will happen. I am a story teller and that means the ugly stuff too (I'm so ready for the good stuff y'all).  This not so easy bit of life, I have tried to keep it extremely  authentic, sometimes that will bite you in the butt. I believe I have talked about my fears about how I will live, the financial part of all of this which is a very real concern and I'm being very careful to ensure that I have a plan in place so that I don't end up in my car on the streets. One of my posts were read by a young woman in my husband's office, I don't know her.  She had him read that particular post ( he has "NO INTEREST" and doesn't follow anything I do in my handmade business or with this blog and has never read any of my words before, good or bad) and together they surmised that I was asking for people to fund my "freedom".... This was thrown at me last night, that I was begging through my blog for money.... Let me be 100 percent  real with you.  I will never ever ask for or beg for money for ANYTHING...AT ALL.  I am a DIY, gritty, figure it out, make shit work, creative, resourceful girl and have managed to turn a box of old sheets into a business that I am super proud of and love dearly. That is what I believe in and that is what I expect to fund my life and provide for my family. Hard work and more hard work.  If ever anything has come across as a plea for you all to fund my "freedom", I want to make it completely clear that is not and never will be the case.   I have faith that money is money, it is much easier to find than happiness and peace. I have a plan to ensure that our needs are met and that's all I need to know. I will make it in this world because I can. I don't doubt that and in no way expect anyone but me to support myself and my kids, I truly wouldn't want it any other way.  I got this.....

So as I unravel this life I've known with this man amidst some very real sadness and loss,  I face an unknown, totally TERRIFYING yet hopeful and happy future at an age when an unknown future is probably more terrifying than I can tell you. But....for me, I think it's important to grab what you can that is good and right in life. To chase the best of things because your time here is precious, way too precious to be sad and live on a battlefield all of the time.  The ONLY thing I ask for is good wishes, prayers, kind words and some understanding. I appreciate the time you all take to read my stuff, I have so many good stories , I LOVE to write and share slices of life and what it looks like from here and I hope you stick around for the good stuff...it's coming my friends. I remain Barefoot and Tangled. I'm off to clean out another closet because there is a move coming.....I adore you all.

<3 Barbara

When Expecations Bite You in the A#$

I'm warning you now, this post may contain some cussing..... In fact I am sure it will and if you are offended, I totally understand but this post requires a bit of cussing to tell the story. And I'm here to tell some stories.

I'm not totally sure of where to start except I do need to apologize for being gone so very long.  I didn't mean to be but life sort of became a river of rolling rapids, one after another and just keeping afloat took everything....

Let's start with the show I did.   I love doing vintage shows but truly they take complete and total absorbing and immersing of the process.  Every moment is full of lists and making of things and display creation and that all starts with a BIG VISION!   I tend to think and dream in large scale and then get myself into a frenzy of trying to meet that vision. All by myself, one girl with no support team or anyone to help create this crazy big vision and usually no budget for the vision creating because well....nobody in my household supports the doing of shows and there is a whole lot of undermining and sabatoge going on especially with time for the vision making.  So I had a show scheduled for the first weekend in May, it's a big wonderful show and a couple of hours from home. I was excited to share a booth space (only half a vision was much easier than a whole vision) and set about starting in late March to do my show prep.   Well things happened/everything unraveled when an incident (next part of this story) happened in mid April.... But I reduced the vision and kept going. I made some AMAZING new items, was ready to debut my new Wild Daisy clothing and I was sure I would KILL IT as my kids say..... I loaded my stuff into the truck , drove myself west for a couple of hours, set up my space myself and was feeling pretty spiffy with myself the day before the show. I just KNEW I was going to sell everything and could bask in the glow of what a big success I was....The show opened and people poured in to the venue and the energy was amazing.....and I stood there ready to talk to people, meet them and sell all the wonderful new things I made. I'll keep it short, sales were dismal. The first day I sold 3 of my wonderful new things and some last minute fillers I had grabbed when packing. I didn't even make my booth fee.  But, there was still Sunday and I was sure it would go better. It didn't. I woke up Sunday with what I knew was a horrible stomach flu, I had a show to do all day and then a long 2 hour drive home and I was not good. An hour into Sunday, I fled the scene.  My darling booth mate sold my goods and packed up my stuff and my lovely business friends  from my area loaded my crap and displays their trailer and brought it home.  I drove away defeated, fighting a fever and in tears.  Heading home to admit failure to the very people who predicted and expected my failure. I had expected to do well, that my goods would be well received, sell out and I would come home with some dollars in my pockets...Expectations...bit me in the ass and I was crushed..I barely covered my expenses which was hard but worse, I was called a failure and I may have even done a little shaming of my own self. 

So this all happened the wake of another crushing expectation shattered event.  My son as I've shared, is about to graduate from high school. He attends a big school with big expectations of the kids. There is no room for making mistakes and he made one of those stupid teenage mistakes that because there is Zero Tolerance in our district, that mistake cost him everything. He was sent to a continuation high school, is no longer allowed on his old school campus, didn't go to prom, didn't go to Grad Night, wasn't able to be a part of the All League Football awards or photos and most devastating of all, will not walk at graduation with his class.  One quick stupid decision and his status as big guy on campus was revoked and everything as he knew it was gone.  And then all the people he thought and I thought were in his corner said "oh wow, I'm so sorry"...and then silently took 5 steps back and turned away.  My boy who was king of the school, king of his world   one day and the kid nobody wanted to know the next.  All that wonderful stuff he was looking forward to and admittedly so was I...gone along with the expectation of how it was going to be. 7 years in this district talking about the day he would graduate in the stadium and counting the days til we put on that royal blue cap and gown to take pictures with his friends and listen to the band play the fight song and the entire crowd and graduating class sing the Alma Mater.... All of that gone in an instant.    Expectations had a tight grip on us and even though the mom in me kept assuring him that he would be okay and that he was not a bad person, I admit I cried hard in the shower for a week...I was heartbroken over losing all these things that felt were so so so important to his appearance of success and perfection. The stuff that everyone else could brag about. And I was a bit pissed off because I wanted to take those pictures with him and celebrate at the big ceremony in the stadium.  

So shit....all of this expectation crushing stuff at once had to be some sort of lesson and oh boy it was.... I realized that for all my tangled and messy nature, I have a death grip on expectations (can you say AVOIDANCE) because there is stuff in every day that kind of suck. Maybe because there are things in my world that drag my heart down and I pin all my good thoughts and hopes on events and happenings instead of just being okay in this moment.  Maybe because I invest too much in what I want to happen instead of just taking life as it comes and knowing that it will in the end be okay. I don't know but this certainly has made me re-evaluate how I approach things.  Maybe projecting forward keeps me from really being in the moment when the moment seems too much.

We had to do a whole lot of meetings with people after the school event as you can't make a kid leave a school without a process.  But luckily for us the last person we met with was Hank's new counselor.... And if expectations kicked our asses hard , this woman  was the truth and bright light we needed....she waded through the shame we had wrapped ourselves in and forced us to let go of what we thought was going to happen and embrace what was our new reality.   A school of kids who all needed a little redemption, 6 weeks to get through and then as she told us, a diploma that looks like everyone else. A more intimate and probably meaningful graduation and OH what a story my kid will have.  His future college football coach assured him that people do indeed make mistakes and it was time to move on and learn something and come play football.  And soon what felt like the end of the world will just be something that happened. Let go of the expectations because that was then, let's stay in now and take this new path for what it is...Let go of the expectations because they don't serve you well.  

I'm pretty sure I am not the same girl I was a few months ago, I still have a plan and big visions of what I am working for but I am certainly a whole lot less inclined to trust those darned expectations the way I used to. I don't let myself live in "the way it will be" anymore. And guess what?   I don't miss that shit at all.   What I trust is what I see and experience but not what I'm trying to make be the truth.  What I do know is life holds oh so many twists and turns and being a bit unruly and unsure is totally okay. We get up, tackle the hard stuff, embrace the curves , let loose of the grip just a teeny bit, throw our hands in the air and feel the wind on our faces.  I listed my stuff on Etsy and it sold in hours.  I'll do another vintage show in 6 months, but will not let sales dictate how I feel about myself or what I do. My son will graduate in 2 weeks and I'll take pictures with him in his cap and gown, smiling as big as if it was in that giant stadium with fireworks. We have not failed, we have grown, that kid and I, knowing that expectations will kick your ass if you let them. But I will not again let that happen, because I know life holds lots of amazing surprises and if I am so busy looking at the photo album of expectation, I may just miss some shooting stars .

“it is a serious thing // just to be alive //on this fresh morning // in this broken world.” 
― Mary Oliver

Love wins

Barbara

Brave Acts- The Tale of the Tattle Tail

I have Brave Acts on the brain these days. I see them in every day life, every time I don't allow what I may have allowed before because I wanted to "be nice" or just keep things calm. I find myself looking for and valuing Brave Acts and holding onto the lessons learned like they were pennies I need to save. I want to tell you about Brave Acts, some ordinary, some big. And because I love to tell stories of good things. With my daughter Abby's permission, here is the Tale of the Tattle Tail.

Abby is the oldest of my five children. She was and still is kind, funny and sensitive. She wasn't a rule breaker or misbehaver at all. She was and still is a delightful and considerate person. At preschool the teachers and staff adored Abby and she adored them, especially her teacher. She was shiny and lively and would often burst out in song like a happy Disney movie in real life, the whole class would join in and she brought a sweet unfettered joy to the school. Every day I would be met by the teacher with a story of how Abby was kind or made everyone happy with her skippiness.  

Until one day, I was pulled into the Director's office and then heard the words that parents dread ...."we had a little problem today with Abby"....As I listened she rolled out the story of the "incident".... It seems that the staff had attended a conference the previous weekend where they discussed among other things, the way to handle what we all call Tattling. You know, when kids tell on other kids for small things, it's annoying and everywhere in a preschool and early school setting.  The conference (taught by Puritans as far as I could tell) suggested that when kids were Tattling, that way to handle it was to pin a "tattle tail" on the offender. Much like Pin the Tail on the Donkey. The intention was to humiliate the kids into keeping quiet.  Yes, humiliation as a technique, why not just put them in stocks in the middle of the playground and throw fruit at the little tattlers?

Abby it seemed had been a victim of our neighborhood bully (who also attended the preschool) ...(trust me, he was a jerk in the making, I can say this with confidence because he lived on our block and rode his bike past our house to yell things at my kids daily, I already didn't care for the pisshead)  He had been tormenting her at school as well. So on this particular day after the Humiliation as a means for controlling students Seminar, Abby was again being followed and taunted by this kid so went to her favorite teacher to get some help with the situation. But instead of receiving any help, my sensitive daughter who was until that moment the bright light of the pre-school was pulled into the office and told she was now considered a "Tattle Tale" and her punishment would be to wear a long piece of cloth pinned to the back of her dress, a tail for a Tattle teller. My girl fell to pieces, terrified, humiliated and betrayed.  She became hysterical, distraught and begged for them to call me. The director saw how upset Abby was but instead of backing down, she brought in Abby's favorite teacher to force the punishment on her and pin the tail to her. It took 2 grown women over an hour to stop her sobs and get her calmed down. And at the end of it, they put that tail on my girl's dress and sent her out to the playground.  Betrayed by the people she had counted on to protect her.

And then that sweet sensitive girl did a brave thing. She curled that tail into a ball and sat on it. She wouldn't budge from where she was. She couldn't stop them from doing their cowardly act and she was far from defiant, she just got super creative and didn't let them humiliate her in front of the whole school. 

I know that the director was expecting me to jump on board their crazy train idea but that didn't happen either. I let them know that they should be ashamed of using humiliation as a tactic, I told them that if ever a child of mine required 2 adults to calm her down for over an hour, they had better make a call to me. And I told them they had no business being around children.  I wrote a letter to the newspaper which was printed and one to the Licensing Board for preschools in California and that preschool was investigated and closed for multiple violations including the use of what was deemed to Corporal Punishment as it seems the Tattle Tail was much like the Dunce Cap not allowed in preschools...Thank goodness..

In every brave act there is a lesson and this one has stuck with me. Abby is a grown up bright light, she has a strong sense of what is right in this world and remains one of the kindest and most considerate people I know. She is raising a couple of bright light boys which is good news for this world. What I learned from my girl and her brave act is that  you always always have some power in any situation, even if you are 5 or 57. She didn't let the bully win, she didn't let the adult bullies win. She was braver and smarter than they were. It's taken me many more years to get this than it took Abby but lately I have thought about what courage it took to say "enough." ...Brave Acts every single day.....  That's the deal, be brave because you don't have to wear the tail people pin on your dress.... 

Love wins

Barbara

Love and Strength

WARNING...I'm going to talk about some body parts....

Back in August I saw a horrible picture of myself that made me cringe.....okay I'm totally lying, it made me cry. And cry hard for a couple of hours and again when I looked at it the next day. In addition to a haircut gone wrong (blame that on a Pinterest picture of a skinny model with an insanely cute haircut), I was unable to slip on my son's football jersey for the annual Parent Night. Because I was too curvy which is my soul saving way of saying, I am overweight.  I had spent a great deal of time convincing myself that it was okay and I was accepting of all the curviness and it didn't change who I was.  I'm here to say, it does change who I am. I don't shop for clothes (the dreaded dressing room mirror situation) I don't like to go out because I can't seem to find anything I love to wear to dress up in. And I couldn't bend over to tie my shoes..There I said it..I couldn't tie my own damned shoes and that wasn't okay...I could tell you all the stories I told myself about how I was indeed healthy and it was a metabolism thing, a menopause thing, a having 2 babies after 40 thing. I could tell you stories about half hearted efforts and failed plans of mine but really who wants to talk about all of that.

But I do want to talk about making peace and making plans...With where I am starting from, with the process and yes. with my body...My fat body....I didn't know how to do that except the way I am tackling all hard things these days...with honesty. So.....another warning...I'm going to talk about body parts a little bit, I'll be gentle but here goes.

I got naked...and I looked in the mirror...at all of that curviness.  And I cried, a lot...but I didn't leave the mirror or cover up. I cried until I couldn't cry any longer and then I made myself tell myself some loving things. Not easy to do when all I felt was shame and embarrassment and confusion. Like how did my body and I get here. So all I could come up with that was loving is..."you have great hair", "your eyes still sparkle" and "the best part about being this big is you have good boobs"....(I warned you, body parts).  And I'd love to say there was instant acceptance and the shame disappeared, but that isn't the truth. I didn't feel much better, in fact I felt a little worse having spent all that time with a body I couldn't love.  So I did it again the next day, and the next and the next...Every day after my shower I gave my body some love.  But I didn't leave it there because nothing changes unless you change something. You want something, you have to do something to get it. End of story.

I wanted to be strong. So I started doing squats, 5 the first day, 10 the next, 15 the next and so on. I added in jumping jacks, push ups and other floor exercises twice a day. Then I added in some weight stuff for my arms. All done in 15-20 minute sessions at home before I went out for the day and before bed at night. I moved more, stretched more and my body responded.

I changed my eating. I'll write a post about that sometime soon but I started with the Whole30 challenge on January 2 (http://whole30.com/)..  No grain, No Dairy, No sugar.  Just like that. I read some blogs, gathered information and jumped in.  I ate better. And my body responded.

And this is me now. 14 pounds lighter, sleeping better, more energy. I feel better but more importantly I feel stronger and I am working towards something I want. And isn't that really the deal. Don't complain, do something. Don't cry, do something. Be patient, stay the course, don't give up, believe in the change.

And now after my shower, I talk to my naked body with less shame and more admiration. I also give my body some love with a handful of warm oil that I rub on my damp skin every morning. I can feel the shrinking and tightening of my thighs, my butt, my hips, my arms and yes my boobs (they are always the first to go, am I right?) I can see my body responding to the way I am treating it, the way I am treating myself. We have a long way to go my body and I . Patience has never been a strong trait of mine but I'm making friends with patience. I know health is coming because I am doing what I need to in order to be healthy and oh how I love it. I love how it feels, I celebrate each new day because I can see and feel progress and results. And I'm learning that as I get a little stronger and more healthy in one  part of my life, I am stronger in other parts of my life.  I love how I feel even when I look at my curves, I am able to love them too and be gentle with them.  I am friends with my heart, I am friends with my soul and I am friends with my body. We will negotiate this adventure with strength and love, not shame . Just love and strength.....

<3 Barbara

In my own hands.....

I get overwhelmed with the weight of so many things. The business of holding a home together, the business of getting myself where I need to be and everyone else where they need to be, keeping track of it all, managing my home business and all the marketing and producing that I feel should be done versus the marketing and producing that I can truly get done. The reeling in of my big ideas, what to wear , should I cut my hair or let it grow, are my kids doing okay, eating healthy, getting fit, making dentist appointments, cleaning toilets...all of it sometimes feels like a freaking avalanche coming  hard. You know life, it happens fast and EVERY SINGLE DAY!  Throw in a ginormous amount of overthinking and working on some hard stuff and I'm a hot tangled mess.....chaotic, wild hearted and tangled. I am not organized, effortless or easy at all. A bit of a bouncy storm.

At night in bed when I can't sleep it gets a little rocky in my thoughts, so I head out to the back yard, stand under the stars and breathe deep...I take a breath or two or fifty so I can calm my crazy thoughts and anxiety down...and then I look at my hands, I mean really look at them and I remember that with these hands I can do anything.  With my hands I can  hug my children and grandchildren, my hands can carry what I need, my hands created this kitchen table business and my hands will carry it through. My hands know the touch of a loved one's face and the grasp of a friend reaching out. With these hands I can make and making is what I do. It is my world and my passion and these hands of mine are my tools. I talk with my hands, I touch materials and know they will work with my hands, I use my hands for knitting, sewing and every other thing I do. I use my hands to measure fabric at work . I love to throw my hands in the air when I dance, celebrate or exclaim. I clap my hands together in joy, I cup them around my mouth so my sons will hear my voice on the football field, I reach to the stars at night in the quiet dark solitude when I pray. 

And so it is with all of us. We have in our hands the possibility of everything. Helpless never, hopeless, certainly not. Not when we have our hands for making and for holding. For reaching out and touching, for grabbing what we seek and keeping it tight.  I am so grateful for my hands, my heart, my truth, my tangled messy mess, all of it. This life of mine, is in my own hands; yours is  too. So here is my new business card photo, I love it so much I want to hand them out to everyone I see because this picture is my heart and speaks to who I am.... I love it, and that's that... With these hands I will find my way.....

"The final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands"
Anne Frank


Throw your hands in the air......
Barbara

I hope I make you proud......

It's December 26 and I'm sitting here pretty darn proud of myself for surviving , I mean shining right through Christmas. I did ride the Joy boat all through the month of December instead of wallowing and thinking about the love and holiday spirit I wish surrounded me. I concentrated on the best of things and I said  "Merry Christmas" to EVERY person I could. And each time, my heart filled up just a little bit more. I made cookies, I decorated the tree, I made gifts and I sang Christmas songs. I launched myself into the holiday like it was my job and guess what. It was great, really. Because joy got me through... So now what?  Time to tackle the hard stuff...

I miss my dad these days, more than the usual every minute I miss him. I so wish he was here with me right now for guidance and his gentle wisdom. A girl needs her dad for these kind of things. Someone to say "you deserve better" or "nobody treats my girl this way"...but he's not here and probably he wouldn't exactly say it like that. Because my dad was the kind of guy who taught me that being a girl didn't excuse me from handling hard things. I had to change a tire before I was allowed to drive the car. I learned to use a hammer and hand saw, I could sail a boat, ride a big horse and make a fire all before I was 6. Sometime I forget that is who I am and that is what I need my dad for.  His last words were to tell me to remember that I am strong and not to let anything break me down. I'm guessing he has been shaking his head at me lately because I have been broken down, feeling helpless and weak. I don't think he would be proud of my whining, wallowing or crying...at all.... 

My dad taught high school wood shop and there was a sign in the classroom portion of his shop that said "Your mother isn't in this class, clean up your own mess".....That sign has popped into my head more than a little lately. So while I've been wishing my dad was here to help me fix my stuff the truth is he is here....and I know I need to clean up my own messes. I'm out of shape, I am not healthy, my  marriage is not healthy or viable, I've been broke and broken, I'm a little terrified of making tough changes.  I'm afraid of being strong because then it truly does feel like I am alone in this world and I don't want to be alone in this world. It's hard stuff  my friends on a deep heart level but then again it's simple stuff. What doesn't work must be fixed or let go of. If you want to be strong, be strong. If you want something different, do something different... Stop talking...DO THE WORK.... It's my mess and I will clean it up.  I know my dad will be proud of me, I'm a little proud of me too....at last...

Thank you Melissa Rice for passing this graphic on.... it was exactly perfect.   

<3 Barbara

p.s. I promise I will talk of better things soon, thanks for riding along with me these days. You are all my favorites. 

Joy from where I stand.

I love the holidays. I mean LOVE LOVE LOVE the holidays....in theory...... I love  the celebrations, the get togethers, surprises, time spent just enjoying family and friends....all the stuff in the commercials and in my heart and mind. The problem with all that is that many times that isn't the reality and we start measuring up against commercials and our friends as they post their families all dressed up nice and share their party schedules for the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

And then there are the ones who bake and make and create amazing spreads of food and decor, they have family pouring into their homes and all kinds of wonderful memory making times. Multiple trees in the house all theme decorated and done with Pinterest worthy precision.  Time set aside for traditions and gathering... This is all totally inspiring and awe worthy. And overwhelming..... 

For a moment, let's consider those who don't have a house full of holiday enthusiasts, money is tight and even a new box of Christmas lights is has to be weighed as to whether it's a worthy purchase or frivolous.   And what are we to do when we don't have invitations or places to go. No dressing up or holiday parties to attend... what about those people, how are they to celebrate and enjoy the holidays feeling left out and overlooked... 

I've spent some years as one of those people and it's all my fault. I let the joyless spirit of someone else steal my joy or rather I gave up because I guess it was just easier than fighting the scroogeness. I stopped decorating with any enthusiasm, I stopped baking cookies (this is in some cases a good thing), I stopped thinking about Christmas cards, Christmas parties and social events.I did the bare minimum and wrapped myself in hurt and waited for the whole thing to be over. I've sat on Christmas Eve watching my family opening their pajamas knowing that there were none for me. I know I'm supposed to be an adult but truly that does sting a whole lot when nobody cares if you get any Christmas jammies. I've cried every Christmas for many years feeling left out and alone ...that is the truth. I gave away Christmas and I suffered for it.  And I've probably not been a good Christmas mom to my children. I've tried to fake it but I'm pretty sure they saw right through all of that. Christmas for me has just sucked for a while...my fault but suckage just the same. 

So what to do when money is still tight and there are still no invitations to parties or reasons to dress up?  Well I believe I will start with a little joy...or a lot of joy. Shower with it, breathe it, say it, sing it, wear it, seek it and believe in it. And when you start to slip a bit...go find some more... I don't know what else to do. Being sad and feeling lonely is not the deal. Filling myself with envy by looking at everyone else's Christmas morning pictures or wishing life had dealt me something more "fair"...not the deal...Joy is the deal. I know it sounds simple but honestly it's working. Every time I start to slip and believe me I do, I go outside, take a deep breath and remember that there is always love and it starts with me...I have two children left in my home for the holidays and the three of us deserve to feel the holidays even in the simplest forms. I have three grown children and five gorgeous grandchildren I don't see enough, and that will change, somehow, some way, I will fight for my Christmas joy and make sure the people I love know how much they matter.. I won't give up ever again

There will be cookie making  tonight and hot chocolate with candy canes hanging on the edge of the cup. There will be a trip to a picture taking place tomorrow with my iPhone to take a picture for Christmas cards and in the boxes of mixed up Christmas decor in the garage there is enough stuff to make this little house sparkle enough that Santa would be proud. I will buy my own Christmas Jammies and rather than wallow in pity and the sting of no Jammies, I'll just fix it. My boys won't have to feel badly that they were not allowed to purchase anything for me because I will give them money to shop for me.  I think I'll invite some girlfriends out for an ornament exchange and I'm going to dress up a little, rock my Grandmother's Christmas pin, drink something festive and laugh until my heart bursts wide open again.

My gifts are going to be simple, loving and handmade and I'm super excited to be working on something special for all the people I love.  There is always a way to squeeze a lot out of a little but it's truly all about where your heart starts from.  I won't have a Pinterest worthy Christmas tree in every room but you can believe that my little Christmas that Joy made will be sparkley and bright.....It may be from glitter, glue and cardboard but that's okay...it will shine....and I will remember this as the year I took my joy back... 

I wish you all the best of holidays and please know that however much or how little you have, it's okay.  Be happy my friends, it's going to be wonderful.  

Joyfully yours
Barbara

Your success and happiness lies in you. Resolve to keep happy, and your joy and you shall form an invincible host against difficulties.

Helen Keller