An End. And A Beginning

i am going to share a story that begins seven years ago.

wait, i take that back.  this story really starts twenty-seven years ago, when a boy met a girl and was captivated by her eyes, her energy, her strength. 

his love, kindness and attention to her was persistent enough to win her heart...a heart that had been waiting eighteen years to be won by precisely those characteristics. 

soon they were inseparable, each receiving something they needed from the relationship, and each making assumptions about what it all meant.

three years later they got married. this event occurred during an inauspicious time, in suboptimal circumstances, but their friendship helped them to press forward, mostly together, but in some ways unbeknownst to her at that time, they were also moving somewhat apart. they were quite young. this is not uncommon.

six years passed and the loveliest daughter was born to them. 

after nine years of marriage, the dearest son arrived.

life was busy, school and work demands were neverending.  there was a feeling of disconnect between them in many ways.  the girl struggled to make things better, to keep the boy's interest, to raise their children, to fill life with love and wonder. the boy loved the girl as well as he could, and worked hard to be kind and supportive, but he always felt like he was letting her down in elemental ways that he couldn't change. the girl always believed that the challenges they faced would eventually disappear. 

they did not.

time passed.  seventeen years had passed since they'd wed. one day, (we now arrive at the seven years ago part of our story), without knowing about the other, they each sat down at the very same moment, and wrote letters to the other, sharing their feelings. they had both decided that they should part ways.  

this was not what the girl expected to happen. she had put much prayer, fasting, thought and tears into this decision. she didn't know why it felt like the right thing, because she loved the boy and still wanted things to work out, but the answer in her heart was unequivocal...

...it was also without a sense of urgency.  no "when" was attached to it. she thought maybe sharing her feelings would be the beginning of a new era, a catalyst that would bring them together.  so she was surprised to learn he'd written her and come to the same conclusion.  

as they shared their feelings, they were kind. they were supportive. they decided to wait several months to proceed til it wasn't quite so challenging for the boy, who was in medical school at the time.

during that time, small shifts in their interactions happened that helped things enough that eventually they decided to call off parting ways.  the answer had been clear, but the girl thought maybe the shifts had changed the right course of action. she had hope.

things went well enough for a while, but then began to grow even more difficult. twenty two years into their marriage, they again arrived at the point where things were untenable. for six months they were separated, ultimately deciding again to part ways.  but then for a variety of reasons, she decided to stay. it was the right decision at that time, and as long as she was staying, she redoubled her efforts to do everything she could to love, cherish, serve, and support the boy, and nurture their relationship as they continued raising their darling children.  

it was a good experience, and the girl grew a lot in the process.  but there was still a part of her that was so sad. a part that simply couldn't reach the boy. and a part of the boy that couldn't reach her. but it was livable. 

by early this year, things were essentially as good as they had ever been when one day, the answer came; "now".

"now" it was time to part ways.  the girl was not prepared for this. it seemed like she could hang on a mere three years at least, til the boy was done with all his training, and their children were done with school. she would be much better off financially if she waited. they were in a reasonable place with each other. they had never fought or been acrimonious.  there was obvious logic to waiting. the girl questioned and resisted. she fasted, prayed and begged god for a new answer. the whole idea consumed her thoughts for weeks as she wrestled with it. 

one day in response to her petition to god, the words D&C 6:22-24 came to her mind.  she looked it up and read those verses, and from that moment forward, a peace filled her and carried her forward through the hardest thing she had ever had to go through.

until a solid month after it was done and over.  

only then, when things were actually official, and she and the boy were no longer legally tied one to another, did the grieving process set in. 

it occurred to her that our wise god knew if she'd glimpsed the mourning that was to come, she would have probably just decided to go back to the familiar again.  go another round or two. we have our systems for coping, we humans. she had them growing up, she had them in their marriage.  even if a situation wasn't a good one, it was known.  she was surviving. there were moments when she even seemed like she might be starting to thrive.  she could keep living that way. it wasn't a bad life.

but none of that hit her until it was over, and the boy had moved out and moved on. there hadn't been any real question in his mind about him leaving in the next few years during his training, but he admits he felt it would eventually happen.  it's certainly not an easy experience, but he admitted he's grateful she set him free. he had felt like he was living a lie for a long time but couldn't bring himself to move on because of how it would hurt her. and despite all their struggles, the boy loves the girl. still.  instead, he slowly changed, and these changes were too hard for her to assimilate, and brought them to this point. 

it was always going to be easier for the boy, she knew.  he's so beautiful. he's so fit, healthy and strong, he's intelligent and kind, talented and good. and he's a doctor who will be financially sound in a few short years. she knows his combination of traits are as rare as a unicorn in a non-magical world. girls will flock to him.

he knows she's sad, but he also believes that someday she'll be happy. he hopes someday she'll find someone who is a much better match for the person she is and the type of life she wants to have with her partner. and they both hope to make it through this transition and come out on the other side still friends. he will always be family to the girl, and she will always be someone the boy loves in a way. but it's hard right now.

so the girl is grieving. the girl is trying to move forward. the girl has noticed the hand of god in her life. it's especially manifested in the lives of their children, who have managed to navigate this transition with astonishing peace. they are thriving and progressing and not letting the situation with their parents undermine their lives.  this is the most significant blessing the girl could have ever hoped for. she has moments when she feels peace, followed by moments of being pulled under the rogue wave of grief over losing the boy. it's like a death but not as bad because he's still here and still being the wonderful father to their children that he's always been, which is of course much preferable. but it's also more complicated. 

this is the story of the past. this summer was the end of a chapter...maybe the end of a book. but it's also a beginning.  the girl and the boy spent nearly 27 years wrapped safely in a cocoon of their own making, becoming new creatures. they've finally emerged, and while his wings have dried and he's taken flight, the girl is getting there.  soon, this little blue girl will fly. 

~the end. and the beginning.~

grateful for:  god

Letter To My Younger Self

Letter To My Younger Self

Dear Little Blue,

You don't really need this letter, because you'll eventually figure all these things out on your own, but if I could share a few insights with you, I'd let you know that even though it feels like there's not a soul on earth who would really care if you ceased to exist, in just a little while that will change. Some angels will appear in your life, in the form of a school teacher, new friends, and a church leader or two. Their kindness will carry you through the next few years, and you will start to feel what it's like to be nurtured and cared for (and believe it or not, someday your sisters will be your dearest friends; maybe consider being nicer to them in the meantime).

Your sense of your identity is going to drastically evolve.  There's no way you could know yet that you're not utterly worthless, or that that's even how you think of yourself. Eventually you'll start to notice some of the internal beliefs you have, and question them. This is good.  Examining everything we believe is an important exercise in life, and requisite for growth. You'll start to feel something inside--called resonance--when things are true for you.  If you honor that, you'll be led and directed in ways that will be good for you.

Despite being told (and accepting as fact) that you're the ugliest girl in the world, in a few years you'll to meet people who don't hold that opinion of you.  It'll mess with your head a bit, but just hang in there.  In this world, appearance does matter, but really, it doesn't. Your dearest relationships will be based on the only kind of beauty that counts, that of the heart.

It's going to take years, but someday you'll forgive your parents and older sibling. They probably won't ever be a significant part of your life, but you'll find peace with that situation. Be okay with that.

Even though it's really scary sometimes, you're going to learn the most from the hard stuff you're going through, so I'm not going to tell you much, but someday you'll understand that even though you love them, some friends will move on without you. They get to. Also, you might just want to turn and walk the other way when you meet a dude named Kevin.

Throughout your life, a lot of the people you love most will lose their faith in God.  You'll struggle for a long time with your faith, too, and part of it will just be the shock that this even happens.  No one ever told you, nor did it cross your mind, that that was A Thing. Now you know, so just remember to trust what resonates within you, prove all things, and hold fast to the good. Proving requires study, thought, prayer, and righteous living. That's just how it works. Be fastidiously honest with yourself, no matter what other people believe. Eventually you'll find your own, bona fide faith, and it will be worth the effort. God really is always there with you...even when you're hiding from him.

Depression. You're going to deal with it, but it's not the boss of you. Ditto for the things you're anxious about.

When you're 18 years old, you'll meet a truly wonderful boy who will be nice to you and care for you and accept you, loose ends and all. You'll come to love each other and provide a safe harbor for each other to heal, evolve, and grow for a long long time.  Despite all that, sometimes he'll break your heart, and you'll break his...that's just how relationships go. Hold on when it seems bleak or hopeless ~ the end of this story hasn't been written yet, but no matter what happens, you will have a happy life.

The best thing about your entire life is you'll have the privilege of raising two amazing, precious children. You have no idea...I'm so excited for you, just thinking about them. I don't know how this story ends yet, but it'll be so great to experience it together!

You won't believe this now, but you are not going to be lonely. Or alone. There are unbelievably fantastic people in your future, and you will many times be simply overwhelmed with gratitude for the goodness and beauty in your life.  You're going to discover some things about yourself that will surprise and delight you, including fun interests and talents that haven't even crossed your mind yet. You're going to bless the lives of many others, and that will give you the most satisfaction of anything you do.  

It'll be a wonderful life, on a glorious planet (which you will get to explore, by the way). So be brave and strong.

With so much love,
Blue 2013

First Flight

First Flight

“Can we puhleeeeeeeeese stop and watch the planes take off?!” 

For a few years as a young child, we passed the John Wayne Airport while driving to and from church.  Week after week I'd plead with my parents to stop so we could watch the planes.  I was mesmerized by all of it: the roar of the engines, shimmery mirage-effect the jet exhaust made in the air, and the miracle of these massive machines taking flight.   

I don’t understand why my parents ever indulged me.  Perhaps because it was something to do that didn’t cost anything, or just to get me to stop pestering them. Maybe because they concluded it was a suitable activity for the sabbath…because one day they obliged, but rather than satisfy me, it just whetted my appetite for more.  I was hooked.  

Despite all this, it never occurred to me that I would ever go on a plane myself, because I had this notion that only rich and famous people got to fly…something we decidedly were not. 

So I honestly have no idea how this all came about, but the summer I was eight years old, my parents asked if I would like to fly to Idaho and spend the summer with some former neighbors of ours.  The Morgans had moved there two years earlier and had agreed to have me come stay them.  For two months.  

“Of course I want to go!”   

Now lets pause for a moment here. I can’t fathom why anyone thought this was a good idea.  I had never been away from home before, wasn’t a particularly mature child, and I hadn’t seen or talked to these people in two years--a quarter of my life.  They were retired, their children were grown, and they lived on a small farm in a small town in the middle of nowhere.  

But they had me at fly on a plane.  I didn’t actually think the trip through beyond the flight itself.  

The big day arrived and was it was fantastic!  Everything my eight-year old mind had imagined it would be.  I got a new outfit for the occasion (a rare occurrence), and was treated to a special breakfast. It was a big deal for someone in our family to be going on a trip of any kind, but this was especially significant. After snapping a quick picture of me on the sidewalk in front of our house in my new duds with my favorite stuffed animals, all seven of us loaded into the car and drove to the airport.  

Going in to the tiny shoebox of a terminal (as it was in 1977), we handed over my suitcase and they gave me my ticket. Fairly jumping out of my skin with excitement, I said good-bye to my family. And then for the first time, I got to venture past the chain link fence onto the tarmac.  Walking to the aircraft stairs, I paused to look back up at my family who were on the second-floor observation deck waving goodbye. 

My ride was a sweet, solid yellow Hughes Airwest Boeing 727. I'd dubbed them “Flying Banana” jets and they were my favorite planes at the time. It was a thing of beauty.  I considered myself super lucky because the stewardess directed me to the place of honor on the front row!  Wearing my new sweater, and with beloved teddy bear in hand, off we went into the wild blue yonder, leaving all my troubles behind. That first lift off was a complete life-rush. What a feeling!

During the flight the stewardesses were kind and attentive to me. I was amazed that they just gave you stuff, like food, for free.  Food was always a tricky issue in my childhood; it was kind of hard-scrabble a lot, so someone making me a meal always made me feel cared for.  I adored the tiny lavatory--I'd always loved small spaces...like the forts I regularly built out of boxes, in cupboards, closets, or in the shed out back.  Everything about the plane just seemed so cool.  I stared out the window at the top-side of clouds, and was amazed at the patterns on the land below. It looked like a beautiful, cozy, patchwork quilt was wrapped around the earth. I fell in love with the view.

You know how time seems slow down to a crawl when you’re a kid?  Well I discovered that that phenomenon doesn’t hold true on planes, because all too soon the fun was over.  Toward the end of the flight I thought up one of the two complete lies I made up as a kid. I was otherwise a very honest child, but decided I could use a whopper of a story to tell my friend, who had visited Vegas many times before. ("We had to switch planes in Las Vegas on the way, and because there was so much time before we took off again, the flight attendants and pilots took me over to Circus Circus to see the show, and I got picked from the audience to feed the elephant peanuts.")  Had no idea Circus Circus was a hotel.  #busted

We landed and I told my nice stewardesses and pilots goodbye.  Mrs. Morgan was waiting for me in the terminal and helped me claim my baggage before heading out to her car. I was just getting seated when I suddenly realized that I’d left my new sweater on  the plane.  Security being slightly different back then, I raced at top eight-year-old speed straight back out to my favorite Hughes Airwest Boeing 727 Flying Bannana, where the stewardess handed me my sweater and sent me on my way again.  

We got to the farm and put my little suitcase in the attic room that I would be sleeping in with the 1970's bead curtain door.  Mr. Morgan was a character.  His name was simply the letter “K”…and was one of the few adults I wasn’t required to address in more formal terms.  They showed me around the house and then sat me down for a talk.  

“When we lived near you, we noticed that you were a pretty hyper kid.” K said.  “We think it’s because you eat too much sugar, so we’ve decided that during your  visit, we’re going to put you on a no-sugar diet.”  

Huh?!  No sugar?  No treats at all?   But Mrs. Morgan explained that she would make me special carob treats to eat when everyone else was having chocolate, for example.  I had no idea what carob was, but when she showed me it looked like chocolate, and sounded something like caramel, so I thought it might not be too bad.  I had no idea.

When they sent me outside to play, I ventured into the heat and started poking around their property.   There were a few chickens, and I made a game of hunting for their eggs…Easter in July!  It was scorching hot...a kind of heat I was totally unaccustomed to. So hot that I decided to see if I could actually cook the eggs on pieces of scrap metal lying on the ground.  How twisted would you think I am if I told you it worked, and that after they were cooked, I fed them to the chickens?

Chicken-fun aside, there just wasn’t much to do. There was a new kind of silence out there in the country.  Miles up the road I could just barely make out the farmhouse of their nearest neighbor.  It looked smaller than my fort at home from that distance.  I was an extreme extrovert from a large, noisy family, growing up in a suburban neighborhood chock full of kids, and suddenly I was very alone.  As I gazed off into the endless horizon that hot summer day, I experienced the first pangs of homesickness in my life.  

One of those stories...

Friday night, I went to the opening of an art exhibit that my friend Leslie had a piece in. I was making my way slowly through the masses of people attending, when I ran into a former acquaintance (I'll call her Ally), whom I hadn't seen in a number of years. While we were chatting, a friend of hers approached, and for some reason this person looked familiar to me (though, as it turns out, I'd never seen her before).

 I asked Ally "who is that?", and when she told me her friend's name, (I'll call her Christine X), I asked "is she Steve X's sister?" Christine heard my question, and said "no, I'm Steve's wife. Who are you?"


Realizing I knew Steve, Ally introduced us to each other, and this is when I got embarrassed. Because I didn't know how they might respond to the truth. So I told them "I don't think I should  answer that question", which of course made them even hungrier to know. 

They pressed, I quickly caved.  "Well, as it turns out, Steve was the first guy I ever kissed"... the admission of which fact seemed to fill them both with crazy juicy delight.
 
Encouraged, I further explained, "I was fourteen. We met at a church dance in Newport Beach. He was cute and I was enchanted. Outside after the dance, he took me behind that mosaic wall, and then he kissed me."

Ally and Christine are both laughing now, clamoring for more details.  And since there were details to be had, I did share them.

"I floated all the way home, convinced that this kiss of course meant that WE WERE GOING TO GET MARRIED someday. I mean, naturally, he was clearly THE ONE.  So that night I wrote Steve a letter...with all the earnestness, heartfelt sincerity and oozing conviction of any newly lovestruck fourteen-year-old-fresh-out-of-junior-high girl.  And I had every intention of giving it to him, too, but I put that letter behind a photograph of the temple hanging above my cot in  the garage  for safekeeping, and eventually forgot about it because I NEVER SAW HIM AGAIN."

Ally and Christine are both hooting with laughter at this point.  And then, who should walk up but my once-upon-a-time-intended. Christine and Ally couldn't pounce upon him fast enough.

"Steve, do you recognize this person?"

And then, in what was for me the weirdest moment of all, Steve looked at me for only a few seconds and then replied "Sure I do. You're Blue.  Blue Jeuls."  (substitute my maiden name).

Shut the front door!

I thought someone must have told him before he walked up...or that he'd overheard our conversation.  But he hadn't.  He just remembered me, even though we only met once, TWENTY NINE YEARS AGO!

We chatted for a few minutes about that day and our lives since then. He and Christine are darling people, and it was fun to meet her.  He told me that three days after that dance he left for college, which is why I never saw him again.  I honestly didn't expect him to remember me, out of all the girls I presumed him to have met/kissed.  


He of course stood out for me because he was my first, and, well, because of THE LETTER--which, I should note, I didn't rediscover until I was packing up all my stuff to move out of the garage when I got married, seven years later. I pulled that photo of the temple off the wall and this mysterious envelope fluttered to the floor. After reading it, can I just say you have NOOOOOO idea how glad I was that I hadn't had the opportunity to completely mortify myself by actually delivering it to him!

In the end, I guess the only thing I can conclude from this experience is, dang, I must be a REALLY good kisser!*

How about you? Tell me your first kiss stories!!!


*or an amazingly terrible one.

Ex-Boyfriend Encounters. Sort-of.

Hi lovelies! A friend did a blog post today about running into ex-boyfriends and asked us to share our ex-boyfriend stories. I've had a few awkward encounters, but this one, while not entirely about an ex-boyfriend of mine, was one I thought worth sharing.

I had recently turned eighteen years old when a woman I had been babysitting for off and on for six years asked if I could watch her kids overnight.  I really liked their family, so I agreed to it.

I got to her home and we were catching up a bit before they left on their getaway, and she asked if I was dating anyone.  I told her about a guy I’d just met, who I'll just call "Dave". We hadn’t gone out yet, but Dave had gotten my phone number and said he’d call me. 

Turns out she knew him, and upon hearing this asked, “Do you know how old he is?” 

 

Now, Dave did strike me as older than any other guy I'd gone out with, but that didn’t really bother me at the time because I (naively) fancied myself super-mature and able to hold my own with anyone. Besides, he was quite good-looking, in that George Clooneyish kind of way. The type that could have claimed any age within a twenty-year span and you could credibly believe it. Also, he seemed to be well-off, based on his car and wardrobe...which had it's own kind of appeal.  The fact that he was older and still single was probably just indicative that he was looking for the right woman. And lo, that might just be me, I reasoned.

In fact, Dave himself had asked me how old I thought he was when we met (which was at a church singles dance). I admit I was low-balling it to be polite when I said 29, to which he replied “Close. I’m 31″.

I hadn’t ever dated a man that much older than me (Would have been jail bait till just a couple months before.) (Though not, actually, because I was, after all, a virtuous Mormon girl.)

So I told the friend I was babysitting for “He’s thirty-one″, to which she laughed out loud and shared the following story, related to her by her sister Karen, who knew all the parties involved:

Karen had gone to school and worked with Dave for many many years and knew him well. When he was in college, Dave had a girlfriend named Jane for a couple years. Jane loved Dave and wanted to take their relationship to the next level, but it seems Dave was something of a ladies' man, and when it became clear that he wasn’t interested in settling down, they parted ways and life moved on. 

Jane met and married a wonderful guy, and they raised a family together. One evening Jane’s daughter, now 19 years old, was upstairs getting ready to go out on a date. The doorbell rang, Jane opened the door, and was surprised to see her ex-boyfriend Dave, whom she hadn't seen in twenty-four years, standing there.

Dave, upon seeing Jane, seemed flustered, and stammered out a greeting followed by some lame excuse about "just being in the neighborhood and thinking he’d stop by and say hi and see how she was doing", but that "something had come up and he had to go". He wished her well and abruptly left.  "That was bizarre", Jane thought to herself as she shut the door.

A few minutes later her daughter comes downstairs to wait for her date to arrive. A little time passes, the date hasn't shown up. Jane asks her daughter "Who are you going out with tonight?"  Her daughter tells her the date's name. 

Sure enough, it's Jane's old college boyfriend, Dave.  Dave, who who was still out there, playing the field, chasing one girl after another for all these years, while a whole lifetime had passed for Jane as she raised her family. 

Needless to say, after hearing this story from my friend, who informed me that Dave was actually forty-eight years old (!), I didn’t return his call when he rang to ask me out. But I couldn’t avoid him a couple months later when he cornered me at the punch bowl during another dance. 

“You didn’t return my calls!” he says with a flirty grin. 

“You lied to me about your age”, I stated, looking him straight in the eye. 

"Yeah, I heard you found out about that", he cheekily responds “But how could I tell you my actual age when you thought I was 29?” 

“How can you attempt to start out any kind of relationship with a flat-out lie? To say nothing about what on earth a 48 year old would want with an 18 year old. Let me guess. Was it my keen mind that fascinated you?” 

A few months later I met the guy who would eventually become my husband…he was 5 months younger than me, and it probably wasn’t my keen mind that fascinated him, either, but at eighteen, that was understandable. At least he wasn't two years older than my father!

So, tell me your ex-boyfriend encounters. Any good ones?

Perchance To Dream

Last Friday, Doc took the day off work and the two of us flew to Long Beach for a little overnight get-away for my birthday. It was absolutely wonderful! 

Dodge Charger

We got this ridiculously amazing deal on Hotwire.com at the five-star Island Hotel in Newport Beach, so our accommodations were superb in every way, particularly because one thing on our agenda was going to the 103rd annual Christmas Boat Parade around Balboa Island...which was just a mile away.  Perfect!

I always reserve economy rental cars, but when we got to Alamo, they upgraded us to a sweet set of wheels. I've never had a car without a key before.  And talk about acceleration! This was a fun ride.

Tunnel through the rocks

Saturday we went to Treasure Island Park, which is a beautiful stretch of coast in South Laguna. We loved exploring the beautiful gardens and rocks along the shore. It was low tide, so we hiked out on the rocks where we were surrounded by ocean, and just talked for a couple hours with the air and the smells and sounds of the sea filling us up and making us feel peaceful.  Ahh, dear ocean, I love you!

Looking inland from the rocks, accessible because it was low tide.

"What are your dreams?", Doc asked me as we sat, mesmerized by the ocean.  I paused for a while before answering, because I wanted to check in with myself.  Do I currently have any dreams? I wondered.  Growing up, my greatest dream was having a happy marriage and family. Really, that was all I wanted in my life, and while it takes effort to maintain, that dream has pretty much come true. But I never really had aspirations beyond these two things.

Sometimes opportunities have presented themselves and I've seized them.  Like when I became a flight attendant eleven years ago - that has been a very happy thing in my life. I also tend to get excited for other people and their dreams, happily signing on to support them in lieu of chasing my own dreams.  For example, it's taken a lot of effort to put Doc through his Ph.D. and then, later, going to medical school, but I don't regret any of the sacrifices it's taken to help him get to this point.

Doc & my sis. They're actually so much alike it's scary. And wonderful.

YMMV but it seems like there has almost been a movement towards not just having dreams, but having BIG DREAMS. People SHOULD have an admirable dream! You are wasting your life otherwise. 

So lately I've almost felt guilty about not having a big dream that I'm actively working towards.  Everyone around me seems to be, so what the heck is my problem?!

Doc didn't ask this question to pressure me. He's just genuinely curious, and supportive of me in pursuing worthwhile things.  He recognizes that some people (me) tend to be more process-oriented, while others are seem to need a specific goal that they're actively pursuing. Their dreams may fulfill any number of purposes, such as:

• Making their lives meaningful - by making a difference in the world whether large-scale or small. Starting a charity, volunteerism (eg: school, community counsel, church, soup kitchen), doing God's work, finding a cure for the common cold, etc. They want to leave a legacy behind them.
• Self-improvement - eg: become healthier (lose weight, work out more, eat healthier), acquire education (get a degree, take piano lessons, learn to scrapbook, bake, cook etc), find a partner (romance goals), all things that make them more accomplished and self-confident.
• Have lots of fun - such things as travel the world, go in a hot air balloon, be a guest on Oprah.  The pursuit of fun, unique, interesting experiences. (It seems these kinds of goals are wildly popular.)
• Negative motivation - like proving to someone else that you could do something, eg: those kids who were mean to your nerdy self growing up, doing something impressive so you can show them. This kind of goal can still bring about positive results, even though it's not the best starting point.
• Goals that you set because you need to - like learning to walk and talk after a stroke, quitting smoking BECAUSE it's KILLING YOU, or training as a stenographer for a new career as a court reporter. 
• General goals or aims, such as "eat healthier" or "spend quality time with my spouse and kids", or "be an optimist - accentuate the positive in life"...and doing these kinds of things can help improve one's overall life, but they tend to be less accountable. (These are the kinds of "goals" I've generally had.)

Though once upon a time I was a person with modest aspirations, they have all either come to pass or didn't come to fruition, and I never zeroed in on new goals. Hence, I've landed in this place of not really doing much good with my life the last while (few years?). 

Now granted, during this time I've been working hard to heal from the past, and fending off depression can be a major goal/dream/aspiration/pursuit killer. But there's no point in waiting till I'm "better" to have dreams I'm working on. I love how Leonard Cohen put it in his song Anthem:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

So I've (again) begun thinking about goals and dreams.  I've watched this gorgeous message, and am hoping to identify what it is that I actually want. There are lots of things I'm pretty good at or that other people have suggested, but they haven't moved me to action. I'm sure that fear is the primary reason I am kind of stuck. Some of my dreams have been dashed, but rather than move on, I've felt sorry for myself and stopped trying, so as to avoid failure. How crazy is that?!  Also, I can be pretty lazy. 

I'm not yet sure what my dreams are. But I'm starting to zero in on the subject. I think I have a pretty good sense of the person I want to be generally (those General Goals mentioned above)...thoughtful, grateful, nice, honest, loyal, faithful to truth. I want to turn weaknesses into strengths, create happy memories for people I love, be a parent to and friends with my kids forever, and grow really old with my sweetheart while never losing the spark of love that we have. That would be a life well-lived. But in addition to these basics, I know there is room for me to soar.

Holiday Crimson Amaryllis

My darling bestie Keri sent me a gift this week for my birthday. Her note said "Sometimes beauty takes time. This is your year, Blue" 

It's an amaryllis, and it didn't come with instructions on how to make it bloom. Neither did I, but between all the resources out there, and the lovely people around me, I know that if I choose to, I can find and reach any dream I make.

Shakespeare asked well when he said: 
To be, or not to be, that is the question. 
I want to be.  And, perchance, to dream. 

Merry Christmas to you!
xoxo 

PS: (Did you click that first link? If you click nothing else, promise yourself that you will take just 10 minutes of your life and watch it. You won't regret it UNLESS YOUR HEART IS A PETRIFIED ROCK. I've watched it at least 15 times so far. Thank me later...preferably via a comment.)

Twenty-Four

From the moment I met him, he seemed larger than life. I think it was initially his mind that impressed me. He was one of those golden boys who had always had straight A's and full-scholarships. His artistic abilities were considerable, as were his musical talents. He was earnest, hard-working, un-assuming, kind-hearted, deep-rooted.  The list of his admirable qualities (which wasn't just in my mind...I actually wrote it down) was long.  He was unassuming and liked by all...or at the very least disliked by none, which was a feat I was particularly positioned to appreciate given my tumultuous  teen years.  He was from a lovely, solid family and had four younger siblings that adored him. He was well-adjusted and happy.

And he liked me.

ME!

(?!)

That fact alone was usually all it took for me to fall for a guy based on my self-worthlessness at that time. But for some inexplicable reason, I just wanted to be friends.  I really liked him. I admired him. But more than that, I just wanted to be with him...and any guy I'd ever fallen for in the past was pretty much a flash-in-the-pan and then our friendship was over. 

So I told him I just want to be friends, and even though he liked me still, he said "that's fine."  

And so it began.  

That was twenty-four years ago this month.  

We hung out all the time.  We could talk for hours about everything.  We DID talk about everything that crossed our minds.  He became my best friend and every moment that we were together felt miraculous and wonderful. It was like landing on a whole new universe of possibility and joy, being with him.   Pretty soon I realized that I was totally in love. And I told him so.  He said he'd been in love with me from the start. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that someone was actually in love with me. 

It was glorious.

Because of the difference in our self-esteem levels at that time in particular, it was easy to pedestalize him.  The sky was not a limit for him I secretly thought. I practically immortalized him, but he didn't let it go to his head or buy into it in any way.  Still, I knew we were going to be an amazingunstopableandchangetheworld couple, because he was more than enough to make up for my (believed) deficits. 

I had no real concept of what kind of pressure being highly-esteemed can create, to say nothing of the already internalized pressure of being a provider for a family when you're just barely done with childhood yourself.  He didn't seek my sky-high-opinion. He honestly didn't entertain thoughts of greatness. He has always been genuinely modest that way.  He treated me as though we were equals.

We wed early in the morning on a warm summer day in 1990. We were so young and undeveloped as individuals at the time, only twenty-one, but I felt confident about our ability to take on the entire world...every bit the legitimate grown-up that the law said we were (until the day we tried to rent a car and had an "under 25" policy apply.  But we've been married for three years! How am I not a full-fledged adult? I wondered.)  

I've come to think it takes most of your twenties to truly become an adult.

The pressure from without to be a certain way comes from all sectors: family, school, church, work, friends, country.  It is present in all our lives, but I think some individuals are more deeply affected by it than others...they internalize it.  The expectations inspire some, but anchor others, and not always in a place they wish to be. This can be a heavy responsibility. I think of young teenage boys who are drafted to fight older men's wars, and the heavy toll that is exacted of them in the name of duty, honor, responsibility to country.  Sometimes it's just way too much. But there are individuals who are really exceptional at carrying on, no matter what.

On this week of thanksgiving, I've been pondering the abundance of blessings in my life, and they are legion, but there was a moment when I sensed an awareness of gratitude for Doc, different than ever before.  

Perhaps it was the angle of weariness in his posture after a long, difficult day at the hospital, when he came home to a sick wife and neglected kids who needed nursing, food, homework help, and parenting, and he just took care of everything despite his own personal preferences and needs, that I became aware of this.

Of course this is just what we do, all of us, but I think it comes more naturally to some than others.  For some, it is actually a labor of love, a conscious choice made every time, rather than their natural way of being.  

Maybe it was as I lay upon my bed, home alone, head and body aching with fever, wishing for comfort and relief from any one, but realizing it was him that I would have especially liked to have near me.

No matter when it happened, there came a moment when I saw my sweet husband with new eyes. With a wash of appreciation for his steady, enduring, patient, endless presence and love in my life. For his forgiving nature, his long-suffering with things that he'd otherwise have not had to have in his life, were it not for the choice he made to just love me, loose ends and all, those many years ago. And the many years since.  

For how he does his very best to manage and meet the great number of different expectations so many people have of him in the best way he can, while still retaining a sense of who he is on his inside.   It's a hard juggling act, and one that many people would have just walked away from altogether.  But he stays, and keeps juggling.

Today I'm very grateful for my dear husband, whom I call Doc.  His name is Brad, and my name is Julia. He calls me silly nicknames more than my own name (today I'm "Jay-beepen-beeber"). He makes me laugh and makes me proud and makes me stretch and learn and grow by just journeying through the years with me.

He still believes in me and what I might accomplish in my life...calls me his "wild card". He encourages the best in me, but never tries to live my life for me, and even if I never do anything exceptional or amazing, he'll still be here for me. 

He hugs me goodbye every morning though I'm still in bed when he leaves for the hospital.  He reads what I write and gives me thoughtful, encouraging feedback. He puts up with my lack of consistent domesticity, my tendency for messes and clutter. 

He takes exceptionally good care of himself in terms of food and exercise and health. He gives his time and money and support to things that I believe in. He is diplomatic and tactful. He has never laid a finger on me no matter how infuriating I may be at times and I know I can trust him 100%. He appreciates the smallest things I do, like making a nice dinner, or folding his clean laundry.  

He fathers our sweet children in a gentle, kind way, and has a tender, beautiful relationship with each of them.  We aren't perfect and we've had our major ups and of course even more major downs because that's just how all relationships are, but he's on my team and is a constant I can hang my star on. 

For these reasons, and countless more, I am exceptionally grateful.  In fact, in the vast universe of things I count as blessings in my life--which includes all my dear friends, and you lovely readers of this blog, I think Doc, my Brad, is probably the what I'm MOST grateful for on this day of Thanksgiving.  And that's just how it should be.

I love you, Sweetest! And I'm grateful for twenty-four years of life with you! ♥

Match Moment. After years of schooling and applying to various residency programs all around the country, this envelope revealed what kind of doctor he would train to be during residency, and where that training would take place.
That was an incredible experience.

How It Went

Hi guys!

Okay, I think a little background info is in order before following up on my last post.  

As I've mentioned before, it's been years since I cut off contact with my parents.  Five, in fact.  

At that time I wasn't sure how long it might be. I didn't really have a plan, I just knew that for my own sanity, I needed some distance and time to heal from the abuse and neglect of my childhood, and that just wasn't happening as long as they were in the picture. I tried to be nice about it, but really, there's no way something like that doesn't hurt. And I hate hurting people.

A year later I checked in with my mother while she was visiting a friend who lives near me. I told her I still wasn't ready to resume contact. 

Another year passed and that's when I confronted my father (as I wrote about and linked to in my previous post).  That was three years ago.  

I described part of my journey to this point in a talk I gave this past April, which explains how I was able to get to the point I was at last Christmas Eve, when I sent them a long email, the heart of which was to tell them: 

I’ve been working hard and praying hard, and I want you to know that I forgive you both for the things that you did, and didn’t do, which have caused me pain.  I know you are both good-hearted people with good intentions. We kids were a handful and you did what you could, and some things you couldn’t do, but we all at least survived, and I’m grateful for what I’ve learned so far in my life.  I really am."

So again, I want you to know that I do forgive you, and I’ve been praying for you both, but unfortunately I’m still very uncomfortable about having you in my life. And I’m sorry about that, but it’s just where I’m at.

Which brings us up to this past Saturday when my father called.

Since you're probably curious to know, I will tell you that overall, dinner went pretty well. I was noticeably quieter than usual; not really comfortable, but trying to be pleasant. But my typically reserved, "back row kind of guy" husband really stepped up to the plate and was conversant, engaging and sociable.  My sweet girl was her cheery, normal self. And even Gator, who didn't really want to go, also did just fine. It all made me feel so supported, thankful for, and in love with my little family! (And then I came home and had several lovely notes of support from my bloggy friends.  Imy bloggy friends!  Thanks for the notes and emails!)

As we were leaving the restaurant my father asked if there was a time we could talk before they left town. I didn't have my calendar on me, so I told him I'd call and let him know.  (By the way: Did you know that buying yourself a little time in situations like this is actually part of having healthy boundaries? I didn't realize that until my therapist mentioned it yesterday.)

I can't say I actually wanted to meet again, but I felt like I should at least make an effort to hear what he wanted to say.  So I called Sunday night and arranged to meet for breakfast on Monday morning.  At the last moment, my mother asked if it was okay to bring my brother Davis along.  "ABSOLUTELY!"  (SO glad I didn't have to do it alone!)

We met at IHOP and after a few minutes of chitchat my dad dove in.  I wasn't sure if he was going to announce that he was terminally ill and had just weeks to live, or what.  But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that really, it was just about the family stuff.

One thing they were both a bit confused about was how come things aren't better between us, since I've supposedly forgiven them.  We (Davis and I) had to explain that there is a huge difference between forgiveness and trust.  And honestly, I don't think that he EVER realized this before.  I could see the dawning of understanding in his eyes as we explained this concept to him.  Forgiving him didn't mean we trusted them, or felt comfortable being with them.  

I should have used the example (but I didn't think of it at the moment) of Sigfried and Roy, who had the most visited show in Las Vegas, until one night during a performance, Roy was bitten on the neck by a seven-year-old male tiger named Montecore, and dragged off the stage. He suffered severe blood loss, a stroke and partial paralysis and has spent years in rehabilitation.

These men loved that tiger. They'd raised him from a cub and spent time with him every day of his life. But this event changed their relationship forever.  They could forgive the tiger (if you'll excuse the example of forgiving an animal...this is a metaphor after all), they could even still love the tiger, but the trust they once had was shattered, and their show had to be permanently cancelled.  

Sometimes when things are serious enough, trust won't ever be restored 100%--at least in this life. My parents have a long way to go before I will be in a position to really trust them again. 

The other really big thing was explaining to my father that we think he has very high-functioning Asperger's, or something along those lines (my totally unprofessional diagnosis)...because he has always had a massive blind spot that he doesn't even realize is there when it comes to social issues and how interpersonal relationships work.  This was totally news to him, but all three of us insisted unanimously that it's true.

It was like trying to explain to someone that can't see the color red that there's this whole part of the spectrum that most of us are aware of, but that they didn't know existed. And we didn't realize he couldn't see it all this time, but we're starting to put the pieces together. 

So now, having had this brought to his attention, perhaps he can do some research and gain some knowledge about the matter that might make it easier for him and those around him in the future.  He just really doesn't understand how some human interactions work, and that is part of the problem (though it doesn't account for his uncontrolled temper, which thing never really did change even after the sexual abuse stopped. Discussing this part may help him be aware of why we're uncomfortable even now.) 

I can't honestly recreate much of our breakfast conversation WHICH LASTED FOUR HOURS, (made sure he left the poor, underpaid waitress a really big tip), but ultimately I feel like there was some movement for all of us I think, and over all it was probably a good thing that we had the talk. I agreed to allow limited email communication, and I was able to say some things that I probably needed to say.  

I know I don't have all the answers about this whole matter of healing and forgiving deep wounds. I'm no expert, but I DO I feel like I'm being led along, tweaked and turned in ways that will ultimately help in the (in-depth, never-ending, intensive) refining process, and I’m just trying to be humble enough to let myself be helped if possible. I share my journey here in case it might in some small way help another in their own life.

I really do hope that my parents can continue to learn and progress so that things can really improve for them.  It kind of seemed like they were still hyper-focused on me, and trying to get me to change so that things would be "all better" in our family.  I may have imagined it, but it felt like maybe they realized there were things that they still need to do and CAN do on their end.  So that gave me hope.

Thanks again for the support during this experience. It means a lot to me!

xoxo,

Blue

PS: I really will be getting to the promised Drama Triangle.  Soon!

Unexpected Call...

Dropping the bags of groceries I was carrying on the table just now, I answered the phone. It was an unfamiliar number on the caller ID. Expecting a telemarketer, (delay after answering and a poor connection), it took me a moment to catch what the caller was saying, but he asked for me by name. I said it was me, and then he told me his name. I replied "oh..........hi."  

He either didn't catch my response, or thought perhaps I'd misheard him, so he further clarified, stating his name and adding "your father". 

I haven't heard his voice in 3 years...since the last time I saw him.  It's been 4 years since I had talked to or saw my mother.  

"We're at Temple Square (downtown Salt Lake City) and even though it's last-minute, we're wondering if we can take you guys to dinner."

I'm not usually quick on my feet in such situations, so my default tendency is to decline. But I surprised myself (and probably him) by being open to the possibility.   "Let me check...can you hold on for a minute?"

I asked my family what they thought.  They agreed to the idea. So here we go...20 minutes till we meet them at a restaurant. I don't know what will happen, but I do know it won't be nothing.  Here goes...

Miss Ryan

Happy Saint Patricks Day!

I committed yesterday to share my very first journal entries from little, eleven-year old Blue. So here you go, exactly as written 31 years ago today (Gives me great hope for Gator, frankly!):

March 17, 1980 - Saint Pactricks Day Monday

Thay anounced the winners of the play and I was suposed to be Miss Hanigan

I hate Miss Hanigan and Miss Ryan my Mean fith grade teacher kicked me out

Kim Pricherd got the part I wanted, Annie

Boy I hate Miss Ryan

Miss Ryan Hates Me so Much

she wouldnt even tell me who grace was

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

March 19, 1980

Mrs. Ryan Likes me now and

Im in the play as Miss Hanigan

But I dont care that much

Im in math right now But i'm done.

(Sadly, the next entry was seven months later so we will ever be deprived of further detail about the glories of playing Miss Hanagan which were increased by the casting of my younger sister as one of the orphans I got to pick on.)

I've written before about Miss Ryan (no, she didn't get married between entries). She was my all-time favorite teacher and had an invaluable impact on me at a critical time in my life. So I was surprised when I read that first entry to Gator. My childhood was a field of extremes...love, hate, good, bad, ugly, pretty, all, nothing. It's taken a lot of work to embrace the middle, the myriad shades of gray.

Two months ago while on a layover in California I decided to track down my beloved teacher. She's been married for decades now, but she always will be Miss Ryan to me because I refuse to grow up.

I had so many questions for her. I wanted to know if she knew, or even suspected, anything about my home life and how things were going for me. I mean, it was 1980...a different era in terms of awareness of neglect and abuse. But still, was that why she took an interest in me? Did she know what a huge impact she had on me?

It was a Sunday evening when I finally met up with her. Ever the superhero teacher, she was in her classroom at the school where she now teaches, preparing for her week.

I only had an hour before I had to head back to the airport, but it was such a sweet visit for me. Miss Ryan's had thousands of students in the course of her career, yet she absolutely remembered me (I must have a way about me).

Miss Ryan and me...31 years later

We had a nice visit, filling in the gaps in our lives. I was able to thank her for what she did for me...after telling her how important she was in my life. Despite what I wrote on March 17, 1980, she really has always been one of my heroes...one of my life's angels. And being in that play was the start of some fun experiences for me...despite not getting to wear the red afro wig!

So the moral of these stories is (this really should have been part of yesterday's post), keep a journal, kids! You never know but what it might come in handy in enchanting your beloved someday. And it's like free therapy when you're struggling...but be honest and thoughtful about what you write. Show the whole picture. We can't learn and grow from our mistakes and follies, or see how far we've come, if we don't acknowledge them. And your kids won't be able to laugh their heads off at how ridiculous you use to be if you don't put in all the good stuff! Put the date on each page. Don't bother with stuff that really doesn't matter, but do include feelings and thoughts that are significant. Remember, venting on paper is better than being mean to others. You can always tear a page out if you really don't want words you've written to be remembered...but you can't take actions or spoken words back.

Have you ever gotten in touch with someone you'd lost touch with from your past (not counting Facebook)? Did you have any heroes as a child? Were any of your teachers exceptionally important in your life?

Grateful for:

1) Education. Gracious, I had no idea how atrocious my grammar and spelling use to be!

2) Perspective that comes through the passage of time.

3) Chances to thank those who have blessed my life.