fractures and healing

 my life has been full of loss and leaving...
baby brother who passed away so young..
my bio dad..
leaving Oregon and my extended family at 6...
"losing" my parents to stress of farm life..

that first big break up... 

the loss of that friend group...

leaving the church in my 20s..

the loss of that community...

and now..

a divorce.

but what if i turn it...

what if i see the resilience that i have..

the desire for love and connection...

that baby...i loved him so big and always will..

my bio dad... his loss was my gain. perhaps an act of love was his leaving. 

so grateful to have experienced Oregon, those memories formed my love of the nature...

and i will forever feel the love my Grandma gave me so young...

i became independent, strong, resilient. 

I can take care of littles and developed such a love and gratitude for them..

Choosing to leave an unhealthy relationship was such a brave thing for me to do so young. 

And i did it. 

I found new friends...such are the waves of life. 

What a profound move, to leave the toxicity of religiosity and mysogyny...

to look for something bigger, more empowering, and positive...

I see I am resilient, searching for connection, for truth...

willing to leave it all behind and start over new if you must...

But not this time. 

This time...I have built friendships with people who value me.

This time...I have people who set aside their own things to connect.

This time... I am making my own safe space and I am going to fill it...

with love, color, light, art, hope, dreams, peace, and plants.

where it's okay to make a mess and spill your coffee.

it's okay to make mistakes, be late, and forget things.

it's okay to slow down and dream...

low key looking for a lover

low key looking for a lover
someone to love for the day
dance with me through wildflowers

oh sweet, i hope you stay

low key looking for a lover

someone to take my hand
lead me gently through moonlight
undress me where i stand

low key looking for a lover

someone to taste my lips
trace me temple to torso
sway your soul with my hips

grandpa

I was just in washington for my bio grandma’s funeral. I barely knew her. It was more of a loss of what could’ve been than what was. 

But this week my grandpa died. Not unexpected, but still a shock. 

He was not perfect, but he was what was and I knew he loved me. 

Here’s some words about him:

82 years old this week. He made it to his 60th anniversary a few weeks ago as well. He attended his last reunion straight out of the hospital and it may have been his best one yet. He played cornhole, bullied my aunt into cooking his famous clam chowder, and rode his scooter around like he was 64 again and stole someone else’s. He started these weeklong family campouts something like a million years ago where we all get together somewhere in Oregon and play cards, cook amazing food, and just spend time with one another. I don’t know how many reunions he’s been to, but of course he was at every one that I was able to be at: organizing, barking at kids and cooking clam chowder his way: bacon grease and butter. He made the best salmon, too, glazed in brown sugar and baked to perfection. He loved to cook for people and he loved to eat good food. I’ll forever see him at my grandma’s dining room table: throwing down cards, his kids sitting around him. that loud lenardson laughter roaring so big that we all had to learn to yell to be heard. what an honor it was to finally sit at the adult table and play cards with them all of these past few years. for sure, he wasn’t perfect: this gruff old navy veteran who apparently used to love to dance. but i’m so thankful for the years I got to know him and for the family he’s left behind, for all of those who were able to sit around a table together with him and toss our quarters in one last time. he called me last week: “thank you, i’m glad you made it and i love you.” and I didn’t realize it then, but i’m really so thankful for that last goodbye.

I’ll be headed to his funeral tomorrow. 

Too much loss. I also sprained my ankle this week and had covid a couple weeks ago…. So, running has not been really an option to deal with it all. Thank goodness for my art…

bio dad

 “You feel victimized?”

He looks at me with pity. Patronizing. As though feeling victimized was just the saddest thing I could be, having been abandoned by my biological father at three. His empty face giving me judgement instead of remorse. Never mind the world I have created for myself. Never mind the beauty and love I put into this place. I have woven a network of friendship and connection, something this man will never have. I have built a palace of hope and possibility compared to the shanty of a life he lives in: sick and alone. He fuels himself with delusions; Reality twisted and fragmented into his mosaic of truth, caulked together by the lies his mind tells him. 

Somewhere out of the insanity, he does speak words of kindness: they are laced in pretention, as though he’s gifting me approval. The audacity he wears to even think I need that from him. This is the trouble with frank; his half truths, one image drawn over another so intricately that the two become one. In the same breath, he compliments me and on exhale says his very words have changed the world. He thinks he can walk around in other people’s rooms, see into their lives, and read their minds. I will myself not to ask what he sees in mine just as strongly as I close my lips and swallow words of accusation or argument. There’s no point. 

He is happy he says, alone with his books and god. He prefers it that way. People are too complicated. So I note to myself, I will not hold onto guilt if I don’t come again. 

1st visit in 14 years

 We create our own reality. We live in whatever space we build for ourselves. We are responsible for our future, perhaps not our past. We choose the avenues that we walk down and who we become. We spend our life building the house that we live in. 

I sit here staring at the man who is responsible for all of my empty places and most of my broken pieces, who has never showed up, and I realized he has been shattered into a million pieces by this life and his choices. He is ill and alone. He is empty. And yet: What power to walk away and leave such a large hole. And here I am, trying to mend what? Trying to find what? I want to take my money and light it on fire. Catch eyes with a stranger, wrap their arms around my body and pull them into me. Pour myself a drink, and then one more, and then one more. Shake myself free from anything good because I don’t deserve it. I want to gouge out whatever part of me carries part of him. He is a stranger to me, yet holds my soul under water. His grip squeezing out any peace.  This skeleton, this shell. A mere outline of a greater story of could-have-been. Perhaps it was out of kindness that he stayed away from us all, knowing his brokenness had sharp edges, knowing they would pierce the soft, smooth skin of his children. 

Flying Time

 I know it’s been so long. Reading through these stories is inspiring and yet cringeworthy in some cases. I am amazed by how much time has passed. How different I am. How much I am the same. Some posts make me want to write again. Some posts remind me of how many memories are just going to forever be missing because I stopped my writing. There are some little pockets of goodness sprinkled throughout. Could they be collected and turned into a mini memoir? Perhaps a book of poems? 

How to compile all the years into one post. Impossible. I read of the hunger for life and adventure and her heart is the same: always wanting for more, always dreaming. 

At this time, I am learning to be an artist. After 13 years of nursing, I have taken the last 9 months off (not exactly by choice, but more by circumstance) to pursue this original dream. Perhaps the fear of failure squashes my ambitions the most. That or my subconscious fear of fraudulence: Imposter Syndrome represented authentically. Was my dream of creating and being an artist just something bigger to hold onto? A shining light I pretended was there to make the shadows of life seem more tolerable? 

I read: The only thing separating an artist and everyone else is the desire to create. Talent, so they say, is something you practice, not that you Have. 

What a perspective, but one I’ve always told others. “You could do this too if you put in the time”. I could see on one hand how it seems to take away something from the artist by suggesting that “anyone can do it” so perhaps it’s less valuable? But on the other hand…who else will take the time to put their dreams out there for the world to love, criticize, take, admire, to have… Honestly, not to toot my own horn, but this path takes more bravery and strength than I realized. I have to believe in myself despite all other perspectives because even the words of my admirers don’t heal the cracks of insecurities. 

I do want this, despite what you may think, despite my faltering along, my hesitations, my insistent delay of growth….I want this.

To follow my art and creative adventures:

          @fiberandglaze on instagram

           www.fiberandglaze.com

the last time i saw her

 we decided to wait at the bar next door. the family chose to meet for dinner at a chinese restaurant in a strip mall and we were early. My brother, my husband and i settled into our stiff leather seats and ordered some beers. behind the counter were rows and rows of lottery tickets, so we challenged our luck and bought some to pass the time. 

i hadn’t been back since i was twenty three and now, 13 years later, we came to visit. i had no intention of ever returning, but after hearing that our grandmother had been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer it felt like the right thing to do, so here we were. waiting. she, my aunt, my uncle, and likely at least one cousin would be heading our way shortly. 

in the beginning my aunt kept looking over her shoulder to the door as though she were waiting on someone: more hoping than expecting, her eyes returning back to the table, downcast for just a flutter. at some point in the meal, she resigned to their absence. we sat across from each other at a table full of tea pots and plates overflowing with chinese food: the peas an unnatural bright green, the sweet and sour a brilliant blaze of orange, the chicken more batter than meat, the fried rice shiny and crisp. the conversation was void of anything too exciting, mostly just pleasantries and polite exchanges. we laughed awkwardly, like it hadn’t been over a decade since i had last come. no one asks too many questions here in the land of family-who-are-strangers. in the end, the grandmother gets up to go outside and smoke a cigarette. she stood in the shadows of the stripmall lighting, staring out into the parking lot.

she invited us to her house the next day, so we walked there. we went to the grocery store near her house and bought her some chocolate ice cream bars. they were out of her favorite kind, so we splurged on the fancy ones, hoping she would still be pleased, hoping she would have an appetite for these. our grandmother lived in a small two bedroom apartment with my uncle who ended up on her couch years ago out of desperation and now had become her primary caretaker. the three of us squeezed onto their loveseat, the uncle sat in a desk chair behind us, and we faced the grandmother sitting in her own special chair, so small and underweight from the chemotherapy. in her sweet little mini mouse voice, she asked and then insisted on buying us pizza. while we waited, we talked. i asked for photos, but they had all been lost in a fire. she told us a story of when she ran away from the reservation at the age of seventeen and somehow ended up in california. she said she was wild and free and having fun, but i wonder what it was really like, why she left the reservation and all the stories she may have left there. i told her of my pottery, my art; how I had been exploring ojibwe styles, but wasn’t sure if I should, if I was stealing it from her ancestors. She said “You should make ojibwe art. You are Ojibwe.” the phone rang and she lifted the television remote to say hello and then she laughed, recognizing her error. the pizza came and my uncle put it in the kitchen on top of a stack of something. the counter, the cabinets, the makeshift shelves: all overflowing with cans and jars and cups and boxes of quick meals. things all piled up to the very edge of it all, precarious and daring. we each had a slice, trying to leave a little leftover for her. i suggested we get a photo together, so the little woman squeezed in between my brother and i and my husband took some shots. she had chemo again tomorrow so we left, not wanting to tire her. 

i had reached out in march, begging for stories. no one responded. i reached out again, asking someone else if they could relay my hopes. a thumbs up. and nothing. perhaps her mind was already gone, perhaps my requests were too painful, perhaps….i will never know. 

she passed away two weeks ago now. i’ll be headed to the funeral this thursday.

i still hear her voice: cartoonishly high and sing-song, soothing somehow despite the shrill.

i still see her: standing outside the chinese restaurant in the pacific northwest autumn air, a foggy cloud billowing around her. 

i wonder: does anyone know her stories? 

Fall 2021

Western Lemonade

Sometimes life doesn't even throw you lemons.

Sometimes the sweetest, coolest lemonade pours straight from the sky and quenches the thirst of your soul. 

We left Kentucky for a little vacation time only 4 days ago. 

Sure, it's beautiful. Land of bourbon and bluegrass and equine champions. But we were craving some mountains; the kind of the west, the kind that make you wonder. A wonder so deep that you feel like you just shot up with Monet and Van Gogh and have beauty pulsing in your veins.

Alive. 

So powerful and vast and wild. 

Just seeing these makes my head spin.

      ....

We rented a car for convenience, hit up an REI for supplies and a groceries for foods and lunch. Dried fruits, nuts, and an array of dehydrated meals lined our packs: onward to Yosemite.

We arrived in the afternoon around 4pm on Tuesday. Having been up since 3am Pacific time, we were not pleased to find throngs of people lining every roadway and sidewalk throughout the valley. Shards of rock and peaks of magnificence caved in around us as we waded through tourists to sort out backpacking logistics. This was the Disney World of Nature and apparently everyone and their mom wants to stand below the falls and take a picture. Arabians stood with their arms out atop their bright yellow hummer posing for a photo. A teenager runs to catch up with her group, selfie stick extended. A young set of lovers gaze out into a field while 3 photographers attempt to capture their personal "moment". A school bus unloads 20 pimply, loud adolescents... And we soon found ourselves off trail in a little green woods near a river: a moment of silence. The clearest water gushing over the smoothest rocks and I am reminded of Oregon. God, I love the West.

"Let's get out of here!"

We arrived to our backpackers camp and finally found some quiet. We decided against hiking out that night (having only 3 hours of daylight to hike 4 miles straight up didn't seem very appealing). We pitched tent and dined on meat, cheese, and wine while warding off the raccoons out for their evening meal. Sleep came early since we'd had so little since leaving the bluegrass. 

We woke up when we woke up.

That's what you do when you're on vacation.

This is what I had to tell Kenton, who wanted to set five alarms so we could climb out of our tent before any other mammal was alive. We still woke up with the sun and began our climb out of the valley in the cool of the morning. 

Mosquitos pelted us anytime we slowed for the first couple miles, so stopping was out of the question. Thankfully, as we rose in altitude and sunshine, the vampires let up and soon our only enemy was the steep of the climb. In ~3 miles we gained 3,000 ft of elevation. The sun was hot and wonderful. The hardest part of the trip: that's what we kept telling ourselves. (Later we found out we were each caring about 10lbs more than what is considered safe; my pack weighing in at around 40lbs and Kenton's was about 50.) Silly humans. 

Maybe halfway up, we heard a commotion at our feet and, to our terror, we saw a rattlesnake; his tail tremoring only a few feet from our ankles. My lord, did we run...as fast as you can run uphill and with over a third of your body weight clamped to your back. We saw the second rattler not a half hour later and even closer than the last. This, with us deciding to be vigilant. After that I was pretty sure we were going to die.

We had lunch at the top of the switchbacks next to a river. More wine, cheese and meat. For being in the wild, we were dining rather glamorous. 

Our path continued on through the woods: A smooth walk on the soft forest floor lined with towering pines occasionally sprinkled with a neon green moss. The sunlight sliced through spattering our world with brilliant greens and golds. After a few hours I heard a rustle and maybe 50 feet from our trail I saw a black bear hop onto a fallen log. I gasped, shocked, then hooted and clapped. He looked as surprised as I was when he saw us and then clambered back into the forest in response to my ruckus. Thank goodness!!

Our trail eventually led us to one of the most spectacular views of my life... Which I failed to photograph with my camera, but Kenton captured with his. 

We decided not to camp there, which ended up being a massively great decision on our part. Snow was on the forecast so we chose to hike til the near end before setting up camp.

As we hiked through more woods, I scanned our surroundings as had become our habit and there, only 20 feet away, was an even larger blackbear. She sat on her butt and stared.

"Holy shit"

I yelled at her. Clapped my hands. Hooted. She didn't move. I stomped my feet. Behind her a much smaller cub shot up a tree (don't even think about climbing a tree to avoid these guys). Kenton, behind me, "hold on while I take a picture!" 

WHAT?!?

Finally, she turned and lumbered off into the bushes. I said a few more curse words as my heart throbbed through my chest wall and we continued on our trek. 

We camped here that night:

Clouds illuminated by sunlight encircled the valley walls, but the clear sky opened up into the heavens above us. We hydrated our deliscious chickpea curry and southwestern chicken dishes and devoured them, rinsing them down with the last of our Pinot noir.

The universe has opened up her blessings on us. 

We woke up to snow. 

Stuffing an energy bar into our mouths and our tent supplies into our packs, we made way down the mountain. Soon the snow became slush and areas of the trail became gateways to danger. Still, we dropped our packs and took a detour in order to possibly glimpse a close up of the great falls. We held fast to a metal railing with our feet literally inches from the edge of slush covered rock steps overlooking the valley thousands of feet  below. Once at the bottom of the hundred step detour, we saw nothing of what we expected and our actions were deemed "the stupidest thing we have ever done". We risked life and limb to see the edge of a river and I couldn't wait to be out of there. 

Headed back to the main path, the snow had covered the earth. Suddenly we were in a winter wonderland of cliffs and pine trees taller than houses. Silence of snowfall enveloped us.  Ahead we saw a bobcat and Kenton began tiger calling to send him away. Thus began our descent. Snow, sleet, rain. Step by step we made our way down. Around every corner we saw a new view of the falls, which held us, captivated us, and drew us in. How wonderful is this world of erosion and water and earth. What beauty erupts from the performance of time. 

With each downward slope, new sounds reached us: the dump truck beeper, cars, people.. We erupted from the climb back into an unchanged reality as though we had never left: a school bus of children, a girl with her selfie stick, loiterers consuming the few tables of the deli. We consumed some sandwiches and soup and couldn't wait to evacuate this cold and rainy valley. Onward to the west. 

update

i never even updated you that i've finished my BSN.

• Volunteer in Africa : CHECK
• Move to Oregon : half CHECK
• Obtain my DTN @ LSHTM: CHECK
• Finish my BSN: CHECK
• Two years working in an ER: CHECK

5 year goals ALL (mostly) complete. (If you remember... the move to Oregon ended in my car getting stolen along with everything I owned stuffed inside...tragedy...but not really)

Here I am...STILL in Kentucky. Holed up with a fellow RN in the most beautiful home I've ever lived. Dating a gorgeous mountain man from CO who happens to be an ER rezzie alongside me. Who knew I'd actually find a man who likes vegetables, bikes, and mountains as much as I do.

I'm thinking of writing a novel.

tomorrow's goals:

wake up and be productive!!

fix flat bike tire
get oil changed
go on bike ride
get haircut
finish laundry
complete online quiz for school
see erica
enjoy the sun

optional:
go for a run


...just one more episode of new girl...and one more glass of wine...
 

love

i lie my head against you 

and it feels as secure and strong as the earth

after each new conversation

it's as tho my whole soul has given birth

to something fresh and light

brighter than those colorado days you tell me about

clearer than oregon waters

more profound and moving than mountain peaks

you're the height my heart seeks

"i miss you more than the mountains," you say

and yet, to see me you have to wait less than a day

"you make me feel like i know where i'm going"

and i cry because it's true

i'm in love with you

fcuk

You know what…

I owe my mom a lot of money

I’ve usually paid it off in a month..

And I’m inlove with this guy

And 3 days is enough to make me explode

All those pent up emotions

from the days my dad failed

to the days of now

fuck

sowhat, you feel the same

act like it

and im emptying out what I have

to meet you somewhere

 between there and now

I calm the fuck down

To meet you somethere

And know I want to. 

Gah!

I think I'm blind, deaf, and dumb when it comes to men:

Poem

In light of this new eve

The end of autumn's breeze

Torn from a resting place

Brought to this empty space

Shattered yet strong and new

Eager for life to brew

Must I break mourn so soon

To crumble after a silver moon 

And amidst this winter chill

Can warmth be found still

Warmth, pure, kind and sweet

A shelter from this frozen seat

Stop trying

Stop dying

Rest in the quiet places

Build up those safer spaces

Hide within the good and gold

Seek out the pure and bold

Give in

Give in to the good

Oh lord, what's happened?

It's gone.. The last 11 months... Gone like they never came. Did it happen? Did I really meet some random guy (not so random) in a bar and somehow it worked for 8 months?  Did I really have so many romantic and fun weekend adventures in Baltimore with her glittering soil, Delaware the sea I never saw, and Virginia hiking and such glorious weddings!? Did I meet a sweet black and brown dog named Thomas Jefferson and a grey cat named something equivalent to Pretty Mister Shiny Rainbow Sparkles "Bo" for short? I miss them!! 

I mean.. Unless they were dreams... These sweet remembrances that have me missing the fun of them sometimes..the sweetness..those warm hugs and the purest kisses...

Gah!

I'm 9 months to the end of my 2 years of ER experience and obtaining my BSN. What will I do? Well.. Today while cycling on a stationary bike with a computer screen in front of me and a coastal highway scene moving along on my imaginary ride I started lusting after Oregon...

WILL SHE EVER GIVE THAT UP?!?

...likely not. 

And so... Who knows. Who knows what.

I need to stop buying clothes tho that's for damn sure. No need for pretty dresses without any handsome man to take you to weddings and fancy dinners. *sniff*

And so the adventures continue!!!

Knocked up

Getting knocked up seems like an easy way out...

BOOM! This is your life...now, deal!

Surprise! Little child to live for and worship. No more deciding what to do with yourself, you take care of the kid the best you know how.

Best case scenario, you get a guy who grows up and commits to both of you and you live out the rest of your life in this cute haphazardly becoming family.

Some positive hiccup of the cosmos that creates a beautiful life (you know any babies I have will be beautiful) whilst drawing out plans for the next 18 years of my life.

I don't know why I find this option of not having to make decisions about what to do next appealing. (Of course I know you still have to plan for things with a kid!!!) i think the allure is that it'd all be for someone else by then.

Duh! Take care of the kid!
Duh! Don't buy that, feed it!
Duh! Don't run around, stay here!

Don't worry, I'm not going to go getting myself knocked up.
I don't want to be attached to much more than my food and family at the moment.
Much less, a crying infant who needs me and a man who sends checks of 20$ to cover the child support. Some dip shit who can't keep a job, most likely...

I guess I'll have to keep making plans. Keep deciding what I, alone, want for my life. Keep thinking only of me, my friends, and family when I make these life choices... Like what dress looks best and where I want to travel next and what schooling I want to devour.

Enjoy the freedom while it lasts, my dear!
Not many ladies have experienced this life.

Oh lo nilly

Lo nilly, found in night
Left solo, echo my fright
Through empty space
Tinkling wine, bring grace
Dry, heavy, holding my own
Dreams tangled from the sown
To what is known

You are behind, my future
You are behind, my past
Leisure holds only so much luxury
Until life leaps and I grasp

Oh lo nilly, if only you were warm
I'd curl in your arms and be born
Growth comes from dark and deep
Bury me and may all clouds weep
So I might find life and live
The dreams I knew I'd always live

Night

oh night I swam in perfect stream
in jungles cast with starlit sheen
sky diamonds and fireflies to blame
i'll never be the same

a second hold, a kiss over sea
crimson and gold cast glows on we
then off that cliff i leapt and flew
straight to those open arms you threw

sweet summer heat, dive into blue
the waves, the warmth, enough of you
tangled in the strength, the sway
an ocean fought and pulled me away

vincent van gone my starry night
this clumsy heart, this foolish sight
might my heart shake off night's dew
and awaken to this mourn apart from you

woah i need a mountain

a mountain to climb
to make my heart race
to be able to just glance behind me
to see all i've accomplished
to feel challenged to keep climbing
the black and white of movement
forward. positive. right.
100 yards to being done.
or more...
but the view is worth it...
the sensation of success
the view of all you've surpassed
so clear and obvious
i've done it.
why can't papers and degrees be as clear as mountain views?
and what can i do to make them more enjoyable?

...ending procrastination would probably help...

fyootcha

i've accepted i'm probably not going to find myself in a long term committed relationship for a while...

right now i'm pretty set on leaving the old KY in a couple years... not digging the idea of sticking around here for so long... but it's necessary in order to meet some end goals...like travel nursing..working abroad..running around the world like a wild philanderer (partners being countries and cultures)...

truth be told, i like this pretty little city. it's not a big deal to be committed to it for a while... i'm getting in plenty of quilting and definitely maxing out on awesome experience in a fantastic ER.

but the people you meet...at least the type i'm drawn to apparently...are the ones that stick around..the ones that have gardens in their yards and like to cook and establish businesses and careers that are lasting and long term. i'm just a cool breeze in their summer... do you warn them?

i think i'm going to learn french starting next semester. then doctors without borders can't possibly turn me down.... i hope..


oh traveling man
stand
grab my hand
we'll dream