Day Twelve - September 9

Another series of recent Facebook posts to catch the blog up with my life....

I finally got a new computer today and the office nook is all organized and ready to go. Now begins the arduous task of getting caught up on my email correspondence and writing & scheduling workshops for 2016.

I've also begun to unpack my studio. To say I am craving a little art time after weeks of packing and moving and unpacking would be putting it lightly.

Soon the days will be humming along in a routine and what I now think of as my new normal will just be my normal.

Turning a house into a home is more than hanging pictures on the wall and putting dishes away in the cabinet; but there is something vitally important in setting up these spaces where I will be spending the next days of my life.

Whether for less than 6 months, as it was in the Chicago apartment, or for many more years to come- having a space that reflects my style and personality invites my soul to settle in and linger for a while.

This space, that is at once familiar yet unfamiliar, is the space in which my heart will begin to heal. It is the space where I will learn even more about my authentic voice. In my childhood hometown where I will grow both roots and wings.

Day Seven - September 4

Another series of recent Facebook posts to catch the blog up with my life....

It's hard to believe I have been in my new home for a solid week now. I'm feeling immensely proud of myself for hanging these shelves today. A prospect that just a few days ago sent me spiraling into a fit of depression.

I mean, here on my own, who is going to do things like hang the heavy stuff and open the jar of peanut butter?

But I am stronger than I think I am- the shelves are hung and I don't actually eat peanut butter. And I know there must be some kind of device on the market to help me when a stubborn lid does present a problem.

Not so easy to fix is the sadness that fills my spirit. I'm not going to lie, the decision to separate from my husband did not come easily and I will not diminish myself by denying the need to grieve.

So here I am, day 7 of my new normal. Satisfied over a job well done and sorrowful for the empty places that need to heal.

It is the glorious mix.

Day Two - August 29

Another series of recent Facebook posts to catch the blog up with my life....

It is the end of day 2 of this new life of living on my own in my childhood midwest hometown far from the city. I'm vascilating between bouts of tears and depression and moments of great joy.

After much scrubbing and elbow grease, I finally have all of my kitchen unpacked and put away.

Nary a box has been unpacked in the new studio.

I have a brand new bed coming tomorrow thanks to my cousin and her husband- tears of exhausted joy!

I found a very cool organic/local farmer grocery store down the street and just ate my first home cooked nutritious meal in weeks.

I popped open the good bottle of wine that I was saving for the move. More tears of exhausted joy!

A woman I knew from the Midwest Collage Society up north messaged me to say she just moved down here too. Artsy community excitement!

And the cicadas are still singing.

God provides and he is good.
Life is hard and good. But mostly it's good.

Day One - August 28

Another series of recent Facebook posts to catch the blog up with my life....

I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I no longer live in Chicago. I can't just open my bedroom window and see the reflection of the moon on the lake. instead I am listening to a chorus of Cicada's and crickets and the sky is vast and filled with stars and possibilities.

As as of today, I live in the house with the orange doors in my childhood hometown of Champaign/Urbana.

Just Breath

"Ribbons of Grace" Series in progress 

Summer of 2011: "I was in the car when I realized the truth of the state of my marriage and my inability to save it. I felt foolish for believing I ever could. I pulled to the corner of an intersection and glanced to my right, noticing yet another business had closed and felt the sadness of it. This one, a video store, seemed to be a sign of the changing times rather then the poor state of the economy. 

As I pulled away I saw life everywhere around me and recognized the organic nature of it. That while one business had died away, others were being born, and isn't that true of the living and dying of people and relationships as well? 

That takes away the sadness somewhat. It is what it is, simply a living breathing organism of endings and beginnings. The cyclic nature of it creates the hum of life, the ebb and flow, the inhale exhale breath leading to breath all interconnected. 

The desire to remain or to hold on to something dear to us is simply a reminder that we aren't yet home. There is something bigger then us.The forever we know in our hearts to exist doesn't take place in the now of this life. It is our promise for the future. The guarantee of death leading to eternal life. 

Meanwhile, it just isn't that complicated. Enjoy the living among you. Watch the sunsets and sunrise. Appreciate the time you do have. Love the ones you are with, but don't hold them so tight. Speak the truth always, but be kind. Mourn the losses and let go of what is beyond your control. Live at peace and find the joy in your purpose. Accept what is for today and never let go of the hope for tomorrow. Believe there is something more and go forth without fear."

I wrote the excerpt above almost exactly 4 years ago when my marriage was about to end for nearly the 400th time. Only slightly an exaggeration, I had been down this road before and this time felt like it was for real, but then it wasn't. 

Today I am trying to be gentle with myself. It is the morning after my husband moved out, a week before I will move back to my childhood hometown. 

It is my choice. Was my decision. And I am reminding myself that the things I learned over the past four years needed to be learned. The things I learned over the past 14 years of this marriage, hell over the course of my lifetime even, are the things I needed to learn in the way I was able to learn them to be the person I am today. 

It is the thing I speak about in my art- it all matters. 

Every scrap of paper represents a point in time, it is all valuable no matter how tattered the individual element appears to be; each experience is relevant to becoming who we are and making us the people we are supposed to be. Not one part of my life could be left out without changing me. 

But some days it's harder to see that than others. 

Today is one of those days. So I will just sit here and breath. 
Tomorrow I will tell you a little more perhaps, but today I will just let myself breath.