Cherishing Christmas

This is my last blog of the year. I want nothing more than to put down my phone, step away from my desk, and cherish every moment of the holiday. When I come home tonight we will go shopping for stocking stuffers, bake some more cookies, and well, do everything I have no childhood memory of doing. 

I was once afraid of becoming a parent, but now I laugh at myself. What was I so afraid of? Being a mom brings me more delight and joy than I ever could have imagined. And even in these very early months and years of my son's life, I live out the moments of childhood I wished I had. Only now, it is so much more cherished, so much more embraced, so much more... because it is a moment I intentionally give to him and share with him. Merry Christmas Everyone.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

This week's snowfall makes me reminisce about where I grew up. Mostly, thinking of how warm California is in the winter. I have no problem with a place that doesn't snow during the winter season. I do remember that it rained. Our little canyon would get mud slides that took out entire sections of our road. It could be a couple of weeks before the county came up to make repairs. 

Everyone who lived up in the woods had a piece of equipment. The neighbor down the road had a tractor, my dad had a dump truck, etc. They would go out themselves and dig out people's homes and clear the roads. I didn't realize it then, but as an adult I realize, they must have had a blast. I can think of my husband if it were him up there, just how much fun he would be having. He gets excited when I get him a small power tool, imagine a dump truck. 

To this day, I love heavy rainfall. I became accustom to the seclusion of where I was raised. Heavy rain meant the terrain would change and give a whole new experience on my next walk in the woods. I remember where  a dry creek bed was and how it would would become a stream if enough rain fell. Rain was such a peaceful time. 

Where we live now, the rain is short lived. For most of the year, it is fairly dry. This week Idaho was dumped on by record breaking snowfall. Where we may have only received a few inches (or none at all since it is still November) we received 10 inches in a single day. (And everyone says we have global warming, are we sure it isn't an ice age coming, because it feels that way) Considering the conditions, I decided to stay home with my son and stay in for a snow day. He had his first hot chocolate. I am pretty sure the word "cocoa" is the fastest word he has picked up so far. All day, "more cocoa" 

I realize from my own childhood that memories are definitely made. I think that explains why I lack a lot of memory from when I was younger. I wasn't interacted with much by my stay-at-home mother. Inside or out, I spent it mostly alone. If I was inside I had to be in my room, I only remember being out of my room when my father came home. I wonder what my son will remember when he is older. Will it be the hot cocoa? I know, I know he is 18 months old, but what if we started a tradition that the first day of snow always meant cocoa. I think that it is tradition that embeds the memory. So I decided immediately, when I saw the delight on his face with his first cup that I must make the tradition that the first snowfall will always have a cup a cocoa to go with it. To ensure he remembers. 

This weekend, I will turn his little red sled into a one-dog-open slay . A harness for our dog and a leash to the sled should make for a great time in the snow. Especially, since this weekend we are getting dumped on again by another storm and we will not be going anywhere. 

Preparing for Book Signing

I've been thinking lately about my first public book signing coming up next week. I don't know how I missed that I am going to have to speak and read out loud from my book. I pictured myself at a table just handing out my masterpiece. (Wait? It doesn't work that way?)

So I have been think about how I can sum up in a few minutes how my book came to be. What better place to practice then here on my blog. That is what they are for right? So I am going to tell you a story....

I have had toxic relationships in my life since childhood. I grew up with a toxic parent that was emotionally, verbal, and sometimes even physically abusive. The thing about abuse when I was young was that I didn't know what abuse was. I just thought I must be a really bad kid. Even into adulthood the light bulb hadn't gone off yet. What I did know is that I wanted to leave home as soon as possible. Sadly, it wasn't the end of my experience with toxic relationships as one tend to seek what is familiar. It wasn't until my mid twenties that I became aware. Aware of abuse, aware of how I drew it to myself, aware that I could make a change.

It took sometime to start over and build new and healthy relationships. Slowly, but surely I did. Still I would have moments of self doubt, especially when I became pregnant with my son. I was terrified of the parent I would be. Most people think its funny when they repeat something their mother used to say like, "Because I said so" But I was afraid of this happening. My child deserved to have a happy mother, one that was healthy, not only, in body, but also heart and soul.

I realized that I was still harboring a lot of hurt and resentment. I had told myself to let go many times, but never actually did. Because it is not that simple. I wrote when I was younger. It was a way for me to express myself without punishment for speaking my voice. Poetry was like writing in code. I decided that expressing myself is exactly what I need to do to let go for real this time.

So I embarked on a journey. I decided to write out the five stages of grief as it applied to my past relationships. To say and feel everything that I need to say and feel in order to really put it to rest. My theory was that I hadn't allowed myself a process that is natural to our ability to be happy.

We hold onto anger because it masquerades as strength. It has its purpose, it makes us take action, but hold onto it too long and it will turn bitter. Depression, sadness, is NOT weakness. It is apart of the process that allows us to heal. This is what I committed to. I admitted to the times I was in denial, I got mad and let myself move on to sadness. I grieved, not the loss of a person, but of the relationship I hoped and needed it to be. I embraced acceptance. After fifteen poems of telling myself to let it go, I believe I have.

Publishing my work was an equal part of this process. I am taking a stand against abuse. I am shedding myself of the guilt that comes with it. I am speaking out in hope that others will follow. My book is so that you to can heal. That you can know that you are not alone. This is not a step by step that tells you what to do. It is an emotional escort that walks you through a journey that, I hope, can change your life.

Very first review! I'm Beaming!