i am, no. 4

I am learning to live without my sister in this world.

I come from such darkness and despair at the beginning of the year to this place now, content, even as I look over my shoulder thinking, holy fuck.

I see that I can survive, even when I have nothing left.

I love my man and my kid for loving me, (very unconditionally), during this period when I've been every unsavory characteristic I possess, times one thousand. It hasn't been easy to be me, or around me, these past couple months. I've leaned heavily on both of them and they've caught me every time.

I trust that I can get through this.

I believe in opportunity. All we get is this one life and I'm tired of holding myself back. My sister did not hold herself back. She lived her life fully and as she wished. She didn't believe in the woulda, coulda, shoulda and if you told her she should, (oh how I've thrown that stupid word around), than she most definitely wouldn't and quietly too. She was always so good at doing exactly what she wanted under the radar. I'm learning from her all the time. 

I find it difficult to look at photos of her, and at the same time, I'm fascinated by the moments that were captured because I wasn't shooting any of it. I don't have a lot of images of those weeks in Vancouver. The photos that I do have are there because Leslie turned the camera on herself, (a gift that she gave me that I cherish even if it feels like a kick in the gut to see them), and her boyfriend kept shooting. 

I wonder if I'll be able to pull it together and know wholeheartedly that I can and will. And that this too shall pass, because it always does.

I call in  my guardian angels and spirit guides to help me. And I rely on myself to know when to call.

I found out that everything has turned out as it should. Humility and embarrassment are really transitory feelings; a way to feel sorry for myself and also, stall momentum. And now I know that when everything settles down, I'll be settled with myself. I'm not sure what any of this looks like, but I'm not worrying about any of it.*

*One thing I've learned is that worrying and fretting has done NOTHING for me. It's a waste of my fucking time and I'd much rather waste my time in other ways that are pleasant. 

a long and rambling post

Up until the ripe old age of 40, I was a low-maintenance girl. Now some of you might have spit your coffee onto the screen and for that I apologize. Everything is relative and my low-maintenance status was achieved through my ability to eat and drink most things. Not iron-clad, but definitely never an issue, until all of that changed with the calendar.

So there I was, just turned 40 and almost overnight my body began to change and somewhat rapidly. I don't have enough fingers (or toes) to count the times over the years, femaie patients will start a sentence, "once I turned 40..." and I'm definitely one of them. For me it began slowly and because of that, the whole process to now, has been long. I chalk most of that up to a healthy dose of denial and procrastination. 

Every now and again bloating and uncomfortable in the belly from over-eating/over-extending, turned into issues in the bathroom combined with gut-twisting cramping that usually occurred in the wee hours of the morning. It became more of a regular thing and turning to Dr. Google, (as most hypochondriacs are known to do far too often), I began visiting my doctor and gynecologist, trying to find an answer. 

The one constant was that it was not going away, and at the duration of Passover* every year, I felt great. But I'd never maintain not eating bread and pasta, (and all the baked goods that I adore), and I'd end up back to bloated.

When my sister was first diagnosed with colon cancer two years ago**, I had my first colonoscopy soon after. I do haveIBS, (exacerbated by that dirty little secret that many people suffer from, internal hemmrhoids), but I don't have Celiac, so giving up gluten and later dairy, seemed highly drastic, even though I felt better when I wasn't eating it.

When Leslie's cancer came back this past December, everything literally went to shit. I bottomed out, (pun intended), and I'm quite certain I had a nervous breakdown*** at the end of January, although is it even called that anymore?

I hit bottom and I hit hard. I had to look at myself in a way so I could help myself and I hadn't a clue how to begin. I clung to M and my friends desperate for answers no one else could provide. I found my acupuncturist who saved me, (really) and I found a new GI doctor here, who listened.

Passover arrived around the time I went to Vancouver (for the first of my three stays), and it was on that trip that I finally gave in, accepting that what my doctor said about gluten sensitivity (and dairy), was truth and not just good advice to consider. 

4 months later I'm learning. I've had some recent mishaps with both gluten and dairy and the answer is read the labels on everything. Just because it says soy cream cheese, doesn't mean there isn't milk. (How fucked up is that? Whey protein in soy cream cheese is not soy cream cheese.) And soy sauce. Dude, it's in everything, and a lot of things you wouldn't even think, like unseasoned, plain turkey jerky. I consider this recent string of mishaps to be reminders of why I need to be strict and how much better I really do feel now that I'm living gluten and dairy-free. 

I have a gluten-free fairy who gifts me delicious gluten-free products and recently, turned me onto a bakery that is ah-mazing and makes me grateful that I live in Los Angeles, (it really is that good.) I'm a bit of a pain in the ass when it comes to restaurants, but I'm also determined to not be that pain in the ass, so I really do make do with what is on the menu and don't make a fuss unless someone asks. I like the challenge of working around the gluten-filled world and making it work. 

I always wondered how people could give it all up and really, it hasn't been that hard because I feel so much better. I really don't miss much, (chocolate croissants, le sigh), and I find that I generally eat a lot less now, because there isn't so much mindless munching.

*in observance of passover, i'd give up eating anything that's leavened, (bread, pasta, crackers, baked goods, etc.) for the week. 

**leslie was diagnosed with colon cancer two years ago exactly. it always feels like someone has kicked me and then sucked the air out when i think about this...less than 50% of cancer patients diagnosed with leslie's stage of colon cancer make the two year mark. i still can't fucking believe she's passed away. how is it possible?

***i haven't really talked about hitting rock bottom this past january because it's very painful to talk about. it was a heavy, heavy time in my life and now, i can see the events leading up to my breakdown crystal clear. i gave away my power, every last drop of it, and i allowed new people and put myself into situations that fed into all of that. now, months later, i'm so grateful for everything that went down...i'm back to myself again, the kristen that i gave up on.

happy, whole

5th avenue, NYC.

Ironic that I finally adapted to EST on our last night in Manhattan and now, here I sit back in Los Angeles awake too early. That bitch insomnia is laughing her ass off at the injustice that I feel and I'm trying to relish the quiet that is our sleepy beach town. Welcome, after the mad-dash rush that is NYC.

I cried yesterday as we entered the midtown tunnel on our way to the airport. A quick look back at the skyline and my eyes welled with tears; I love NYC so much, it truly holds my heart. Mark my words, we will live there again someday. 

It was a good vacation for all of us. Miss A is satiated after a week in New Jersey with her besties and we had a much needed reprieve from parenting and really, responsibility, something M and I needed oh so much.

We ate and drank and then ate and drank some more. We saw our friends and it felt like we'd never left; picking up right where we left off 14 months ago, making me incredibly nostalgic for all of our peeps that we left behind.

Funny, that nostalgia wasn't present when we were packing up the last of our belongings at our house in NJ. Thursday we had to finish all that up and I felt an intense relief that we were done with that house and that life. Miss A cried her eyes out, (this house will always feel like home to her), and I had to squish my desire to jump up and down screaming, 'we're free..." so intense was my gratitude that we were out of there. 

I did exactly what I wanted for the week. I walked and talked with friends and it was cathartic in my healing process. Being heard, knowing that my words weren't too intense, or harsh or anything other than what I needed to say, was incredibly empowering. I feel lighter than I have in months and I love everyone so much for giving me that space. Truly, I am blessed with good friends that will listen and still love me afterwards.  

Re-entry is always hard, but I'm glad to be home. I love our life here in Los Angeles. We're a better version of ourselves here, (even miss A), and I know that we'll always have Manhattan as our go-to vacation destination. Although next time, it will definitely be early Fall or early Summer. NYC is a bit much in the dog-days of August and while the stench of the subway and streets is achlingly familiar, the fresh ocean breeze is preferred.

NY/NJ, so far

NYC and NJ have been really good for me so far. I'm quite nostalgic for our life here, much more so now that I'm back visiting, because I see what I had, what I took for granted.

I didn't realize how much of a NY'er in my heart I really am. I love this city so much, it breathes into my soul and I feel so comfortable here. I walk the streets and ride the subway and it feels normal; so much so that I don't feel like its been 14 months since I was last here.

Being in the company of good friends has allowed me to get out the words and feelings that have been stifling me; processing, taking the sting out of what I'm feeling, holding space so I can brain dump and knowing that they'll still love me.

I've let go of the armor that I've worn for months now; shedding the prickly skin that I've become so accustomed to, remembering how much there is to laugh and smile about. 

It's hot and humid here but I don't even care. I wear cotton layers that are soaked and then dry again. Most places offer an air-conditioned respite and with so many cafes and restaurants, there's an abundance of choices and places to cool down. 

The streets are kinetic; the energy is palpable and I feel like myself again as I navigate the crowds and tourists. (and there are a lot of tourists!)

I've carried a bag full of camera equipment up and down the corridors of streets; heavy and unused. It's not that the city isn't photogenic, the views and rush of what's happening is such that I could spend my entire visit behind glass and that's not what I want, or apparently need.

I think the walking and the talking is how I'm healing. I'm remembering my way around a city I love, following the imprints that have left their impression in a way that I'd forgotten. This is how I feel most comfortable navigating the world. This walking and talking will give me tools to better live my life in Los Angeles.

Finding the part of myself that resonates so profoundly with NYC has been good. I feel stronger, clearer and more sure of my boundaries and I feel more gentle than I have in months. Here amongst the grit and grime, (because NYC in August is an entity unto itself), I've found a place to shed some of the grief and anger I've been carrying because NY is tough like that and can carry a lot of shit. I've been able to acknowledge how much I've been through, without having to justify or defend, without having to worry how it will be received. 

Miss A has been in NJ with her friends, allowing M and I alone time, (4 days!!), that we haven't had since she was born. It feels normal for us to be just us here, maybe because this is where it all began and just about 10 city blocks from where I sit writing. The next two days are the story of us. We have lunch and dinner plans and that's it. M's work is done, (the reason he had to be here), and now we can really vacation and get our groove back. It's been a rough six months for everyone and now we're all finding our way back to home.

spiritualized

We learn things about ourselves when we're going through heavy life changes. I've tried to keep myself open to possibilities, (hoping, wishing), looking for signs from my sister, seeking my spiritual self and realizing that I don't know what that means.

Jewish I am, but only in the words "I'm Jewish." We aren't religious and we aren't raising our daughter with any of the religion behind the ritual, but it's the ritual of Judaism that appeals to me. Just as the rituals of the Celts drew me in during art school and later, the wisdom of the Wiccans. A combination of wanting to be just like Sally Owen and needing the pomp and circumstance associated with traditions and rituals. 

I devour books about healers and herbal women and I'm continually on the lookout for signs from the universe: animal totems and messages that will reveal the spirit world I so strongly feel.

Again, my acupuncturist reminded me that my wants aren't should's, that this is unfolding in the way that it will. All I can do is move through this life seeking and learning; reminding, (over and over again),  that I can't force manifestation, that the totems that will guide me aren't always going to be the sweet little animals and birds of my choice.

It's the noticing that is important, being open to the gifts that are before me if I choose to see.

woulda, coulda, shoulda

I've been thinking a lot about a post I'd found noodling around the internet, the words resonating and plucking a distant chord. It reminded me of our last date night in New Jersey, sitting in the Mexican restaurant we tried to convince ourselves was decent, exclaiming over the joy that we'd soon be in CA enjoying real Mexican food. That evening Mremarked that moving west was a good move for our little family and he thought it was going to be especially good for me. He said he thought I'd lost a part of myself living in New Jersey and I agreed. Now, a year later, I'm more like the Kristen I know and with hindsight, I see how far away I really was.

Funny how that is. My acupuncture practice thrived in New Jersey. We had a house that we remodeled into a home that we loved. Miss A had a great school and friends, M and I had a network of friends ourselves that we really enjoyed spending time with. We had a good life, but ultimately, it didn't suit us.

After a year here in Los Angeles, I've come back to myself. In theory I'm alone more than I was back east. Maybe it's the combination of being back where I grew up, the comfort of navigating a city that I know like the back of my hand.

But it's more than that. It's having an accessible urban environment that isn't a trip on a train or bus, over a river, (and through the woods), with train schedules and platforms to negotiate. It's about liberating my introverted self when I need to explore and expand.

It's about connecting with myself after years of looking the other way. Conforming to ideals that didn't fit, but trying nevertheless to make it so because it felt like it should be.

What I've learned is that when I start saying 'should' too often, it's time to remind myself of my options.

ramble on

The quality of light is changing in that gorgeous and subtle way that August has; almost precious here in Los Angeles where sunshine is taken for granted.

We're traveling to NYC in just about a week and I'm giddy with excitement although my face doesn't show it. It will be good to step out of my routine here. And what that really means is I'll be getting outside everyday, not something I'm doing these days unless I have to drop A off, or run an errand. 

I watch endless hooping videos on youtube, wondering if I'll ever be able to contort my body as I desire, knowing that sitting here watching videos, (instead of practicing), isn't going to get me any closer to my goal.

We sold our house in New Jersey, our tenuous connection to the east coast severed in the most delightful way. Now, if we ever choose to return East, we'll go back to Manhattan, (or Brooklyn), which is where we should have always been. Although I'm not sure we'd have moved here, and I definitely think moving to Los Angeles was a really, really good decision. For all of us, but especially M and A, although check with me on a different day and I might lament my own tale of woe. 

I can't muster the energy to get a regular exercise thing going, even though exercise would probably be the one thing that would really help. Acupuncture has helped, in fact I think the regular, weekly appointments are saving me from a grim walk down a dark and twisted path that I try very hard to keep at bay.

Images that play behind my eyes recede and the stress and trauma that my body has absorbed continues to present itsself and pisses me off. I feel let down that my body displays what I'm trying so hard to contain; clearly trying to contain is the wrong approach, otherwise my body wouldn't be reacting. I laugh with my acupuncturist about my petulance and relax into the acu-high once the needles are in place.

I'm preparing for the fast approaching Fall, (school starts for miss A 8-31), and looking forward to a mini, mid-week getaway in early October, an early birthday present before I have to hunker down.

2011 has been a continual stream of motion. Having to do and be, without the time to worry about any of it. I've grown in ways that I wouldn't have thought when I chose the word grow.

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Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is is you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life? 

-The Summer Day, Mary Oliver