A new day, a new gig, a happier me.

Things are looking up; my mood is lightening a little more each day, and the sunshine and warmth that’s been poking around these parts lately has had more than a little to do with that. For a stretch of days last week and the beginning of this week, it has been sunny and in the 70s, and that is RIGHT up my alley. I’ve had the opportunity to prepare garden beds and plant flowers. The physical work, time outside, and thoughts of beautiful gladioli, dahlias, cosmos, and yarrow bursting open some time in the future all swirl together to make my step a bit more sprightly.

When I haven’t been playing in the dirt, John and I have taken Braden here and there to various parks and playgrounds around our area. I have really missed doing that, and so has Braden. It’s not that you can’t do that kind of stuff when it’s cold – that’s what jackets and hats are for, after all – but my kiddo happens to have a serious HATE relationship with his face getting cold.

And I wasn’t too keen on seeing how he’d feel about a ski mask, so yeah.

But for days recently, we’ve been riding down slides and pumping our legs on the swings, and I’ll be damned if that doesn’t make me a gagillion times more giddy than a glass of red wine.

I do not forsake thee, red wine. I just place you aside for a short time. We shall join again, I promise thee.

Monday night, I was able to hang out with some lovely blogging ladies at the UBP IRL in Nashville, snarf some red wine and cheese, and have my husband and kiddo not far away from me. That was pretty freakin’ nice, too.

And I’ve just started a new writing gig, to which I was referred by the always lovely Sarah (Imaginary Binky).

It’s helping me find my “big girl” journalistic voice, which is kind of cool, in a challenging and frustrating way (can you say, “Lotus has to learn how to get a point across without droning on and on and on for eons?). Yeah, you could say I’m not the Queen of Brevity. And then you could say it again, scream it, and finish by stamping it on my forehead.

So I’ve been setting things up and writing my very first articles as Nashville Parenting Examiner. I’ll be writing a lot of locally flavored items, as well as many general parenting pieces. I’m planning on writing about events and activities that will be of interest to people in this area, and also publish a regular spattering of opinion pieces that anyone can get their head into. In addition, I’ll be hosting giveaways there, and giving general information that is helpful for all parents.

On top of all that, I’m planning on spotlighting Parent Bloggers I know and love (could this be you?) that I’ve built relationships with during my time on this website. Groovy, right? I think so. I’ll be counting on page views and subscriptions to keep me afloat, so anyone subscribing, visiting, and commenting? Will make my day.

The RSS feed is http://www.examiner.com/RSS-6205-Nashville-Parenting-Examiner

The related Twitter account is nashvilleparent

So, warmth, sun, fun, productivity, accomplishments… laughter, mirth, time with family… I’m seeing good things. It’s feeling pretty good.

Why, I’ve been so inspired by happiness lately that I even shaved my legs for the first time in over a month, trimmed the ole’ 70s bush and frolicked in the sheets with my husband. And while you may think, “UH 1) TMI and 2) So?” it’s a big deal here, considering that the last time that happened we conceived a baby. Yeah. Read the archives a little and do the math. You’ll see that it’s been an awfully evil long time.

Psychologically crippling fears resist logic and desire and can put you in places you don’t want to be for even a second. And then they keep you there for indefinite amounts of time. You even start feeling that the pain that’s being caused you and your most beloved is all your fault; you should just wake up, break out, get better, damnit.

It just can’t be forced.  Something’s gotta give, one way or another.

It’s giving. Finally, it is caving in and crumbling away.  Bit by bit.

And as it falls off of my shoulders, I’m feeling that shine again, the one that comes from inside. Not the same shine as before, from the same girl as before, but that’s okay.

Every day of this adult life, I’m learning. I’m always in process; this is a journey. The waiting for the completion of who I am and where I’m going is pointless.  I am ever changing.  It is time I accept that and who I am right now, ready to welcome the next change, whatever the moments that pass may hold.

Just be, right?

I’m workin’ on it.

Bet you didn’t know you had wings.

On Monday I sent John to get us a Christmas tree.

I like real trees. I know that many people have their own, good reasons for having fake trees, but I just can’t have one. I need the smell of a real tree. I need the mess of annoying real tree needles to scatter the carpet. I need the real tree sappy bark and the real tree prickly branches.

I like it when things are real. They hold more meaning for me, somehow. I am alive when I feel.

Real.

Monday evening, I opened a large storage container. In fact, last year, I closed myself up in it entirely, which is a humorous thing for me to recall. What’s even more amusing to me is that, in true camera-obsessed form, I had my Kodak in there with me.

Instead of a dork, it now contains our Christmas decorations. One of the things inside was the Angel we top our tree with each year. We have owned her for about 4 years. Her arms, held open with ribbons and ornaments streaming from one, are posable. I have never moved them, however, and I pack her carefully each year so she that remains in the same position.

So I was more than a bit taken aback when I pulled her out of the box on Monday evening like this:

It was a striking image, her arm thrown across her face, ribbons and ornaments still streaming from her hand. As if the Reality of the family that she was joining this year was too much to bear.

Was she shielding her eyes from my pain? Weeping for us; unable to bear witness.

Tuesday morning, looking down at my own hand, I was reminded of my Angel.

And I realized that I had misinterpreted the message I’d received in her the previous night.

Others are not shielding themselves from this hurt I’m sharing. My pain is not being avoided – it is being shared by and divided amongst all of my “angels.” Without them (you guys), the burden would be heavier, because I would carry it practically alone.

You are my Angels, so to speak.

Every message you send me. Every comment you leave. Every email I get. Every @SarcasticMomLC you shoot my way on Twitter.  You are bearing witness, standing with me, and sharing my pain – you are lessening my burden by supporting me.  All your messages do this.

Please forgive me if I have not the strength or words yet to reply to them all… but know I see them all. I see all of you.

I see you, throwing your hands across your faces with me, the ribbons streaming from them beautifully as you each take a little piece of my pain so I do not feel alone here in “the abyss.”

Sometimes it hurts when things are so real. But I wouldn’t have it any other way, really.

Thanks for letting me feel safe being real.

Fit me for my straightjacket, please.

So, halfway through today I noticed my comments have stopped being e-mailed to me.

I am officially SICK TO DEATH of bugs.
Is anyone else with a self-hosted wordpress blog having this issue today? 

*jams pencil into eye*