Tag Archives: #grief

Thoughts and Notes, Uncategorized

Surviving Loss, Reflections Of A New Life

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Preface: I wrote “Surviving Loss” six months ago. It truly is a piece on reflections. Where I was then is not where I am now. In six months, I have had two celebrations of life for Eric. I have journeyed to new places I have never been before. Seen things I’ve never seen and experienced things I never thought I would. Grief is still with me but I am in a different place with it.

When I reread this, I found meaning and a message I wished to convey which is why I am posting it even though it’s a little outdated for me. I hope you get something out of it too. Thanks for reading. xxooC

I Am Surviving Loss

It’s been 21 months since my life took a distinct and dramatic turn. Surviving loss means that today I find a completely different me after a year and nine months into this new life I did not choose. I’d like to say I’ve learned a lot since my husband’s passing in June 2020. Everyone calls me strong. I hate that word and I don’t especially like hearing it. I’m not strong, I simply open my eyes everyday. It’s something that must be done because there is no other choice for me.

What Surviving Loss Taught Me

I have struggled almost daily. Grief is a weird thing. I can’t say I understand it any more than the day this journey started. The one and only thing I am absolutely sure of now is, I am still here. I find ways to go on. With surviving any loss comes guilt. That I have also learned. How I deal with the guilt is what matters. At some point if I do not make peace with it, it will destroy the rest of the time I have left here.

Loneliness is another constant struggle of surviving the loss, especially the loss of a companion. I shared meaningful time and space with someone that no longer exists. Now these memories are mine and mine alone. New memories will not erase them or their impact on my life and soul.

Time does not heal all wounds. That saying is a myth and anyone who has lost someone closest to them knows this. Time in fact does heal quite a bit though as I think it has smoothed out my memories. Time allows me to perceive things just a little bit differently. Not so painful as when the event was first experienced. What I mean by this is, I move through time after loss, the event seems further away. As I put new memories and distance between the event and now, my brain somehow begins to interact differently with the world around me becoming more engaged and less stuck. However, the curious thing is that the pain remains. The pain is ever flowing like tidal waves against the beach. Sometimes the waves are small and other days they are big. It would be so nice to have a forecast.

Finding Self

My life has changed so much since that day. As time continues to move forward, the old me becomes less and less familiar. Would he recognize me now? I don’t know, as some days I do not recognize myself. I went through a period of self hate. Grooming habits were thrown aside and became of little interest. My thought pattern was, if I didn’t like myself, I didn’t want anyone else to like me either. But others close to me still, did in fact like me, and had lots of love for me.

My wise daughter once told me I should try to look at myself through my husband’s eyes. She was so right because once I finally could do that, my perspective changed. I loved this body I was given and I didn’t really want to destroy it anymore. After these revelations, I found a bit of joy visiting with my family and I could see they really cared about me, more than I cared about myself. This felt strangely comforting. Maybe that’s more healing.

I’ve read it takes 66 days to form new habits. I’ve also found this to be somewhat true. Trying to get back into the world around me has taken much longer however, practicing one new habit for several weeks has proven to be beneficial to my emergence from paralyzing grief. The smallest of things I considered a huge accomplishment at first. I started with simply texting, no phone calls. Just reaching out to my closest friends that were there for me in the beginning.

Finding Self Love

I also started practicing more self love. This phrase made absolutely no sense to me at first but it means caring for your body. The body still has needs. Food for sustenance, bathing for cleanliness and hygiene, the mind needs stimulation. Small things that felt good and brought a moment of relief from the intense pain. It all was hard at first and I took baby steps but over time, these small gestures of self care grew into love. I think I love myself more than I ever have in my life because I’ve survived this long. After being a couple for more than two decades, I have survived on my own and that is an accomplishment I never thought I would ever see.

indiana dunes at sunset surviving loss

Surviving Continued

I don’t have the answers. I’m not a therapist or a coach. I am only sharing my story. This is my story of grief and surviving loss. Just like every individual is different, every grief story is different. No two are alike. We may share some similarities but we are all different. I believe the key is finding what works to help navigate in the world around us.

Ultimately I will never heal, only learn how to be a functioning member of society again. I don’t believe the pain and sadness will ever go away but now my goal is to balance it with good. My husband would want this for me. I want to honor him and I want his memories to live on.

If you have lost someone, talk about them. Talk about the good times, the stories, their lives. If anything, I’ve learned grief will always be a companion but it doesn’t always have to be the derailing detour it tries to be.

sunflowers blooming surviving loss
Thoughts and Notes, Uncategorized

Living With Less. The Stuff That Matters

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Starting With Less

I bought my first home when I was 26 years old. I felt like I was on top of the world. It was a two bedroom condominium in Old Louisville. Two stories with a total of five rooms. Nothing extravagant but it was mine and it was nice. I started out living with less stuff, but quickly started to accumulate things.

I had that place for about a year before moving to my next home in Shelbyville, Kentucky where I lived for 21 years. That house was a modest three bedroom, two bath and about 1400 square feet. Then it was all about the stuff. The stuff we unknowingly put away and store and before I knew it, stuff was everywhere. To the point it was clutter. And clutter was everywhere but still I wanted more.

Living With More

I have nice things. I’ve had nice things. Vehicles usually were used when I purchased them but I’ve had my shot at buying off the showroom floor. That was an experience. Before my husband died, I recognized the struggle in me to want more. Of course I was humble for what I had, or so I thought. But in the back of my mind, I always wanted more. I knew it was time to clean out, but living with less was not a consideration at this point in my life. I wanted better. More money, more stuff, something nicer, better quality, there was always something material I wanted. I discovered this about myself.

Long before he died, Eric made the comment “If anything ever happened to you, I would just walk out of this house, leave everything and never look back.” That has stuck with me. It echoed in my head when I sat in my huge new house in Normal, Illinois all alone. The move to Normal was for a job opportunity. Then we were making more money than we ever had in our lives. We often joked that we kinda felt like we had “made it” and were on our way to a better life, whatever that meant.

living with less moving from kentucky to illinois. packed up belongings sitting in my living room

Learning to Live With Less

So there I sat. With nothing but things left around me. Everything that really mattered about my life in Illinois was gone. Nothing mattered anymore except getting back to my family. So I did. The things meant nothing. They were a representative of a life I didn’t have and I didn’t want the reminder. I sold or gave away a lot. I still have a lot that needs to go.

Then I started traveling. I was already living with less but after my first few trips I quickly learned what I needed to take care of myself. I tried to travel even lighter. As most women know, overpacking is a thing. I always had the philosophy of “you can never pack too many clothes or shoes!” I always took the biggest suitcase and it looked like it was ready to pop a zipper, always. That was me. I was that girl.

Shedding things has made me less stressed. Then I started to look for ways to cut down on the beauty items. I’m still working on that. When I get there I’ll let you know but the point is, I’m down to a small duffle bag and that includes everything including my hair styling tools. I don’t need much these days and I’m always looking for ways to reduce what I carry with me.

the back of my truck all packed up for another adventure

Some Things I Kept

What I did find however, is that I need some sense of “home” with me. I have started collecting jewelry. It’s my treat. Instead of new curtains or a picture for my home, I add something I adore that I can wear. Usually a bracelet. On my right arm. So I can see my accomplishments and reminisce about my travels.

I never thought I’d be where I am. I am thankful for what loss has taught me. Things don’t matter. Let me say that again…Things don’t matter. Things are to enjoy but they definitely don’t bring happiness. Oh how cliché that sounds but it’s so true. I just had to learn the hard way.

I think I was comfortable. My existence wasn’t challenged until it was. Now I know what I need to survive and still be comfortable, although comfort is a luxury. I’ve been uncomfortable but now, just a place to sleep and good food are truly appreciated. I guess what I’m trying to say is until my whole way of life changed, I wasn’t as humble as I thought I was. I’m passing on my lesson learned. Thanks for reading. xxooC

living with less the collection of bracelets and charms on my right wrist

Thoughts on living with less? Have you decluttered recently? I’d love to hear from you!

Destinations, Thoughts and Notes

Past and Future Collide

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Past and future

As some of you know, and many of you don’t, I am a HUGE fan of electronic music of all genres. I discovered an upcoming show by a DJ I like and have seen before. He was coming to my old hometown of Bloomington, Illinois. So I bought tickets. The show was this past weekend.

This show was significant only in the fact that this would be my first trip back to Bloomington since last June. This trip was going to bring me face to face with my past and future.

Every trip I made back between June 2020 (when my husband Eric died) and June 2021 was super painful. So much so I just avoided going. Now don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love Bloomington/Normal and I enjoyed every day of the year+ I lived there. But going back to the place of my trauma brought up all kinds of painful memories.

But I decided now was time. Not to confront these emotions, fears, and trauma but the time to stop running from the slightest encounter with triggers. I’ve been in avoidance mode for far too long. I really didn’t give much thought to going beforehand. Anxiety and nervousness were there though. I could feel it rising.

marquise at the castle theater in bloomington illinois past and future

The past

The trip turned out to be exactly what I needed for my future growth. While there, I was reminded of a time just after his passing. I visited a retail store from my previous employment to pick up a few things. Trying to get in and out unnoticed proved unsuccessful. While chatting with a man I had spent some time on the sales floor with, he retold the story of losing his husband.

I had heard this story several times in my previous retail life but now it meant something different as I listened intently. The story was now more personal and I could feel his pain in a very different way. I was still in the first few waves of paralyzing grief. “Still in the fog” as they say. I remember, all I kept thinking was “how is he still standing here?” Then my thoughts went to “how did he get from where I am to where he is?”

So I asked. What was the turning point? His answer surprised me. He replied “I just got tired.” “Tired of feeling this” as his hand waved over his face and chest. I didn’t know what that meant at the time.

The future

Fast forward to now. A received a comment on another article of mine. A family member very close to me has also had significant loss in her life, including the loss of her spouse. His passing was shortly after my husband’s. She is still clinging to her grief. After this weekend of revisiting my past and the life I lost, I realized I am tired. Grief will always be my companion. But I’m tired of it dictating my life and my thoughts. I am tired of the physical and mental anguish. Yet I feel guilt for wanting to let go of the drowning, grief stricken feelings. Those are my badges that remind me of the deep love I still have for the souls I’ve lost.

So where do I go from here? I’ve gone from “waiting to die” to “maybe today will be good.” I made this transition purposefully and willingly. Sure the grief and trauma come back but I have developed a few tricks of my own. Grief has all kinds of surprises. I’m quite sure it has more in store for me. This trip was a win and I feel really good about it. That’s progress. xxooC

ducks by a pond in normal illinois past and future
Destinations, Thoughts and Notes

Things I Wished I Had Said

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An Idea Becomes Reality

My late husband Eric was never one to have anyone to make a fuss over him. His birthdays were never a big deal. I am absolutely positive he wouldn’t want his death to be a big deal either. But yet I felt I had to do something for the community he spent half his life in. I wished I had done something sooner, but something is better than nothing. So I organized a memorial/celebration of life. Since I’ve been spreading his ashes all across the country, I thought it only fitting that he be in Shelbyville, Kentucky also. The place where he worked and spent so much time with friends and family. Where he golfed, fished, and all of the other hobbies and things people do in their lives to spend time.

The Anxiety Begins

Since the moment I picked a definitive day and formally created the event, I felt anxious. Anxious for two reasons. One that my anxiety would go off the rails and two, that the whole thing would become something he wouldn’t approve of. The goal was to honor him and remember him, not mourn him but celebrate the impact of this great person on the peoples’ lives he touched. I think he would have liked that.

As the event drew near I became unhinged. There were times I wished I had not planned this thing. My anxiety was worse than it had been in over a year. It still is, even after this is all over. I want to talk about this because I am not the only one. I know many that struggle with anxiety. The hows and the whys it rears it’s head are still a mystery to me. Unexpected and unexplained are my panic attacks.

What I Wished I Had Said

Anyway, the event came and went. After the fact, I realized that there were things I wished I had said. Anxiety had me paralyzed leading up to the whole thing. In the moment, I didn’t really say anything about him. So here it is. Eric was a great human being. Only after his passing did I realize what an impact he made on so many. I still hear stories about things I knew nothing about. To me he was just Eric. My husband. My hero, my cheerleader, my partner, my companion. As with most couples, we argued, we grew as individuals together as well as growing as a couple together.

Our lives changed but we seemed to thrive on change. Stagnation was our weak point. Eric was insecure about himself. He didn’t see himself as a leader yet he challenged people to be better. He was the biggest asshole I know but he was so funny when he was. Most days he acted like he didn’t have a care in the world but he worried about everything. To the point he had problems sleeping. This is the man I knew. He was human, an inspiration.

Afterthoughts

I know he meant a lot, to a lot of people. I think we all have it in us. That spark that lights up someone else. Just when you think no one is looking they are and you just might be someone else’s inspiration, hero, role model, teacher, friend and not even know it. Even in death he has challenged me to think about what people will say about me when I’m gone. I hope I live up to the challenge.

Thanks for reading. xxooC

the tree at lake shelby where I spread Eric's ashes. I wished I had said more
Thoughts and Notes, Uncategorized

More Loss and Finding Hope

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First Comes Loss

I’ve experienced more loss in the past two years than I have my entire life. I am quite sure other folks have had much more than me so I am in no way saying I am special. But with the passing of Lucy, I was able to watch her go. I’ve been preparing for it for a while. Something I didn’t get to do with the other losses in my life. I’ve written about trauma and I believe being present is a special kind of trauma. One that hits hard and shakes to the soul. Losing is one thing, watching the loss was something altogether different for me.

Somehow though, processing this loss has been easier which leads me to the question, am I stuck on the other loss because of the circumstance surrounding the passing? I would love some feedback from others that have had to prepare for a loved one’s passing and were there when it happened. Was the event so traumatic that it alone was hard to recover or did watching the process and preparation make it easier to accept and recover. And please, when I say “recover” I use that term loosely. Recover just means to return to a somewhat normal existence on the surface. Functioning I suppose.

more loss and finding hope in lucy's death. Lucy's noseprint
more loss and finding hope. Lucy's paw print

Next Comes Lost

I’ve said before. Loss is loss and everyone experiences and reacts differently. No one’s experience is right or wrong. I also believe there is no time limit for feelings and emotions. They last as long as they last. I know I’ve somewhat learned to live again, and on the outside I may look like I’ve moved on. My insides say differently. I still get waves of the gut punch and the breathlessness when I think about the life I had, the life I should have, and what will never be.

I visited my doctor recently who is a deeply spiritual man. He looked me in the eyes and told me the only way through grief is through service. Only then will I appreciate what I have now and see past my loss. Those were wise words that I already kind of knew, but hearing them solidified that. I have had the opportunity to do small things since my journey into grief and mourning started and the feeling I felt was indescribable. My doctor also said to make sure I was living a life that honored my husband. A life in which he would still be proud to call me his wife. That hit home. I’ve been lost. A lot. Spiritually and physically.

Finally Hope

So now I’m thinking, maybe I’m getting better at handling loss. With that I mean, maybe I am developing instincts and ways to cope and deal and possibly block out the super painful things that I can’t deal with again. That’s a scary thought. I’ve read and heard of individuals living with PTSD whom never discuss their pain and trauma. Like veterans and refugees. It’s called trauma denial. Some things are just too horrific and the brain will try to forget and not deal with them.

Life is a journey. I never thought mine would lead me here. Something helpful from a previous job, I do try to practice gratitude everyday. I am thankful for the people and family I still have. I am thankful for the things that bring me joy each day. When I lay my head down or wake up in the morning, I know a full day is not promised.

I am hopeful as I continue down this path that there is a place for me somewhere on this earth. Somewhere where once again I can call it mine, and it feels like home. Until then I will continue to wander and do the things that I’ve always wanted that make me smile. Thanks for reading xxooC

Lucy’s Adventures, Uncategorized

Kitty Love, Saying Goodbye

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How We Met

July 2002 was extra special. That was the year my kitty love Lucy was born. And, the month we met. My in-laws had a pay lake out in Waddy, Kentucky. My father-in-law called me a few days after my birthday. He asked if I wanted a kitten that had been orphaned. She was feral and living in the chicken coop on the feed. He caught her in a box trap. I sent my husband to get her. She arrived in a small dog crate. She was very tiny and fit in the palm of my hand. I grabbed her by her scruff and gave her a bath. I removed the fleas I could find and then wrapped her in a towel. She was mine ever since. I named her Lucy. Not for any particular reason other than she just looked like a Lucy.

There was nothing special about this little calico kitten. She was every color a cat could come. Lucy had one leg that was tiger striped. Some gray and black striping, and some white as well. I remember all I wanted was for her to sit with me but all Lucy wanted to do was run and be a kitten. She was curious about everything. Sun loving, always finding the warm spot in the house to catch a nap.

kitty love. lucy looking laying on bed looking at camera

The Early Years

Somewhere around the middle of her life, she calmed down a bit. She was showing that she wanted to be next to me. Her gestures to “pet me, pet me” were heard loud and clear. From 2007-2009 I earned an online degree from home and she was my constant companion every single day. We spent many days together as she laid next to me while I would read, write, and learn. Then Lucy started sleeping with me. The favorite snuggle spots would change now and then, and for a while it was on my head, then on my waist. Sometimes she would tuck herself up against me. Other times she would sleep between the pillows.

Lucy loved to go outside and lay in the sun. She loved to eat grass. She talked, a lot. Not only to me but to others she liked. We developed our own language. Her intentions were clear when she wanted to convey love. There were moments we would just look at each other in acknowledgment of our existence and our connection. She was a soul mate. Not everyone can have a bond with an animal.

To look into another animal’s eyes and feel a connection, we understood each other. She would show me she loves me back by laying her head on me. She showed me by laying her paws on me. By wanting to be with me, by wanting to touch me and be touched. By constantly talking to me. In the end, she was very clear about her wants and needs both physical and emotional.

my kitty love lucy laying on bed with my hand on her belly

Defying The Odds

Then in 2016 she lost a lot of weight. In her glory days when she was healthy, she topped out at 13.5 lbs. She was now down to 9 lbs. Lucy had hyperthyroidism and was put on medication. After starting medication she gained some weight back. Finally in 2017 we received another diagnosis, this time it was lymphoma. The vet gave her 90 days to live. She defied that like she did with so many other things.

Lucy maintained well on her own until the end of last year. Mobility became a struggle. As her medication increased and her physical limitations grew, I decided she needed constant care. I started taking her on my journeys, under vet supervision of course. She seemed happier and we spent a lot of time together. But I knew our time was limited and I could be saying goodbye to her on the road somewhere.

kitty love lucy looking into camera

Goodbye My Love

On August 8 at around 12:15pm, Lucy took her last breathes here on this earth. Her body had been failing her for some time. The whole transition was quick. She let me know that morning there was something wrong and it was time. Although I somehow knew this as she hadn’t eaten since the day before. I held her until she left and then a little longer. Before she left me though, I told her everything I always repeated to her and everything I had been preparing to say up until then.

“I love you. You are my soul mate. If you can come back, please find me. I’ll love you until the day I die and beyond. You were the best kitty in the whole wide world. No one will ever love you as much as I do. I love you most of all and you have been a huge comfort and a loving companion. Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for loving me back. I’ll miss you but I know you must go. Don’t be afraid. It’s ok to go. Go to Papa. I’ll be ok. I’m here until the end. I love you.”

And with that, the animal love of my life passed to meet her Papa waiting for her on the other side.

Thank you all for accompanying us on this final journey. I love you all. xxooC

kitty love Lucy sitting on a box
lucy laying on my arm looking at me
lucy laying her head down looking at camera
Thoughts and Notes, Uncategorized

Grief and Trauma Labels

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What Are Grief and Trauma?

A quick Google search and I found definitions for grief and trauma. Grief is a “deep sorrow caused when something or someone you love has been taken away.” Trauma is an “emotional response to a distressing experience.” So on first glance one would think the two are somewhat related. I tend to disagree. I’ve witnessed trauma from friends that did not experience grief. I have also seen grief without trauma.

PTSD and Distress

It wasn’t until I was coping with uncontrollable physical and mental situations that I was able to distinguish the two. So I did what anyone would do and I went to the doctor. Usually when I would hear of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), I would think of service people or victims of natural disasters. I was really surprised when I was diagnosed with PTSD and complicated grief. Neither of which I understood at the time. Then throw in generalized anxiety disorder to this mess for a distressing, no end in sight, anguish.

My PTSD caused me to become stuck. Stuck in only what I can describe as an obsessive thought process. My image kept playing over in my mind on repeat. I was helpless to stop it, to process it, to understand it. This compounded my anxiety which crippled me in the beginning. I knew I needed professional help but who and what was beyond my comprehension. Then one day, while I was at the med spa of all places, my nurse practitioner was working on me and mentioned she knew of a licensed therapist practicing EMDR therapy.

EMDR for Trauma

EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. Yeah, that’s a mouthful. But basically what this therapy does, is it uses rapid eye movements similar to REM sleep patterns to help the brain reprocess memories and work through them. EMDR uses both sides of the brain. Has it helped? Well, yes and no. Reprocessing is not immediate. It takes time to work through. Afterwards though, my brain is no longer stuck. The once devastating memory holds little power over me. After EMDR therapy is when I was able to start traveling. So that was good, but my body and mind remain damaged. Damaged by the trauma I endured during the event which caused this image in the first place.

My Experience and My Discovery

What I didn’t understand at first is that grief and trauma are completely different things. Each requires a level of processing and therapy that don’t necessarily go together. As often the case with medicine these days, I have become my own advocate. My experience with each has opened my eyes. I carry each with me daily. How I deal with each is different. Understanding this is half the battle for me. Maybe one day I’ll be able to leave one or both behind but I doubt it. I do have hope that one day I will be able to cope with them better today than I did yesterday.

Have you had EMDR or are curious about it? Let’s talk!

Thanks for reading! xxooC

Thoughts and Notes, Uncategorized

Speaking Up and Confronting Fears

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Speaking Up with Boundaries

I’ve never been the one for speaking up for myself. I admit, I’m a people pleaser. In my childhood I dared not speak my mind. This action always met with fierce condemnation. Therefore I learned quickly not to speak up for myself. This carried into my adolescent and adult life. There were a few rare occasions where I actually did say what I was thinking. When this did happen, I remember pride mixed with astonishment in myself. I was always in awe of the people around me who could easily just snark or put their thoughts out there. In therapy, I discovered these are all learned behaviors. Unlearning a lifetime of unproductive behaviors is difficult. We teach people how to treat us. I also discovered that by not speaking up but staying silent, I am allowing myself to be treated differently than I want.

Now mix grief into this. I thought feeling hopeless would give me courage. It did in some areas of my life but curiously not in this one. I used to watch my husband. He would say something in a room full of people just to watch everyone get triggered and then leave before someone’s head exploded. “This was an art” I often thought. I could never be so bold. Grief however has definitely emboldened me, but not always in the best ways.

Fear with Anxiety

There was a time I was highly self destructive. In this journey I’ve also been highly creative. The real work on myself began in the midst of this trauma. Anxiety disorder is something that comes and goes in my life. Before the past two years, I really hadn’t dealt with it to the extent I have now. With anxiety comes fear. I realized an irrational fear of abandonment is something I’ve had my entire life. Now to actually be abandoned through no one’s fault. Well that has made this fear a reality and that is the cornerstone of where I am today. I know this but I don’t know how to deal with it but I’m learning.

Confronting Fears

Reconnecting for me continues to be difficult. Grief sets new boundaries but knowing one’s boundaries is important. Reinforcing the boundaries set is even more challenging. I had a conversation the other day with a very good friend about this topic. We both knew it and thus we both understood it completely. Talking about it is easy. Putting what I know into practice is something else altogether. Speaking up for myself, through setting and enforcing personal boundaries makes me confront my fears. Fear of ridicule, fear of abandonment by someone who doesn’t want to respect my boundaries. Fear of disappointing, and fear of confrontation.

Speaking Up with Love

So I constantly ask myself the question, “what have I got to lose?” The answer is nothing and I have to remind myself of that. I truly believe we get what we put out into the world. Someone once said to me, if something is said or done with love then it is never bad. My resolution to myself is to walk in love. I choose to love myself hoping that reinforcing my personal boundaries out of love for myself will continue to bring positivity into my life. Those that understand this may stay. Those that don’t may leave.

Do you struggle with personal boundaries? What irrational fears have you experienced? I want to hear from you. xxooC

lake front picture speaking up
Destinations, On The Road

Feeding My California Love

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How My California Love Started

My love for California started six years ago. I flew in to Ontario airport for the Nocturnal Wonderland Festival in the hills outside San Bernardino. The drive to the hotel was almost an hour. I remember thinking the landscape looked similar to Las Vegas but then it didn’t. That weekend changed my life because of the magic that happened there in the Glen Helen Amphitheater. Since then I have journeyed back to San Bernardino four more times.

Over the past year, I drove to Redding twice. Once for another festival and then just to go. For the festival, I drove from Redding to San Bernardino and back. It was a trip of a lifetime and again, magic happened. During this trip I fell deeper in love with California. Since then I have since longed to see more of this beautiful state.

The Los Angeles Tourist

Last month I flew to Los Angeles for the Tattoo Convention in Pamona, CA. From there I took a three day trip to LA and San Francisco. Let me tell you I saw so many sights in those three days my head was overwhelmed. I am so happy and grateful just to take it all in.

I know I will not get to these in the order I visited but each was super special. First stop was Venice Beach where breakfast at the Sidewalk Cafe was simply something out of a movie. Which by the way, I caught the filming of a movie and a commercial. I have no idea what they were, but I am excited to see if I ever come across them in real life.

venice sign california love
venice beach mural in parking lot california love
smallest lawn on venice beach california love

From there I walked the beach to the pier and back. The ocean smell filled the air. Muscle beach and the skate park distinctly stood out among the landscape. I saw lots of smaller attractions like the world’s smallest front yard and the Venice city sign at the entrance on Windward Avenue. I keep reminding myself, more photos, more photos.

scene from standing on venice fishing pier in venice california love
skate park on venice beach california love
scene of commercial being filmed on venice beach california love

More California Love in LA

Then it was on to Rodeo Drive. I didn’t shop but I did walk it. So many places to see in such a short time. A quick stop at the Original Farmers Market in The Grove. Michelina had the best sweet snack before heading to the original Cookies Dispensary on Melrose Avenue.

tiffany and co california love on rodeo drive
me standing on rodeo drive with california love
statue on rodeo drive

Melrose included more shopping but I won’t bore you with those details because next was West Hollywood and the walk of fame. Grauhman’s Chinese Theater was so intriguing. Moments marked in time by present and passed individuals that somehow left their mark on this city’s entertainment industry.

street sign from rodeo drive in los angeles
The grove building
beverly hills sign
sweets from Michelina in the farmer's market in los angeles
grauman's chinese theater
hollywood sign

The trip wouldn’t be complete without the Hollywood sign and of course a Beverly Hills street sign. My last stop before heading to San Francisco, was the Public Art “Urban Light” exhibit next to the Museum of Art. The light exhibit there was the backdrop of some of Gucci’s street show last year so I had to visit. This concluded Monday and Tuesday morning.

urban light exhibit in los angeles
urban light exhibit in los angeles
urban light exhibit in los angeles

Leaving Los Angeles

The drive to San Francisco was about five and a half hours long. The scenery on Interstate 5 was familiar until 580. I feel like Northern California has a distinct vibe that is much different than Southern California. I had that “aha” moment again like “why have I not been here before?” I find my internal dialogue saying that a lot.

I5 north of san francisco

My Short Stay in San Francisco

San Francisco was a lot to take in. Again, I wish I had taken more photos. My host and gracious guide made sure I saw the important places including The Golden Gate Bridge, Chinatown, and the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood.

golden gate bridge
golden gate bridge

One of the highlights was when I stopped for some fruit at the Haight Street Market. Next door to the market was a red building. I noticed about five people stopping to take photographs so I took one also. Later I learned this was The Red House. The site of Jimi Hendrix apartment while he lived in San Francisco in the 60’s.

haight street market and jimi hendrix red house
original ben and jerry's in san francisco
buildings in san francisco

I’m absolutely positive I’m leaving some places out. My time in lovely city was less than 24 hours but it left it’s mark on me. The city has a vibe I’ve never felt any place else I have ever been.

So that’s it for now. I hope you enjoyed the trip with me. Please comment, ask questions, all that stuff. Love you all. xxooC

sweet treats in LA's Farmer's Market
Thoughts and Notes, Uncategorized

One More Year and Another Birthday

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Fireworks for another birthday

Navigating Another Birthday

At the beginning of this journey after losing my spouse, I was unable to cope with my feelings. At all. Unable to feel the correct feelings or over feeling seemed to last longer than I expected. In 2020 my husband left just before my birthday. I had a few friends and family message me “happy birthday” with very unforeseen consequences for them and me. This lovingly sent message unleashed something terrifying inside me. I still don’t know exactly what it was but the closest I can come to describing it was rage.

I hit back and I hit back hard. As I’ve said before, I make no apologies for what I felt, what I feel, and how I express myself when it comes to my grief. This year has been a little different. As I watch these same friends and family tip toe around my birthday today, they still don’t know where I am or how I will react. The sting is gone. Now only a deep sadness remains. Sure I’m having a birthday, I’m one year older. I’ll celebrate with a piece of cake later and probably a drink. I’ve come much further than I could ever have imagined just two years ago. But what does that mean?

This is Where I am Now

I’m certainly not over this huge loss and trauma I’ve experienced. I’m reminded of that every time I have a panic attack, or my PTSD rears it’s head with a grip so tight it paralyzes me. Am I becoming normalized to this new existence? I believe so. Isn’t that what time does though? It normalizes us by subjecting us to the pain and constant bombardment of the terrible things so we can wake up, expect it and still move through our lives. At least that’s what it seems.

So today was another revelation that I just may be able to look forward to a time with a little less pain. Maybe a little less disfunction. And just possibly a little hope and dare I say, a brief little bit of happiness.

birthday cake

Again, thanks for reading my ramblings. Love you all xxooC

Thoughts and Notes, Uncategorized

My Engagement Ring, A Love Story

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tiffany & company clock in las vegas

Engagement Ring Shopping, NOT

I love Tiffany & Co. I try to visit every store I can when I find one. The service is exceptional and I just love the iconic jewelry. I enjoy everything about just being inside the store. The quote from Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast At Tiffany’s is true “…nothing very bad could happen to you there.” But this is not a plug for Tiffany’s and that’s not what I was really trying tell you about. Also I need to add my engagement ring did not come from Tiffany’s.

A section of Tiffany’s I usually try to avoid at all costs is the bridal and anniversary section. Because let’s face it. First, I can’t afford anything there. That’s beyond the obvious fact I’m neither getting married or will ever have another anniversary so I figure, hey why tempt myself. Anyway, somehow I ended up strolling through this section in Portland, Oregon over my birthday weekend. I was struck by the Tiffany single solitaire diamond. We’ve all seen it in the magazines. This ring is much more beautiful in person which made me think of my engagement ring with it’s long sorted history.

My Engagement Ring Story

My late husband’s proposal was definitely a story to accompany my engagement ring. Not a beautiful, romantic story as I have heard others tell, but still an interesting one nonetheless. He started by asking what my favorite stone shape was and I answered him with a princess cut. That’s all he needed. He went to a family owned jewelry store and the sales girl helped him pick out a diamond. Then the setting. Side note, after he proposed he tells me he put back the original diamond he chose as he thought it would be “too large and overpower my hand.” To which I thought what girl would ever choose the smaller diamond? But I dared not say that out loud. My ring was gorgeous. The most beautiful ring I had ever seen and my man picked it all out himself. I fell in love with my diamond.

my engagement ring

Next he took me on a trip back to his hometown of Valparaiso, Indiana. He waited until my birthday in 1997. We stayed at his friend’s house. We woke up in a small but quant bedroom. He got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. We were married in February the following year.

For our fifth anniversary I asked for more bling. So we traded in my old wedding set, a cathedral platinum setting for a band with more diamonds. This band had a row of 3 baguette diamonds down each side. Again, my man picked this out for me. I loved it. We threw in a plain platinum circular wedding band. This was my set. I wore it with pride and loved it for many years.

Perfectly Imperfect

That was until I broke a prong. I took it in to be repaired. The jewelry store (I won’t mention any names because the story takes a good turn) tried to “fix” it. They destroyed my ring. It could not be fixed. The manager refused to give me a new one or replace the diamond prong setting. It never looked the same. I was devastated. For over ten years I had a ring that brought me to tears when I looked at it. I couldn’t wear it. So I put it away.

Then one day, I was working at the mall. A new manager from the same jewelry store was in shopping. She handed me a card trying to recruit me or anyone I knew. I told her my story. She invited me to bring my ring in. My hopes were not high. She had the diamond setting replaced and made it look just like it did when I bought it. All for free. I cried, and cried some more. I loved my ring again.

Lost And Found

Fast forward now to about two weeks before my husband died. We travelled south to our daughter’s wedding. I tore my jewelry box apart on my closet floor looking for something borrowed for her to wear. My engagement ring had fallen on the carpet and I didn’t see it when I returned everything back to my jewelry box. After we returned home, and exactly six days before he passed, my husband found my ring on the carpet. He commented “here’s your engagement ring” and laid it on the shelf in the closet. Then he died.

I was going through things shortly after just putting valuables together and I saw my ring. Sitting there, on the shelf he put it on. He was the last person to touch my engagement ring, and there it was. This ring that had meant so much to the two of us. A promise between us. Till death do us part. I put it on and wore it for many months. Then I took it off.

Another Reminder

My moment in Tiffany’s reminded me of my perfect, beautiful ring. A symbol of a life and a union that no longer exists. As I have been reminded several times during my new widowhood, I am no longer considered married. I can’t wear it. I don’t know what to do with it. At this moment in time, I can’t bear the thought of removing the diamonds or shaping it into something else. Maybe that will come in time. I’m finding a lot of things I can’t hold onto anymore but I am unable to let go of.

So for once, Tiffany’s was not my happy place but a crossroads for me. I realized I will always live with one foot in this life, and one in that one. These moments will continue to come. For how long, I don’t have the answer to that. Thanks for reading. xxooC

Is there anything you have been holding onto from a life you no longer have?

Destinations, Thoughts and Notes, Uncategorized

Going Home, A Midwest Story

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sunset on indiana beach going home

Going Up North

The drive didn’t take long. The usual four and a half hours. This trip was different though. This time I was going to do something that was long overdue. My husband is going home. I’m taking his ashes back to his home state of Indiana. I decided to spread part of his ashes on the Lake Michigan beach called The Dunes, where he grew up and spent a lot of time. He moved to Kentucky back in the early nineties but family is still there, and very close friends. We frequented his old haunts quite often throughout our more than two decades together. Chicago and northern Indiana was a trip we traveled often.

Going Home After 2 Years

The morning came and I woke up more anxious. I’ve never had negative feelings about putting him somewhere and although I know and love his family, I think having them all in one place and the actual experience of saying goodbye is what put me on edge. The finality. As I said, this was long overdue. We all gathered a little after 7pm.

Some friends and family members I had seen recently, some not. The homecoming was good. It was peaceful. He would have approved. There at dusk, we stood in a circle and told stories about him like he was truly gone, but yet not really. The way I have felt for two years, others shared my feelings. The exact same feeling. I’m always astounded in hearing how much he touched lives. Lives that I was completely unaware. There is always a story somewhere that surprises me. This gathering was no different. The loss was apparent. Brother, son, friend, uncle, father, they all were there. The life of this man cut so short. The pain I experience is also experienced by each and every person attending this gathering. The relationship may be different but loss is universal to the human existence.

sand covering my husband's ashes on indiana beach going home

Afterwards

The whole thing, I hate to call it a ceremony, I don’t think he would approve of anything formal and I just want to call it going home. Anyway, the whole thing lasted longer than I expected. It was way more emotional than I expected also. At the end I put him in the sand. No prophetic words, nothing. I had nothing to say. I’ve already said it all. I still say it, I can’t believe a life is over. His life. Our life. My hope is that one day, when all of the ashes are gone, I will find peace.