Posts Tagged With: relationships

je ne regrette (presque) rien

Posted on January 25, 2023 by robynbird

My brother got married.
In this room.

On Friday the thirteenth.
In January.
On Mt Hood.

At Timberline Lodge.

Where they shot the exteriors for The Shining.

Perhaps that tells you something about who he is. Who the woman he married is.
It sure as hell told me.

I haven’t seen my brother since my dad died over seven years ago. We talk occasionally, mostly we text. This seems to work for us.
Our relationship is tricky, but my love for him is genuine.

Since he met, and fell in love with this woman, he seems to me more like the little boy he was. More inclined to feel and express joy, more inclined to celebrate small things, less likely to focus on how much longer he has to be miserable in this life.

I will celebrate that until the last breath leaves my body!
But I’d choose to celebrate it from here while he feels love and joy there.
That’s what’s best for me. Not going into over-functioning ‘big sister mode’ around him. And though logically I know that’s unnecessary, that childhood conditioning kicks in, then the feeling borders on compulsion.

When YBW found out they were going to wed, he was so excited! He was like, I’m buying plane tickets right now! He enjoyed meeting my brother and would like to know him better.
Thing 2 was equally excited, bursting to celebrate with that beloved uncle!
Thing 1 was excited, but not eager to get on a plane across the country. Though neither did she want to miss anything.
I was over here like, this is a bad idea.
But as I’m his only sibling, and our parents are deceased, and my husband and youngest child were so unbelievably enthusiastic, I got on a plane across the country to celebrate my brother’s joy.
I mean, my husband, both my kids (and Boyfriend M) couldn’t go if I didn’t go, I’m the link, right?

It was as awkward as I’d imagined.
All her family (she’s one of six siblings), people she works with, my niece, who literally ran from me and her cousins, and my cousin, who stood up as best man, and the five of us.
Living through that meal was excruciating. There was no joy in Mudville, y’all. We were sat separately and essentially disregarded.
In all honesty, it was almost exactly what I expected.
But here’s the most important thing, I will always have the moment of seeing my brother’s tearful face filled with love and joy.
I don’t have to regret missing out on that.
And sometimes, that’s enough.

Categories: me | Tags: celebrate, complicated relationship, families, family, family dynamics, family history, joy, love, regret, relationships, siblings | 3 Comments

grief is a dick punch

Posted on November 24, 2021 by robynbird

My mom’s been gone ten years this week.
I have more feels about this than I’d like.
It’s simpler to just kind of know intrinsically that she’s dead and not really think about it. Because when I do think about it, I mostly feel anger.
Ten years later and I’m still so fucking angry!
I’m angry she was sick and kept the secret. I’m angry at her for choosing to die.

Seventeen days between finding out she was sick to finding out she was dead.
Like, why am I surprised she was selfish? Why am I surprised she kept her declining health a secret? She was nothing but secrets.
Knowing she was who she was doesn’t make the anger any less.

I’m angry I barely got to see her.
I’m angry I had to rush to say goodbye.
I’m angry that helping her ridiculous husband manage his grief kept me from helping my daughters manage their grief.
I’m angry that my grief is more anger than anything.

I’ve worked through so many things in therapy.
Cleary this is not one of them…

TBPH though, most days I’m just a girl with no parents. And I’m OK with that. My anger spends the majority of my life taking a nap. But when it wakes, we just kind of fuel each other and feed off each other and I simply cannot believe things she said and did are still manipulating me. (Perhaps it’s that I’m letting them manipulate me…?)
Either way, I’m not feeling love for her. I’m not feeling sad she’s gone. I’m not nostalgic about her.
I’m feeling really fucking mad.

Feeling all this anger can’t possibly be good for me.
But I’m over here up to my ass in it.

My logical brain understands I need to let it go. (y’all hear Elsa too, right?) Send that anger on it’s way. Even if it’s replaced with nothing, that’s most likely better for me. To feel anything instead of anger, I’m here for it.
My feelings place understands I don’t feel that anger the majority of my life. That it flares up when I do stop to think about my mother’s death.

Our relationship, her life, neither of those had to end the way they did.
Her mom died suddenly when she was only twenty three years old.
My mom chose to die in secret and I found out suddenly when I was forty years old.
She knew what that was like. To lose her mom without warning. Why would she do that to her own daughter?
I don’t understand that kind of selfishness.
She was controlling the situation (and us in it) even as she was dying.
Talk about needing to let it go.
Just fucking be real with your children. We’re adults. We can handle it.

That’s not who she was.
She was a tyrannical dictator who ran her world with an iron fist.
She wasn’t about to give that up at the end of her life.

How disappointing.
She could have done it differently and we all could have felt our feels as we went.
Of course she wasn’t interested in us feeling our feels. To be fair, she wasn’t interested in feeling her own feels either.
It just occurred to me that she’d probably enjoy that I’m angry about her death.
That’s nearly enough to make me choose to never be angry about it again. Why in the fuck would I give her the posthumous satisfaction?

Interestingly enough, simply writing about it helped me feel less angry. (must journal more frequently)
I’m an orphan in this world. An adult child of deceased parents.
Most days I’m cool with it. I adapted. This is my life now.
But the anniversary of my mom’s death got me thinking.
And feeling.
That anger didn’t bubble up in a manageable way, it erupted like a volcano and I was simultaneously burning and drowning in the lava flow.
Somehow I survived and the lava is cooling.
I find myself wondering if this anger volcano can move from dormant to extinct.
I mean, time and work-of-self moved it from active to dormant…so that’s moving in the right direction, yeah?

I don’t know.
I can’t help but wonder if feeling angry is better than feeling unloved.

Grief is weird.
Sometimes it’s just a normal state of being.
Sometimes it’s a straight up dick punch.
I’m choosing to move back into ‘normal state of being’, this ‘dick punch anger’ is painful and exhausting.

That’s what life’s about though, right?
The choices we make.
I choose to feel my feels.
I choose to figure out how to process those feels.
I choose to acknowledge, accept-don’t-judge, and release those feels.

I do think it’s OK that I’m angry about the way my mom died.
I don’t think I need to let it consume me.
Look at me, over here growing.
Huzzah!

Categories: death | Tags: #anixousavoidantattachment, #complextrauma, #insecureattachment, #intermittentreinforcement, #narcissisticabuse, #selfdoubt, #shame, #unconditionallove, #unloveddaughter, all the feels, anger, angry, anxious avoidant attachment, choices, death, dick punch, feeling, feeling all the things, feels, grief, guilt, healing, I am not my feelings, loss, love, making good choices, mothers and daughters, parenting, relationships, self healing | 12 Comments

energy alignment and evolving spaces

Posted on January 22, 2021 by robynbird

I came across this on instagram the other night. It struck a chord in me as I immerse myself in packing.

I like how it says not ‘aligned with who you are anymore’.
I like the idea of your space evolving as you do.

I’ve been thinking about this concept as YBW and I leave this house to live in the new house.
The new house will begin with who we are together, where and how we are aligned now.

A new alignment will not change who we were individually, and who we were together. It doesn’t change how we lived in previous dwellings individually and together. It simply shifts the focus to who we are in this moment in time.
This is who we are now.

I believe creating new alignments does not dishonor who we used to be. I believe it is a reflection of who we are now.
I believe we can support and keep each other safe through this process.
I believe we can encourage each other’s alignment with love and respect.

Each of us choosing what we bring to our new home. How we choose to live together in this new environment.
What we bring with us has it’s own energy. We owe it to ourselves and each other to choose that energy carefully.

I’m hopeful as we continue to pack our things we choose mindfully.
I’m hopeful that the energy we bring into our new environment is positive and promotes growth.

Eight months ago, I wrote about being mindful how I curate my environment.

Things are just things.
At this stage of my life, my main focus is to curate my surroundings in a way that helps me thrive. Living my intention, learning and creating, and growing into the next version of me gives me all the feels.

That’s the kind of energy I’m all about creating an alignment with.

Categories: around the house | Tags: alignment, all the feels, clutter, curating your environment, energy, growth mindset, healthy relationships, learning, learning to grow, life, living my intention, love, mental health, mindful, mindful living, organization, positive energy, purging, relationships, self reflection, truest self | 4 Comments

my truth is self evident

Posted on June 16, 2020 by robynbird

I spent time with both my girls over the past ten days.
I went to Thing 1’s to help pack, and play with Baby K. She calls me “Baduh”and is an excellent snuggler. She loves books and blocks and wandering around her house ‘talking’ just to hear the sound of her own voice.
Thing 1 and I packed so much! There is precious little for her to pack and she has the next six weeks to do it. Mostly kitchen things they need to use every day between now and then and clothes. I brought with me most of Baby K’s toys and books, all Thing 1 and Husband N’s winter clothes and some other things they could part with in the meantime.

On the way back to VA, I stopped to see Thing 2.
We had a mini-girlie hotel weekend in which we snuggled and watched movies, ate a boat load of queso at our favorite Mexican place, and I met the young man she’s started seeing over Sunday morning brunch.
We were worried it wouldn’t feel like we had enough time, but it was perfect!
Returning to this house, I’m sad and disappointed to be apart from them.

I’m frustrated and disappointed to be here.
I don’t actually realize how miserable I am living here with my husband and his son until I’m away and return.
Turning onto our street made me anxious and angry.
I keep trying to figure out how it works when you love someone so much yet are so damn miserable at the same time.

When I’m away from this house I’m content. When I’m out and about with my husband I’m content.
The energy that surrounds my husband’s son is stagnant and putrid and poisons this entire household.
I’m so tired of feeling like I don’t have a say.
I’ve worked so desperately to accept this situation that I can’t change. And I can, for a while…
I can complain until I’m blue in the face and nothing changes. I’m so fucking tired of being trapped in a situation I didn’t create. I’m so fucking tired of being in a situation in which I’m powerless.
My life is being decided by a twenty year old man-child who refuses to make any personal decisions.
My husband expects his son to make life decisions, but the kid simply doesn’t have the skills to do that.
So we wait.
And we wait.

I feel like Sirius Black.

How much longer do I wait?
Well, now I have to at least wait until Husband N has a job and he and Thing 1 can buy a house.

I feel like I was promised one thing and received another.
I feel deceived.
I feel disappointed and let down.
What’s so awful about these feelings is that the actions didn’t come purposefully and with malice. The actions are a by-product of the way my husband and his family have functioned these past twenty years.
I believe he has every intention of fulfilling his promises he made when we began our relationship. But he won’t do them until he finishes fulfilling his promise to ‘take care‘ of his son.
The truth of the matter is he’ll never finish fulfilling the promise to take care of his son because his son never learned how to take care of himself. So he remains obligated to take care of him.
These promises don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
Yet here we are.

I’m finished being miserable.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s son.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s decisions.
Instead of being trapped waiting for other people to make changes, I can make changes that benefit me without negatively impacting others.
I’m finished playing by rules I didn’t have a voice in writing.
I’m finished participating in a life I didn’t actually agree to.

My husband reads my blog.
This will be so hurtful to him.
That’s not my intention. I’m just too tired to play the game anymore.
I don’t believe either of us truly understands how much we love each other because there’s always some sort of drama clouding everything up.

This whole post may seem petulant.
May seem like I’m being petty and uncaring.
May even seem like I’m the queen of the haters.
I don’t hate. I simply can no longer live the way my husband chooses to live.

This is actually a declaration.
My truths are self evident.

I need to help myself, because I can’t help my husband or his son. They can choose to swim around in their dysfunction. I’m getting out of the pool. I can’t tread that water anymore.

Categories: me | Tags: anger, disappointment, family systems, frustration, life, love, mental health, powerless, relationships, sadness, wellbeing | 11 Comments

the view from here

Posted on May 27, 2020 by robynbird

The last two days, I feel like I’ve been in seriously great Momma mode!
Y’all, I’m so blessed to be my daughters mother. They are incredible women, and my love for them is unconditional and limitless!

Yesterday Thing 2 and I talked for a while for the first time since my birthday. I assisted her in some important decision making, and provided over all Momma love and support. That girl is made of some seriously sturdy stuff, but sometimes needs help remembering. It’s hard when you feel like you have to do everything on your own. Being reminded you have loving, supportive people in your corner helps get you out of your head and provides a fresh perspective on everything.

This morning Thing 1 was feeling a bit overwhelmed by her own great and arduous task of packing her house. I asked if she was needing assistance planning or simply needed to be heard. She was all about the help.
So I suggested she start with a list (I mean of course I did, I’m the freaking List Lady after all!). I suggested she plan out what needs to be packed and then create a timeline.
Of course Baby K is like, WTF mommy? when Thing 1 is trying to pack instead of playing. I know that’s hard for both of them.
But I was struck with an idea!
What if Thing 1 actively packed for only twenty minutes each hour!?! She may not feel like she’s accomplishing much, or even finish packing one box, but she might feel less overwhelmed, and Baby K won’t get her diapie in a twist at being ‘ignored’.
Set a timer! Crank the music! Make a game of it! Baby K will love that, and Thing 1 can get things done without too much stress.
And, if she does her twenty minutes at the top of each hour, they have that last forty minutes to play together!

And in this house…
Yesterday afternoon, I opened one of the bins YBW and I pulled out of the utility room.
It was labeled with the names of my grandparents followed by the words family info.
So I was pretty much expecting all the genealogy stuff my mother complied in her lifetime. That was what I remembered putting in the bin after going through all the stuff my mother’s husband gave me five years ago.
But damn if I didn’t surprise myself!
In that bin was more so much more than the genealogy information.
Some random af stuff I didn’t know what to do with when I initially received it, but felt comfortable deciding yesterday.
Grandaddy’s harmonica.
My mom’s passport in which I too am in the photo as I was in her belly.
My grandmother’s hand written birth certificate.
And this (these?) gem(s).

I was able to divide and conquer everything, saving some things I want the girls to see before I dispose of them, and only had a small discard pile.
Of course now I have a stuffy headache from the mildew that clings to some of those items. It’s worth it.

Today I’m kind of being quiet. That is, not really doing much. Some writing. A bit of tidying. A bit of ridiculousness…
YBW is working from home this week so I went in there and said, You have a minute? He turned to give me his undivided attention.
Me: Wanna know how old I am?
YBW: Forty nine.
Me: Yeah, but not in chronological time.
YBW: …
Me: I think I need a neckchain for my reading glasses.
YBW: smiles but says nothing…
Me: If I’m wearing a pony or bun-bun I can’t put them on top of my head, they fall off.
YBW: serious face but silent…
Me: Is that ridiculous?
YBW: Not if me in my shorts and tee, and socks and slippers, and hoodie isn’t too ridiculous.
Me: I love everything about you.
YBW: Me too, baby.

Good Lord, we’re ridiculous!
At least each of us thinks this about the other.

This afternoon I’ll be focusing on organizing music, doing a bit of research on brain health and mental illness, and shopping for some stylish chains for my reading glasses.
Can you handle the excitement?

Categories: me | Tags: family, family history, home, love, mental health, mothers and daughters, moving house, my kind of stupid, organization, packing, relationships, self quarantine, social distancing, supportive family, unconditional love | 5 Comments

things are just things

Posted on May 20, 2020 by robynbird

Y’all know Thing 1 and her family will be living in our house for a few months starting some time in July.
Y’all know YBW and I are eager to purchase and move into that townhouse.
The first of these will cause a change in the way we live in this house.
The second how we live in our new house.

This got me thinking about how I currently live in this house, how I want to live my remaining time in this house, and how I want to live in the new house.
Not how YBW and I live together. Those things must be decided by us as a unit.
I’m thinking how I want to live and what that means for me as a member of our household.

This thought process has been somewhat active as we begin to make preparations, but hatched into actual thoughts when I sent a photo to Thing 1 and Thing 2 asking if either of them had any interest in this item.

The story is my great aunt made this lamp for me. I don’t know when, but I do know I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t in my bedroom.
This Raggedy Ann lamp is a part of my life for as long as I can remember, but I don’t have any strong feels about it.
Thing 1 remarked that it’s one of those things that just stuck around.
The more I considered this, the more I realized that’s not a mindful way to live. At least I feel that way now about how I want to live.
Of late, I’ve worried that it may seem as though, and sometimes even feels like I’m just purging to purge, but I’m actually being super mindful about the way I want to live.
And what I surround myself with.
And what I leave behind needs to be the truest representation of the me I am (was?), and be simple for my daughters to handle.

I have this feeling it’s like shedding skin…
Or some sort of evolutionary process…
Leaving behind who you were in a mindful and respectful way and making room to become the next version of you…?

This is the last year of my forties, a natural phase of evolution as we get ready for a decade change. As I look at my life, I see how much my surroundings impact the way I live. By going through my things in a respectfully mindful way, I can prepare and environment that will meet my needs. Living my intention. Thriving in an environment that gives me everything I need with the bonus of things that foster learning and creativity. An environment in which I have enough room and the proper tools to grow into the next version of me.

Even though this lamp has been in my life as long as I can remember I don’t have any real feels about it.
Lack of feels is a strong indication that I don’t need it in my life which obviously means there’s no place for it in my house.
Purging to purge isn’t always healthy.
But being mindful about how I curate my environment is incredibly healthy.

My mom was not a full blown horder, but she was sure as hell a packrat. What I’ve learned about her since she’s been gone is that she saved things to fill emotional emptiness. By simply having these things she could feel the feels she didn’t have inside her.
She saved things that meant something because of the feels they evoked in her. Feels she couldn’t experience any other way.
My ex husband is exactly the same.
There is something about possessing particular items that provides some sort of emotion they otherwise lack (lacked). I truly believe it reinforces their stunted emotional growth. Then the weight of the things traps (trapped) them, so there’s no room to learn, or create, or grow.

I understand having great big feels about certain items. For me, a specific example of this is my Grandaddy’s wallet. It is of absolutely no use to me, but the feelings that bubble up in me when I hold it make it worth keeping.
But that is one particular item that is in a special place in my bookshelf that I can go to when I want to feel the intensity of those feels.
It doesn’t impact the way I live. It doesn’t block creativity or inhibit learning. It doesn’t waste space. It doesn’t keep me from growing as a human.
And I know as I write this that there will come a point in time I’ll be willing to let it go. Today is not that time.

I can’t be trapped by possessions. I need freedom to move. If I can’t move, I can’t grow.
I need to grow!
I want to evolve in my relationships with my friends.
I want to evolve in my relationships with my daughters.
I want to evolve with my granddaughter as she builds relationships.
I want to evolve in my relationship with my precious husband.

Things are just things.
At this stage of my life, my main focus is to curate my surroundings in a way that helps me thrive. Living my intention, learning and creating, and growing into the next version of me gives me all the feels.

Categories: me | Tags: all the feels, curating your environment, growth mindset, healthy relationships, learning, learning to grow, life, living my intention, love, mental health, mindful, mindful living, organization, purging, relationships, self quarantine, self reflection, social distancing, truest self | 16 Comments

I wanted to share the stories

Posted on April 19, 2020 by robynbird

Tuesday last I went to the PO to send out all the photos I sorted for my friends and family.
I sent five large first class envelopes, three bigger priority mail padded envelopes, and one big priority mail box.

The first text came from my cousin Chris at 11:32 Thursday morning.

Bless you Robyn! Bless you. Just got the pics you sent me. Brought some much needed happiness, and a tear to my eye. Love you.

The second text came the same day at 5:02 from his sister.

I got the pictures. Thank you so much. Perfect timing Chris is coming over tomorrow.

The third text I got was from Sally at 5:11 Thursday afternoon.

Who are the other two folks?

I got Nicole’s text at 3:24 on Saturday.

We are loving all the pics! Thank you!

At 5:40 this came from Kristen. She taught second grade to both my girls. When Thing 2 was in her class, she had her first child. We saw them frequently. With the aid of social media we stayed in touch all these years, and she was here to celebrate with us last summer at the party for Baby K!

What a surprise!!!! Thank you!!!

He’s checking himself out (heart emoji)

I heard from Becca later Saturday evening at 8:18.

OMG!!!! Loved it!!! Thank you (with a bunch of smiley heart emojis)

Sundance got quarantined away from home, so her package is at her house waiting for her.

And the big box was delivered to the Things father, but I haven’t heard anything. I mean, not that I expected to. But I keep thinking, now I regret being kind to you.

Thing 1 said, “Momma, never regret being kind.” and she’s right.
None of these packages were about me. About the response I got for sending them.

I sent photos to my friends and family because I wanted to share the stories.
Their kids were babies in some of these photos. The stories of their whole young lives caught in these images. I wanted to share those stories, those memories with their families.
I absolutely adored going through these photos. The stories they told came back in vivid detail. Jogging my memory of other stories. I spent a few days reliving my daughters young lives. It was a sacred place to be.
It was also bittersweet. This part of our lives is past. And dwelling too long there would be less precious and more painful with every passing moment.
The time I spent revisiting my life, the lives of the people I love was a beautiful gift. I’ve sent off photos to my friends and family so they can revisit their own journeys. I find myself ready to once again look forward.

I’m pleased to be finished with that portion of the process. I look forward to the time when I can be with each of my girls and go through their boxes of photos. Sharing memories, stories, laughter, and maybe even tears.
In the meantime, I have the last two boxes. These are more photos from my past. Some of me as a child. Some from the collections of my parents and grandparents.
They feel less fun to me. Though, I remain hopeful that I’ll find pics that tell a story I don’t remember. Or one the girls don’t know so I can share with them.

I do still have a box of photo CDs to add to one of those external hard drives. Though, I’m not in a big hurry to get after that. I need a break from my life as a young mother. I don’t want to feel that bittersweet feeling. That pull of the past.

Those CDs will be there. Sitting in that box. Waiting patiently until I’m ready.

Categories: me | Tags: documentation, every picture tells a story, family, family history, family stories, friends, friends and family, gift of love, history, joy, labor of love, life, love, memories, moments shape your life, organization, photographic evidence, photographs, photos, relationships, self quarantine, sharing, social distancing, stories, storytelling | 11 Comments

what story is more important than this

Posted on March 30, 2020 by robynbird

These are the thoughts that hatch as I go through seventy plus years of family photos.

It comes down to being the last living person who has any real understanding of some of these photos, and people. My girls knew my parents, but only in the capacity of children. They didn’t know Grandaddy at all, even though Thing 2 is named for him.

I’m trying to pare down photos of my Grandaddy, mom, and dad, and keep only what tells a story. And then share those stories and let Thing 2 decide how she’s going to proceed. I don’t want her to have to sift through photos and wonder who’s who. Who’s important. Or that she should feel obligated to keep them without being able to answer those questions.
I don’t want her to feel guilty about parting with anything she doesn’t like, want, or understand.

I’m being mindful about each photo I touch. I’m saving much more than I’m actually inclined to, simply because I want to give Thing 2 the opportunity to touch these same photos and see if they mean anything to her.
One example is a letter my great uncle sent to Grandaddy and my grandmother in 1948. My mom was about to celebrate her 3rd birthday and my great uncle was sending pics of being in the army. That was what actually initiated the four and a half hour call to Thing 2. I’m saving all correspondence for her now, so she can see the handwriting and photos and make her own choices.

This process is helping me feel close to my family, but also picking at the scab of grief.

My Grandaddy died in 1992.
I miss him every single day. Not purposefully, it’s just there. A part of me. In my skin. It’s comforting and a sad at the same time. He has always been a part of me and always will. He was my first love. The one who helped me see that love didn’t have to be cruel and conditional.

My mom died in 2011. Mostly I’m relieved I can’t disappoint her anymore. But there are times when I miss the idea of her. Sometimes you just want your mom, even though you know she won’t actually bring you any comfort.
A part of me wishes she could see Thing 1 be Baby K’s mom. But only as long as she kept her criticisms to herself.

My dad died in 2014.
I miss him. The relationship we were building in the last few years of his life. After he came out he was different. Like, he had spoken his truth and could breathe freely for the first time in his life. He loved YBW and was building a strong friendship with him. He was becoming a wonderful grandfather to nearly adult girls and they loved that. I find myself still thinking, Oh! I should call Daddie and tell him…

Going through these photos is helpful.
I feel that twinge of missing them. But I feel peaceful in that.
Seeing pics of Grandaddy in his whites. Or wearing a red wig and making crazy faces.
Or my parents when they were young and actually thought they loved each other.

I want to share as many stories with Thing 2 as I can remember! I want her to know her family.
I’ve got a million photos of me as a little girl, teen, etc. I look so forward to sharing those stories with her!
However arduous this process may be, I’m so joyful to be going through it.

I look forward to sharing stories with her about her childhood. The ones she doesn’t remember. I’m hopeful seeing and touching these photographs will trigger some of them for her. If not, I’ll tell her everything I can remember.

Thing 1 said it wasn’t as much that she didn’t care about the photos as it was she didn’t want to go through thousands of photos to find the six she wants. I’ve solved that problem for her. She can go through hundreds to find the six she wants. I want to share stories with her too, but she remembers so much more than Thing 2 simply because she has three more years of life.

I found this photo of me. Homecoming 1989 maybe?

I sent it in the girls group chat and said, Hey, your momma was kind of a hottie.

How’s that for a story?
Is it only with the power of hindsight we begin to truly see? To truly understand?
I don’t know. But I want to share these stories and these photos with the people I love. I want them to be meaningful and maybe even powerful.
This is us.
This is our life.
This is our history.
What story is more important than this?

Categories: me | Tags: every picture tells a story, family history, grandfathers and granddaughters, history, life, love, memories, moments shape your life, parents, photographic evidence, photographs, photos, pictures, relationships, self quarantine, social distancing, stories, storytelling | 6 Comments

so far, so good, what’s next?

Posted on September 18, 2019 by robynbird

Now, you know I’m a planner.
I like lists and calendars and color coding by subject.
So, once I recognized what I can and cannot change, I broke it down further.

I ask loads of questions.
I know that.
Y’all know that.
My family and friends know that.
But what’s different about this process is that I answered my own questions.

I asked and answered questions to come up with a plan.
I used the same system of dividing the page in my big sketch book so I could see it all together.

The first question is:
What frustrates me?

*stagnation
(no real growth, no movement, no real participation in life or household, etc.)
*lack of effort to create growth or movement
*caring about (these things)
*wondering if it will ever change

OK, now what do I do about it?

How to stop being frustrated?

*accept that these are the choices YBW and Thing G are making
*accept that nothing I do will change their choices
*focus on myself and my choices
*accept that this is the situation I’m in…until…?

So far, so good. What’s next?

I know it’s hard to read.

Ways to feel more comfortable.

*let go of wife and ‘mom’ guilt
*stop apologizing for choosing growth
*accept as much as possible
*pay attention to myself and where my power is
*be kind and courageous
*stop judging
*accept limitations (cannot change situation, only how I function in it)

Ways to regroup if I’m triggered.
(frustrated)

*immediately stop and breathe
*quickly assess if it’s something I can change (if not – do my best to accept and let it go, if so – make the appropriate change)
*accept that this is my work and I may not ever be met with the same
*remove myself gently from the situation
*tap into vast support network without engaging in ‘shit talk’

OK, so in the meantime I have a plan.
But…

How to remain sane in the long game?

*accept this is my work
*accept change may never come
*be peaceful in the knowledge I did all I could do the best way I could
*love

I don’t know how or even if the situation will change.
I do know that if I can do these things I will feel better. I will make the relationship with my husband more positive.
Maybe that’s all I can do?
While I know I have magic down deep in me, I only have power over myself.
If these changes I’m making serve only to keep me from being frustrated, angry, and resentful in an unchanging situation, at least I’m content in the knowledge I am going at this in a mindful and loving way.

Categories: me | Tags: blended families, change, change in attitude, cohabitation, comfort, empowered, equity, family dynamics, family systems, frustrated, have courage and be kind, healthy boundaries, healthy relationships, love, loving, mental health, mindful, planning, positive change, relationships, self awareness, self love, self reflection | 6 Comments

accept don’t judge, or the time of ‘if this then that’ is over

Posted on September 16, 2019 by robynbird

When I got to work on my me things, I meant business.
I used my big sketch book so I could see both what I can and cannot change at the same time.
I wrote in pen so it remains as I wrote it. It is unchangeable. (the irony is not lost on me, further proof of my commitment to this process)

What I cannot change:

*the living situation
*YBW’s point of view
*Thing G’s willingness to do or be
*why it frustrates me

This is what I’ve been on about. I want all this stuff to change. I want it to be different.
I can’t do anything about these things.

What I can change:

*how I function in the living situation
*how I choose to behave when I’m frustrated
*the way I go about discussing it
*what I pay attention to
*how I apply myself

This is where I have the power!

These are the things I can do something about. Now to figure out the how.
I think it must start with to what am I paying attention.
The trick with this is to decide what I need/should/desire to pay attention to.
I’m hopeful that by paying attention to the ‘right’ things, I’ll automatically change how I go about functioning, and behave when I’m frustrated. Perhaps not get as frustrated?

Is that how I can facilitate change?
Not that that’s the goal.
I. Cannot. Change. Any. Thing. But. Me.

I have to figure out how to shift my whole ‘it’s the principle of the thing’ point of view.
I mean, is that really getting me anywhere?

Maybe the concept of ignoring that which bothers me isn’t quite right. How can I accept it without it bothering me so much?
This is a conversation to start with my therapist.

I think I need to brainstorm a bit more.
Maybe it’s baby steps, not jumping in up to my ass.

Accept, don’t judge.

May be key.
This is the situation I’m in. What can I do or not do to be comfortable and content in it?

The time of ‘if this, then that’ is over.
I can’t change the situation. I can only change myself within it.

You might find yourself asking:
How much responsibility can one person take in a multi-person situation?
Is it equitable if one person is making changes for the betterment of the group?
What happens when one member of the group achieves their change making goals and the situation remains the same?
I’m asking the same questions.
Stay tuned for the answers…