All We Need is Love - a gushing note that makes little sense

I drive away from my counseling appointment one morning, feeling so refreshed and excited about new discoveries I've been making.  Michael Jackson sings "Pretty Young Thing" on the radio and I crank it up, dancing as I head out of town.

I pass a pierced young woman with pink hair embracing her tattooed love on the sidewalk.

A few blocks later a lone elderly man in glasses quietly holds a sign. "Pray for the end of abortion" His eyes steadfast and full of loving concern.  In a community where his prayer is none too popular.

I think of the people who work in the clinic across the street from where he is standing - imagining the love and compassion with which they greet those who pass through the door.

Light streams down from the clouds, yellow leaves roll off the windshield and I think to myself:

There are so many ways to love in the world

These days I see love in those around me.  And it feels right to search for this.  The actions of others might look very different from the way I show my love - but I do not feel threatened by that.  In fact, I raise my face to the sky and say, "Thank you God.  Thank you for showing me love in a way that is different from my own"

I went on a little love-trip in my mind (in the absence of any recreational drugs, this was surprising for me, too) as I marveled at the different ways of being and how there is love in all of them.  I am grateful for diversity and curiosity and questions and the wonder these things bring to my life.

Speaking of leaves and love and life experience,

I forced my girls into a pile of leaves because I deemed it a necessary photo op of a happy childhood.

I don't recall loving piles of leaves as a kid and apparently Wren doesn't either.

Wren tried to enjoy the leaves,

but that effort was short lived.

A whole bunch of love from us to you.

Happy Halloween

Joe and I have a bit of a tradition when it comes to Halloween - one year on and one year off.  Last year we were definitely on.  This year is much more low key, but we still like to keep it festive.  Here we are as bank robbers, a sack of money, and a handsome teller who didn't stand a chance.

Let me point out a couple things:

1. I am fully aware that Ellie will look back on family photos and wonder why the h*#@

we made her wear a paper bag.  Never a princess or a fairy - every year she is but a cog in the machine that is the Hardie Family Costume.

2. Two kids later and I'm still rocking the leggings for Halloween - I think we can all agree this is a big win.

3. Is there anything cuter than a baby in a mask?

How about a baby in a mask who can....stand up by herself!

Thank you, Ellie for being such a good sport.  You worked that bag!

And thanks for sticking your finger in your nose at just the right moment.

This is family photo album gold.

Happy Halloween everyone!  Let us not forget that last year Halloween marked the beginning of a series of events that caused a major decline in the quality of life at the Hardie household.  Here's hoping that the curse on our house is broken after one year's time.  Muuuahh-haaa-haa-haa

Pulse Check

Ellie contemplates her morning smoothie.

Boy, does she look wrecked.

Remember how my last post was all about finding meaning in the loss, and it wrapped up with a nice sweet statement about a butterfly?  Well, a lot of life has happened since then.  And life can be awfully hard to boil down into a few words for a blog post.  So I'll just go a little stream of consciousness for a while:

The day after the big 6 month milestone, I was an absolute disaster.  Could not stop crying to save my life.  Finally had to break down and ask for help from the sweet women around me.  Women I didn't yet know well enough to let them see all the cracks, to feel comfortable with them seeing me so broken.  But like it or not - I couldn't hold it together anymore.

So they came, they took my children for the day while I slept and cried on the couch with an intensity that rivaled that very first night when my world came tumbling down.  Such a release was just what I needed for so many feelings and anxieties that had built up since moving here.   And then I took a deep breath and thought, "OK - moving on.  Time to get back to normal life."

Had a trip to the city recently.  It was great to see friends - so very wonderful.  And exciting to have so many photo shoots.  But taking a work trip with kids and without a husband is a recipe for disaster.  (as is sleep deprivation, the ill-timed menstrual experience, 7 friends in a 1 bedroom apartment for 9 days, and the observation of what would have been Mom's 43rd birthday)

Well.  When I write it out like that - it's no wonder I was a mess.  I wanted so badly for this trip to fix all of my woes.  Wanted the familiarity of friends and neighborhoods to cure my pain.  Instead I cried on the phone to Joe - like a kid at summer camp.  "I want to come home."  

That need to come home - it's such a recurring theme in my heart.

Wanting to be taken care of.

Wanting to feel safe.

It wasn't until midway through my NYC trip that I realized - Oh, I'm still depressed.  I prefer to talk about my depression in the past tense.  Something I experienced and left behind.  But it's not so.

In the time since my last post I've had multiple trips in and out of this gloom.  I haven't written because I keep waiting for it to be over.  I like to tell a story with a moral.  I like to know the end.  It's difficult to chronicle my life on the blog because it doesn't translate so well into these black and white words.  It's gray right now. Constantly shifting.  I feel as though I don't move along the same linear track as the people around me.  It's a little disconcerting, but I'm learning to accept it.

I'm trying to just be.

Still, my mind is never quiet.  I'm constantly composing in my head.  Searching for the meaning in this experience.  Sometimes words too raw to share here spill onto the pages of my journal.  Sometimes laughter wells up at the sight of my girls.  Sometimes tears follow my happiest thoughts. Everything is poignant these days.

I still have a sense of humor, too - it's just not as funny to other people these days.  Even in my deepest despair however, I think I am hilarious.

There are lots of things I want to write about:
 - the way that this grief has changed me - in ways I don't want to forget or forsake when the fog of sadness is lifted
- that you should never send a depressed girl to Target because all she can commit to is brownie mix and candles
- the flexible and unsteady nature of my faith.  The feeling that this experience completely hollowed out all of the things I had built up to be my belief system.  The way that this stripping process felt so meaningful at first, so full of promise that God would fill me with something better - but now it just feels empty.
- how hard it can be to wait on God
- how freeing it is to love without judgement
- how good it feels to talk kindly to myself (I hope everyone reading this practices a gentle inner dialogue)
- how kind and long-suffering my dear Joe continues to be
- all the books I've started and stopped.  (as much as I believe in the cause, I just can't read about the impending doom of climate change - not right now)
- when am I going to write that post about how to help a grieving friend?  I guess when I figure out how to define that exactly.
- that giving up cooking was the best choice I made for my mental health.  Who knew baked chicken nuggets and green beans from a microwave bag could be so good for you?
- the way it feels so good to give up all those unimportant things.  My list of important things (though it changes daily) is so much shorter than it once was.

Well, I guess I've written it all down now.  Sorry that it's not pretty or coherent or rife with meaning.  But it means something to me.  I think one of the reasons we suffer is so that one day we can occupy a comfortable place for someone else who is suffering.  I'm leaving these words here tonight (against my better judgement to hold the delete key), as a testament to the process I am going through to become that kind of person.  The path is murky and confusing as hell to navigate.  But I think that's where I am - and I haven't given up on the person I could become on the other side of this grief.

Also, please don't send the rescue teams after me.  The house is clean, the kids are clean and fed and snuggled and read to.  I am functioning - just differently than I used to.  Definitely more honestly than I ever have.  It might look like a cry for help, but it's not.  Just a desire to let you see me as I am.

(photographic proof of the well being of my lovies)

I took this photograph on the way home from blueberry picking this summer.  As we drove by these fields of sunflowers, I actually lost my breath.  It was like a dream.  A miracle.  A bit of magic.  How blessed I am to live in this world - to experience such beauty.

Today marks 6 months since Mom's passing.

Yesterday I got weepy in Wal-Mart (why does that place feel so much like home?) It was the laundry aisle that did me in. 

In the evening I gave myself a short cry in bed, followed by a nap while Joe played with the girls.

Today I saw a beautiful butterfly that struggled fiercely in the wind to fly above me for a long moment.  The way it beat its wings, was swept up by the wind, and fluttered back, determined to stay within my gaze - I could have sworn it was her.

When I see something truly beautiful, I sigh with sadness.  It's a shame she can't be here to see this.

Then I wonder vaguely if she can see all this.  If somehow she sees more than I can know.

That thought passes without an answer - just the sense that wondering is enough.

My heart holds so many things.  Sadness and hope and relief and regret and acceptance.  Today, though.  Today I feel wonder and gratitude for my butterfly.

Wren at 9 months

I blinked and it happened.  My sweet little bird is 9 months old!  She does a lot of growing on the sly, you see - not much fanfare for her milestones as they happen.  One day she was a sweet snuggly infant, and suddenly she's a ton of personality shoved into a tiny body, keeping up with all of us like it's no big deal.

It's hard to explain.  She just carves out a place for herself - doesn't need us to do it for her.  These photos say so much about the fireball she is becoming.

The sweet, traditional photo.  Thanks, Wren - this one is frame-worthy.

The worried look.  I'm telling you, she was born with it.

She loves to play peek-a-boo!

And she loves any attention from her sister.

Even if it's harsh fashion advice.

That bow's not really working on your head.

Even if it's just to serve as her pillow.

Especially if she actually let's her play along.

At 9 months old Wren:

- claps and babbles all the time (mama, baba, dada, a wide variety of hissing noises)

- crawls, climbs, and generally tumbles about

- has 8 teeth (holy cow, that's a lot)

- is a bit of a bruiser.  Seriously, the girl can takes serious hits without so much as a whimper

- hates baby food but enjoys the finer delicacies of canned vegetables, beans and cheerios

- chugs formula like a boss

- hulks out every time I put her in the car seat (contortions, hissing, spitting - the works)

- laughs more for Ellie than anyone else

- actually eats books.  Gnaws the spines, shreds the pages - it's barbaric

- is flirting with stranger anxiety (dear Lord, don't let it last)

- crawls up to me for the express purpose of biting

- smiles very easily 

- starts every morning with a sweet hug around the neck (and a good 5 min chew on the crib)

Did you catch the recurring theme here?

 I really think she's part piranha.

Are you sure these blocks are solid wood?

P.S. She has a fabulous physique.

And she loves to bury her face in that pillow.

P.P.S.  5 minutes after our photo shoot she got her hands on one of Ellie's markers.

You got a problem with that?

Sweet Summer Memory

Really, I can almost taste them.  Blueberry picking was one of the highlights of my summer!  Just looking at these photos takes me back to the field on that warm, muggy day.

Ellie's technique was to hold the bucket with one hand, insert blueberries with the other.

Come back, Great Grandma - you know you miss this!

(shameless tactic, I know)

Wren slept like a little angel the whole time (those eyelashes!!)

and woke up super excited for a hay bale photo-op.

And Into the Light

My apologies about the photos.  I wasn't focused on documenting the day as much as I was on being present in it.

Life has been full of firsts since Mom died.  I went to my first support group at the beginning of the month.  It was a strange experience - sitting with these other people who had suffered a loss similar to my own.  Not the same loss, (because no one experiences it in exactly the same way) but there was still an uncomfortable sort of camaraderie.  Not sure it was exactly healing, but it wasn't terrible either.

I'm glad I went though, because it was in this meeting that I learned about the Out of the Darkness benefit walk that was happening in Ithaca just a few days later.  I decided I wanted to do something to honor my mother, to feel like I was helping.  So I signed up to walk.  I put a little note up on Facebook, just in case anyone wanted to donate.

I was shocked by the feedback.  Moved to tears, really.  The outpouring of support from friends was more than I could have ever hoped for.  And I know they wouldn't want me to make a big deal about it, but I'd like to list them here, so I'll forever have a record of how many people showed their love and support in such a tangible way.

Jim Aronson

Rachel Erickson

Bea Ward

Jessica Hernandez

Holly Flanagan

Allison Barnes

Leila McCarrey

Deb Black

Sarah Hawks

Megan Trueblood

Carly Maready

April Dickson

Carrie Todd

Kimberly (and Matt) Teitter

Andrew Marshall

Derrick Turley

Caitlin Jones

And the three anonymous donations which I will attribute to every person I've ever known.

Because you are often surprised by the people who will help you when you need it.

And the people who couldn't donate, but still sent a kind thought in my direction.

I felt those generous wishes as well.

If I had a garden and a butt-load of money, I'd install benches with your names on them.  That is how much your kindness and generosity mean to me.  Thank you, thank you - from the bottom of my heart.

So the day came for my first suicide prevention walk - and I was a bit of a mess.  As soon as we got there I broke into tears.  I cried because I didn't want to have to be there, honoring someone I hadn't wanted to lose.  We were given colored beads according to the reason we were there.  Gold if you had lost a parent, red for those who lost a spouse, white for the mourning parents, and blue for those who were there to raise awareness and make a change.  I cried when they read the names of all the loved ones we were there to remember.  Far too many names.  Cried to see their photographs on the memory quilts.  Smiling faces with troubled, weary eyes.  The first part of that morning was so very hard.

Then, we walked.

There is something quite healing about the walk itself.  Feeling the fresh air and the wind on my face.  Spending time outside with my family, moving in a direction, allowing my grief to subside as I focused on the beating of my own heart and rejoiced that we are all still here together.

During the walk I told Joe that sometimes I feel like I don't fit in this group of survivors of suicide loss.  Because unlike the sudden and surprising act that took so many of their loved ones - the way she left was much slower in my mind.  Almost an eventuality at the end of her steady, years-long decline.  We discussed that to really honor her memory, I'd like to do some meaningful work in the field of addiction.  For it was a combination of addiction and depression that plagued my mother for so many years, that eventually led to her premature passing.

We talked about planting a tree, about making final arrangements for a headstone, about how we could continue to honor her as the years pass, about how important it is for those of us still here to feel we have a connection to those on the other side.  She is fine, I know.  It's the rest of us I feel for.

After the walk, everyone's spirits were brightened.  We had hot dogs and listened to talks by the people who sit on the other end of that phone line - people who give their time because they really do care.  That was a strong theme of the day.  That people care, and there is always somewhere you can turn to find a listening ear and an understanding heart.  Over three hundred of us walked that day, and together we raised more than $13,000 for research, for outreach programs, for the hope that the future can be brighter than the past.  What a day!  It was hard and it was beautiful.  And it felt so good to do something.

Getting Our Feet Wet

Just here to check in with everyone. Yes we made it to Ithaca, and it is the place of our dreams!  There hasn't been time for blogging because we are too busy soaking in everything this town has to offer. We've visited the farmer's market, local waterfalls, botanical gardens, free music in the center of town, and just today we went blueberry picking.

Don't worry - there's a whole post lined up about that.

I wanted to let you know all know that we are busy settling in and we're all happy and excited for our new adventure. The walls in our apartment have a new coat of paint, and I even planted my own little balcony garden. Really, life is full of the most remarkable beauties. I feel blessed to see them each day.

Wren has been soaking up the time with her great-grandma.

I've been wearing the friendship bracelet Holly sent me, 

to remind myself that good friends can be found anywhere.

Look at my little beans! I am so proud of them.

And now a quick question for my photographer friends out there: The last two posts have featured photos from my new camera (hooray for upgrading!) and the file sizes are so big that when I size them down for the blog they seem hyper-sharpened.  They look digi-sharpened.  I like a bit of a softer look - or at least I'd like to still have a reason to use unsharp mask now and then.  Do you guys notice this?  Have you had any similar experiences?  What is your advice?

I'll be back soon to check in.  Meanwhile - come visit me!  I promise you'll love it here.