Let me try to explain. But first let’s imagine that you and I are already really good friends. Because it’ll be easier for me to explain myself if I feel that we’ve got history and we know each other really well instead of the reality that you and I probably wouldn’t recognize each other if we passed in the aisle at Trader Joe’s.
I have this friend, and she has this expression, “don’t hear what I’m not trying to say.” She says it when saying something that’s kind of tricky to say, or could be taken the wrong way. When she says it to me, I know to listen up, because she’s going to say something that’s honest and unfiltered.
So, I’m saying it now, because there’s a few tricky things I’m going say in this blog post and I don’t want anyone to take my honesty about why I’ve been away the wrong way.
That’s the thing with blogging. We’re limited to this digital relationship. This blog doesn’t let you hear my tone of voice, or see my body language. This blog post doesn’t let us share smiles or laughter together (at least in person). This screen you’re looking at hides everything that’s crammed in between the words I’m saying. And that’s why it makes what we write on a blog so easy to misinterpret – so much meaning comes from how it’s being said, and not just from what is being said.
But you know that, because you’re smart and self-aware and loving. And you’re my friend. (This is me giving you a high-five!)
Where have I been since my last post in March?
I’ve been in busy town, right next to crazy town. That’s where.
In March I started very slowly packing up our little renovated Victorian rental home in La Grange, IL. Peter, my husband, would graduate from The School of The Art Institute of Chicago with not one, but two masters in May, and we were moving. Somewhere…
To where? We had NO CLUE.
Wherever he got a job, really. We hoped we would be able to get back to Texas, close to our friends in Denton, or Austin, but we didn’t get there, but we sure tried! (I’ll tell you where we did land here in a bit.)
As you can imagine, I needed fewer distractions and my blog and Facebook page were becoming an escape/excuse from reality rather than a tool for me to communicate my passions and love. Also, for a season I needed to let my blog and Facebook page take a back seat to my personal life as I dealt with all the uncertainty in front of my family.
So I shut it down. Without a word. I know. Sorry. I didn’t tell anyone I was about to do it because I didn’t want to seem attention seeking or appear like I was looking for affirmation in keeping it going. Also, because it wasn’t something I had planned to do. I woke up one morning and just did it. (Sometimes I’m rash.)
Congratulations Peter on your MFA in Film, Video and New Media, and MA in Visual Critical Studies from the The School of the Art Institute of Chicago and recipient of the William Merchant R. French Fellowship! (That us at Chicago’s Millennium park, where his commencement took place, just after the ceremony!)
Peter graduated! It was really special! I was so proud! Those two masters degrees that he got in the 18 months we were in Chicago felt like mine too!
The very day after graduation we emptied our home of all our belongings and got on the road to … Arkansas.
In order to save money, we spent the summer living with my folks in a small town in the Ozark mountains of Northwestern Arkansas. I did graphic design work on the side and Peter filled out application after application after endless application.
By the last week of July, we still did not know what was next, we were still waiting to hear where we would be living and where Peter would be teaching. We were still waiting for Peter to land a job. Truthfully, it was scary.
The pressure was thick. Peter was a champ. I was losing it, though. I was not calm. I was panicked.
I started to regret choices; like our leaving Denton or not choosing a graduate school where tuition was covered. I started calculating how much his education cost us even with his half scholarship, both in physical and emotional terms, (especially if his degrees didn’t pay off) and the fear of those “what ifs” were really making me hard to live with.
I think it’s understandable when heavy stress surrounds your life that it affects the atmosphere around your family, but I really wish that I had more resilient faith that something great would work out. I just didn’t have that in me. Everything felt bleak. In that season of my heart, I didn’t have any extra oomph to blog about what pot-hole I was in.
At the end of a long day of packing almost everything up. The next day, we got on the road to Arkansas.
Just did our final walk through, locked up the doors. Here I am saying good-bye to our little charming Victorian home in Chicago.
After a long two-day road trip, we arrived in Arkansas. Our landing spot for the summer was tucked away in these hills.
We kept all our things in storage until we knew where we would land. Here we are having just finished unloading the truck! (and yes, my kids came along. I never have childcare when I need it! Haha!)
Somehow during that crazy time, the first week of August, my family took a vacation to FL, thanks to my parents generosity. For the first time ever, my children met my brother, his wife, and his kids. My sister came along too. We were all there, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents. It was so special.
We rented a little cottage by the beach and sat on the shore every day. It was immensely healing and restorative for all of us, but especially for me. There is something about the ocean that soothes my heart.
It was on the last day of our vacation that Peter received a phone call where he was offered a position as a visiting professor at the University of North Carolina in Asheville. Of course, he accepted!
The relief was tangible. We were giddy. Actually, it felt like we won the lottery.
All the down time at the beach was good for all of us!
A family photo at Ana Maria Island. The next day we got word of Peter’s job offer.
We made a mad dash to move to Asheville in time for classes, but unfortunately finding a rental in Asheville is like an extreme sport. And so Peter left ahead of us (just like the last two moves we have done) and I stayed behind in Arkansas with the kids and looked for rentals on Craigslist and dreamed of our new life in Asheville.
Fast forward four months, and here we are. We found a cozy little craftsman cottage in Asheville, Zoe is in preschool, Noah is home with me during the days and Peter has just finished teaching his first semester of school and he loves it!
Asheville has turned out to be a wonderful place to live! I just wish I could bring all my Texas friends here and then I would be set!
I’m still getting pictures hung on the walls and picking out paint for my room, just yesterday we put up our Christmas tree and I looked around our little home and felt deeply grateful and content.
The kids helping me decorate the Christmas tree in our new home. I’m standing behind the camera feeling really grateful.
Our little corner of the earth in Asheville. See that cute little garden, I did all that. Now it’s all mostly dead, because I can’t garden as well as I doula. :)
Look! Our little Asheville home has an official play room! Be still my heart!
Why Have I Been Away So Long?
I know, we got settled at the end of summer. I could have started blogging and getting back in the swing of things with my page sooner. But I wasn’t there yet. I needed to refocus my heart. To really remember what is it that I love about being a doula and a childbirth educator.
I’ll tell you one thing is for sure, it’s not about having a successful blog or Facebook page, or making clever memes, and I needed to remember that.
Honestly? I’ve had the pleasure of knowing a handful of well-known bloggers in person, and with a few of them I’ve seen some icky egotistical thing creep out through their cracks, especially ones with a lot of readership or Facebook likes – this underlying feeling is present in their writing that shows they believe their voice is the most worthwhile one.
I could feel that creeping into my posts on Facebook and I just … blach. Barf. I hate that. Shake it off!
Run away! Run away! Run away!
I do not want to be someone who ever considers myself more highly than I ought to. I do not want to assume that I am always the expert.
I want to keep my heart learning and humble. I want to be in relationship with you as friends, as mothers who are in this together, supporting you with my strengths, as you support me with yours.
So that is why I stepped out of it for so long. I needed to get back to the heart of what I love about being a doula and a birth educator: it’s about support. It’s about comfort. It’s about being present. It’s about being equally wise and still and protecting the space around a woman as she becomes a mother.
It’s about listening to others share their story. It’s about protecting and participating. It’s about showing and teaching, not directing and commanding. It’s about serving mothers and babies without promoting an image of self-importance.
I needed to center my heart towards that purpose again and it took some time to detox from all the noise in my head.
What’s next for me?
Teaching. Teaching. Teaching. And hopefully some writing, too.
Y’all, I’m going to have a little metaphorical baby: a low-cost, six-week childbirth class in my own home in Asheville, NC starting in late January ’14. Let’s do this!
Here’s to finding your home, living your passions, always learning, and staying the hell out of crazy town.
Yours truly, sporting the same gretchen-like braid everyday this past summer. Apparently my hair was in a rut, too.
Hugs to you, and thanks for being here with me,