abandonment, cabin, memoirs, memories, mixed black and white, mixed race, parent with mental illness, raised by grandparents

The Cabin

The youngest memory I have with my grandma is at our vacation cabin at a local mountain ski area.  I remember sitting on the stairs, using the nutcracker to open nuts and eat them while she cooked in the kitchen.    I think I was about 3 years old.  At that age, the squirrel-shaped nutcracker was the funnest part of the whole trip.  I also remember climbing the snow banks, making snow angels, and eating the snow.  I loved sitting on the comfy couches in the warm sun and just looking out at the white snow everywhere.
Over the years, we went to the cabin almost every winter and lots of new memories were made as I grew older.  The cabin was always teaming with people: my grandma and grandpa, mom, uncle, aunt and even friends as I got older.  Building snowmen and digging snow forts, going sledding and learning to ski were activities I cherished.  I loved special time with my grandpa teaching me to ski and reading bedtime stories to me by the fireplace.
For some reason, coloring with my crayons and coloring book (in my younger years) was always a big part of the cabin experience.  I guess I enjoyed the alone time, or the one-on-one time with my mom or a friend in my room.  And, I was proud of my coloring skills.  Every visit, the diagonally slanted walls of my bedroom would start out bare.  By the end of our time there, my bedroom was filled with colorful pictures.  I still remember my technique of outlining each section dark, and then coloring the inside really light.
My grandparents sold the cabin as we all grew older and grandpa retired.  I think the main reason for selling it was the upkeep.  Whenever there was a big snow, he and my uncle would have to drive up to the mountain and shovel the snow off of the roof and away from the cabin, so that the weight wouldn’t collapse it.  I was sad to see it go after being part of our family story for so many years, but I’m so grateful for the memories.
choices, Christmas, Family of origin, holiday joy, holiday pain, meditation, memories, mixed black and white, mixed race, program tools, vulnerability

Holiday Joys 12/24/16

Little packages wrapped up just for me
Honesty and vulnerability 
Cut through the looming fears
What will they think of me
What will they say to me
Comfort and wisdom the gift (sigh).
The choice to walk away 
One I never knew I had
I can listen to that feeling inside of me
And change the course of my night.
Asking for what I need
Seeing the opportunity 
For a moment of solitude and meditation 
While grandma and grandpa entertain. 

ancestors, Christmas, generational gap, grandparents, holiday pain, loss, memories, mixed black and white, mixed race, raised by grandparents, Sisters White Christmas, Sitting with the pain

Sitting With The Pain 12/23/16

The holiday pain
I know I’m not alone in it
Looking through pictures 
Lost loves
Lost moments
Lost opportunities 
The warm comforting smells and sounds
The smiles and laughter 
Cookies with grandma
Sitting with the pain means feeling it all
All of the good
All of loss
All of the pain
acceptance, blog, blogger, blogging, choices, Clarity, codependency, connection, dealing with emotions, divorce, emotional affair, Emotions, escaping reality, facing the truth, faith, First things first, God, healing, higher power, honesty, insecure attachment, know thyself, let go and let God, letting go, loneliness, loss, love, marriage, marriage therapy, memories, obsessive thoughts, one day at a time, reality, Self acceptance, self awareness, Sitting with the pain, spiritual journey, sponsor, sponsorship, surrender, therapy, Thy will be done, transformation, trapped, trusting God, Universe, writing

All In 100%


My friend was right.  The outer rings are where transformation takes place.  It’s so uncomfortable there that you can’t stay long.  You’re either moving in, back to healthy living and healthy choices.  Or your moving out, come what may.

I’ve been in the outer rings for almost a week now.   It’s been so painful, nearly unbearable.  But today, through many conversations I finally got the message.  I can’t be 100% all in for my marriage and hold on to my plan B at the same time.
I’ve decided that I owe it to myself and to my children to give the next 6 months of marriage therapy my 100%, to be all in on a heart level, no matter what the outcome.  I also realized today, that I’m gripping so tightly to my plan B, so afraid to let it go.  Why is that?  I don’t even know who he is.  I don’t know if he is available.  I don’t know if he’s safe or honest.  Maybe the whole experience was just a big joke on me, or worse, maybe it was just all in my head.   Yet, this connection (that most of the people in my life call a fantasy) has such a grip on my heart.  I guess therapy will help me uncover why.  I mean, what do I really hope to gain by pursuing this?
I’m praying to let go of my plan B.  Only then will I be able to fully give my marriage a chance to survive.  It takes me trusting God to bring into, and out of, my life exactly whom I need. Right now, God has brought my husband into my life.  My husband says that he is 100% all in to make our marriage work.
Thy will be done.


4th of July, dad, death, father, grief, hero, memories, veteran

Happy Sad 4th of July 7/4/16

Maybe it was destined to be, born on the Fourth of July, a hero in the making.  Happy Birthday to my hero!  Dad, you loved the Fourth of July… not just because it was your Birthday, but it was the day that you could get all of your crazy boy-like zaniness out.  We were just along with you for the ride; it was so much fun, Dad.

Growing up, I remember many Fourth of Julys when you bought the fireworks that went way too high and technically weren’t allowed.  Back then, my sisters and I would pile in the car with you and my stepmom, and drive to meet your best friend, and his current girlfriend at the top of an unused parking structure.  My sisters and I had so much fun watching you be so happy. You and your buddy made sure we all stayed back so we were always safe. You lined up all the firecrackers into two long lines from one end of the lot to the other, then you and your friend lit each one and gave us our own personal fireworks show.  Those were happy times.  I’m missing you today, dad.