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The Power of the Morning

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What is it about mornings? I had forgotten how much I love them. How they have always been MY time. When the kids were young, the early AM’s were about the only time I could focus on myself. I would get up early and head out the door for a morning run…or to the gym…be back before anyone even woke up. I would grumble about it a bit…but secretly I loved that time…before the rest of the world was awake. It felt stolen and magical. Then somewhere along the line…probably when the kids started getting more independent…I just stopped getting up early. Started calculating every last minute I could stay in my bed before I had to get up and go to work.

And then…I started making self-love coffee and writing my pages every morning. Suddenly I have a morning routine in place that I love. Writing my stream-of-consciousness pages primes my brain for more creative writing. I rediscover the magic of the early mornings. That combined with the long, dark evenings…where I struggle to get any routine in place that feels good…and soon I am getting up at 4:30am and more than ready to go to bed at 8:30pm.

And you might ask…why do you need to get up early to have time alone? Or for that matter go to a cabin for 4 days alone? Aren’t you alone all the time anyway? Yes…and no. There is a power and a peace in the alone that I choose. The alone when I am really alone. The times when I choose my alone I am able to bring my focus to myself and what I need…without judgment. Other times I am often alone…but amongst people…and that alone can feel lonely…as I watch other people interact with each other…especially couples. The alone of the evening…or the weekend…feels like a forced alone. I am alone because the person who should be by my side is not…and that alone just hurts. So the mornings are when I take my power back.

The Waterfall

The smell of coffee
	Rouses me from slumber
Pulls me from my bed
	Like a fish
On the end of a line
	Helpless to the lure

The house is dark and quiet
	Kids safe in bed
Dogs barely raise their heads
	Coffee in hand
First sips working their magic
	Settle at my desk

Quilt wrapped around me
	Warding off the chill
Pen in hand-red today
	I open my notebook
And let my thoughts spill-
	Waterfall across the page

Released out of the dam of my brain
	I am alone
Just me and my waterfall-
	Words scream out 
Sound absorbed by the rage of the water
	That keeps my secrets

Clarity appears like a rainbow
	Above the spray of the falls
My mind finds peace and stillness
	As the house wakes up
Starts exhaling warm air
	And I am ready

Cleaning the Closet

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I need to clean my closet today. I am sitting at my desk…staring into the open door and dreading it with every fiber of my being. But it’s out of control…the whole floor covered. I can barely reach my clothes. One day I’m going to reach for a shirt…lose my balance…and fall into the abyss of “shit I didn’t know what to do with so I stuffed it in my closet”. And I know a lot of it just needs to go into the trash. Why do we keep the things that we keep? Hold on to the “stuff”…as if it is holding on to a life…a time past…

Some of it is Jason’s. Tennis trophies that I really should’ve thrown away after I used them on the tables at his funeral luncheon…but instead three boxes of them went into my closet. His dress clothes. Boxes of childhood memorabilia that his parents recently gave me. His tennis bag…untouched since he last used it. Same with his work backpack. All of that stuff isn’t him. His legacy isn’t in the suit he wore to his brother’s wedding or his letter jacket or even his tennis racquet. His legacy is in his kids and the countless other lives he touched…by sharing his passion for tennis…by being a scout leader…by helping coach baseball…by always being a compassionate voice to ANY human being…by being a son…a brother…an uncle…a husband. It was never about the stuff. That being said. I’m keeping his tennis racquet…ha!

Equally, it’s my stuff though. Medals and bibs from back in my running days. Knitting projects that I am never going to finish. Clothes I am not going to wear again…same with shoes. Bags and purses….how do women accumulate so many? Things that used to bring me joy…but now are reminders of painful times or relationships…stuffed in my closet…out of sight. I need to do some Marie Kondo (is that right?)…only keep the things that bring me joy. And think about what my legacy is. And what is legacy anyway? Such a big, important-sounding word. All things to think about…while cleaning a closet…because I get philosophical about everything…but I kind of like that about myself…that I’m a deep thinker. And now I’m procrastinating…about walking through that door…but walking through a door is never just walking through a door is it?

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Nature’s Truth

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I spent this past weekend on a solo glamping adventure. My heart was telling me I needed to get out in Nature…not just for a hike for an hour…but to immerse myself for awhile. So I rented a Postcard Cabin up North. Think of a campground loop, but instead of empty pads for a camper or tent each spot has a tiny cabin.

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In this picture I’m standing in the doorway to the bathroom (toilet and shower). The kitchen area is to the right (stove, small fridge, sink) and the the door to outside is on my left.

The whole place has a “nature retreat” vibe. It isn’t noisy like your traditional campground. There aren’t a lot of kids running around. It’s peaceful. There’s a short nature trail on site that leads to this beautiful spot.

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It is also very close to Banning State Park. If you haven’t been to Banning, I highly recommend it. So beautiful. The day that I was there was cold and a little bit drizzly. I felt like I had the whole place to myself. The landscape is made up of huge rocks…lots of them covered by moss…and of course leaves fallen from the trees. Exploring this park solo was a bit of a test of my grit…because it was not without danger. The rocks were slippery…the trail was uncertain…I was by myself. But I was there to experience Nature…to really get out into it. I refused to allow myself to let where I was at be “good enough”. So I clambered and climbed…and slid down a few spots on my ass, just because that felt safer. At one point I could hear Jason’s voice in my head saying “Oh Babe…be careful. What are you doing?” and I muttered out loud “Shut up and help me figure out where to put my foot” and I swear I felt him tug on the back of my overalls.

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And in-between the life-threatening bits…when I was just walking in the woods…I reflected. First of all, if you have never taken a completely solo hike in the woods I highly recommend it. I’ve walked in the woods before, but I’ve always had either another person with me, or the dogs, or both…and that’s awesome, but this…this was life-altering for me. There were several times when the world just “clicked” into place for me. When I slowed down, or even stopped and just really looked around me. There weren’t questions that needed answering anymore because questions just ceased to exist. There was only Truth.

And so for the three days that I was gone. I hiked…alone…but never felt lonely. I took the days at my pace. Waking up early…lying in bed in the darkness with the stars out the window right next to me. Making a cup of tea and walking down by the river. Reflecting…and writing…always writing. At the bench by the river. At a rock by the waterfall. Under a pine tree. By the fire. In my cabin. And it was perfect.

Now I’m back in the real world, but I feel like I’m holding a bit of the Truth inside me…nurturing it…and when I need to be reminded…to be refilled because the world has beaten me down…I know where to go.

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Blechy Tuesday

Posted on by mfregien6c146e4539

Self-love is not coming easy to me today. I woke up at 2am with a stomach bug. Tried to convince myself I was fine this morning…walked into work…and then walked back out 5 minutes later when my coworkers shooed me home. It’s a good thing that I don’t get sick very often because I don’t do it well…especially now. I get sad…I get depressed. I start to feel very lonely and sorry for myself.

I came home and crawled back into bed. The dogs were more than happy to cuddle back up with me…especially since it was raining outside. I gave myself a talking to about “self-love” and taking care of myself when I’m not feeling well. Made sure I had some water to sip on. Dozed on and off. Finished the last chapter of a book I had been reading.

Not too much later Baby Girl got out of bed. When I told her I wasn’t feeling well do you know what the first thing she said to me was? “Would you like me to run to Caribou and get you some coffee since you don’t feel good?” And me, the emotional being that I am, got all teary. At first I said “no” because I wasn’t sure how my stomach was feeling about coffee…but then I changed my mind because I knew she really wanted to do something to make me feel better…and it’s COFFEE…I’m no fool.

I spent the day going back and forth from my bed to my desk. I am completely enamored with my desk these days. Everything in my desk space is very deliberately placed…plants…colorful pens…journals…books…coaster for my tea or coffee…Jason’s quilt to wrap up in. It’s my “no bullshit” space. When I sit at my desk I commit myself to the truth. To putting away whatever mask I may’ve felt like I had to wear that day.

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My desk is my space for true self-expression. Every morning, I wake up…feed the dogs…pour myself a cup of self-love coffee…and sit at my desk…and write. 3 pages…every morning…no cheating. Whatever is on my mind or in my heart…or as what happens a lot…things I didn’t even know were on my mind or in my heart until the pen touched the paper. Even if you’re not a “writer” per say I would encourage you to try it…just once. Sit and write until you fill up three pages. When I first started doing this my pages would be filled up with “I don’t know what to write next”….”My hand is cramping”….”Am I done yet”. Now, most mornings, three pages fly by…and my days feel a lot more focused.

I started doing this after my therapist mentioned “The Artist’s Way” to me in one of our sessions. Me…being me…someone mentions a book to me I’m gonna go buy it that same day. I’m so glad that I did. I went from not wanting to get out of bed in the mornings and feeling scattered throughout my day–to looking forward to getting out of bed…with my self-love coffee…and feeling more focused and centered. I will say that if you decide to try it I highly recommend buying some fun pens that are easy to write with…it helps!

Coffee and Love

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Coffee…it’s a must-have for me in the mornings. The signal for my brain and body to start the day. The smell lifts my spirit…the ultimate comfort beverage. One of the few things that has remained constant for me in what has been a tumultuous past few years. Just wrapping my hands around the mug in the morning brings me joy…even more joy if the mug is special.

When the kids were small they would love it when we would stay at a hotel that had a free coffee bar. They loved to venture down there in the morning and knew how to make Mom’s coffee just how she likes it. The pride on their little faces when they would come back to the room with that small styrofoam cup…coffee with two half and halfs. Mom’s coffee recipe.

Jason knew that a good cup of coffee could work some magic on me when I was having a rough day. There were many times when I would be down or cranky. He would get me out of the house with him…and the car would end up at Caribou…and then usually somewhere for a walk. When he got sick there was a time that I was working for a few hours every day and he made me write down the measurements for the water and coffee so he could have a cup ready for me when I got home. He wasn’t able to handle that for very long, but that cup of coffee was pure love.

Sometimes friends would bring me a cup of coffee at work. Such a small thing really…but that sure brightened my day. Gift cards for Caribou still end up in my mailbox every once in awhile. When I was in New Hampshire a few weeks ago my friend made my coffee in the morning and it was so nice to feel cared for in that moment. Usually, it’s the first thing I do in the morning. Get my coffee started…and then feed the dogs.

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Well, it used to be the first thing I do in the morning. In the past week I have finally gotten in the habit of getting my coffee ready to brew in the evening and setting the timer so that it starts brewing by itself in the morning. I know…I know…this technology has been around for a long time. But holy cow! Gamechanger! And maybe a stupid thing to write a whole blog post about….but not when combined with the concept of self-love.

When Jason was alive I had a never-ending source of love. He showed me in a million different ways every single day how much he loved me. I felt his love always. It buoyed me up. Well, now that never-ending source of love is gone. I don’t have someone making me coffee, or getting the mail every day, or putting my snowbrush in the car every winter, kissing me when I get home from work, giving me a hug when I have a bad day, etc. Without that love keeping me afloat…well, it is incredibly easy to sink.

Therapy has taught me that the only source I can rely on for that love I used to get from Jason is myself. In order to do that I first need to see in myself all the things that Jason saw as loveable…which eh…that’s a whole other blog post. But secondly, I need to practice self-love. In comes my morning coffee…brewing itself at 5:25 every morning…right before my alarm goes off at 5:30…setting my day up for success even before I am out of bed. That’s love.

Bronco Off-Rodeo

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The past couple days have been about challenging myself…pushing past my boundaries…staring my fears straight in the face…reconnecting with a good friend…finding my inner badass…and having a hell of a good time.

You may have heard me talk a time or two…or two million…about my Bronco. She is always there for me…whatever my mood…my literal “ride or die”. Well, my friend Sheila (another proud Bronco owner) and I flew to New Hampshire to go to Bronco Off-Rodeo. It’s basically a day-long training course in how to off-road Broncos.

We learned so much…what 4A, 4H, 2L, 2H all mean and when to use them. What the front and rear differential are…and when locking them is a good idea. What the stabilizer bar is…and how it can help you turn like a boss…or do really awesome donuts in a snowy parking lot. How to shift her into M1…put the big girl pants on…go slow and in control. That sometimes all 4 wheels will not be on the ground…you’ll be at a 20 degree angle in your seat…but YOU WILL BE FINE…probably. That sometimes you will slide down a hill and the best thing to do is to put all your instincts aside and give her a little throttle. That sometimes the best views are at the end of an incredibly long and high chair lift that scares the shit out of you.

I had so many moments of shear terror. Where I was at the top of a hill so steep that I couldn’t see the ground past my hood. All I knew was that hill was covered with leaves…and underneath those leaves all sorts of hidden landmines…gravel…shifting rocks…boulders…smooth rock slabs. At that moment…the only person I could rely on was myself….so I took a breath of the fresh mountain air…gripped the steering wheel with both hands…eased my foot off the brake…and went for it.

Today I am feeling very reflective about the past couple days. It’s what I do…overanalyze every little thing. I think that for the past 4 and a half years I’ve heard so many times how strong I am…but I’ve just been doing what has been necessary. Really what anyone in my situation would do. There’s not really a choice.

Inside….I feel so very far from strong. I feel inadequate…worthless…guilty…useless…not worth the space I take up in this world. I’ve talked with my therapist about feeling like giving up…tired of trying and trying and trying…like the world would go on just fine (maybe even better) without me in it.

I feel like I’ve lost my spark…my fight…my will…my inner badass. That spark was fanned at the top of that hill in that blue Bronco….and that felt good. Does that mean that I’m going to turn into an adrenaline junkie? No…but it does make me a little curious to find out what else I might really like doing. New Hampshire’s state motto is “Live free or die”. Maybe it’s time to start working on the “live free”….free of all the negative emotion and self-talk that is constantly spinning in my head and sabotaging my life…maybe.

Music is still where I go for companionship a lot of the time. This new song by Andy Grammer has been one of my go-to’s lately. I think his “Monster” is my “Badass”.

A Good Change!

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My head has been in a bit of a spin the past week. Last Thursday I accepted a new job. Starting September 9th I will be working for Dakota County in the Social Services department at the Western Service Center. My last day at the Urgency Room is August 28th. It’s obviously a good change…and the right move…but of course I have anxiety about it.

I will be going back to a M-F days schedule. Which is great…except that evenings and weekends can be really difficult for me…and with winter looming around the corner…eh… That feels like a lot of cold, dark, lonely time to fill. I’m thinking that I might need a new hobby or two…maybe embroidery (anybody know how?) or finally taking those piano lessons I’ve been thinking about for the past three years.

I also get anxious about meeting new people…especially people that I’ll be spending a lot of time with. The whole “my husband is dead” thing tends to make relationships kind of awkward. And it’s hard to know when to divulge that information. And then how to get people not to act “weird” around me once they know. It’s just uncomfortable for me.

I am excited about the job itself though. It checks all of my boxes of things I look for in a job…and I won’t have to deal with bodily fluids anymore…score! So bring on the change!

On an unrelated note…I realized this morning after my Facebook feed was flooded with posts about dropping kids off at college…I’m so glad I’m not doing that this year! I’m sure loving having all my chicks in the nest…until Levi starts college next year!

I love when my hibiscus are blooming!

Lakeside Coffee

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Three years ago today I was waking up in my bed alone for only the seventh time…and getting ready to go to Jason’s funeral.

Funerals are crazy things. I had just watched my husband die and then that afternoon off to the funeral home to plan a “party”. Jeremy and Cheryl came with me because I thought between Jason’s twin and I we should be able to figure out what Jason would want.

And then the day comes and even though I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry in a corner…I was the hostess of the worst party ever. I remember thinking to myself….when do I get to lose my shit? When do I get to breakdown? But I needed to make sure the kids were doing okay…and just keep going on to the next thing and the next thing. Holding myself together because I was afraid if I let go nobody would be there to put me back together.

As it turns out I didn’t find my safe space to completely lose my shit until just a couple months ago.

And now I’m sitting drinking my morning coffee by the lake. My sister and cousin went home yesterday, but I gave myself one more night to just “be”. I right now…in this moment…I’m ok.

Family Bonding

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I’m having a great time with my sister and cousin. Hiking…wine tasting…sitting by the water…laying in the grass looking up at the stars…gazing into the fire. Lots of stories told….memories shared…bonds strengthened. This is family.

Defense Mechanisms

Posted on by mfregien6c146e4539

I’ve been kind of quiet this week…mainly doing a lot of processing in my head of frustrating feelings that don’t seem to make sense. Major anxiety…restlessness…really teary…a lot of the “I’m tired and don’t want to do this anymore”. But why?? It’s been a good week!

And that right there is the “problem”. I don’t trust it. I’m on high alert waiting for something bad to happen and take away my happy. I don’t trust my happy feelings because I’ve been faking being okay and being fine for so many years…I don’t know what’s real anymore…so I overthink it…analyze every nuance of it. And it’s fucking exhausting and frustrating as hell.

I talked about this a lot with my therapist yesterday. Apparently it is a pretty common defense mechanism in people who have gone through significant trauma in their lives…so I guess I’m “normal”…ha! The world (people in general) hasn’t…for the most part…given me any feeling of safety and security in the past few years…so as I’m trying to venture out more and more…all of my defense mechanisms are kicking in…even when I’m really okay. She said the key is to keep grounding myself in feelings that I do trust…and for me those are pretty simple things…the sound of water…the sun on my face…trail under my feet…wind in my hair…my kids…my tribe

I’m spending my weekend at a cabin on a lake…so hopefully I’ll be able to get lots of those grounding moments in. I feel a huge need to sit in a patch of sunlight and gaze at the water. Listen to the birds and the water lapping at the shore.