Tag: writing

Joy

Posted on by mfregien6c146e4539

Every week when I go to therapy my therapist gives me “homework” for the week. She started out by calling it an “intention for the week”. I hate the work “intention”. I’ve been hurt too many times by too many people who had “good intentions” and use them as an excuse for their behavior…or a pass for the hurt they have caused. Anyway…now we call it “homework”. I always liked school.

Most of the time my homework is some sort of task; however, last week my homework was a little bit different because my birthday was coming up. She just sent me off with “do things that bring you joy”. Sure. OK. Joy is a big, elusive feeling. On a good day sometimes the most I can say when I get in bed is “well, this day didn’t suck so bad”. And now this lady wants me to do “joy”.

So, I tried. I actually had a pretty good week. I downloaded a new app to help me learn how to play piano. Music is important to me and it’s something to do when it’s getting dark outside earlier and earlier. I spent some really good time with friends…hiking in the woods…poking around small town downtowns…going to breakfast…out to Happy Hour…just “being”. My kids surprised me with family time for my birthday. We went out to breakfast and then to an apple orchard. The apples were all high up in the trees, so the picking was a little challenging.

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I felt lots of love on my birthday. My coworkers brought donuts in to work and made me a “Happy Birthday” sign. Family and friends texted…called…sent messages. It was a good day. But….Joy? Is it joy?

And then I decided to do something completely out of the norm for me. I went to a very, very small Church this morning because I knew my friend, Olivia was teaching. When I told her that I was planning on coming she was excited, but did warn me that it’s a Church of “misfits and crazies”. That maybe should’ve scared me away…but somehow it attracted me instead… Like maybe this is where the other broken people are.

My friend, LoAnn came with me. We were greeted at the door with “You must be Olivia’s friends” and urged to get a cup of coffee before sitting down. People were friendly and welcoming….coming up to us to say “good morning” and shake our hands without feeling judgy or pushy. There were a few songs and then Olivia got up to do her teaching. And…of course…I’m oversimplifying a bit…but she taught about finding JOY in the present moment. Again with the “joy”.

And all day I have been thinking about that. How do I find joy in the present? My past was filled with joy. I keep thinking of things that maybe I want to do in my future…5+ years from now…that I think maybe will bring me joy. But in this present moment…joy?…nope. What I feel is stuck in a life that was not what I ever wanted. Of course, part of Olivia’s teaching was about trusting in God. Well, I have some trust issues along with my joy issues.

I guess the most I can say is “I’m working on it”

Oregon

Posted on by mfregien6c146e4539

Over Labor Day weekend I took a trip to visit my brother and his family out in Oregon. It was my first time visiting since they moved out there 4 years ago…my first time to Oregon…my first experience of the Pacific Ocean. Definitely won’t be my last.

Oregon spoke to my soul with her towering trees hanging with moss….waterfalls plummeting down from unimaginable heights…rivers rushing by on their way down Mt. Hood…ocean waves crashing on the beach as I stood at the edge of the world looking out into the vastness. So many times all I could do was just pause and give witness to and respect for the beauty and sheer power I was surrounded by.

Making memories with my brother’s family was fantastic. I loved spending a few days with my nephews and niece and getting to know them better. Every time…which was often…I heard one of them say to my brother or SIL “I’m just asking….but when/what are we going to eat?” It just made me chuckle…as if they would ever be allowed to starve! I loved listening to Ben…who is a senior…tell me all the things about different places in Oregon and things he loves to do. He reminds me a lot of my Grandpa. Eli is more introverted…loves music…and some of the things that would come out of his mouth made me laugh so hard, just because they were unexpected. He has a smile that can light up a room…but he makes you work for it. Norah is the youngest and doesn’t let her brothers get away with anything. She is athletic and is really into Ultimate Frisbee…she has quite the throwing arm with that disc. I can’t wait to go back and spend more time with them.

And then, of course, there’s my brother and sister-in-law. I had such a hard time saying goodbye to them. Jason and I always loved spending them with them. When my brother was in college sometimes they would spend a weekend with us so Jason could help him with his programming homework. We visited them many times when they lived in Madison…or they would make the trek to the Twin Cities. One summer we vacationed together up at Rutgers. It was nice reminiscing with them about some of those memories…but also it felt right to make new ones with them.

Fear and Love

Posted on by mfregien6c146e4539

I am an introvert. That doesn’t mean that I don’t like people…or don’t enjoy being around them. It just means that when I need to recharge…recenter…fill up my cup…I need time by myself. It also means that when I am out and about I don’t usually strike up conversations with random strangers. I will be polite…say hi…maybe a little “ope…let me get past ya” if the situation warrants it, this is MN after all…but that’s it. One of my closest friends is an extrovert. She will strike up conversation with literally anybody…a lady running a booth at the farmer’s market…a shop owner…or like yesterday afternoon, some random dude on the patio at Caribou. Granted…this time he approached us first…but where I would have been “no, I am not the person you are looking for” and done my best Jedi mind trick to get him moving on his way, my friend proceeded to carry on a conversation with random dude. The meeting of two extroverts…worst nightmare for an onlooking introvert like me, who is really just feeling resentful of random dude for butting in on her time with her friend.

And why even bring it up? Because now it’s almost 2am…I’m obviously not sleeping…and instead I’m thinking about the random Caribou conversation which happened to be about religion. Random dude thought he recognized us from Church…my friend, who has her doctorate in apologetics, said “no, but I do preach two Sundays a month at a different church”…yada yada. I tuned out until I heard my friend say something about love and fear…that according to the Bible, love is the opposite of fear. And that is what had me digging through my closet looking for my Bible…1 John 4: 18 “There is no fear in love, but perfect love cast out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love”.

Love and fear as opposite sides of a spectrum has never occurred to me, but my mind is busy turning that around and around and making sense of that in my reality right now. Not that I claim that Jason and I had “perfect love”…I’m sure that the “Godly” people reading this are shouting at me that perfect love can only come from God…but we had “perfect for us” love. And in that love, I had zero fear. That love was my rock. After Jason died, fear started to take over and 4 years later continues to wreak havoc in my life. Fear tells me lies all the time…that I am unlovable…that I am worthless…that I am unworthy…that I only cause pain to those around me…on and on. And thankfully I do have more and more people in my life, like my extroverted friend, who call me on that bullshit.

Hopefully, sleep will be in the cards for me now. Probably shouldn’t have had the XL iced tea at 5pm…

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Write On…

Posted on by mfregien6c146e4539

Yesterday was a very big “ending” for me. In the story of my life, it marked the culmination of a chapter that only lasted 14 months, but was extremely impactful on my life. It was my last therapy session with Tara. We spent our time together talking about our chapter. Going back to May 3, 2024 when I first sat in her office. I don’t remember a lot of what I said, but I do remember how I felt. I was done. I was depressed and felt like I had no purpose in my life anymore. I struggled to relate to people and have any kind of relationship that felt real. I felt unseen…invisible…lonely all the time. I was tired of constantly wearing a mask to appear “normal” to society and not make other people uncomfortable by my grief. By that point, I had been struggling for years. It was a struggle that began when Jason was first diagnosed in May, 2020 and then became unbearable after he died in August, 2021. She was my last hope…and I told her that…at our first meeting.

And for 14 months she has listened to my story…witnessed my pain…shared in my joys…applauded my adventures…encouraged my writing. Her eyes never strayed from my face…she never tried to change the subject…she didn’t try to fix things for me. She occasionally gave advice when I directly asked for it…but mostly, mostly she just listened. And she not only listened, but THANKED me for telling my story…for being vulnerable…for sharing my whole truth. That was…and still kinda is…crazy to me!!

That chapter is a really hard one for me to turn the page on, but I am so thankful that I am the person that I am now for the start of this new one…and whatever adventures it may bring. I was hoping to start it with another camping adventure…but stupid decisions on Tuesday led to me being laid up with huge blisters on my heels. Lucky for me I have an awesome son who doctored me up last night when it looked like infection was setting in….so they are feeling pretty good…but not “let’s put shoes on” good.

So instead I’m going to embrace a weekend at home. Spend some good time in my gazebo. Do some writing. Read some books. See some family…maybe an impromptu get together with friends. And that feels just perfect.

Tara wrote me this note yesterday. It now lives on my desk. So many words of hers will forever live with me…but I really love these…

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Beginnings…and Endings

Posted on by mfregien6c146e4539

I love to start my mornings out in my gazebo. Today is perfect for it. It’s Juneteenth so I’m off of work. The sky is clear. There’s no wind. It’s still cool enough that I popped on my fire table. The sound of water trickling in my fountain and the birds singing drown out a bit of the urban noise. The lilac tree that shelters my gazebo is blossoming. The dogs are laying peacefully by me without chasing squirrels or bunnies all crazy. If only I could train them to run in the house and refill my coffee cup for me.

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My emotions and thoughts feel deep today. I’ve been thinking a lot about beginnings and endings. How life is full of them. Hell, every day has a beginning and ending. Some beginnings are the start of something we never want to end, and the end is painful and full of grief. Sometimes we can’t wait for the end, and celebrate its arrival. Sometimes we can’t wait for something to begin and can barely stand the anticipation and its arrival is marked with celebration. Sometimes beginnings feel uncertain and are marked with anxiety and trepidation. Most beginnings and endings aren’t that dramatic…they just ebb and flow with the passing of time…unmarked…unnoticed really.

Yesterday I had my third to the last visit with my therapist. Only two more weeks with her. We talked a lot about the ending of that relationship and how I feel about it. She is the one person on this earth who I can say completely knows and sees me…that I 100% trust. The only other person that I could say that about is Jason…and he died. So, it’s hard for me to keep the loss of my relationship with Tara (my paid therapist) in perspective. It feels like so much more than the loss of a business relationship.

I also am constantly reminding myself that last May, when I first walked into Tara’s office and sobbed on her couch, was also the start of a much more important relationship that will never end…my relationship with myself. She helped facilitate that…peel back a lot of layers…heal a lot of hurt…rebuild trust in myself. That was the real purpose of her time in my life.

So Monday I have a consult with a colleague of hers that she thinks will be a good fit. I’m trying really hard to be optimistic. To feel some excitement for this new beginning. But it’s hard. I told Tara yesterday that my fear is that I won’t be able to get over my weekly therapy sessions not being the same…I’ll lose my motivation for them…and I’ll just stop going. But maybe this will be a good beginning….sometimes we just don’t know.

February

Posted on by mfregien6c146e4539

I don’t know about you, but January felt like the longest month ever for me. I don’t really know why…or why it even matters…but I have never been more ready to flip a calendar page. Maybe it was officially getting out of “Holiday Months”…maybe it was saying goodbye to the coldest month…whatever it was…bring on February I say!

In some ways, January was a month of reflection for me. I really tried to get out of my head as much as possible and do a lot of heart-listening to figure out where I am going to put my energy…what’s important to me…what’s real and worthwhile. Those things didn’t seem so hard to figure out when it was Jason and I figuring them out together. They are much harder to figure out for myself. It’s so easy to get stuck in my head…spinning in a circle…never able to make a decision at all.

Levi actually nudged me towards one of the big decisions I made. He just started his last semester of high school and is taking a Literature class. I’m constantly asking him what he’s reading…what he’s doing…so excited about this class that he is not excited about at all. Finally, he’s like “Mom you should go back to school if you’re so excited about it”. And then I paused and said “well, it would be really fun to go back to school for creative writing…” I didn’t go quite that far, but I did join an online writing community through The Loft called Lit!Commons.

When I listen to my heart it says “You’re a writer. You need to write”. That is scary for me and brings a lot of unknowns with it. Writing is very personal for me. I don’t know how to write pure fiction…all of my writing has a huge chunk of “me” in it. If you’ve read any of my pieces I’ve posted on here you know that. My writing has changed a lot through the years from coming from a space of pure grief (this is where most of my poetry I posted on here came from) to coming from a space of healing and self-discovery. That is the stuff that is hardest for me to share…and you may have noticed (or not, that’s fine) that I don’t share as much as I used to.

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

So…back to Lit!Commons. It’s an online format that gives the subscribers access to experts in fiction, creative non-fiction, poetry, kid lit, publishing, networking, habit building, coming up with ideas, etc. Each of the experts has a lesson and exercise every week. I can kind of pick and choose what sounds interesting and what lessons I want to do. I can also post them for feedback if I chose. It’s been kind of fun bopping around to different areas to see what resonates with me…so far it’s been fiction and creative non-fiction.

This is one of the pieces that I wrote for creative non-fiction. It’s called a Flash Portrait. The assignment was to describe someone in one, long run-on sentence. It was really fun to do actually.

The One

The One had hazel eyes that met her brown thirty years ago living in the dorm on top of the hill trudging down to go to computer science classes for him english classes for her opposites attracting like magnets until the two became one four years later walking down the aisle making promises of infinite years together and soon they had a little one made from the two a daddy’s girl followed by another one a boy with his mama’s eyes and another one boy two perfect mix of the One and her as they became five and the One continued to look at her with love in his eyes making excuses to brush up against her in the kitchen and he played with the three in the yard teaching them to hit the ball with the racquet sharing the sport that he loved and then one night the headaches started and one day the One and her sat in chairs clasped hands between them and heard the two terrible words terminal cancer and infinity was shattered fifteen months later as she held the One’s hand and counted his breaths rattling in and out of his chest until they stopped and she was left with none.

I’ve also submitted a few different things that I have written to different literary magazines…hoping to get something published someday. So, that’s what I’ve been up to. Embracing my Writer identity and figuring out what that means…and what I say to people when they ask me what that means…lol