Author: ferylfiles

Most of my day is spent trying to out-maneuver myself. Grief, depression, anxiety, lethargy would take their turns destroying me, grinding me into Becci dust. My biggest rival, my most daunting enemy, my biggest challenge is me. So how does hacking my brain work?

First, I decided what definition of perfection I would tolerate in my life. Without flaw or error? Nope. Not going to be part of my day-to-day. Perfection as complete, okay, we can talk. My bonus mom and I had a chat via text the other day. We talked about “progress over perfection.” There’s a reason why she quotes What About Bob. “Baby steps, Bob.” My big brother has two sayings that also help me hack my brain. 1. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time; and 2. “Too easy.”

Second, I put things on my calendar that I force myself to do. Do I want to? No. I want to stay wrapped up in flannel sheets in jammies surrounded by cats. Cat-lady tropes? BECAUSE IT’S AWESOME! But it’s not a life of connection with other humans. Events, parties, dinners, concerts–on the calendar. Do it anyway. 72-76% of the time, I’m really glad I did. That’s a solid passing grade.

Third, I engage in activities that mute/side-step/defy the internal critic–flowers and vegetables growing in the backyard, walks in nature, creating art, baking, writing, joy-nugget hunting.

Fourth, I do housework like I’m playing a video-game. I do not have the will or energy to scrub my house top to bottom once a week or month. I don’t have it in me. So I do the “just five things” strategy. Bec, just put five things away. Sometimes I stop at five and sometimes the momentum gives me energy to push through. But I can at least do five things. If I’m moving from one room to another, I check to see if I can bring something with me to put away or organize really quickly. [Side note: I had the SHITTIEST waitressing job out of college and I learned very quickly that fewer trips were better for my feet. So make each trip count.]

Fifth, music sets the tone. If I need to be energized, I play the upbeat, fast-paced music. If I need to calm down and relax, I play something soothing. And if I need to scrub floors, I play some Norwegian death metal. Just kidding.

Sixth, a shower or a bath. Warm running water is a reset.

Seventh, sometimes none of these work at all. So I rest. And extend grace. And recognize tomorrow will probably be different. Hopefully.

Bryan loved the movie Moonstruck. He quoted it all the time and by repeated viewings and proximity, I began to quote it as well. This is a particular favorite and well, philosophically right up my alley:

For the past two months or so, I’ve gotten to be a part-time temporary assistant in Alumni Relations at Whitman College. This has been a dipping-my-toes-in-the-water experience–getting into the professional world gently. Things are the same and very, very different. The building has some familiar faces and many new ones. The entryway and original woodwork always make me catch my breath. My supervisor is sunshine and a dynamo of efficiency.

A couple of days ago, I was looking to make some tea or hot cocoa down in the kitchen. What should I find tucked in a cabinet? The mug I used every day for six years.

The nostalgia and delight smacked me hard. My supervisor said I could take it home and what a gift! Once the new year starts, I will begin looking for a full-time gig in earnest. This will be my work mug again when the time is right.

In the meantime, I’m going to continue writing this blog, creating art, and creating jewelry. Those will always be my work in addition to anything else I do.

If you’d like to support my writing with a Venmo tip, you can do so here: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1

You’re also welcome to see the art, jewelry, and accessories I’m selling in my online shop: https://feryldesigns.etsy.com

Many things can be true at the same time–another complextity to an already complex existence. The last few days I’ve had incredible visits with friends. I had coffee and a cookie at the Patisserie Friday afternoon with a friend where we talked about grief and loss, pets, housework, and social awkwardness. Saturday I painted during the day and in the evening a dear friend who had invited me out took me to dinner and to a holiday concert fundraiser. It was so much fun. I got to try new flavors and listen to music by local and Seattle talent; the vocal stylings of Jennifer Northam and Gail Pettis particularly stood out as well as a Whitman alto sax player who will be famous one day. 🙂 Yesterday, I had dinner with another friend where we each had a beer that Bryan probably would have liked a whole lot, the Krampus Strong, at the Brew Pub. Threaded throughout these last days are texts and exchanges, jokes and affectionate messages with friends far and wide. Messages from my siblings keep me afloat like a life jacket. All these things are emotional power packs, support, kindness, love. I’m so thankful.

And at the same time…

My heart hurts so much. The sobs come out of no where. Every cell in my body is aching and screaming for my person. How is possible to hurt this much and still function? This weekend, I had a nap and I saw Bryan pushing a wheelbarrow of dirt on the sidewalk for any number of my home projects. That smile. Those hands. The tilt of his head. He’s everywhere and nowhere. Today, I saw a guy with a beard on a bicycle wearing a blue windbreaker. I almost couldn’t breathe for thirty seconds.

I am not alone in one respect–I have the connection and support of family and friends far and wide. These connections are life-saving to me. And I have never been more alone, too. When you have a mind/body/soul connection and half of it gets ripped away, you can’t help but feel amputated. And I’m not a gecko.

You may notice on social media that I’m painting up a bit of a storm. That’s because it’s been gray and gross and I’m so incredibly sad. I take all of that and pour into my art. Beauty and sadness. Loneliness and longing and connection. Many things true at the same time.

[https://feryldesigns.etsy.com/listing/1617884148]

There’s a kitty in the neighborhood that doesn’t seem to have a home. I may have mentioned her before. She’s dark with a little bit of gold in her fur. Half of her tail is missing. She’s skittish of people, but she thinks that Seamus, our handsome Maine coon, is just fine. Over the summer and fall she’s found places to sleep around the house–under the trees in the backyard, nestled in the wood chips by the house, tucked in here or there in the garden. She’s welcome (I think all the kitties seem to know that about me.) I’ve been feeding her and I think my next-door neighbors love her and feed her, too.

When the days were really cold there for a bit, she’d look at me from several feet away on the porch as I opened the door to let Seamus in. The warmth, I could tell, caught her interest. Seamus coming inside piqued her curiosity. But she stays resolutely outside, running from me if I approach.

I empathize with this kitty. Something hurt her. She’s scared. Solitude seems to suit her, most of the time. Half socialized and half feral–I get you kitty. And yet, she sleeps on my porch often. The bowl of kibble is empty by morning.

Time, patience, and love work wonders. Maybe they’ll work for her. Maybe they’ll work for me.

[Virtual tip jar: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1]

Under the best of circumstances, this time of year can be challenging. It’s fraught with emotional pitfalls. Obligations pile up. It’s messy out here with all this should. And everyone of us misses someone whether it’s through long distance or loss. Yet, we still look for ways to brighten shorter, darker days.

I miss Bryan all the time. I feel it extra at Christmastime. He made it so much fun–hunting for a Christmas tree, listening to the Vince Guaraldi soundtrack of A Charlie Brown Christmas while we decorated, Handel’s Messiah, sugar cookies, spanikopita, stuffed mushrooms, events and outings with friends, and particularly Christmas Eve and breakfast the next morning with our girl. The simplicity and warmth of these Lubbers traditions have defined the season for me for a long time. I don’t want to lug the Christmas boxes out of the attic to decorate. I don’t want to get a tree. What do these things mean without him?

But I did get in the holiday mood. And I decorated, a little, with some Shop Eleven spirit–paper, hot glue, and twinkle lights.

I didn’t want to accept the invitation of a dear friend to go downtown and watch the Parade of Lights because it was something Bryan and I did. But I went, and I even dressed up. (That’s a mistletoe fascinator and a Christmas-y infinity scarf Mary made for Shop Eleven years ago.)

Finding light in a dark time is essential to survival. And if we can’t be or bring light, we can do our best not to extinguish it.

There’s other darkness, too. Here are a few ways I’ve found for fighting that.

Internationally: https://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/ and https://wck.org/

Locally: https://www.valleygivingguide.org/

Most of all I hope you don’t feel like you have to do this time of year a certain way or feel that you’re doing it wrong. We’re all making it up. All of us. None of it is scripted.

[Virtual tip jar: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1]