Community : Write 28 Days

Community! What a wonderful word.

I got to experience my favorite community Saturday. I am blessed to have a group of friends I've known for over (gulp!) 40 years. Once a month we get together to catch up and encourage one another to handle some of those monotonous things that have to be done. Sometimes it's bill paying or sorting through accumulated paperwork. Sometimes it's some mindless task we've been putting off because it's boring! Sometimes we just wind up coming together to sit with one another.

We call ourselves The Fun Girls - 4 women and 1 man. I've known Keith since were 7. We've been through a lot together. The women, Linda, Caroline, and Sandra, I've known since high school. Linda is our cruise director. If it weren't for her Fun Girls would never have started or continued as it does. Many years ago she contacted all of us and suggested the idea of getting together once a month to do some crafting or an outing. Over time it's evolved into just getting together. Sometimes we go out to eat or do some antiquing. Occasionally we take the weekend and go to a state park together (just the girls then LOL!). But one way or another we see each other most months. 

We don't all make it every month, but we do our best. Yesterday The Fun Girls met at my house. We were all present and accounted for. There is always food, of course. Sandra brings chicken salad from the Amish store near her. Keith brings whatever strikes his fancy when he strolls the aisles at Publix. Caroline brings fruit and hummus and whatever item she's stumbled on recently. Linda makes "Crack", our affectionate term for her chocolate chip cookies. And I provide something breakfast-y - scones, muffins, strudel, etc.

My kitchen island was covered in food. My dining room table was spread out to its full length and all of our projects intermingled as we "worked" and ate and talked and caught up on mutual friends and information. It was lovely.

My son and his girlfriend came in at one point and chatted for a bit. Keith had brought one of his vintage percolators. He made coffee for us all while we remembered the coffee pots of our families, and we introduced my son to old fashioned stovetop percolators. 

As I write this all, it seems a bit disjointed and muddled. Not a good description of a lovely day spent with dear friends. But that's what it was because real community is disjointed, muddled, messy, and wonderful all at the same time.

These people have seen me through a lot - marriage, pregnancies, medical scares, PTSD, depression, children issues and joys, and the disintegration of my marriage. They have held me up in my worst times. They have listened to most of the gory details of the childhood abuse, and they still love and support me. They got me through the transition from longterm marriage to successfully living on my own. 

And that's what community is. That's what community does. Thank God for community!

Hollow Times

It's flurrying outside my window. Thirty degrees with a cold wind blowing. The wind chimes have a hollow sound in the crisp, cold air. 

I've been feeling a bit hollow myself lately. Some struggles that have been intense. Intense in a different way than the childhood abuse issues that I know too well. I've been asking myself a lot of questions about choices and decisions I've made over the years. I've been thinking a lot about what I want from the future.

I haven't had any epiphanies or movie moment catharses, but I have been reminded again of my own strength. I've had to put into practice all the "training" I've been doing for the past years in therapy. I've studied situations and relationships. I've questioned my motives and desires. I've looked for and found evidence to support my reactions, but perhaps most importantly, I've been reminded, yet again, that secret keeping will kill you. Maybe not physically (although that is a possibility), but definitely emotionally. None of us were meant to live in a vacuum, and attempting to dwell there is a sure path to living death.

I've also been reminded that people are kinder and more generous than I imagine them to be. The abusers taught me that people can turn on a dime. I developed a "trust no one" mentality based on the actions of a few horrible people. That has led me to follow the same path in most of my relationships. And that is a lonely path. I've reached out this time, trusting that my circle of friends won't turn on me, and they haven't. They have lifted me up and supported me, with words of love and kindness and, well, support. 

I didn't mean to stop writing. Yet every time I tried to write it felt inauthentic. I've said before I write what I feel and experience. If what I'm feeling and experiencing is tied up in someone else's struggles I have difficulty sharing, because it's not all mine. 

The good news in all of this has been my ability to stand up for myself and have a good outcome. Everything isn't roses, but it's better. And it's true and real. 

A special thank you to my bestie for listening and giving humor, comfort, and advice. Also too, MLH in San Francisco for all the same and a chance to get out of town and have some fun. 

I hope I'm back to writing more regularly, because I missed it. 

Blessings.