I just bought myself an iHome to go next to my bed. I am so enjoying the local jazz station. Right now I am listening to "I Just Haven't Met You Yet" - Michael Buble. Great song - I do love his voice. The kind of youthful crooner someone my age really likes. it is such a treat to sit in the dark and compose my blog listening to great music. Truly! I'd say I feel close to heaven just laying here in peace. Lots of angst going on around the house. Kami goes on her first big backpacking trip in middle school and Gary is beating the whole experience to death packing and repacking her backpack. Making her pack it over and over and roll up the matt and stuff the sleeping bag. Yes - these are definitely things she is going to have to do however, to have an 11 year old do them over and over again. She is overtired and crying. I interfere and they both react. So it's best that I lay in bed and just get away from it all. That's hard to do in such a small house for sure. But I am loving the solitude. It won't last for long, trust me. "Sweet Love" - Anita Baker is playing now. Love the saxophone. She is one of my favorite ballad singers - and Sade is another. I adore her. So many songs I can't even think of all those I would consider in my shortlist of most loved. My tummy is acting up today. Ulcerative colitis is an insidious disease. You just never know what is going to trigger it. Most definitely it was brought on initially by stress. But when I take care of myself, it is hard to figure out why I have painful reoccurances. I took some stomach settling meds and it is helping. I need to call the doctor. So when I close my eyes to listen to the beautiful music, I am transported to an apartment in the city that has a gorgeous view - full windows. I am laying in bed - no shades on the windows and I can see the skyline for miles. It is breathtaking. And the music continues to play - taking me to far away places only my imagination can dream of. And the door opens and it is the end of my respite tonight. So I will express my gratitude for the peace I have been given as the lights get switched on and the solitude of my time ends. And so it goes...
I sat just slightly in the shade today, under a gorgeous pine tree at Alturas Lake. Truly, weather wise, it was a perfect day. Not too hot - 68 degrees. A slight breeze. The sun was beating down and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. A perfect mountain day. Kami and Gail had blown up an inflatable kayak and with lifejackets secured, had taken to paddling around the lake. Maybe there were 4 people on the beach further down. The silence was broken only by the occasional airplane flying so high that you couldn't see it. I shut my eyes and started to circular breathe. In and then out. In and then out. In and then out. And slowly, I was lulled into a calm place. Solitude. Peace. I began to notice the distinctive mountain smell of pine needles. Some residual smoke from a campfire far away. And I dreamt that someday I would indeed have my little log cabin in the woods, where I could retire comfortably surrounded by my favorite aromas of the mountains and the wildlife strolling through. It has always been a dream of mine to have a little log cabin in the woods on the side of a mountain. Nothing fancy. Just very simple surrounded by the treasures of my life. Things that bring me comfort. Peacefulness always. A little porch with a rocker. Some bird feeders and wild flowers all around me. No gardens - just God's perfect garden. All my dreams were set aside when the economy collapsed almost two years ago to the day. Our house inverted and is worth enough to have eaten all the money that was our equity. Our retirement disappeared - *poof* - vanished into thin air. And we went from lots of work and disposable income to bare bone basics. No excess of anything. So will my dream of the cabin in the woods come true? I don't know. I hope so. It really is my last wish aside from a convertible. Material wishes that is. I guess I can always close my eyes and dream a dream. My dad always told me that when you wish upon a star your dreams do come true. So maybe someday the stars will make it so. Wouldn't it be lovely?
Why is the people we love the most have the least patience, tolerance, understanding and compassion with us? Someone wise once told me that the safest place to show your angst, anger and rage is with the person you love because they will never leave you. Do you really believe this is true? Certainly for children it is because they test all the boundaries of loving walls we create. But when we fall in love with a partner it is our expectation of mutual love, adoration, respect and understanding that keep us from this behavior. We simply don't understand this when it happens and likewise don't accept this type of behavior from them. It is just not the sign of a loving relationship to inflict pain on the person you say you love so dearly. I really believe this. And of course, it does not model good behavior for the children to watch at all. Now we are all guilty of it. I don't know a single couple that doesn't get royally pissed off at their partner and act out. I know I have. I get so infuriated I have to walk out. Often drive for a long while and breathe deeply to release my rage. I rarely act out physically - I have thrown things when I am alone but only once or twice. Never hit a partner. I have used foul language which I think is despicable. Not having ever felt safe to express anger, I find it much easier to cry and isolate. But I know I can get mad. And then my patience goes out the window pretty darn fast. Really fast. It always make me sad when I witness or hear about couples hurting each other. Maybe that is because I live in my own world of silent pain that I keep pretty close to the vest. I was in a relationship once with a man I truly loved who always questioned me and my thoughts. I really felt I could never say or do much right that did not hurt his feelings. It was certainly trying for me at times and manifested itself in physical responses such as choking with tears, lack of sleep and vomiting (which if you knew me you'd know I dislike a lot). Why do we want to hurt each other? Why don't we want to put our partners before ourselves? If we all did this don't you think it would be like heaven for everyone? We get bored in relationships I guess. Tired of the lull of the relationship and then too stubborn to be the one to make the effort to change. It's funny because when we do, not only do things shift for the other person but our lives are further enhanced and more beautiful because of it. I am completely guilty of all of the above in spades. It's funny how I can see it clearly but practicing it is much harder. We all invest so much in loving partnerships and marriages. Why are they worth the work? We say the vows and then do our level headed best to forget them when we get angry. We think about our selfish needs and do our best to punish our lover. And then, like anything else, we inflict pain that will never be forgotten. As I have said once and will say again, life is about love. Truly. When you don't have love, you're lost. When you have love - there is nothing better than coming home. And home is a place I yearn to belong.
Certainly we have all experienced the loss of a loved one. It is surely what comes to mind when we think of the word grief. Grieving is allowed, in fact absolutely encouraged, when we lose someone we love so dearly. What many of us don't realize is that grief can take many more forms. It also comes in waves when we least expect it. I truly believe that I have been grieving since I suffered the loss of my career through illness in 1996. My entire persona was defined by my ultra-successful career in commercial design. Although not one to brag, I was certainly one of the top designers in my part of the country, having completed jobs one at my age might only dream of. And my salary reflected my success. I was able to travel, buy a home, purchase vehicles, possessions, a truck and beautiful new camper - renovate my home and build a beautiful new office... I was certainly on top of the world. At that time, I felt strong, capable and free. It was a special time in my life. It felt as though everything I had worked for was moving in high gear and had shifted into cruise control. I felt stable, strong and safe. And then I lost myself. I gave myself away out of love. I thought my dreams had come true. It was then I realized I couldn't trust the words I'd longed to hear all my life. And it was then, my life changed. I made changes for all the wrong reasons. And I would make decisions, based on my health and my need for care from lead poisoning, compounded with generalized anxiety and panic disorder from not knowing what was really wrong at that time. Having to ask for help to recover over time was a huge thing for me to do. I had never felt vulnerable and the care I needed was all consuming. So in having to relocate to recover, I had to give up all the stability. The very definition of who I thought I was. And I had to become a new person. The lovely woman I am today. So yes, I do grieve at times for that old me. The one who thought she had the world by the tail. The one who was ultra successful. The girl who felt empowered to conquer the world. The self confidence to tackle any projects, take on new risks, leap into the unknown and live by chance. A part of me disappeared in that experience. I do truly believe I am a better person having survived it all. My life is so much richer and fuller now and I am able to help others empower themselves when they face difficult situations alone. Out of it all, I have to keep telling myself that I am strong. Despite the loss of self-confidence and my need to rely on others at that time, I have completely returned to the incredibly capable and confident person I once was. But the residual damage remains. Sometimes the false sense of incapability returns in my rear view mirror. It haunts me. My newly adopted panic disorder (and I say new because it is less than 15 years old) is like a cloud of thunder waiting to clap at any moment. I don't know what triggers it. But I know having survived this journey of my life to this date, I have been molded by God to show others that the possibilities when you encounter grief and are forced change are endless. And who knows... you might find that elusive pot at the end of the rainbow. I did in so many ways I never ever imagined.
You gotta know that I am an 80's girl - by definition - the big hair was one of my best looks truly! (I'll share a photo sometime... "Rock" bitch hairdo big time!) And along with that comes my love for Hall & Oates. Daryl Hall musically - a marvelous voice with perfect pitch and you know... (now I am showing my age) in his mid 60's! teehee Makes me feel quite young and frisky! Nothing like a great voice and strumming a guitar to get a girl going. Love these guys! So here it is. I'll do it for love. And one of my favorite late H & O songs. For sure. I believe in the power of love. Love can move mountains. If I am in love - let me tell you - I would do any and everything. I long for that feeling. It moves my spirit. Makes my heart leap. That extreme passion. That great jump for joy feeling. And I will experience this again in my life. Believe you me. Listen to the words. I think you'd do it for love too. What risk would you take to do it for love? And what woman wouldn't want the love of her life to sing this song to her?
I wonder what it would be like to live without touch. So vital is touch that we ache in it's absence. We yearn to be touched, most especially when we have missed the warmth of human companionship. I love the softness of someone who caresses my face. I love to stroke the cheeks of my daughter while I gently lull her to sleep. I enjoy the pressure of a strong embrace and I could hold myself in someone's arms as long as they'd let me. Because it connects me to that person in a way unique and special in our relationship. One of the reasons we marry is for exclusivity of touch. It allows us to have an open invitation to touch the body of our beloved - gently and lovingly. Those special places only we alone can venture. To remind our partner of what we love about them - the beauty of their body next to ours and how their very breath brings them into one with our being. Their smell that captures our senses. And then we touch some more. The slowness of one's touch. The gentleness. One could touch their beloved for hours and never experience them completely. Much like the feeling of first love when your eyes simply can't stop looking into the mirror reflection of your passion. It slowly builds and eclipses into something that takes your breath away. We hold the hands of those we feel close - to connect in the simplest of ways to their spirit - to let them know that we are just as human as they. It evens us out. Makes us alike. We become one in each other. I think about people who miss the beauty of human touch. I think we all have missed being touched at times. And it can be painful. For whatever reason, living without touch for me is much like a disconnect from humanity. We can touch ourselves but there is some form of emptiness in this kind of touch. Momentarily satisfying however incredibly lonely. You're left wishing and hoping for someone to complete that missing piece. In saying this, I think I will make an effort to reach out and touch the people who touch me with their very being. I will honor their humanity with the warmth of a simple gesture. I will give hugs freely and offer my hand in kindness and love. And we'll see if the gift is returned somehow in emotion and connection. It's all about love you know.
In my twenties, I was never particularly interested in children. They made a lot of noise, took a lot of time, prohibited you from having a successful career, acted out in public, never seemed overly grateful - and then there was the piece of my that never wanted to have a little person of "myself". This all came from never feeling fully loved and appreciated for my essence. I understand the logic of it all being quite normal for someone my age with my ambitious nature. Then there was this deeper part of me. The one that only liked to babysit a little girl named Cary Newman. She was my band teacher's daughter. A little black girl adopted into a white family. She was cute and funny and liked to play board games. I loved the color of her skin. It reminded me of my 5th grade teacher. He was the one public school teacher whom I felt modeled the example of a solid education and I adored that he made time to answer my 1000's of questions - every minute of every day. He never got impatient with me. Rather - he saw me as inquisitive and challenging! His name was Philemon Mtatabikwa. My father insisted that he come over for dinner often and Mr. Mtatabikwa would allow my sister and I to ask all sorts of questions about being "black". He gave me special gifts - a necklace and some beads from Salisbury, Rhodesia. I believe that city has changed names. Mind you everything in Africa has changed radically. I remember my immediate fascination with Africa itself - wanting to go to see the beauty of the animals and the people in such beautiful shades of brown. The colorful fabrics. The languages. The bright white smiles. I vowed that I would go there someday. Sometime in the mid to late 80's I was hired by a man named Peter Traverso. Peter was from South Africa. He tolerated my ignorance of South Africa, race relations and continued defense of people of color. I had no understanding of all the changes, apartheid, racism, reverse racism - there was so much for me to learn. And Peter had the patience of Job. And I think he liked me a lot - we shared a similar sense of humor and enjoyed working together. Peter was an interesting man. Peter became my mentor. I respected him completely. I genuinely cared deeply about the work he asked me to do and made sure he got my very best effort. I advanced quickly and Peter gave me more and more challenges. So I credit him (along with my hard work ethic) for the rapid advancement and overall success of my career in interior design. Where would I be now without him? All these ties to Africa. People of color. Some sort of identification with them. And then came the time I realized I was running out of time to become a mother. Something in me changed. Could I be a different person now that I had achieved my career goals and felt more emotionally complete? My life was settled and happy. What was it I really wanted? Well strangely enough, a little brown baby girl. And my husband and I were completely receptive to whatever little bundle of love and joy came our way. I had definitely married the right man to make this dream come true. We did all the paperwork, paid endless fees, had never ending home visits, were probed and questioned about every little iota of our lives... and then the final question, "What race of child do you want?" We both said we didn't care. Whatever mother chose us was the one directed by God and our baby's soul from Heaven above. And sure enough, it happened. And God bless her, Kami's tummy mommy called and we were blessed with most amazing child in the world. A beautiful brown baby girl. It was a dream come true. And I was so ready to be a mama. So what about everything I thought when I was a twenty-something? Well - it all totally disappeared and I became what I was truly born to be. Mary Kamisha Norbom's mama. Our little Peanut. She was so small - 5 pounds 14 oz. So so tiny and so exceptionally beautiful. And now every second of every day goes by faster and faster. Or at least it seems so. I can't slow it down. She is growing up way too fast. What I wouldn't give to have my little toddler back for just one day. Kami has been away at summer camp now for almost 8 weeks. She is eleven - becoming her own special person. I love the person she is becoming. So grounded, clear thinking, smart, peace loving, a true cuddler and in love with life. She is a good friend and an exceptional student with a love of learning. She is empathetic and cares about her friends and their feelings deeply. But most of all, she loves and respects her mama and dada and she loves her forever family. We love her more than words can express. How did I get so lucky? I ask myself that quite often. But I think most parents feel this way. As mothers, our job is to be our child's number one advocate. So there is no other love like a mother's love. I may not have received the kind of love I needed as a child, but I have this second chance at "mothering" with my daughter. And you better believe she knows how loved she it. My dream has come true. My daughter is my dream come true. And I can't wait to see what she becomes. Every step of this journey has been truly amazing. And I wouldn't change one moment of it. Next week when she comes home, there will be no happier mama in the universe than I. Because I will get to hold her, cuddle her and tell her just how much she truly means to me. Becoming a mama? The best thing I have ever done in my life. Being Kami's mama? It's like holding a little piece of heaven in your heart and in your hands. I love you Peenie-puff. So so much.
I just bought myself an iHome to go next to my bed. I am so enjoying the local jazz station. Right now I am listening to "I Just Haven't Met You Yet" - Michael Buble. Great song - I do love his voice. The kind of youthful crooner someone my age really likes. it is such a treat to sit in the dark and compose my blog listening to great music. Truly! I'd say I feel close to heaven just laying here in peace.
