being known

Interrupting our house updates (because nothing is happening) for words on, being known.

We are slowly watching This is Us – and by slowly, I mean, it takes me a bit to recover before the next episode…and by a bit, I mean, weeks at a time. Believe it or not, I am sensitive; I tend to absorb whatever feeling is being portrayed which is obviously the desired effect of exceptional acting. I don’t mind feeling things – I do like to control how I receive it. If I can almost guarantee something will make me cry, make my soul ache with sadness – no thank you. So, why the heck did I start watching this show?! Well, if I’m being honest, I have a thing for the actor who plays Jack – aka Milo Ventimiglia circa 2002/2003 when he played the bad boy to Rory’s good girl on Gilmore Girls. I own this fact; that character will always have a spot in my cold heart. Then he went and played Rocky’s son in what turned out to be a cheesy addition to the Rocky series, but it was truly perfect casting. (if I have to hear “Hey Lil Marie” one more time….) Anyways, this is not about him….Right?!

This show is blowing minds everywhere – the acting, writing, storytelling – it’s top tier. If there were enough time in a day I would elaborate on how William instantly stole my heart and how I love Randall just as much – those two slay me. The character development on this show is absolutely incredible! This requires a separate series of gushing and not what brings us here today. No, what has me fangirling is the story and portrayal of family. My whole life I was surrounded by big, loud families. You would think a family like that would cause the introvert inside to cower, retreat to a tree and read a book. Surprisingly, these people were a force by which I was controlled. I loved loved being around the chaos, the banter, and being an audience member to their love and dysfunction.  When I was 17 I lived with one of my best friend’s family – it was a revolving door of kids, lacrosse sticks, instruments, debates, sarcasm, and laughter. A tornado of extroverts spinning around me as I sat quietly, taking it all in.

As I watch this show I can’t help but see all the reasons I love loud families – families that talk, laugh, play, and love being together. There is freedom facing a relationship without fear and the comfort in being known. This has been a theme for me this last year – I keep coming back to the idea – resting in it – craving the crap out of it. I am so very private – I trust few people with my heart, my true free self. It has very little to do with insecurity and more to do with me weighing their worthiness. I by no means think I am the most fantastic of people; that you would be SO honored to know me and love me and diiiiiine with me (said with an uptight British accent)…it’s more that I am flawed by introversion and self-preservation.  I have always been choosy as to who sees me…really sees me. I desire authentic relationships; I want to be with people who talk about things – like REALLY talk about things. I value my time, I value the time of others and find it difficult to project anything ingenuine.

Being known doesn’t just mean someone knew that at 16 you may have worn your great grandfather’s clothes; thought make-up was for suckers, and bought a pair of steel toed Doc Martins two sizes too big because you couldn’t part with them. I would say, whoever that weirdo is, they are lucky if they have friends. Being known is not only one of the greatest parts of any relationship but also the most difficult and most jarring. It takes an incredible amount of vulnerability – to trust you are embraced for whatever “ugliness” you bring to the table; to know love is the foundation even when anger and hurt make everything blurry.

I believe there is an emptiness we carry when no one knows us, Humans are meant for relationship. We are hardwired to be a community, to carry each other’s burdens, to rise up when we see others falling. We were created to love and show kindness. I can’t think of a better way to be love, to be kind, to be strong than to just be yourself – no matter what that looks like.

I cannot express the gratitude and freedom I feel when around those who truly know me. I find joy in their honesty, their grace, and I am so thankful they love me. These are the ones who push through my silence and my distance; they seek me out when I try to disappear. They will have week-long conversations with me strictly through giphs (yes, this is real life people!). These people hold me as dearly as I hold on to them and that’s something…truly something. To exist with people who have seen you at your worst and stick around even if in fact, that wasn’t your worst; the beauty in this – this state of being known – is one of such purity…there is joy, there is honesty, and there is light – so much damn light.

the thing with feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
-Emily Dickinson

happiest birthday lil bird

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stillness

This year we have been busy, distracted, remaining in forward motion. Yesterday we received a flat package, smaller than a #10 envelope…with my out of control christmas shopping, I could not remember what I ordered. A small wooden bird shaped ornament fell on the counter, graced with the sweetest of names; along with it a note from one of my dearest friends. I was caught off guard – my vision blurred and all I could see was her perfect little nose, the points at the top of her lips; feel the grasp of her hand; see the flutter of her eyes; hear the beautiful sound of her breath. Although I think of her every single day – I rarely rest in the stillness of her memory. Most days there is no time for the tears that will come, the pit in my stomach, the swelling of my heart and the lump in my throat – it’s overwhelming. And so – when I am forced into this space by an unassuming piece of mail, I am thankful, because for a moment, I am with her again. I remember the joy she brought, the lessons she taught us about how life is MUCH bigger than work, a house, having all the “things”- We are blessed with friends and family who remember Miss Birdie’s impact and love us richly from afar.

We wish you all a blessed holiday season from our little corner of the world! We hope you find stillness this season and are surrounded by those you love most.

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thanks and giving 2016

The last two weeks have been terrible. It was a snowball effect – every day got worse but it snuck up on me the way a zit does – the kind you think will easily pop, then you mess with it and it becomes this cystic monster threatening to take over your face. Each day you can take as it is – one day – we can all handle one day. Then, you wake up one morning and realize life is terribly overwhelming and you wonder, what the hell happened? Each day piled on the next is a bit much and this life, this being an adult thing…it’s the freaking worst. With all the terrible no good sadness happening around me, there is respite in focusing on the things that bring me Thanksgiving.

Micky – For every spontaneous dance party, no matter where we are, they’re the best. For watching me do yoga over and over and over and over again. For letting me talk over him because all I need to do is vent, then forgiving me for being incredibly rude and still making me a gin tonic. For being the better half of us in conflict, in trauma, and in our entire social life (which he swears I would not have without him). For letting me be quiet, no matter how long the silence lasts. On the rare occasion I cry – for sitting there and waiting for me to tell him I’m OK, that it’s OK to hug me – I promise not to start swinging. For the times I cannot cry, letting me know that’s OK too, and not discounting my hurt. For never putting himself above another human; for always loving, always caring. For helping me piece myself back together when torn down. For always knowing my heart is never as cold as it seems. For making me laugh day in and day out  – without fail he is the funniest person I know.

My friends – the ones who trust me with their darkness and their light. For letting me share their burdens and for doing their best to help me carry mine. 

Doctors who fight every damn day to cure cancer – who relinquish family and friends to stay in labs testing cells, loving patients, believing in LIFE.

The passionate hearts of those I love fighting for what they believe: whether boots on the ground protecting this great nation; dreamers believing change is possible, it just needs a voice; those who sacrifice time and space to care for the lost; and those who haven’t quite found their purpose but love greatly.

My family that is constant and far reaching.

My late grandma Anna Daisy who taught me to be me, no matter what, and to never, ever let anyone make me feel less than treasured.

A beautiful earth that never ceases to amaze me and a landscape that stirs the peace inside me.

For women who give things like grief and loss a voice far greater than I could hope to have.

Choreographed dances that make me look ridiculous yet bring me joy and the friends who enjoy being equally ridiculous.

A roof over our head, food on our table, blankets to keep us warm and puppy dogs to snuggle.

For Birdie, always, for Birdie.

love one another

I have paid little attention to our current election – cue judgmental gasps. I naturally shy away, or not so shyly, walk away when I feel bullied or demanded into anything. So much of the last year has been a constant assault of:

You have to! It’s your duty! You’re un-American if you don’t! It’s a privilege!  || He’s a racist and hates women! She’s a criminal and a liar!

I don’t have to list the rest because each of you have seen and heard the same pollution on TV, Facebook, Instagram, magazine covers, church sermons…etc., it’s out of control. 

My heart breaks for America – not because a man or woman may be elected who may be wrong for our great nation. My heart breaks because this popularity contest has ruined relationships, those between sisters and brothers, parents and children and the closest of friends. It’s created a chasm between the rich and poor, white and black, Muslim and Christian. It has broken the very people it claims to serve and protect. The conspiracy theorist in me would believe this to be deliberate, however, we choose our reactions. We dictate our behaviors – no one has forced us into this mindset of hate and fear. They may spoon feed the ammunition, but we choose to eat it up without a second thought.

Let’s not forget – it is just a woman. It is just a man; both flawed and broken human beings themselves. A woman and a man who, by no means, can save anyone. What is this power they have been given? They carry all your hopes and dreams and expectations ? They are no better than you or I. Our eternity does not belong to them.

We need to love one another better. We need to love ourselves LESS. We need to stop this madness, this rhetoric laced with hate and entitlement. We are no better than our fellow man/woman/race/religion – we are each blessed with one precious life; our greatest duty is to love and respect each other. Hug your friends and family, mend broken relationships and be kind to everyone. The world will not implode today, but if it did, would you be ok with the state of your life and relationships? Would you be proud of the way you treated your fellow American these last few months?

three years later

Three years ago today (and what started this blog), after 40+ hours of driving, we arrived in Idaho – the Inland Northwest (Google it, it’s a thing). We are so incredibly thankful and happy to live in this place. It is breathtaking, the air smells like Christmas year round, we know and love the best people, and have never once looked back; hashtag blessed. Ironically some dear friends from Maryland will be here in three days and we are pretty pumped – you better get on that plane! Looking forward to celebrating another year in Idaho, but also showing friends our little corner of the world. Cheers!

A couple line items:  

I graduated to an actual domain – you can now read my ramblings via – http://www.misiesface.com

More importantly, Justin Timberlake’s documentary on Netflix is AMAZE. If you haven’t seen it already – DO IT! Seriously, do it right NOW. Do it.

All the feels

We went back east a couple weeks ago – we walked into all things familiar. My hair instantly frizzed upon exiting the airport, my ears were assaulted by car horns and sirens, and my nostrils filled with bus exhaust. It was oddly comforting. Every face looked and sounded the same and the hugs, although tighter and longer, felt the same. There were a few eerie moments – moments we were reminded that life has moved forward for everyone even if ours stopped back in 2015. It is entirely out of self preservation that we are here, this space of alienation. It has allowed us to function with little emotion and skirt by these last two years without crumbling. I recently read in an amazing [read: FREAKING AMAZING!] book that the first year of grief you walk along numb and unattached [check!]. The second year, all the shit you pushed down down down begins to surface. Not just a twinge here or there – more like bursting into hysterics because you can’t get the ice tray to crack, or screaming at inanimate objects for running into you when in fact they are in the same spot they’ve always been. My heart is colder than most so I’ve stretched it out an additional year. I rarely cry too which means my hysterics involve throwing things [like ice trays], cursing in patterns that make little sense, and kicking dressers that jump out of nowhere. To describe an ache for something, something you never really had is the most difficult thing. The yearning is powerful, it can be a monster dragging you down and around emotions you once thought hidden or absolved.

I once wrote how the dichotomy of death and life existing at once and altogether shared, is…surreal. It’s changing us – it’s changing our world and relationships. Relationships come and go – some run dormant for years only to be picked back up when needed most – it is all part of our story. The pain we experience, the ache of loss whether in relationship or in death – is an ache to explore. We chase moments and memories and seek familiar feelings but in a new reality. Every day is an opportunity to accept a new set of circumstances and be honest with ourselves, honest about the raw feelings, honest about the fear and the what ifs. There is always hope – there is always the idea that someday, even if we’re 80, loss and the reasons why, will finally make sense.

I think these last two years have made us homesick – not for a place but for the people that make a place, home. We realized we are parched – emotionally speaking. The amount of love that rained down on us in Maryland was incredible – we were watered and cared for and every last bit of us, dusted off. We left, our souls filled to the brim. Even the briefest of conversations left their mark and we are so thankful for our friends and family back east. You all know how to make two worn out people feel loved and missed in the most epic ways.

“it’s the tragedy of loving, you can’t love anything more than something you miss.” – Jonathan Safran Foer