beautiful - a gift for casey mullins

This is the beautiful Casey Mullins...
(I stole this picture from her beautiful blog, Moosh in Indy)



This is Casey's beautiful daughter (and this is also an example of Casey's beautiful photography)...

(yes, I also stole this picture.)

Casey is having another beautiful daughter (currently known as Mozzi) in May and so today I want to do something special for her as a part of the Mozzi event being brought to you by Casey's lovely friend, Emily. Today is my day to honor Casey as a part of this event and I'd love it if you would keep reading because I need your help. Please...

The first time I got to spend time with Casey in person we spoke on a panel together (while we ate Skittles). I loved her a lot right away and I always will. We talked to a room full of people about writing about hard things like depression and then it turned into a very honest conversation about how we handle life. It made me think about how we're all the same in so many ways and I loved the way Casey validated the people there, the way she softly spoke encouragement and grace. She's a class act, that Casey.

We've both struggled (struggle) with depression. We both know that our hormones and chemicals and all that jazz get really wonky when we have babies. That can be scary, but we both also know that we're good mothers.

All of that to say that as I was thinking about what I could do to make Casey's day today, all of you came to mind. I thought about how much it would mean to Casey to hear you say something good about yourself as a mother. I know how much it matters to her to tell her story honestly, to inspire mothers to see the beauty in themselves. So we're going to do something I've actually done here before (a long long time ago) and I'm going to ask you to tell me something beautiful about yourself, as a mother. (I realize not all of you are mothers. Please feel free to say anything you'd like, as long as you're saying something positive about you.)

You do (and you ARE) a lot of really good things, you know. You just forget sometimes because we're just so hard on ourselves. So today we're giving Casey the gift of focusing on the good--the beautiful--in ourselves.

I'll start....

One thing that makes me a good mom is that I validate my children's feelings a lot without patronizing. I really want them to know I respect how they feel, and I think they know! Also, I let them eat Peeps, but not in excess. Congratulations, my dear Casey-Moosh. You are doing so many things right too. xo

See? Easy peasy. Now. Your turn...


P.S. You can keep up with the Mozzi party at Emily's place. (pssst...there are GOOD (beautiful) giveaways involved!)

Maybe it was an episode of Touched By An Angel (in which we play the people who can't think)

I got home from Nashville last night wiped out and ready-ready-ready to sit with my boys. We read books and talked about the last few days and we watched some sort of superhero dog movie. We were so happy to see each other, and I swear to you, they aged a year while I was gone. Thicker and longer and deeper and wiser. It's insane.

Later, after the boys were in bed, Ryan said, I still don't know how you guys did that. He was referring to a story I told him the night before. I said that what we had done makes perfect sense to me--that Katherine and Ellie and I would have such a day with such an ending on our final day together in Nashville. I mean, we attended a conference with approximately 600-something other women, and as much fun as that is, it's also exhausting. It does things to you that are similar to newborn sleep-deprived-brain. So by Saturday, after having been at the conference for four or five days, we were all experiencing some serious brain deficiencies.

It all started with the three of us standing in front of the Opryland Hotel talking with some young men from the hotel's transportation company. They pushed steered us toward using their company rather than a taxi to go spend a few hours in Nashville. We agreed to do just that because everything they were saying was only semi-clear, blurred by our exhausted and slow-to-snap synapses.

You want to go to Hillsboro Village? That's just a mall, they said.
OH. Weird. We don't want a mall. We were told it was a hip little neighborhood.
Yeah, you don't want that area...you want (such and such and such)...
OH. Okay. Take us there then.

We ended up being dropped off in a Borders bookstore parking lot with a Have fun ladies and just call a half hour before you want to come back and we'll get you right away.

We stood in the parking lot and looked up and down the street. We saw McDonald's and Taco Bell and what seemed like a million other chain restaurants and stores. We had wanted and requested Nashville charm, so we started to walk to look for it, confused as to why the young men from the transportation company would think this location matched our "kitschy and quaint" request.

We walked and walked and found nothing we hoped for and while we did, the pregnant one among us (that's me!) grew hungrier and fussier and quieter. So we sat on a curb and looked at smart phones, begging them to tell us of a very nearby eating joint that wasn't a chain, something unique to Nashville.

We thought we found something promising, but it was too far to walk, so we grabbed a cab. (cha-ching!) We gave the cab driver the address and he said (I kid you not) Where is that? We answered with something along the lines of uuum, maybe just follow the numbers on the buildings or the order of the streets or something.

It turned out it didn't really matter where it was because it was closed. 11:30 on a Saturday...closed.
So we three weary ones stood in front of the dark building on a curb and tried to figure out what to do next, hoping for less cha-ching and more AH-HA.

We started walking again, heels and soles slapping the sidewalk and big sighs our only other sounds. (Seriously, we were mopey.)

Then...hope arrived (or so we thought) in the shape of a rectangle sign and letters painted in the color red, pronouncing--"Named Nashville's best restaurant 3 years in a row!"

We thought we'd finally hit the jackpot, even if the neighborhood was nothing like we'd hoped for, so we followed the sign's arrow and came to a door, a door that read,

Gone Fishing.

(True story.)

Our six shoulders slumped and we started to wonder if maybe we had spent far too much money for a round-trip ride only to give up and go back to the hotel with no idea what else to do...Yes, we were about to give up...

And then a couple walked toward us, fresh from their car, on their way to doing their Saturday things. We stopped them and asked them kindly for help, could they please point us in the way of a Nashville area that's more..."Nashville-y"?

They started by saying we'd been dropped off in the totally wrong place and then they tried to explain how we needed to go right and then left and then right again (or something like that) and they were pointing far away and my head got all fuzzy and I was thinking about how there's NO way we could walk that far while being that hungry and disoriented and then they said it...

How about we just bring you over there?

We let out a collective REALLY? (Probably a bit too loudly.)
Then they opened the doors to their car for us and they climbed in front and asked all about us, interested and kind. On the ride talked about being at a blogging conference called Blissdom and they understood that and had even heard about it, rather than the usual, "What does that mean?" We felt totally safe (no worries Mom!) and loved being with someone who knew where they were going when we had felt so lost.

We pulled up to just the kind of neighborhood we'd been looking for, with great little gift shops, book stores, ice cream and coffee shops and hole-in-the-wall eateries.

The BookWoman bookstore

We went straight to eating and I had the best salad of my life and we talked and shopped and strolled, all thanks to our Nashville stranger-angel friends, Matt and Lisa.

Jackson's Bar and Bistro

Later, about a half hour before we needed to go back to the hotel, I called for our return ride.
Then a cheerful voice responded with, I'm sorry, it will be well over an hour, probably an hour and a half or longer, until we can get there...we're on a shift change.

Greeeeaaaat.

So we sat and waited...and waited...and waited...
We talked, we felt really sleepy and we talked some more. We grew more impatient and frustrated, having such a bad experience with our expensive transportation.

We were sitting silently for a moment, watching the traffic go by when Katherine suddenly said, I KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD HAVE....done...her words trailed off and her face turned sheepish and then her hands came up to cover her eyes...

What? WHAT? What is it? Ellie and I laughed and watched her, ready for something but not expecting this:

You guys? she said. I have a car here....I drove to Nashville!

The End.

Katherine

Ellie

P.S. Here's the thing, friends. Not only had Katherine forgotten (as we stood in the hotel parking lot trying to figure out our transportation) that her car was in the parking lot, but we all had this conversation at that very same time:

When are you driving home, Katherine?
Tomorrow morning.
Oh. How nice that you're close enough to drive.

(and stuff like that)
(then we turned to the guys and asked if we could get a cab)
(I told you we were tired)

The Real End.

Oh wait. Just kidding. Not done. WE HAVE OUR ULTRASOUND TOMORROW!!!

Really REALLY The End.

what we carry

We talk of old things and new things and I'm caught in between with a thousand thoughts and feelings tight in my throat. I feel it all, every memory with their aches and their releasing and then I see the depth and grace of what is happening now.

Our bowls are piled high with noodles and vegetables that make a rainbow and it's all covered over with a sauce that fills every space and covers every color, and we are thick with words and time and now. Two babies are coming and we have babies at home that are kids. We have years with husbands and more years of knowing each other and we watch the history of it all flashing across the table in exchange when we're together. It seems that's what happens for me anyway, when I sit with people I've always known. It triggers the long long ago past and then suddenly I'm walking through every year until the now, remembering all my old things. Some of those things are so painful, I used to drink when they tried to surface. I used to drink to cover them, like the sauce.

~~~~~

We ask about grief and stress and the tired. We talk about struggle and surviving. We don't say it just like that, but all people struggle and we talk about it all and it's safe. Then we turn to joy and we laugh about our kids and her mouse phobia and embarrassing moments caused by our scattered and over-flowing minds.

We are filling our bellies and each other in. We are still the same and exactly not. We are laughing over years and years ago, there it is, still in our hearts while we leave it more and more behind.

It has been 12 years since she snagged that job and it's been 11 years this Sunday since he died. They got married in their early twenties and now we're entering our late 30's.

She has an eighth grader now who rolls her eyes, which means she has a child that is the age we were when we already knew each other, had already known each other long.

Yes, we have known each other so long it never feels wrong to hug, no matter how long it's been. We have known each other so long we make fun of each other easily and it doesn't hurt. We say a name or a place and then we all just know, all those same things from all the many years, there is so much knowing underneath, no need for explanation.

And yet everything is different. All those old things are left and gone and still sitting with us, falling in the spaces and in the moments of silence.

~~~~~

Sometimes I wish I were not so tied up in memory. That maybe for just a while I could be one of those people that lets go of the past with a deep breath and a shrug. I'm nostalgic and haunted at once. I cannot think of people or places for only a time. If you are loved by me or I lived in your walls, you are with me always even if we never speak again. I feel the void and then struggle to make more room for the people of my present. I love fiercely these boys of mine now and so I feel guilty sometimes over how much pushing around they are required to do, making room in my heart past all the things I carry there.

~~~~~

We laugh and someone says, We are old. And we know that we really aren't, we've got a long way to go, but with all of these memories within all of these years it seems we must be running out of room by now. I think that's it for me, anyway. Sometimes I worry that I'm running out of space, that maybe my devotion and impeccable memory have stolen something from my heart's capacity in the now and maybe in the later. This pumping and beating muscle of mine is stretched and stretching with things I may never forget, the wounds and triumphs all the same, pushing like a crowd in my chest while sometimes the feet of motherhood and marriage and sobriety and faith pace circles on the outside, waiting for a turn.

Because when I fall into memory, I am gone for a while, struggling to heal and let go, to puzzle out, to pray. To say thank you for it all even when so much of it hurts and begs me to question. These memories are wild with colors and I can't help but notice them, to feel them, to let it all open wide with feelings I once numbed over and over again.

It hurts and it's hard, but now I see these pains and connections are covered, every part of every one, with redemption. They have turned to something new, a different shade, shifting me to ready or more.

I believe in freedom and healing, but I don't think that always comes with a forgetting. I will remember, but I will not always be held down with grief or longing or shame, these things that take up so much space. There will be a shift from heart to mind and less waiting around the edges for a turn.

I believe that.

just one door

Yesterday it snowed and snowed. So much snow. I shoveled our driveway because the snow is just fluff and I'm a strong pregnant lady. I shoveled again later so Ryan would be able to get in the driveway after work. I swear the snow plows push more snow from the street to the end of our driveway than all the other houses in the world. I'm sure of it.

So then I was tired.

After my first round of shoveling the boys wanted to make cookies so we got out all the ingredients and then we needed the butter to soften to room temperature. Both of them knew what that meant and I was surprised. So I lay down on my side on my bed and was glad for the butter excuse.

Asher found me within 30 seconds and he walked up to the end of the bed and said, Hi Mommyyyy in his sweet and high little voice. Usually his voice is very low so this is funny. Then he added, You look beau-i-fow.

I'm such a sucker. Yes, child, you can get in the bed with me.

I don't know why so much of my martyr attitude went away with the drinking. I can never explain why so many things just poof! went away. And sometimes I'm not even aware of those things or I just can't quite name the good things. Then I sometimes second guess that it's worth it to not drink for the rest of my life. My mind plays tricks on me and does the very cliche, maybe it wasn't that bad...I had such a high bottom...and on and on until I can't see what's so good about sobriety anymore. I don't know how in the world I could ever NOT see the difference, or lose track or forget or lose sight of the gifts. That's just what happens. Addiction is a rotten thief.

These are the things we have to say, we have to just keep talking.
So I said it loud to have the truth spoken because there's no shame in exactly how I feel. It just is.
I told Ellie all about it, about how I can't see the difference so much of the time.
And then she did what Ellie does and she said that she completely understood exactly what I'm saying and that at one point in her sobriety an idea came to mind for her. Then she told me about standing in a room in her mind's eye and all around her are doors. The door to drinking is now closed. SLAM. LOCK. FOR GOOD. So she's just looking at it and wondering what's next or why what's behind it is really all that big of a problem, that drinking life back there, gone quiet.

And then the thing about the other doors is that they are not slammed or locked. Each and every one of them is about to open. Sometimes slowly, over time. Sometimes opening three at a time, maybe even in just one day, with unimaginable surprises. She said she needs to think about those doors. The ones that just would not open without the door closed on drinking.

That drinking door has to be closed because no matter what the amount or how often or how deep the obsession and dependence, addiction is a nasty thief all on its own. A cunning thief that sucks the grace wind right under its door, even when we don't know it.

Yes, I thought, while she was talking. Sobriety is about what is to come. It's about what stands around the corner of the future, one that's possible because the door that lets gifts leak on through and out, missed or ignored, is sealed.

So everyday I'm going to be looking at the doors in my mind's eye, thanks to Ellie. I can already tell you about so many open ones. If you've been around here since I quit drinking, you've seen them too. And then there are many that only I can see, when I'm looking at them, like Asher's eyes at the end of my bed. Yes, I'm the kind of person that always appreciated the blue of those eyes and the lilt in that voice, but new layers of that appreciation came with sobriety. They last longer for me now, those moments of grace. As long as they always were, it's just that now I'm staying with them. I can sit in them longer because I don't have to feel the pull back to that once-open leaky thief of a door. It's closed and locked and I notice it less and less.

This is an awfully big room with many many doors. The one that is closed is just one. A very small one, with its knocks and clawing and scratching from the other side growing quieter. The other doors are big and loud with, You look beau-i-fow and Ellie and a new baby and less martyrdom behind them. There is no end in sight to these doors so I guess if I had to describe grace with an analogy, that's how I would do it.

Doors with no thieves. Endless gifts with no games. A power that shrinks and quiets the darkest of doorways.

~~~~~

Thank you, Ellie. What would I do without my Ellie door?



P.S. You have the whole weekend to enter the Gifts for Life giveaways, friends. (That last one is a dooozy, huh?) Thank you to each of you who have come along. It was a labor of love and I'm so honored to help Bead for Life! Thank you...

change the topic

I love that perfect little looped curly tippy-top of a soft serve ice cream cone.
Sometimes it's even kind of hard to eat it, so I usually leave it for last.
Then it can be pretty for as long as possible.

I also love this picture:

I love those what are we doing here careful and thoughtful looks
and I love the way that Miles wanted to go home after

five houses of trick or treating
because he thought that was quite enough

candy

?

I love it that sometimes, when my mom comes over,
she brings her own vacuum
because mine sucks...
or does not suck, I should say.

I love the way my friends in recovery know what I mean

without too much explanation

but let me give too much explanation anyway,

just to let me get it out.

I love that my dad showed up and rescued us one day

by finding where that dead-something smell was coming from,

how he reached inside the piano and lifted it out,

a dead mouse by the tail
and brought it outside,
taking the smell with him.

Oh, yes he did. And I didn't have to.

I love how the Best Neighbors in the Universe who are no longer

right next door but are still best

send notes in the mail to Miles and Asher,
one time even with a smashed raspberry included.

And then I love how they called us on Halloween and took turns

talking to the answering machine just like they

were talking to us.

And I love the email from a stranger/friend, too,
who wanted to say,

I just wanted to say
and then said such kind things,

the very things I needed today.

I am here in my imperfect life and these are the things I need to choose to see.

I have a friend named Jean and she is teaching me. She is reminding me that even when I just can't, when I'm just too tired or sad or broken to be positive, that it will pass and I can change the topic in my ruminating mind away from me-me-me by doing something small for someone else. Jean doesn't preach these things, she simply tells her own story and shares her conclusions and then she inspires, and I'm so grateful for her.

She says,

It changes the topic.
Doing something for someone else changes the topic. I love that.

I like it when the topic is not me, it's a relief. And I like to stop my wheels from turning 'round and 'round over how life works and what I really know and who I really I am and how we all fit and...

I wonder why I so often forget this simple truth
of changing the topic
when it helps so much
for the topic to have nothing to do with me?
Changing the topic means I get to help someone who needs me to help them.
Really. How do I so often forget such a simple thing?

I love that I just had an idea. I will write CHANGE THE TOPIC three times on three note cards and in big and bold letters and I will stick them,
one: to my bathroom mirror
and two: to my computer
and three: tucked into the pages of my latest read.

I'm just saying...I want to change the topic more often.

~~~~~

Thank you, Jean. You are an absolute inspiration in so many ways. I know you didn't sign up to be an inspiration or a perspective-giver, but I still wanted you to know how thankful I am not that there's been so much pain, but for exactly who you are today.

Creative Alliance '10: what is was and what it wasn't with a pretty song and pretty pictures

I like to just say it like it is. So here's the dealio. Word on the social media street is that the Creative Alliance event was thought to be some kind of elitist thing. There was an impression that there were secret invitations sent out and that everything about it was exclusive and somehow fancy.

That's okay. Those are the misconceptions that happen all the time with this kind of thing or that kind of thing or all things.

In reality, this event was more of an experiment than anything else and therefore it was casual and profoundly simple in the best kind of organic-focus-on-what-matters kind of way. As a member of the team that was involved in making it happen (I take only a very very small bit of credit for that), I can admit that none of us really knew anything except that we trust Lee and her vision and her heart.

As it turns out, there really aren't words to describe what being in this particular space (Calliote Canyon) with these particular people was like. It was simply music-slideshow-worthy, so here you go:

(Seriously. Watch it. Because there's something for everyone in it, even if you weren't there. I hope. And also, it took me a long time. So please pretend that the resolution of some of the pictures didn't get all wonky. Because that was driving me crazy.)

Okay then. I give you...

song by Mindy Gledhill - whole wide world on Anchor

I really really hope there's a next time.
And now I must thank Lynn from Moji and Kirsten from Paper Culture. These two companies were truly the perfect match for this event and we appreciate them so much. And I am not just saying this because they showed up and supported we social media GENIUSES...but because I truly love their companies and their missions and you should totally check out their products because the holiday season is coming and you won't be disappointed!

For realio.

And lastly, Lee, thank you for your vision and drive, for making Creative Alliance '10 in Ojai a reality. As one of my first connections in bloglandia, you openly accepted me, my quirks and my ability to cry at the drop of a hat right along with you. I'm so thankful for the chance to know someone who encourages me strive to be more, the way that you do. You help me believe in me, and that's priceless. You may not realize this, but you've taught me so much simply by being the confident, brilliant, empathetic, lovely woman that you are. Thank you for being my friend. Because that's what we are, dude, no matter how strangely we met.



The End.

I flit. I flit. I flit-I flit-I fly

Sabrina and Kelly

Last weekend I got to hang out with Sabrina and Kelly, two friends I don't get to see enough now that we moved. I miss these girls. They are each so freaking fantastic in every way, they truly are. Every day I'm just in awe of the women in my life. Just saying.

We went to a local art fair and snatched up some handmade goodies. And some mini donuts. I took just this one photo and then my camera battery said zzzzzz. Sometimes my camera is so lazy.

Anyway.

I'm leaving tomorrow morning, bright and early, for my trip to North Carolina to speak on a panel at the Type A Mom Conference. I need to do laundry and pack and do a whole lot of other Very Important life things like paperwork and the paying of the bills. I was aware of this to-do list both Monday and Tuesday, but here I am with so much left undone, writing a blog post. And yesterday the boys and I painted the playhouse and then I pulled out the winter clothes and put the summer things away and then we went to Goodwill and the recycling center. These were all things we could do another time. I make no sense. Apparently I like to procrastinate so there's a sense of danger and excitement or something. Or, I'm going to the wrong conference, because I'm more of an end of the alphabet kind of mom--like Type N or P or something. Especially when it comes to potty training. But I digress.

I also must let you know that there are only a few tickets left for the Creative Alliance event taking place in Ojai California next month. If you're a blogger and prefer small gatherings, this really is the thing for you. It's going to be relaxing and laid back and the goal is authenticity and lasting connections. What could be better, yo? You can find all the details on the Creative Alliance site.

(No. I don't know why I'm saying yo lately.)

And since I'm on the subject of conferences today, I wanted to let you know that if you live in the Iowa-ish (Midwest) area, the I_Blog Conference is near you in November! There's a ticket sale this week only, so check out the deals today. Don't procrastinate like me because these really are great deals. If you decide to go, let me know you'll be there! (Please.)

Lastly, I think my comment thingy is still sort of wonky. I've gotten some emails from people saying that they can't comment. So. What I need to know is, what does that mean? Is there no option sometimes? Do you get confused as to what to do? Does your comment disappear? Does it refuse you altogether, screaming in your face NO COMMENT FOR YOU? What happens? I could totally use your help so I can fix it. Thanks, friends. (And yes, I realize that if you can't comment, you can't comment to tell me why you can't comment...so if you try and don't succeed and you happen to have the time, you can email me at heatheroftheeo at gmail dot com)

Alright. That's all I got. I'm going to go do some more random things that aren't on my to-do list now. Like the daily newspaper crossword, another dear friend of mine.

Have a good day, YO.

use your words

The point here is to see the beauty in the everyday monotonous things of miraculous significance. I want to highlight those things here, in this space made for me and for you with pictures and words. I need to highlight the beautiful things here.



Then at the same time I spill all my angst here because even the pain is somehow mysteriously beautiful. I always hope my heart-words run across your screens and then they travel through you and remind you that your thoughts aren't lonely and neither are your feelings, no matter what they are.



Sometimes it's really hard to see the beauty through all the pain, isn't it?
Sometimes we're just holding on and there's nothing left, no eyes to see because the world or life has shut those eyelids like the slam of an angry door.

My whole life, I've felt the emotions of others intensely. The shock waves of sorrow never have liked to skip over me, or maybe I just didn't know how to regulate them. It was too much for me as a child and so I learned very early how to shut down. I vacillated between overwhelming feelings one moment and the next moment...nothing. And then, starting in my twenties I learned that alcohol was the best off switch ever created. I don't have that anymore and so today, as I hear bad news and choked on words over the phone, more than once, I'm feeling. I'm hearing the words and I'm feeling.

Some days are just hard and the shutting down really wants to happen. It no longer makes me think and think and think about how drinking would be really nice, but I'm still trying to find ways to numb, sometimes almost frantically. We all do, we have to shut down sometimes, to some extent. And so we can, for a while, I think.

Or we can't. Because there are husbands and children and friends and jobs and deadlines and messy houses.

And this is why there are words, like lifelines that reach out and connect the weary souls that just can't do it anymore but have to...the words are like the swelling wave that lands the boat, finally, on the shore. At least until the next wave comes to pull the ship back in and under.

Words from a book by a writer who has felt this very thing. Or an email conversation that hits the places that need validating. Or a blog post by a friend who just randomly wanted to say something that ends up flinging open your heart's eyes like a plastic shade rolling up--snap!

Words.

I'm not really getting to any kind of profound or meaningful point. I just really really needed to step outside of my prone-to-numbing self, to say some words, to read some words, to keep going, to keep feeling. Because sometimes there just are no words.

why we walk away from such an event saying we'd go back again and again...

and let's not forget Maggie, who quit drinking the same day I did...

So yeah. Yesterday I went on and on about some pretty ridiculous behavior I experienced on my trip, or heard about, or saw...but it's over now and I'm letting it go, just.so.you.know. What I'm choosing to focus on coming away from the conference and the overall time in New York City is the deepening friendships with some amazing women I would not know without blogging. And also writing a book. I'm also trying to focus on that.

But for now I want to share a couple of things I really think you might love to read:

I often tell people that this blogging kinship thing feels like Meryl Streep's (character's) relationship with her pen pal in Julie and Julia. Through most of the movie you get the impression that this is a best kind of friendship, and then it's revealed that they've never met. So when they do, it's this moment like no other and I totally got it.

I have that. I'm so grateful for it. Ellie published a post last night and when I read it early this morning I became a puddle of emotion. She describes what happened over the weekend with such beauty, you must read it. Ellie is an amazing writer, first of all, so that helps...but it's also the only post I've ever read that describes this strange Internet twin soul thing that happens in a way that may make sense to non-bloggers and definitely to bloggers, and especially to sisters in sobriety.

~~~~~

I was also gifted with a book while at BlogHer that does the same thing. I happened into a cab with a load of lovely ladies and somehow we had a ridiculously good time. I loved these women immediately. Hi guys! Momo, Carolyn, Darcy, and Deb were a joy to talk to, and I came away with that feeling, that I was gotten, understood, connected...

Carolyn and Darcy

My point is this. Carolyn and Darcy have put together a book. In it they share their personal stories through posts from their blogs and through personal emails to each other. They experienced this blogging sister thing and then put it to words with such humor and grace, I cannot put this book down. (Thanks for keeping me up until midnight last night, guys. sheesh.) The book is called TO: A True Story In Letters. You can find it here, and I think you'd love it so GO FOR IT. Both of these women are hilarious and have such heart and express themselves so beautifully. And then their friendship shines through in their alternating voices and it's just so good.

Saturday lunch crew. For some reason, Ann made me hold that pizza box. Or perhaps I stole it from her and then passed it on to someone else and then that someone else possibly gave it to our cab driver. Perhaps. (This is my apology to whichever one of you was trying to take the left-overs back to rot in your hotel room.)

Please go visit Ellie as she summarizes my heart, and then check out TO: A True Story In Letters. Neither will leave you sorry you came.

I love these people.

The End.

P.S. I keep forgetting to share photos and the story behind the 5K on Friday, in which we walked through Central Park with tutus on. Mine was black. And neon, remember? (SO normal.) Tomorrow...I'll share that tomorrow. And then I'll tell you how it felt to see my boys after five days away. Oh my heart.

BlogHer '10 - the micro Hollywood

{This post is sprinkled with photos of women who are The Real Deal. Just so you know. Links to them are at the end of the post.}


All around the bloggiverse, posts are being written about BlogHer '10. Posts that are filled with excitement and joy and fear and disappointment. Posts that are filled with feelings. loads of feelings. If I'm being honest, I'm hesitant to raise and add my voice to this current choir. Maybe because I'm afraid it won't be heard and I want to believe it matters. Or maybe because I know many of my readers aren't bloggers so blogging about a blogging conference and all of its strange nuances would, for them, be too foreign to understand. I don't know. I guess I'm posting this because what I have to say is universal, and maybe it'll shed some light on what is currently a mostly unknown subculture of good things like community and connection and change and creativity...with a pretty gross underbelly.

I shall now explain.


My post yesterday was about Wednesdays events and I said I'd go on today with Thursday. I will do just that, all the while waxing philosophical on ego. I hope that's okay with you.


As a woman new to recovery from alcoholism, I'm striving to keep my ego in check. It's not that I was a totally self-centered attention-seeking person while drinking, I was actually nearly the opposite. I struggled with insecurity in a way that brought too much navel-gazing, its own particular brand of selfishness. What I'm working on is thinking less of myself not when considering my worth, but less of myself in the sense of thinking more of others. Oh, how I'm learning not everything is about ME. I simply want to do the next right thing with love. Lather, rinse, repeat.


This thinking keeps me more in the moment than anything ever has and it was terribly good to bring it along to New York City and to BlogHer '10--two places of great self-indulgent excess, which brings on the opposite of thinking more of others. (No offense New York City and BlogHer. I still love you. Just speaking the truth here, folks.)

When I sat with Maggie and talked with our literary agent (yes, SURPRISE! Maggie and I will be writing our story/stories together!) and then when I signed on the line and watched Maggie do the same, I was nothing other than peaceful. I wasn't proud. I wasn't scared. I was simply amazed and grateful. The meeting could not have gone better. I'm blown away by what a reputable and conscientious agency we've found ourselves a part of. Right there in self-focused New York, hidden in a tall building, is the LJK Agency...where Meg and Larry treated Maggie and I not like a commodity, but like people they really care about. Their repuation gives them reason to exude some pride, but that wasn't the case. They were authentic and kind and I thank them right here and now for that. It means much.

That same night, I received a BlogLuxe Award. It was handed to me by the absolutely amazing duo of Deb and Cecily. And there I was again. Just there, accepting and feeling humbled and maybe even a little silly. It's not that I think I don't deserve it. I believe in what I'm doing here. I received an award that says "Blog You've Learned The Most From," and I'm absolutely honored that what I've shared here about addiction and motherhood was recognized. It felt good, but not too good, I guess that's what I'm saying.

And even with that underlying peace, I was overwhelmed throughout the night, running from party to party, some private and some not. This conference is nothing short of chaotic, so many people, so little time, so much stretching of yourself in new situations, so much missing of home, so much.


On the one hand, there's the opportunity to stand face-to-face with people who have impacted your life from afar for a long time. It's so good (but only when they receive you kindly, am I right BlogHer friends?). And then there are the surprise gifts waiting in your room and the free food and drinks and some quality sessions to attend, and the keynotes, oh how I love the community keynotes--there's nothing like listening to fellow writers read their words from a stage, powerful and inspiring and funny and heart-wrenching. It's my favorite. So yes, there is a whole lotta good going on. While I walked around with a grin on my face over the good most of the time, I also found the pins, those nasty bubble-bursting pricklers, striking out. I received an email this morning from a lovely blog friend that confirmed I needed to post my thoughts and feelings on the pins.

You see, the blog world, especially when encapsulated in such a way as BlogHer (2,400 women in one place), is what I call "a microcosm of Hollywood." It's a subculture, one riddled with ego and notoriety and over-indulgence. The conference is Hollywood-esque, complete with secret underground private parties for only the VMIP (Very Most Important People). So while these beautiful things were happening for me and around me and in the faces I was so happy to see, there was so much thinking and talking to do about this strange "Internet fame" phenomenon.

(Internet fame is a bit of an oxymoron, no? I mean, walk some "Internet famous" bloggers down the streets of New York and ask 20 people if they know said blogger...yeah, I think you know where I'm going with that.)

So back to the private parties. I was invited to a few and I went to some and not to others, opting to spend quality time with friends who live too far away instead. What I noticed at these parties is that the companies that invite bloggers with large readerships are only inviting them for that reason--their readership or visibility on the internet, if you will. Which makes sense, it's just business. And what does that really mean in the end, you know? They want me there to blog about a product. This is all fine and good, unless you're me, and you find more value in raw and real relationship and you'd rather sit for hours and talk with just a small group of women you've come to know and love through words. If that's the case, you might get excited to be invited and then find yourself standing there being snubbed by The Most Well-Knowns and wishing you were with your friends. I digress.

My point? Within hours of these two good things happening on Thursday (the book and the award), I experienced being completely ignored while talking to directly to women who do the same thing I do, women who I expected to be warm and accepting. Then I watched the same thing happen to blog friends and strangers, when they walked up to a blogger they admire and were then treated as if they were a small child, annoying and loud.

It's sad to me, that I have to come away from something so beautiful, having my energy drained by something so ridiculous. I can't help it...I'm a thinker and I'm trying to figure it out. I wanted to believe that maybe these people were just tired or distracted or insecure or lost, and I'm sure there's some of all of that in there, but that doesn't stop me from wishing it would change. It doesn't prevent me from wanting to stomp my feet and scream out some direction on human decency and common courtesy. I don't care what the excuse, simply smile. If that's all you can do, just smile. Take a cue from someone who is more known, Ree Drummond, The Pioneer Woman--watch her kindness with strangers in the lobby, out of the comfort zone of her home, giving back. That's what she does, so gracefully, and we see it and appreciate it.


I think I'm the most angry about these arrogant attitudes because they are stealing something precious, this connection and avenue toward creativity and dreams, from gifted rock stars like my friend who emailed me this morning, and my friends who I shared a cab and plane with on the way home. Friends who are hurting and feel like they just jumped in a time machine and landed in a strange New York BlogHer High School, complete with being told to walk away or that they won't receive special gifts because they're not in the "first Tier."

You hurt my friends, I get pissed, you know what I mean?


Yeah, this is when I get angry, and there's nothing I can do about it here but spill out my heart-gut in the hope that bloggers who have fallen into arrogance may read this and remember the much bigger picture. We really are all the same, friends. We are. There are women with little itty bitty tiny readerships with talent buried under the fact that they are not yet known--they are influential and gracious change-agents, that's what they are. There is so much grace and beauty in their lives and they are all filled up with dreams that are just waiting to be uncovered and thrown out to better the world. And you are treating them like less. You treated me like less. This continues to make no sense to me.

In pretty much anything in life, the reality is that people think they have to do a bit of clawing to get to the top. Call me naive, but I don't think that's true. I believe that long-lasting success will only survive in the lives of those who see the bigger picture, the one outside of themselves.

So friends, I appreciate your emails and open and honest conversations about how you were treated and how I was treated. I'm sorry.

What do we do next, you ask? We walk away knowing we will not drink the kool-aid, we'll just keep doing our thing. We will know what we are not and that we will never be there, and we will be grateful for that, for being exactly who we are and for doing exactly what we do. We will keep the bigger picture in mind, holding perspective and each other in our hearts and minds while we blaze a path with creativity and connection. This means we must stick around, we kind-to-others-do-gooders. Rock on, my sweet friends. Don't you dare quit. The loss would be too great. I love you.

(End Fluffy and Cheesy Rant)

There. I got that out. It totally takes away from that whole book and award thing, huh? Sorry to be such a downer while hoping to inspire, but it had to be said. It just did.



{Pictured from top to bottom: Kim-Prairie Mama . Amanda-HushAmanda . Kristen-Rage Against the Minivan and Christine-welcome to my brain . Ann-Ann's Rants . Maggie-Okay,Fine,Dammit . Corinne-Trains,Tutus, and Tea time and Ellie-One Crafty Mother . Suzi-Pink Vanilla Cupcakes and Molly-The Snyder 5}

It's like swimming, we both know it gets easier when we use our arms and legs.

But sometimes, when you take two ordinary things and put them together at the same time and in the same place, there's nothing ordinary about them at all. - Charlotte's Web

I thought I was most likely the only person in my particular type of recovery while at the Casual Blogger Conference. I was surrounded by my Mormon friends, who I figured didn't struggle with alcoholism since part of their faith requires abstinence from booze. Of course that's a naive thing to think, and it's not that I believe all Mormons are the same, I don't. It's just that in my insecurity, I assumed I was the only one completely tuned into the fact that there was no alcohol being served at the conference events. Of course, this was good for me and I'm not drinking, so why think about it? Well, because I'm an alcoholic and part of my brain is always rolling over thoughts that I don't necessarily intend on thinking.

Our first night in Utah, there was an event at the hotel for the conference. My roommates and I attended, and as we walked past the hotel bar to get to the party, I shivered a little, keenly aware. That bar passed through my mind about twenty times in the hour we spent close to it. And I thought this very thought: I am the only one here thinking about this. I hate it.

When we got back to the room that night, I pulled open my laptop and stretched out on the bed. I opened my email and started ticking through the messages from facebook and twitter and even a PR pitch from a company that wanted me to blog about a knife/corkscrew you can keep in your car so you can open your wine at picnics or while you're on the go. Seriously.

Then I opened an email from a stranger/friend, someone I had never met before. And I sat stunned and in awe of the grace that rolls like a cool breeze through uncomfortably warm and sticky moments and hours and days.

Her name is Jenny, and she wrote to tell me that she'd had a hard night. That she was at CBC and she had been so focused on the bar during the party, that it had been really hard. She too had felt alone. She made it through the night without drinking, and when she got back to her room, she checked the conference agenda and came across a link to my blog. She read about my addiction and in that moment, she was less alone, and so was I. Neither of us had ever been alone in what we were feeling and it's no coincidence that Jenny stumbled across my words and felt connected and comforted. Not because of my words themselves, but because of the kinship we share in our common problem.

Jenny and I met the next day and chatted throughout the conference over twitter. We cheered each other on. Every time I ran into her I felt less alone, and I hope she did too.

Jenny blogs at Like Swimming. She's funny and smart and creative and good. For real, you should follow her on Twitter, she's hilarious.

Recovery from addiction is exceptionally hard work, so if you have a moment today, please go cheer her on.

I'm honored to call her friend.

~~~~~~~~~~

Also. If you haven't yet, you have until 5pm (central) today to enter the {Gussy} giveaway!

COMMENTS ARE CLOSED ON THIS POST

Transcending

I hung up the phone, cutting short a conversation that would have no end if we had our way, and sat in a happy and contented glow. I had been talking to my friend Ellie, and when I read her an excerpt from Kelly Corrigan's book The Middle Place, I didn't have to explain what I loved about it. She just knew, she got it, and that's why I read it to her. I knew it would hit the same part of her heart-gut as mine. To someone else, maybe even my loving husband, the simple-but-poignant-to-me paragraph may have fallen flat. But that doesn't happen with kindred spirits. Our souls high five at the recognition of the same things in the same way.

We women do transcend, don't we? We sit in moments together that smack of eternity and grace. We forgive each other our inevitable annoying quirks and mistakes. And as we watch each other struggle through this game of growing up, we do it not from the sidelines, but more like piggy back, holding on tight and staying on for the ride no matter what it brings. It's beautiful.

And that is why I cry through this:



This is what I have with my friends. I'm so grateful. And so often, I wish I lived close to all of you, my online friends, so we could do more of these things. For now, we'll continue to do what we can on the world wide web or the phone, and we will call each other 'real life friends' because we are, we transcend too.

Hat tip to Lindsey, my favorite book recommender (that's totally a word) and a true kindred spirit.
I transcend every time I read your blog, lady. And I thank you.


Also, I had the most amazing conversation with Elizabeth yesterday. She knew nothing about my conversation with Ellie and yet she used the word transcend in just the way I was searching to describe it.
And that is when I felt the definition of the word. Again.
Thank you, Elizabeth. It was so good to float around on a moment of grace with you.

Piggy Back
Mackenzie, loving me through it, all those years ago
and still today.

For My Friends

Thursday~August 13, 2009

I've always had amazing friends. For as long as I can remember, very faithful friends. These are the kind of friends that become family as they fluff their pillows and hang their memory pictures right here in my heart.

There are a number of women in my life that came along a long time ago. They're still here in their very own heart spaces, shaking out the dusty rugs below their memory pictures every so often. No matter what else they're doing here, they're mostly turning on lamps in the dark spaces and speaking a language only we know.

The night before one of my friends got married, she gave me a card that said, "Tomorrow is happening largely because of you." She wrote about how our friendship had taught her that a person can see the beautiful and the ugly, really see it, in someone else, and then that person can still love unconditionally.

After seeing the very worst, we stayed...

"You probably have the most accurate picture of me, and still you are my friend."

Isn't that what we want from friendship? Someone who doesn't turn from our dark corners, but reaches for the lamp and our hand at the same time? Don't we want someone who shakes out our heart rugs not because they can't stand the dirt, but because they want us to have that feeling of clean, that freedom from lies and from faking? I love that about real friendship. And the laughter. I love the laughter, shaking all the chambers and knocking some of the more unwanted pictures right off the walls.



It's good.

So thank you, every kind of friend. My heart is brighter because I know you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now I will brighten the day of the two lovely ladies who won the Billy Jonas giveaway!

The first winner of the What Kind Of Cat Are You? CD is....

CHELE

The second winner of the Happy Accidents CD is...

JANET

Congrats, ladies! You'll love 'em, I just know it!

Chele and Janet, my email is in the sidebar, so send me your info. and I'll mail the CD's.
Thank you!