Writing Without the Drama

We started moving stuff into our new beach house yesterday and boy did I have some big emotions.

Some beautiful but painful and others just painful.

And no, it didn’t feel like my happiness was simply diverted.  It felt like pain.

No wonder my back hurts today.

Ventura is just so… pretty.  It seems almost surreal I am going to be living there.

Especially the neighborhood we live in is so beachy.  I mean the beachist of the beachist.

As a child I went to the beach a lot and we saw houses like mine all the time.  But those were for other people.  Better people.  “The Chosen” beach people (I guess they got selected by a dolphin or seal or something).

Driving around doing errands is like a vacation.

So besides a whole dollop of not feeling like I deserved to live there, it also reminded me so strongly of my childhood.  Of Gary.

How many times did we go to the beach?

Did I mention Gary was killed on a beach in a rock-slide?  I always saw it was tragic that he died going to get me giant pumpkins and then sunbathing on the beach.  But he died doing his two favorite things.  Looking back if you had asked Gary what his last day would have been like, he probably would have written in, going to get giant pumpkins for Carolyn and then sunbathing.

I think I’ve had a love/hate relationship with the beach since then.  Come to think of it I don’t think I’ve been to the beach more than a handful of times since his death.  And I think each time was bittersweet because of the combination of memories.

But he would love this house.  He would probably be living with me if he were alive.

And yes, he would be sunbathing every day.

I think I just identified a girl that has been working (really, really hard) in the background.

Reclaiming my childhood Girl.  RC for short

I think she is a sister to Beautiful Places Girl.  Sorry, she wants to be called Beautiful Places Girl all the time

I thought Beautiful Places Girl was the overriding force for my sometimes herky-jerky energy about this move.  She provided a bunch of unconscious energy to the process which stimulates a bunch of random kids and protectors making this process not as loving and gentle as I would like it to be.

I kept feeling like I know I love Beautiful Places, but wow, not quite that much.

Now it totally makes sense.  My beach girl has been awaken.  And she has all these memories.  All these feelings that have been bottled up for decades.

Yeah, big emotions.  Really big emotions.

Luckily the ocean is really, really big as well.  And so is God so I think we are going to be fine

Okay, so there are so many camps out, shouting so loudly, tantruming so badly that I had to do something.

I reached out for God’s love and found some, but wow, this is a 24/7 job.

Then as I was processing, we kept getting down to the same refrain.  Each kid (and the adult) realized they needed God’s love.  So why go through all that other stuff?

Not to say that what the kids want to talk about isn’t profound, but even with that wouldn’t I be able to hear them better and parent them better if we had more of God’s love from the very beginning?

So now each time I find a kid having trouble playing nicely with others or tantruming, we talk about God’s love first.  Not last.

And the beautiful thing is now the kids are just coming right and saying it.  And many times it turns out, that’s all they needed.

And yes, God really is that pretty

Tears.

I had a blog planned, but when I opened my computer, the picture of my beach house was up on screen.  I burst into tears.  Which is a good thing.

You see this morning I identified a bunch of kids.  Not only can’t they write cursive yet, they can’t tell time either.

That’s where all the angst is coming from.  They think we are moving tomorrow.  Every day.

They vaguely understood Friday as soon.  Maybe one or two tomorrows.  They could handle that.

But to have it pushed off a week?  That’s like two hands worth of days, right?  And they get sort of lost once they have to include thumbs.

It made so much more sense.  Their angst.  Their tantrums.  Their flashes of anger.

Plus the fact it seemed like no one was paying any attention to all that hurt.

I felt on the verge of having to stay in bed today.  Achy.  Fever.  Sore throat.  Headache.  And I do still have all those symptoms they are a 1/4 of what they were.

I would rather not break.  I would rather walk through this transition phase with ease and grace.

God has decided the exactly right amount of time for this move to happen.

And until then I’ll keep that picture up so the kids can look at it any time they want

Yeah, that’s pretty much the anthem of the kids the past few days.  It was bad enough to have empty boxes everywhere.  Then stacked boxes.  Then new furniture crammed everywhere.  Then the room of madness taken down.

Now the pictures on the wall are gone?  What the &^%#&^?

I think my life was so chaotic as a child I took solace in things being in their proper place.  And yes there is a proper and improper place to have things.  I like to know where they are.  I like to have a picture in my mind of where they are.

I also like to have them out and visible.  I don’t horde or store things away.  I like them out and to be enjoyed.  They comfort me.

So as you can imagine I am feeling very uncomforted right about now.  I feel exposed and unsettled which makes me feel weak.

Probably why pneumonia girl is hanging around the edges waiting to see if we need that particular kill switch.

We don’t because we have God’s love now and while it may not be my wolf painting, it is comforting.

But try telling that to these kids!

I have it.  Or at least my body is pretending to have it.

You see I am about to move into a beach house… early.  So, of course, I have to break, right?

I mean if the flu symptoms weren’t bad enough, my back is tweaking all over the place.  My mid-thoracic disc, the big momma of them all, just flared up.

Yeah, I’m breaking.

Which is really quite silly.  The world is my oyster right now.  Okay, I’m broke (financially and physically it would seem) and the future is very clouded, but I’m happy.

We are moving to a beautiful place.  I have dear, dear friends helping with this move and I am doing it so much better and more conscious than ever before.

I have broken with each move.  My original lumbar disc was blown on a move.

I am breaking now.  Kill switches are being thrown right and left.  Which just means the kids are stirred up, the adult is overwhelmed and needs God.

Well, that an edging knife, but we’ll take God’s love too

Okay, maybe not from the jungle, but I do have a fever.  A high one.  It is one of my many ‘kill’ switches.  I’ve been stressed and freaked out for a couple of days and Fever Girl is just letting me know that I haven’t navigated it as well as I would have liked to.

Back girl is also present along with flu girls, strep throat girl.  Even asthma girl is in on the action.

Did I mention I’ve been up since four?  And haven’t really gotten a lot done.  Not even processing.

Fevers make me a little loopy.

The good news?  I’m not upset with fever girl or any of the other ones.  They are just telling me I need more of God’s love and since when do I ever reject that message?

So here is to ibuprofen and drinking lots and lots of fluids

I’m not all that fond of my roommates cats.  One of them beats up my sweet cat so I’ve not too thrilled.  Plus they are more normal cats.  They play and run around and get into trouble.

If I have a boring pack of dogs, then I have the most boring cats.  They want pets.  24/7.  No, I mean 24/7.  Yes Lance Flame vogues and Enya will try to make love to you, but they do so in very stationary ways.

Not Elvira and Yersenia.  They run around and get into mischief.  My roommate has to scour the front room before we let them out to make sure there is nothing they can eat and kill themselves with.

This morning I came out to find both of her cats precariously perched on a new bar stool I bought.  Both cats on one stool (it was the only one without boxes on it.)

Now normally they scatter when I come out, but today they just sat there, defiant.

You see that was a super cool stool.  They are super cool cats.  So what does a super cool cat do when they find a super cool stool?  Sit on it of course.  And stay there no matter what.

You know what?  I can dig super cool cats.

And if that’s the case the sky is the limit!

Now imagine that in a little girl’s voice raising in volume and octave with each repeat.

Yeah, that’s about what has been going on inside my head the last few weeks.  And getting louder with each day as we move closer to the move.

My business partner’s daughter is also having a tough time while waiting for her dog to arrive.  She wants it NOW.  Not tomorrow.  Not even later today.  NOW.

And, of course, my advice was don’t bring the dog in until her tantrums subside.

Unfortunately my kids know we will be moving on the 25th.

I think another reason I haven’t parented these voices all that well is because the adult really, really, really wants to be in Ventura right now too.  Even the adult doesn’t have all that many patience skills.

But do you know who does?  God.  He’s pretty patient.  He’s pretty much the definition of patient.

I am sure there are lessons to be learned in North Hollywood.  Even some grieving to be done for this house and this home.

And lots and lots of parenting of the Ventura girls

Well, yeah, DUH!

And fear is pretty, well…  fear inspiring!

Also my kids want everyone to know that fear is based on hurt that has occurred before so there’s even a basis for it!

Yeah, processing this morning has been fun.  Granted the kids are super cute.  All trying to prove to the adult that there irrational fear is really there and that our issue is not letting God’s love in.

They are very chatty.

Last night a sense of doom took over.  Okay, maybe not doom, but certainly the sky was falling.  This morning I woke up a little better but as I went to process last night’s unease, these kids came out.

And I welcome them.  They are a little jumpy.  Skittish.  Yet once you get them comfy they want to tell you all about it.

Kind of like a chihuahua.  Which, what could be cuter?

So really I have nothing to fear but a lack of God’s love and a willingness to accept his plan.

Yeah, that’s never going to be a bumper sticker