Escape: I know what it all looks like.

So, at bedtime last night, my husband offered to give me a back rub. It had been a particularly long, and difficult day. When he finished up, he told me he hoped that the day had at least ended better than it had begun.

It did.

May and June aren't great months in the Blanchard house. Just about a week ago, we marked the second anniversary of the tornado that cut a path through Jeph's home town--this year, just on the heels of a similar tornado cutting through a town in Oklahoma. Yesterday, I quietly, but tearfully marked the anniversary of the day we found out we would be parents. I'm still a little weepy today. This weekend, we will mark the anniversary of Jeph going into the hospital with a pulmonary embolism; and in a couple more weeks, the beginning of the crazy roller coaster ride that became my miscarriage.

It's a lot. Last August, I had the opportunity to take a survey about life stress. I think I ticked off most of the life events that can wreak havoc with your stress load. I decided yesterday that time isn't kind. The days you most want to forget always seem to find you again anyway.

Super handsome

And I know I'm not the only one marking these things. Of course, Jeph is too, in his own ways. He'll be embarrassed that I mention this, but lately, he's been worried about his hair. He thinks it's thinning. I disagree. My husband has never looked better, and I have never loved him more. But that's an argument unto itself. He came home from getting it cut last night, and said he mentioned this concern. His stylist asked him about stress, and after Jeph listed all the things that are swirling around for him--for us--his stylist wasn't at all surprised about his concerns--valid or not.

We all deal with hard times and stress in different ways. It's true that some are negative and some are positive. Many are somewhere in between.

I find myself feeling very needy--sometimes like a bottomless pit. I've allowed myself to worry less about how healthy I'm eating--or how much. I fixate on silly things. I look for ways to escape. Sometimes, all of that gets me in trouble. I, like George W. Bush, become "the decider" about things. Luckily, for the rest of the world, none of the wild hairs I get land me at war with a foreign country.

It could be worse.

I think we all have moments when we see that someone else is going through something horrible, and we don't feel we have the right to be feeling as badly about something in our own lives as we do. I know that I feel that way a lot. I also know I have made it through some really tough things in life and I have so many things for which I am so grateful.

My husband is forever telling me how strong I am. Sometimes, that doesn't help. If I sit and think about surviving a childhood embroiled in domestic violence, psychological and sexual abuse, I kind of feel the expectation from the world at large that I should be able to get through anything. It doesn't make sense that I can't cope with the last year. It doesn't make sense that I find myself constantly trying to fill a hole with things that can't possibly fit that hole's shape.

But that's what many of us do. Mostly because whatever tragedy we survived by the skin of our teeth was exactly that--by the skin of our teeth. It wasn't because we knew how, or because we did it the "right" way. We just managed, and somehow, even into middle adulthood, we haven't necessarily learned better methods through osmosis.

Sometimes, I would argue, in the midst of feeling lost in the dark, whatever way you find to catch a glimpse of the light--even if only from time to time, is a "right" way. But sometimes, I think I feel that way because I just get tired of the expectation of getting it right.

And so, I run. And so, I stumble.

Sometimes you feel you could slip through the cracks.

I tend not to be able to sit with the quiet aftermath of things. I need to be on the go. Last fall, that need took us to Ireland for nine days. It stemmed from a deeply seated need to escape from everything I needed to disconnect from, to everything I needed to reconnect to--for however brief that time would be. At least one friend of mine follows a similar pattern, or coping style. I couldn't return to Ireland with her this spring, so, I find myself escaping to little things at every turn I can. I'm leap-frogging from one moment to the next.

I'm not calling it sane. I'm just calling it what it is. Today, I ran on the treadmill for a little over a half hour. While I was running, I could "get away" from the ever looming "it." As soon as I stopped, I felt the lump and the tears reforming again. When I think of how cruel all those days seemed before, and I know that they are all returning, I don't want to see them. I want to be someplace else.

The reality is, I did survive a horrible childhood, and I overcame a lot. Right or wrong, how the real world works or not, I thought all that turmoil was done. It may not make sense in print, but I think many of us who "get through" whatever it is we get through, end up believing that it must be all down hill from there. I know I did. I didn't have a long recovery phase of therapy after all of that. There wasn't a transition from terrible to potentially wonderful, and I didn't even think I needed it. I was just ready to live my life. It never occurred to me that I hadn't already gotten through the "worst of it." There were so many times I thought we would all die, just being alive and free was good enough.

It's not all bad.

I am by most people's definitions very successful. I have a great husband, a fantastic dog, a job and a roof over my head. I get to do many amazing things. But no matter how great everything looks from the outside, only a very few people know what it feels like from the inside to have marked any of these days.

Marking another escape.

People wander in and out of our lives at the hard times. Good friends offer their shoulders when the wounds are fresh. But many times, we are left alone to face the recurrence of those days, and the sense of loss that seldom wanes. I know, logically, that I can't escape from any of it. But until I figure out how to get to the light some other way, I am probably going to keep limping along.

And my escape is going to look, to the outside world, like an amazingly raucous time.

Artificial Nocturne--Metric

Help. It's easy.

So, Bono says "it's no secret that a friend is someone who lets you help." I think there's something true in that. I think there are a million ways to give and receive "help;" but much of the time, the ones we choose to offer are the magnanimous gestures. For those who receive, it's usually in a much smaller, and less overt form that we get what we need.

This morning, I was half watching a segment on the Today Show that absolutely infuriated me. The intent was to draw attention to world hunger, but the ridiculous nature of its form completely detracted from the issue. Four newsy types in their designer clothes, and their obvious world of comfort and safety were discussing the virtues of promoting the utilization of insects as a means of aiding in hunger. They weren't, of course, in the bush of Africa scraping around for grubs and eating them off the ground. The insects this newscast was "forced" to enjoy were prepared by a gourmet chef into tacos. Now, I'm going to be honest, the prospect of eating a bug absolutely disgusts me, but the truly hungry have truly few options. At the tail end of this little demonstration, one of the individuals rattled off the important and vital statistics that relate to what is reality for those who are in extreme poverty and suffering from hunger. Not too many of us would fair well living on less than a $1.50 per day, yet that's what many people do live on. They couldn't afford the tacos that chef made--insects or not.

A lot of progress is being made in the battle against extreme poverty, but it has been slow going. I was recently so uplifted by Bono discussing the statistics of progress in this area during a TED Talk that I felt we as a human family could do anything, if we only set our minds to it. But, It's pretty hard to convince people who are better off to help others in the current climate of economic turmoil. And there's no judgement here about that. People should do what they can, and yes, we all have to take care of ourselves. But the reality is, it doesn't take as much as you think to help someone.

Help won't come to women and children suffering from hunger, poor health care and oppressive governments and cultures because four people in fancy clothes on a morning drivel fest show ate tacos made from insects. Help will come when each of us understands the value of one another as part of our greater human family. And I was, frankly, embarrassed that one human's extreme disadvantage became a two-minute circus oriented video byte.

But that's what we sometimes do. We take something really important, and we wrap it in a flag that fits our own making. We do for others what feels good to ourselves. We do what we think someone else would want, often times without asking or thinking about how it might truly affect them.

I don't want to make that sound terrible, because sometimes we don't even realize it, and it's certainly not the intent.

A dear friend had a recent and surprising disappointment. I choose not to exploit that disappointment here, but suffice it to say, something just didn't work out the way she'd hoped. Not the first time in history that one sees something one way, only to find out it wasn't quite what one had imagined or felt. Another dear friend decided, well-meaningly, to come to her aid. That didn't work out so well either.

It was moderate gesture, and I know why it was extended. Sometimes in our own lives, we feel very out of control. We face things that are difficult, and we don't know how to make them right. Each day is a challenge in its own way, and we grow weary of suffering ourselves; and watching people we care about suffer as well. If we could just make the difference for someone--anyone, maybe the pain of not being able to make the difference for ourselves would go away too.

In the end, everything's okay. The moderate gesture was seen for what it was intended to be, and it was only a baby elephant tromping on the daisies, not an entire herd.

Tiny, welcome gestures may not change a person's life, but they can brighten a person's day.

So perfect. 

I'm not going to make it any secret here. I've been struggling. I've been feeling a little alone, and isolated. Connections I thought I had aren't as strong as I thought they were. I often find myself feeling on the outside of groups to which I once felt I belonged. It's tough. Sadly, the more I feel this, the more I tend to withdraw.

It's hard to go through hard things in life when you feel yourself alone. And from the outside, people don't always see your struggles the way they are happening for you. They see the drapes you put up, and the glasses you fill with bubbly stuff to cover up and forget the times you could have chosen differently and been on a different path. It's true--there are some really awesome drapes, and some pretty fantastic beverages, but at the end of the day, you're left with yourself and your questions about where you could be.

Interestingly, these moments when I feel the most lost and down about friendships and opportunities that seem to be drawing to a close, I am given small reminders of everything I still have, and not so surprisingly, usually from people I hadn't expected.

A spontaneous invitation to a show I had been mulling over for weeks reminded me that distance isn't insurmountable, and just the tizzy of activity around the idea of a girlie day is on the list of exactly what I need. The arrival of a package when I got home last night was yet another reminder that just a state away, there's a woman I have known most of my life who knows what I love and shares my humor. I will treasure that Ian Somerholder mug with my picture on it always--not strictly because of my guilty pleasure as a "Vampire Diaries" fan, but because of how much it made me laugh. And out of left field, I received a message with the photo of a chicken fish from another woman I admire from afar. She reminded me that days are hard, but we will get there--wherever "there" is, and we can get what we want out of life.

This is not my chicken fish. Credit to its maker

None of these exactly-what-I-needed things will change the plight of the hungry and disenfranchised, and they won't change the sad time I seem to be in right now, but they are tiny gestures that feel like a three-ring-circus of love to me. They are, quite simply, "help."

One person can't fix everything. Most of the time, one person can't even fix one thing. But that's the beauty of things. Having things to fix, or people to help can teach us that not everything is meant to be fixed. In the rarest of instances where fixing something is possible, it often can't be done without pooling resources--one small gesture at a time.

The best place to start is with intent. 


Waste--Foster The People

I will

Time doesn't remember how to get you here,
Where you were before.
Over and over, the mountain grows back up,
To keep us apart from one another.
Days of trying and trying to find you,
Wishing you would find me again.
Watching the pink petals and open hearts,
Knowing the truth in the celebration.
I knew who I would help you be,
And how I would hope for you.
And now, that is all I do,
Hope against hope against hope.
Time is forgetful in its empty hours of waiting,
Just sitting by, watching itself tick away.
I will run after you like a traveler missing a train,
With a destination that becomes the journey.
I will remember when time forgets.
I will hope, when I have forgotten how to try.
I will wait until there are no more hours.
I will. 

Living to do what you love:It's not the product. It's not the profit. It's the process.

Soul Seeker Cover art

So, I understand the concept of goal setting. I understand that you have to make progress measurable and you have to hold yourself to account. But as I was running on my treadmill today, it occurred to me that I don't think I'm really interested in striving to achieve goals in the traditional sense. In fact, I think to a degree, it doesn't actually make sense to my nature at all.

I was running along to the playlist I put together when I first started writing the novel I will finally finish editing this month. What resonated with me was how much in love I have become with the process. I don't know what's going to happen when I finally take all the steps I need to in order to self-publish, but in so many respects, I think I'm realizing that's not what writing is all about--it's actually the writing. It's owning the process of creating something that means something to me, and at the end of the day, it's true that maybe no one else will ever care as much as me.

I think people who create probably understand that early on. It's taking me a while.

Today, Charlaine Harris released her thirteenth and final Sookie Stackhouse novel. Sadly, her book was leaked several weeks ago, and fans have already been taking stabs at Harris for how she has chosen to end the series. As I read her statement about the release on Facebook today, I just wanted to support her so much, no matter how she decided to bring Sookie's story to a close. It will probably be a few days before my copy of the book gets here, and because of my own work, I may not get to read it for a little while.

I chose to respond to Harris' Facebook statement and let her know that even though Sookie has been a part of my life for years now, she ultimately belongs to her and she is the only one who could know how Sookie's story ends. There's no way she could get it wrong.

Harris very clearly has achieved a level of success that many of us great American novel writers never will. With a successful HBO series based on her books, and millions of readers, she could have put Sookie in a coffin a long time ago. Without question, she has been a measurable success.  

I know that you can't measure things like pride. You can't measure feelings of catharsis and completion. That makes it difficult when it comes to being an unpublished author without an agent and without a publishing company. Achieving blockbuster status without help is a one in a million possibility. So, without that, how do you know if you have succeeded?

I think you know when you feel like you have gotten as close to your vision as you possibly could without compromising quality. That's a pretty esoteric view, but aside from the actual process of creating itself, this feeling can sometimes be your only reward.

My guess is that this view is similar to that of many who choose to create for a living.

Last weekend, we did something we find ourselves doing every first weekend in May. We strolled through the Brookside Art Annual. Many of the exhibitors return year after year. I like some of the returnees very much, but I am always excited to discover someone new who is doing something unique.

As we stroll through, often just window shopping, it occurs to me that these folks are hoping, just like me, to make a living doing something they love. They load up and lug around everything they can in vans and trailers to these events, week after week, hoping to sell a piece or two and pay their bills. I know that this particular art fair is pretty selective. I know there are artists who apply to exhibit their works and are turned away. I often wonder, of the small handful of artists chosen, how many actually sell enough of their work to pay a mortgage and put children through college.

I think it takes a lot of courage--the kind most of us don't have. But I also think that maybe they love being in the process of "doing" so much that the hole in their hearts where fear might normally live, is filled up with getting as close to their vision they possibly can without compromising quality. Maybe that's payment enough.

It's a hard thing to put so much of your soul into what you do with the possibility of never receiving anything for it in return.

Maybe that's why so many of us give up, sometimes before we ever start. The fear of failing by measurable standards is so high that we forget what the actual intangible rewards might be. When I think about those artists selling their work, how do they even begin to decide what this or that piece of their soul is worth as a dollar figure?

And when I wonder about that, I wonder how it is those of us who are moved to create anything can squeeze ourselves into any measurable space at all.

I suppose when I have wondered these things enough, I will finally kick of my shoes and run barefoot through the cool grass of freedom--never worrying about what might happen if I fail.

Can you imagine what that must feel like? If it's what those "creative types" feel everyday, I imagine there must be nothing else like it. I imagine it's priceless.

Supermassive Black Hole--Muse

It's time to look at being happy as a responsibility.

So, I was talking to my best friend about the responsibility of happiness last week. I don't think that idea is something we often consider. Most of us just think that it would be nice to be happy. It never dawns on us that being happy is a component of being healthy. Oddly, it seems that being part of a relationship often discourages us from pursuing individual happiness, because we don't believe that idea can coexist with supporting our partner's well being.

I have frequently explored the ideas of taking risks and seeking one's own path to happiness. But I've never explored what these things might mean within a relationship. I suppose it's because I always think of these ideals within the context of being an individual. As someone who is part of a relationship, the very idea of throwing caution to the wind feels foolhardy. What I do to advance my own dreams and desires directly impacts my partner. What if I fail? What if I take my partner down with me?

But even though worrying that taking risks will affect my partner is a valid concern,  it occurred to me last week that on some level, even within a relationship, we as individuals have a responsibility to each other to be happy. If we aren't, we might even put a great deal at risk. This ideal was reinforced by a conversation I had with my grandma this week.

My grandma doesn't like doctors. She believes the more frequent your visits to doctors, the more things they find wrong with you. She said that her doctor keeps pressing her to get a mammogram, but she doesn't want to do it. I asked her if she just doesn't want to know. And she said 'no, because what good would it do?'

I wasn't really that surprised, because my grandma is a stoic pragmatist, and I don't think she values time and life in the same way that many of us do. She tends to look at the world through hazy gray glasses. You get what you get, and you don't throw a fit. You just accept things. And clearly, she's not a huge believer in modern medicine, or possibly even miracles.

From time to time, I have wished I was more like that. I have considered that I would find it easier to be content if I just didn't care about everything so much. If I believed in the idea that nothing could change, so what's the point--I would be content just to keep on keeping on.

Despite my lack of surprise at my grandma's view, I reminded her that she's not really alone in benefiting from knowing whether or not she has breast cancer. I reminded her that there are a handful of women in her family who also need to know, so they can take steps to assess their own personal risk. She has a responsibility to get that mammogram for the rest of us.

I think that it's much easier to talk about the responsibility of taking care of yourself and trying to maintain your health, because our existence is perhaps the most basic thing we owe to each other within relationships. As spouses, parents and family members, we aren't supposed to live our lives in a dangerous and reckless manner. We all know the dangers of smoking, drinking to excess, texting and driving, and using drugs. We could end up dead before our time.

But when I think about the less obvious responsibility of being happy, it's an ideal that goes kind of fuzzy. It's not that hard to grasp, if you really think about it. Happiness, or minimally contentedness, is a state of well-being. It's a sort of balance at its core.

Remember when everything seemed easy?

In the beginning of a relationship, we have a kernel of happiness that bursts open and usually grows into something much larger. We flow through the best of times, and learn to flow through some of the worst. That's what people in strong relationships are meant to do. When we find ourselves flowing through hard times more often than we get to flow through good times, the way we affect each other is enormous.

When you are part of a relationship, you don't 'feel' things in a vacuum. Everything you feel, your partner feels. Everything you're going through, they are going through. If you think about that for just a moment, our potential to impact each other is so profound, that we should consider ourselves duty bound to take every chance we must to find happiness, or at least some kind of contentment and balance.

It's a tough thing to do, and it's one I don't see too many people within relationships doing. It seems to be something that people on their own are less afraid of.

A few years ago, my hairstylist moved to Colorado. She had no job and very little connection to the area. She just knew she wanted to change her life. Another friend of mine is considering a similar move. I envy them both--not because they have no ties and they have the freedom to take these giant risks, but because they look at where they are and know that the only way things will change is if they make it happen. And it's true, maybe their risks won't pay off in the way they hope, but I don't think they'd be better off if they chose not to dream.

It feels like a tough mountain to climb sometimes.

In the past, I have thought that only people without ties and commitments can do something so seemingly reckless. But as I look at my early forties, I frequently wonder how anyone can afford not to. I think of how important my friendship with my husband has become, and I think of how I want to protect it and nurture it in the way I did in the beginning--when life was about everything that was possible, and nothing that was impossible. I'm not sure that stability and a lack of self-confidence justify letting that relationship culture we so believed in wilt away.

Among our group of friends, there is one couple especially living their lives in the vision of each others' pursuit of happiness every single day. I know they have fought hard to get to where they are individually, and as a couple. They thrive because they allow each other to do so. I think it's also because they believe that through their individual dreams coming true, their relationship core is all the stronger. I don't like to name names in my blog, because none of my friends ask to be my fodder. But there's a world of epic story telling, music and advocacy that they live in that inspires me to find ways to create a better world of my own. When I see them going after dreams so fiercely, I believe that most of us are doing it wrong. While I believe they would eagerly own up to doing all of these things I accuse them of, I think they would just as quickly remind me that they didn't get there overnight, or without struggle. That makes me respect them and wish I could emulate them all the more.


It's hard to shut down the spinning wheels of life, but if you can't figure out how, you can spin out of control. When things spin out of control, they usually crash. You put all the things you can't bear to lose in jeopardy.

When you have everything in the world to lose, that's exactly the time you have to be willing to put everything on the line. If you aren't willing to take a chance on yourself, no one else will. And eventually, you will either lose or damage every good thing you have.

It's Time--Imagine Dragons