HopefulLeigh

What I'm Into (October Edition)

 One of my favorite lattes at one of my favorite coffee shops

Fall is my favorite season but this one has been especially bittersweet. The traveling continues- my last weekend away begins tonight- and then I'll have time and space to process and mourn, to induldge in fall flavors, comfy sweaters, and crisp air.

Read and Reading: 

I anxiously awaited Broken Harbor (French) to come in at the library. Normally when I know a favorite author has a new release, I put myself on the wait list right away. I thought I had done so with Tana French's latest but alas, a couple of months passed until it was my turn. Well worth the wait. I loved the character development, the perfectly placed twists, and the suspense. Scorcher was not initially a sympathetic narrator but he won me over by the end. A great addition to French's other work.

I didn't agree with everything in The Gaggle: How the Guys You Know Will Help You Find the Love You Want (Massa) but its premise of post-dating society was fascinating. What with the rise of non-dates (and pre-dates), the old dating rules no longer apply. I was as surprised to be reading a dating book as I was to find much of the content resonating. The section on who composes the guy's gaggle was eye-opening. "___ totally saw me as a Short Term Investment! Hmmm. I wonder if I'm a Possibility for ___." I wish this book had been around a decade ago. While geared toward women, men would definitely benefit from these insights.

Kate Morton has become a favorite author of mine. Her new book is just out but I still needed to read her first novel The House at Riverton. I sank into the history, the characters, the mystery. Morton does Gothic well and while I had a few unanswered questions at the end, she definitely kept me guessing the whole time.

Currently reading: The Crowd, The Critic, and The Muse  (Gungor), Heroes and Monsters (Riebock), Walking on Water (L'Engle),  Book of Hours (Rilke),  When Helping Hurts (Corbett and Fikkert).

(I read 8 books this month.)

TV: Must-see TV: Once Upon a Time, Hart of Dixie, Revenge, Parenthood, Vampire Diaries, The New Girl, The Mindy Project, Parks & Rec

The insights from Megan's Once Upon a Time Tuesday are not to be missed. I love the show and Megan's thoughtful analysis makes it all the better.

I've watched the first two episodes of the WB's Beauty and the Beast so far and it's growing on me. We'll see. I've only managed to watch one episode of Nashville but I liked what I saw. I also like knowing I could be an extra on the show.

There are ways of watching series 3 of Downton Abbey. I'm just saying. (OMG!!!)

Favorite Video:

Tom Hanks performing a slam poem about Full House. Could this be any more awesome?

 

Music: 

At long last, I tracked down the name of an artist I've been digging. Fitz and the Tantrums. It's kind of a throwback to the 7os and oh so fun. Energetic soul? No matter the genre, they're worth listening to. Don't Gotta Work It Out has been in my head for months.

New Blog:

My dear friend Emily (formerly of The Pilot's Wife) launched her new blog Emily Wanders and it is brilliant. You need to add it to your Reader right this second.

In the Blogosphere:

Bethany Suckrow lays out The Problem with Pink. Pinkwashing has become more and more widespread, not only with raising money for breast cancer but for almost every other illness and social justice issue out there. We have got to research where our money goes and make sure it's helping the people it's meant to help. Shame on the organizations profiting on someone's misfortune.

I don't think I could ever fully give up the internet but I do see the wisdom in taking the occasional break. I'm fascinated by Paul Miller's decision to step away from the internet for a full year. Lucky for us, he's writing about it.

This may be the best 31 Days series out there: Deidra Riggs' 31 Days in my Brown Skin. She's going "there" and we are better for it.

If you've ever wondered how to support a military wife, this letter is a great place to start.

I found this story about television writer Dan Harmon- and his storytelling technique- to be fascinating.

Lore Ferguson has been hitting it out of the park this past month but the one that most resonated with me was her thoughts on making a home.

Sarah Bessey commissions us and I got goosebumps.

I may not be an independent but Jen Hatmaker nailed my thoughts on the election. Nailed it.

"These things remain: God’s kingdom exists anywhere believers are choosing love and grace and reckless obedience; it is undeterred by a red or blue context. Sisters and brothers in Christ will vote differently, because as we all must, we simply have to choose between two platforms that each include some gospel-centric policies and others that contradict. Either way, we will swallow some ideologies that belie the message of Jesus. Regardless, God is still on His throne, and our true allegiance rests in His sovereignty. Four or eight years of an administration cannot compromise the historical work of a holy God."

I loved everything about Preston Yancey's Theology of the Kitchen Table.

The synchroblog celebrating Rachel Held Evans is all kinds of wonderful. I didn't have time to contribute but I did post a message on the blog FB page. Eshet chayil, Rachel!

This post by Kelly Chadwick has some wonderful reminders of God's goodness regardless of circumstances. When Triumph Is Still on its Way.

On The Blog:

This turned out to be a sad writing month, with the death of my parent's dog and then the unexpected loss of my aunt. Thank you for your prayers and condolences, as well as being so understanding of my need for peace and quiet right now. That's how my best soul-care happens. Writing is a part of soul-care, too, so these breaks never last long.

Over at the HopefulLeigh FB page, I shared a sneak peak of something I've got up my sleeve. You all won't want to miss out when it's unveiled. Soon.

What have you been into this month?

Disclosure : Amazon Affiliate links included in this post.  If you click through to Amazon from HopefulLeigh, any purchase you make supports this site.

Take the Picture, Send the Email

Aunt Sue never could resist a baby

She was the first one to see me, as I rounded toward the table with the name tags. Yes, our family reunion requires name tags.

"Leigh," Aunt Sue squealed with arms held open to embrace me, her pleasure evident. I half skipped into her embrace, my smile stretched across my face. Happy to be hugging my "favorite" aunt. We hadn't seen each other since my last big trip home at Christmas.

I greeted a few other family members. I'd arrived a little bit early so as to maximize my time there. From the reunion, I'd head home to Nashville but that was still several hours away.

I snagged Aunt Sue again for some quality catching up time. We sat at one of the many tables under the canopy and talked about the latest and greatest. I thought I need to get a picture with her but then we got distracted and I figured we'd do it later.

I took plenty of pictures that sunny afternoon in between eating and talking with as many people as possible. Each family group took a picture commemorating the 100th anniversary of the farm. We have plenty of commemorations from that day.

But I forgot to take that picture with Aunt Sue.

I shrugged about it then. We'd take a picture at Christmas.

I didn't know it would be the last time I saw her.

***

Two weeks ago, late Sunday or Monday, I was washing my face and getting ready for bed. Aunt Sue popped into my head.

"I need to email her," I thought. I missed her. She'd told me to email her when I left the reunion but I hadn't. I still forgot she'd embraced technology this past year and actually read and responded to messages now.

It was late and I was tempted to wait until the next day. But then I figured I'd forget all over again. So I pulled my laptop over and typed out an email in the dark. Just a breezy message with a few updates and noting I was bummed I wouldn't make it home for Thanksgiving. I asked how she was, asked how treatment had been going. I hit send and then padded into my bedroom.

A few days passed.

And then I learned she was in the hospital. Aunt Sue's multiple myeloma had been caught early a year prior. Her treatment went well the whole time, even achieving remission. There was no warning before this hospitalization.

No warning of how terribly wrong it would all go.

She died one week ago today.

I don't know if she read the email before everything changed. I hope she did.

***

Aunt Sue was loved by so many, they held the visitation at the church hall. About 800 people filed through before the day ended. I stepped into the hall and glimpsed the picture collages and the knickknacks representing my beloved aunt and it was almost more than I could bear.

I held the tears at bay until my cousin, one of her three sons, arrived. He folded me into his arms and we cried together.

Later I roamed the tables, looking over the ceramic chickens and the picture of us wearing Santa hats. I kept thinking she would come up behind me, put her arms around me, and tell me everything would be OK. She should have been there. But she wasn't. She never will be again.

It doesn't make sense.

First, Grandma. And now Aunt Sue. There is no replacing them.

Someone passed me and said, "don't look so glum, she'd want us to celebrate!" And I nodded mechanically, hating this so-called advice.

I can't celebrate someone's life until I've grieved their death. And to grieve their death, I must first accept they've died.

I celebrate Aunt Sue and what she meant to me and so many others.

I know she died but I haven't truly accepted it yet. I don't think any of us have. The shock runs too deep, just as the chasm she leaves behind.

This too shall pass. The days will turn into weeks and then into months and we'll adjust to life without her.

For now, I will remember her laugh, her smirk, the flow of new, delicious recipes.

I will remember all of our talks at the kitchen table, the couch, the swing, the way she always had time for me.

I will remember her encouragement, her wisdom, her focus on the ones before her.

I will wonder what our family will look like without her. I will support her children and grandchildren. We will remember together.

I will grieve our loss.

At my goodbye party, our last picture together

Linking up with Just Write over at Heather of the EO. Bear with me, friends. Things may be a bit quiet here.

I'm In Denial

I'm not in denial about being in denial.

After all, I am a grief expert- and ever self-aware to boot.

Toward the end of last week, I learned of a situation back home, one that breaks my heart. It is unresolved and not my story to tell. We still wait. When I started my drive to Indianapolis for the Influence Conference, I got another update. I tried not to think I was in Indy for a reason, making it only a 3-ish drive home from there.

I prayed. I sang along to Mumford & Sons and The Avett Brothers. I tried not to think the worst.

It was well past 10 when I arrived at the hotel. I met up with my roomies Anne and Alia and they convinced me to go to a mom meet up, even though I'm not a mom.  A distraction, a chance to meet people.

Just as we got on the elevator, another phone call came through with another update. Not the news we were hoping for. My friends headed over to the meet up while I paced the hallway, listening and advising. Most of all, trying to stay strong.

Because that is what I do.

It was late and my thoughts were less than coherent. My dear friend Amanda was there so I brought her and Anne up to date. They asked me what I wanted to do. Did I want to go home?

I wanted to be home but I knew I couldn't do anything there. I decided to wait it out, knowing I could go if things changed. It was a decision but this restless energy consumed me. I couldn't cry. I didn't know if I needed to cry, in spite of my overwhelming sadness. I was fully divorced from my own feelings, knowing only "I can't go there right now."

Amanda looked me in the eye as I blathered on and said, "you don't have to be strong for them."

"I know," I said, out of habit, my eyes unfocused.

She took me by the shoulders and forced me to look at her. "But do you know that? Do you? Because you're not looking us in the eye."

I laughed because it was true and she called me out and don't we need friends that will do that for us?

Saturday afternoon I called my best friend with an update and the moment I heard her voice, the tears began. She is my touchstone, my safe place. I don't know why my guard comes down only for her and a select few. This is the aftermath of years of professionally being strong for others.

I willingly enter others' pain but struggle with letting them into mine. I can give you an update but it is hard to give voice to my feelings. I want to protect you from the messiness of my pain. And even though I've been working on true vulnerability for a few years now, even though I'm aware of what I'm doing, I don't know how to change.

I realized I've talked about being in denial a lot this past year. We're mere days away from the first anniversary of Grandma's death and there's a part of me picturing her working on needlepoint at home. And yes, living out of state lends itself to a different sort of grief. But I wonder why I've chosen to only periodically dose myself with this pain.

Why have I chosen denial as my coping skill of choice?

Oh, I'm not completely in denial. I process the hard feelings on a different sort of timetable.

I'm tired of loss. My family has gone through enough in recent years and each new instance makes me want to throw my hands up in the air in disbelief and frustration.

I don't have any answers. I continue to pray for God's mercy. I hope there won't be another unexpected trip home.

I will try to believe I don't have to be strong for everyone else. Or even myself.

Medical Social Workers Are The Worst Patients (At Least I Am)

As most of you know, my background is in medical social work. Until I burned out, I loved it and I was really good at it.

Seriously. I'm a kick-awesome social worker.

What I'm not so awesome at? Staying on top of my own health needs and not assuming the worst.

My years in the field taught me most people in the medical profession are notoriously bad patients, albeit for different reasons.

I have witnessed a lot of truly horrible stuff in my years. Horrible illnesses, deaths I wouldn't wish on anyone, people at their worst. You might think these things would inspire me to see the doctor on a regular basis. Not so.

Let me illustrate.

Sometime in the spring, I discovered a troubling spot on my skin. A sane person would schedule an appointment with the dermatologist. But:

1) I hate going to the doctor

While I've found some great doctors over the years, I prefer not to see them. I'm lucky I'm a generally healthy person. I also hate scheduling appointments. HATE it. I don't like calling people I don't know and who do you know less than a medical receptionist at a new-to-you medical practice? Which brings me to...

2) I haven't moved my medical care here yet

Why do I have to switch over to new doctors? WHY? I had some great doctors back home. And now I have to start all over? Excuse me while I cry.

I saw all my doctors in Illinois before I moved because I know how I am about these things. Clean bill of health all around. Just when I'd mustered the energy to find new docs here, I quit my job and had to get my own insurance. I'm skeptical about insurance plans to begin with and certainly didn't want to get diagnosed with anything that would raise my premium (mind you- still completely healthy). Clearly the best thing to do was do nothing. This was fine until an actual problem arose.

3) I know too much.

I'm decidedly not an expert but I have amassed enough medical knowledge to be dangerous. I know the symptoms, prognoses, ailments, and so on. And there's all the behind-the-scenes stuff that accompanies working in the medical profession. I've known good doctors and bad, witnessed shortcuts and errors, along with hope and recovery. Working for hospice made me especially sensitive toward end-of-life issues and trajectories. Not in a hypochondriac way, just very aware. When my loved ones have medical stuff come up, I become their personal advocate. I liase amongst the team, ask a million questions, and do what needs to be done. I also try not to do much of #4.

4) I assumed the worst.

My family health history is no picnic. We boast just about every kind of cancer and cardiovascular problem. And by boast, I mean it's the worst kind of brag in the world. Add my family health history to the info I've amassed during my years as a medical social worker and you can see it's no fun living in my head when there's an actual medical issue. This particular instance, denial was the drug of choice. I know I can't afford to be lax when it comes to preventative care but still...

5) I internalize everything, while feeling the need to be strong for everyone else.

Enough said.

When I first detected the spot, it seemed a bit shady. I didn't think it looked like a melanoma but I couldn't rule out other types of skin cancer. I also remembered how sometimes "spots" are actually an indicator of other forms of cancer. This naturally freaked me out.

I'd already identified a dermatology practice here, as I've seen a dermatologist off and on since the glories of adolescence. But I didn't want to make an appointment because blah blah blah.

Months went by and I'd occasionally think of the mole, wonder if I had cancer, freak out, consider making an appointment, decide not to, make a mental note to update my Living Will, and then go on my merry way.

Recently, a friend told me of a young friend of hers who was diagnosed with melanoma and died. OK. Reality check.

If it was a form of skin cancer, it needed to be treated. If it wasn't, then I could stop worrying.

Once I had an actual appointment, this whole thing became real and so did my nerves. I was convinced I was going to be diagnosed with skin cancer. Cue phone call to my parents, updating my medical history, considering my end of life prospects now that I live out of state. 

The nurse practitioner took one look at the spot and told me it was fine. Nothing to worry about.

All the worry slid right out of me.

I'm sure I'll be better about my health from here on out.

Positive.

Maybe.

Now to make the rest of those routine doctor appointments...

Are you proactive when it comes to your health?

Sweaters Are My Weakness {Dress for the Day}

I swear I didn't intend to buy anything when we entered the store a couple of weeks ago. I like taking company to Hillsboro Village, which always includes a stop at Pangaea. I typically finger the clothes longingly and then turn toward the more affordably priced accessories.

This particular trip, I told myself I could look at the sweaters. Just look. I hadn't gone fall shopping yet but that money was committed to other stores. Although, I rationalized, I usually splurge on one sweater a year. All right, two sweaters. OK, maybe more than that. Don't judge. I have found buying sweaters to be the kind thing to do for myself.

In any case, I had permission to peruse but I very clearly was not going to buy anything.

And then my eyes connected with a gray striped sweater on the sales rack and the angels sang. I pulled it out and it looked so comfy and cozy and, while a tad shapeless, it also looked...versatile. I tried it on right then and there. I fell head over heels.

There would be no denying me this sweater.

This past weekend the weather dipped into true fall crispness. Sweater time.

Coincidentally, it was my one completely free weekend in a 10 week period of trips and visitors. I needed to recharge, like nobody's business. Introverts will understand.

My friend Abby talks about dressing for the day you want to have, not the one that's trying to have you. I'm not much for yoga pants if I'm not sleeping, nor sweatshirts if I'm not camping or at a game. But my hibernatorial weekend could have gone the way of super casual, verging on slob. And perhaps then I wouldn't have emerged as refreshed. There's no reason I couldn't relax and look cute while doing it.

Saturday dawned chilly and bright. The perfect time to try out my new sweater. I buttoned it up on both sides, creating the perfect slouchy cowl neck. I traipsed over to the library to pick up the books I'd reserved and then over to the farmers market to pick up my second to last CSA box. My freezer is full of soups and chopped veggies awaiting a good stir fry, thanks to this CSA. I will surely do it again next year.

I baked bread and hunkered down with a good book. I traded my purple flats for slippers, this particular pair being one of the last Christmas presents my Grandma gave me.  I undid the buttons and let my sweater transform into a drapey cardigan, which seemed more suited to a readerly afternoon. Later, I dreamed up a butternut and acorn squash soup, which turned out delicious. I ate candy corn and drank tea.

I did nothing of consequence and it was glorious. Exactly what I needed.

A comfy sweater on a lazy Saturday. What bliss.

 

sweater, QSW*

skinny jeans, Old Navy

tank top, Old Navy

purple flats, Target

earrings, boutique

*Note: I nosed around the Quiksilver site and have now identified a few more sweaters I MUST HAVE. This could be dangerous.

 

This post was written for Dress for the Day with Dear Abby Leigh

What item of clothing do you find hard to resist?