Muddled and Conflicted

 The Barren and I are conflicted and muddled in our mix of feelings and emotions about the passing of our brother in law.

He passed under hospice care with his wife, mother and children in attendance.

He died on the 10th after a 7 year journey with cancer, drug trials, medical interventions and the power of prayer. He was deeply tied to his church and a christian fundamentalist. He coached local football and was on the board of the adventist school his children attended and his wife teaches at. He was a big guy, big voice, big personality. We first were introduced to him at a birthday celebration for my FIL where he got fall down drunk and landed in the bushes apologizing over and over for making a bad first impression. He was always offering help with some thing or another. He was well educated and held a MBA & MS Psychology.

I wrote about our "November Trip" to spend time around the table together. We saw him once more last year when he attended the wedding of his mother in law, that The Barren performed. He offered to perform the service, but was turned down by my MIL because she didn't want any religion in it. 

He was in pain and we barely shared a word with each other while I photographed the family, and had a meal at the same table once again. There was another family thanksgiving this year, but we opted to not attend and stayed home instead.

When word came from my MIL that he had entered hospice, we were not surprised but conflicted in our feelings. He was a father to our nephews who we are not close to because their parents chose to not allow it, as we were not "good people", meaning we were not christians. 

(so we thought about the boys, and The Barrens sister)

Over the years, we were fine to reach out to if something was needed, like a schoold donation, christmas gifts or graduation gifts. I left a social media platform because he stated that the confederate flag was not offensive to him, nor was a nazi flag as they were just symbols. He was deeply "american" in that his country came before everyones and should be respected, but had no problem teaching his children that women were here to serve men. He continued to support the rapist in charge of the usa and made sure his family voted the same*...which gave then all great joy. He was a person who was one way with family and another with the world he interacted with. He was a people pleaser and performative around family. 

*the kids are in college

So we sat conflicted with our feelings about his death. Then word traveled around family that The Barrens sister was having a small service and so we assumed it would be the church and her and the kids. We were fine with that. We were outsiders and that made complete sense.

Then I got a text saying "it would mean a lot if we could come."

We have rented a car, and a hotel room and are doing an 800mile round trip in two days to attend. We are even shuttling back our new FIL, as our MIL plans to stay for a longer than he would like. 

The posts are now all over social media and I don't think this will be a small service any longer.

How do you deal with the death of a nazi sympathizer in the family?

Short term: We give. We continue to give and give as that is what makes sense to us. Kindness and love.

I chose to make a donation in his name to a foundation that coaches kids in underserved areas, focusing on girls. “Girls” refers to gender-expansive youth (cis girls, trans girls, non-binary youth, gender non-conforming youth, gender queer youth and any girl-identified youth).

There is also a Gofund me style page set up as well, and The Barren has already said he plans on donating funds to his sister. He even plans on bringing a guitar to one of the nephews who expressed interest in playing. 

Needless to say, we remain conflicted with our feelings, and are muddling our way through.

Self-awareness

    Joan Brown Painting

 I took my first solo trip in well over a decade to spend two days with my bestie.

I left The Barren behind to care for the cats, himself and the house while I flew away to have a girls weekend. It wasn't the girls weekend of movie types, there was no spa, or wine country or even a road trip. It was a cheap easy airplane ticket purchased back in September, on a whim with hopes of having some time with a friend.

It worked. My bestie put me up in her newly built studio in the backyard. I arrived between "bomb cyclone" storms hammering my state. I am a nervous flyer, so the idea of flying in storms was not ideal, but I love my bestie and I realllllllllly wanted to girl time, some me time. I lucked out, and the rain and wind had stopped for an hour while I flew there and an hour while I flew home. 

We spent the time walking the dog, chatting and squeezed in one museum visit 💓

There was also shuttling her hubby and kiddo to practices and grocery shopping.

Most of our time was chatting; bemoaning marriage challenges and life roadblocks. There is something unique and beautiful about a friend that knows you, and has known you for decades.  They spot when you are bull-shiting yourself, and when you are downplaying something. We both are vacillating with extreme creative joy and feelings of self doubt. Struggling to find time to sit with ourselves and accepting our new bodies as we walk this new menopause path. She is facing an empty nest this summer and how dramatically that will change her life and how much of her current life has been taken over with others schedules and expectations.

It was a gift to listen to her and her concerns for her kid and pre-college. I found myself in a rare position, I was able to offer help with things that are just too much to add to her plate. When I shared this with The Barren I was greeted with a huge smile and I think the two of us felt empowered in a small way. A way that would really matter to this kiddo.

When she was pregnant with this human, I was trying and failing to stay pregnant. In many ways her child is another time marker, both The Barren and I adore this human and we are overjoyed to be a person they call with questions and someone they can count on. My bestie and I were the same age her kiddo is when we first met...and that magic is not overlooked.

We walked the dog in large open parks in the mist and drizzle, around neighborhoods and chatted, never finding a moment without a topic to muse about. We shared meals and caffeine and window shopped in places near her home, but she never had time to explore. It was an amazing two days, we were both left exhausted and partially healed from the time we had lost over the last years in isolation. It was bitter sweet to say goodbye in the pre-dawn airport drop-off. 

We hope to meet somewhere between our two homes in the next 6months or so...life is riding us both hard these days and so it is fun to place a marker for another weekend out into the universe. (we chat almost daily via text, but spending time together is hard to come by)

When I lined up to board the plane, I got a weird feeling, I couldn't really place it but something was strange. Something was off...I brushed it aside and got my seat. It was announced that it was a full plane, so I moved from the aisle to the middle seat in my row. Someone was already at the window, when another person asked if the aisle seat was taken I said "nope, it is all yours".

After seeing everyone file onto the plane, and hear that it was full I realized what was off...

the WHOLE plane, aside from me and a disabled couple at the front row, was students.

I found myself sitting between two people that were clearly in college, and I sat there with nothing in my hands but my own hands. No phone, no tablet, no book or magazine...no distraction just my own hand to hold. My mind started to do math, I could be either of these peoples mother, I was old enough and they were the right age. I was flying in a live action reminder of an alternative timeline. The plane cabin was silent, everyone was plugged into something...meanwhile, I pretended to sleep, I pretended to make mental notes, mostly I was trying to distract myself for the hour long flight home and not collapse into a puddle of tears thinking about all the what-ifs.... Yep, it is an hour long flight, what a luxury. 

It was a long weekend, The Barren picked me up and we got breakfast. As we were sipping tea while it drizzled he asked me what my favorite part of the trip was, did something create a core memory?

 I started to laugh and told him that it was AMAZING to have a hot flash with my bestie.

We were walking in the museum gallery, both of us doing our own looking. Then I realized I was warm, then warmer, then dripping sweat, each stage removing more and more layers of clothing. Meanwhile my bestie was experiencing a similar thing on the opposite side of the room. We met on a viewing bench, to both dig into our purses to grab a hair tie and pull our hair off our necks. giggling about how we were carrying our coats in our arms and it looked like we were dragging blankets from gallery to gallery. That, that will stay with me forever....not feeling alone, laughing and feeling vulnerable together, we understood each other perfectly without saying a word.

Another year-less hair

 

This was that moment when things got …

weird, and downright surreal.

******

We went to The Barren's moms place for a meal for his birthday. We brought lunch and we sat in the backyard, at a table, 6ish feet from each other with our double masks on. 

His mom and her longtime partner have both gotten the first dose of the vaccine, and were a bit more caviler about keeping their masks on the whole time...but thankfully, I am TOTALLY OCD about it and kept mine on which rubbed off on The Barren too and we were safer that way.

I have been giving a gift to his mom for decades on his birthday, a thank you for making the man I love. I call it her birthing day gift. It is usually something small, a token trinket. Mostly just acknowledging her part in the day. She has grown to love it and expect something. (I am totally fine with that!) There are FAR worse things a MIL can expect from her DIL. 

After the meal these two jars were placed on the table, and The Barren was told to pick which ever one he wanted...it was part of his bday gift. My MIL and FIL have begun to grow their own. They were crazy conservative about drugs in the past and this overt, boldness takes a moment or two to adjust to.

They are both engineers by trade and so they are trying to crack the code of dosing edibles and those stories are quite funny. They are trying to make a brownie that is big enough to satisfy their chocolate craving but also not make them so shitfaced that they spend the rest of the day facedown in the couch.

Since cannabis has become legal, it has been a funny transition in our social groups. The parents, who were all hippies, but really pushed hard against their kids using drugs in college are now asking advise about strains and doses. While all us normal stoners, are kind of gobsmacked at their enthusiasm, after receiving so much shit from them for too long.

After the strangeness of the canning jar of pot, the conversation was all about how protected they are now that they have the vaccine. I couldn't help but feel like I was reliving a conversation with a former lover about how he shouldn't have to wear a condom because I was on birth control....maybe it was my own  mindset, but things felt strange and almost funny.

These days things seem off center, tilted and lit strangely.

It feels like I am floating through most days and the repetition of actions is feeling like a movie scene replaying over and over. I wake up, pee and get into yoga clothes, check email for work and personal tasks, then do exercise and then errands, then eat something, try brainstorming, do laundry, do more wall gazing then try and think what to make for dinner and watch tv and clean up dishes, take a bath or shower, maybe have sex and then go to sleep and do it all over again.

What kind of life is it that we are living these days?

Maybe that is why these encounters with backyards and parents is so surreal. Life is downright surreal.

I got my parents appointments to get the vaccine this week, it felt like I had just scored the best concert tickets ever....they were thankful and then my mother said she wanted a different vaccine than what she was scheduled to get. We looked up the data and then I had another half hour call with her explaining how the vaccine works, the effectiveness of this one she is supposed to get and how she might not even have access to the single dose vaccine. It was stressful.

I am stressed out by my parents recently. My shifting role with them and what that looks like. In that daily routine, I would say a good few hours are covered in stress with my parents activities and making sure they are safe and have food in the house and that people are not taking advantage of them. 

(ex: installed solar panels have created leaks in the roof, and the solar company offered them a flat fee to fix it, instead of fix it for them!)

*Sigh*

I am tired, and melancholy and am trying to see a light at the end of this all...

but it is hard.

I daydream of running away, and into the big memories of travels and sunlit days of the past. Laughing more and feeling alive...my actual dreams are dark and sad and scary and i am often left wondering how long it will take to shift into a new direction? 

anyone else feel this fatigue? This shift/tilt of life?

Time has passed and I am growing it seems

So I haven't posted in a while...I am not completely sure why.

Barbara Kruger's artwork
"Have me Feed me Hug me Love me Need me"

I spent the month of April visiting art museums....The Barren declared the whole month would be spent art gazing, and I was not going to argue with that logic! Plus he said it was the perfect way to celebrate my birthday....so we did.
It was amazing and inspiring and wonderful. We were able to break him free of work on most of those weekends and just enjoy wandering galleries and talking about thoughts that the art inspired.

Quite beautiful

I forgot Infertility Awareness week...I am aware of our infertility, and so are most of our friends....it didn't seem like something I needed to soapbox this year. So I didn't

I celebrated my birthday quite quietly. I made myself a cake and ate a piece the eve of my birthday. I went to yoga in the morning and didn't tell anyone and then at the end of class someone wished me a happy birthday and throughout the week, I was surprised with birthday wishes....it was sweet.

I then got my annual cold and spent the week following my birthday laid out like a shivering, stuffy nosed sloth under the covers. This cold triggered me getting my period a week early-even while on birth control and now next week I get my period again....that is if this period stops first.
sigh

My bestie made it through (OK I made it through) her month residency and made a SHITLOAD of artwork, but also missed her husbands cooking as the food provided was less than stellar and mostly tater tots. I am complaining for her....hahaha she'd never complain.

I have landed firmly in 46.
I don't seem fazed by it and that is great with me.
My mother had her knee replaced at 44 and the fact that I am still not there is a MAJOR highlight of a milestone in personal goals.

Mother's day is looming, but my mom made plans and she said they are declaring it Sunday.
I think she is doing that to make me feel better, and I am thankful for that too....

I think that I am mostly settling into who I am meant to be now...post-infertility.
I discover something new about what I do and don't want, what I can actually do...and often give myself permission to go forward with that train of thought.
Recently, friends are talking about stressful kid scenarios and I just look at The Barren and say
"Not jealous of that!"
That is HUGE for me, for us....

I was that girl

"A 23-year-old American college student who was killed in the Paris attacks was described as a “gifted student” by her teachers and beloved by her friends.

Nohemi Gonzalez was killed Friday night at the bistro La Belle Equipe in Paris. She was spending time with friends when a gunman opened fire on the scene and fatally wounded her."

When I heard about the attacks in Paris I froze, I literally could not process anything at all.
                                                                         *******

Many years ago, when I was in my early 20's I was a student studying in Paris, living out my dream of being an artist in the epicenter of my creative forefathers and foremothers. Eating bread and canned peas. Going to the museum everyday, drawing and dreaming and learning who I was and what I wanted from life and for myself. Kissing boys and crying and laughing. 

I was that girl who went to a concert in Paris, and got caught in a mosh pit and thrown to the ground, tossed from the chaos yet, alive fwith fear and desire for excitement. 

I was that girl who ate in a cafe and ordered an omelette in her best version of French.

I was that girl who smelt the night air and felt the magic of the city

I was that girl

And I am that very same girl, shaken to my very core when I heard what happened.

I cried a lot and wondered if that magic had been taken away

I felt as though something had blown up my memories of the sweet, 

nostalgia of the city of light

Someone had taken a dreamer away, pulled her from this earth before she could finish her dreams

I felt

I could imagine

I mourned a stranger

I mourned all the dreamers and strangers who were simply

living that night. Living and dreaming and hoping for more wonderful.

I am those girls

I am those boys

I am those children

The roads walked

I'm a sucker for a funny vagina reference

I have been MIA, sorry about that.

I have been stealthily reading blogs and trying to keep up with all your beautiful lives.

I have been slightly depressed, nothing huge,or concerning just quieter...so I have kept on the down low.

The Barren and I went on a little trip, to the other side of the US.

It was cool and grey and a wonderful change from our current local that is always on the verge of bursting into flames...really. I learned that many people can barely believe that my state is in a stage two drought and that everything really is dead or dying from lack of water. It is sad, and people are now regularly performing rain dances...with conviction. for real...really

I also learned that although we live in a dry (lack of water) state, we have more produce options than others and I am thankful for that....besides the lower carbon footprint, I am use to the greens and citrus.

The place we went was quiet and magical and serene...
we did some good karma yoga to help the MIL and it was just what we needed.
We went on many walks, and looked at stars at night.
We watched sea birds and listened to the night and water lapping on the rocks outside.

Included in the highlights were the following:
I traveled for the first time (IN MY WHOLE LIFE) on a boat with out getting sick...
I used yoga breathing exercises and burst into tears when we landed, I was so proud and happy.

I ate ice cream almost everyday and felt no guilt, just joy.

We stayed for a week, and left the day our nephews and their parents (The Barren's sister, hubby and kids)
arrived for a week with the MIL

(totally unintentional to miss them, but in hindsight a good thing)

Now we are home, and things are back into the swing of things, it was a rough transition back,
 but we are on track.

I got a text from my MIL two days after we left that described her scene:

" We went to the island today.  Fantastic day.  Really warm and no breeze.  Little bam -bam had a complete and total meltdown because he couldn't run and jump all over the rocks on the cliff edge.  There were even signs  posted that said no rescue was possible if someone fell, but that didn't matter to him!  They are off having dinner and I am at home in the peace and quiet.  I think I am only having Big brother this summer.  Little bam-bam is still pretty out of control.  The Island must have been twice as crowded as when we went. What a difference a week makes! "

My nephews are wild things, totally out of control and only the eldest is over-parented; so it is no surprise that the younger is still totally out of control. This is the same nephew I apologized for at the memorial when he was running around the gathering screaming "sexy lady" while his parents shrugged and said
"what you gonna do"
*sigh*

I am now back into my practice, The Barren is traveling already for work...
 and I am fighting some serious focus issues again.
I had a wonderful time away, and returning has highlighted how over committed I am and how stretched thin I am, and how easily I am distracted from my to-do list....
There are some possible BIG changes in my art career on the horizon and I am struggling to find a way to still do all that I need to, to generate income, while trying to transition to full time art making.
I fear it will be two full time jobs for a while. I expect it will be hard and I can do that.
It is the panicked, I am struggling more with; the finances involved with this trial, and the pressure to sell enough to maintain it....or heck make a few dollars on top of covering costs!
Alas, I am charging ahead of myself...I won't know until July...so until then I am trying to make new work.
Save some cash...and be positive for a healthy heart and mind.

I have also discovered that I have really distanced myself from my infertility.
I don't think about it anymore...I don't focus on what I don't have, or should have.
I am me, and my love makes us.

I ran into an old co-worker whom I haven't seen since 2007 and she asked if I had finally had kids.
Mind you we were in a bank lobby and she has a booming voice...it drew the attention of a woman sitting in a chair waiting for a teller...I smiled and said, we tried for a long time but it didn't work. She then told me that another woman we worked with got pregnant and she would give me her number so I could call her and find out how. Inside my head I thought, I should be gracious and say thank you, but instead I said " we can't have children, I've seen many doctors and had surgery, but it is OK...we are very happy"
The lady in the chair, looked up again and then smiled and looked down.
I escorted this former co-worker outside with me, as I had had too much conversation in the bank lobby.
She told be some more about former co-workers and I was reminded how far I had traveled, and how much healthier I was now.
I have dropped my subtitle, I am no longer The Barreness: infertile woman
instead I am
The Barreness: Artist

Note to self...

The front of the postcard, charming, no?!

So I was in the garage today, making room for furniture that is bound to arrive by this weekend.

It is the only place that it will fit.

Furniture that is no doubt beautiful and old and too big to fit in our tiny home.

BUT I am still holding a candle for a "forever home" that will fit the chest and the dresser.

 

I was moving things, building a pile of items that will be picked up by the local thrift store this week before they unload more things into the tiny garage that we then get to deal with down the road.

Anyhooo... I was moving stuff and unearthed a box of old photos.

Among the treasures I exhumed was a postcard I sent myself.

Yep, I am that person....I send myself a postcard the last day of the journey telling myself how I was feeling at that moment or what I had learned.

It arrives days after me, and usually just as the "paradise is fading from my memory" and I am getting back to reality moment.

 

This postcard was sent to me, by me in 1997

I had gone (escaped)* to Europe for a few weeks, to find out how damaged I was.

The Barren and I were about 5years into our relationship and he was ready to settle down and I was flipping out....so I ran away to listen to my heart and get a little space....well a lot of space.

He endorsed this, and waited for me to figure shit out...it was really only a short period of time but enough to put things in line, ya know?! 

*Running away sounds to romantic, but really it was me on a $20 a day budget for food and housing and I was eating a lot of candy bars and staying in hostels that fed you breakfast so I could pocket bread or cereal for dinner.

Anyways.....

 

I read this postcard again today with a smile on my face.

This is what it says:

Well- here I am and there you are- two way different places-but still one person. You can depend on yourself- and know how long and short time can be, hours, days, months. Feet are tired, ankles sore- emotionally exhausted. but-in a sense a bit afraid of getting into a groove-becoming set in my ways again. Remember movement-simple movement. walking barefoot-walking the dog-motion is what you need and know that returning can be just as good as coming- the swing is in your heart- you have the ability to come and go and don't let that be taken away.Continue to say what you feel. Be aware of what you need and tell him- don't back down as you wouldn't want him to do.and make art-your soul needs it. Send slides-invest in yourself and enjoy time. Don't wait for it to pass (as I am doing now) be loving-take another chance and give it. Know that you are a strong-confident woman-keep that damn smirk on your face. Keep them wondering.



I am so glad I sent myself this card....it is like a pocket mantra.



Well try as I might, I keep finding little reminders of my phone call from the nurse all over the house....

and it is depressing the hell out of me.

So, I have invited pretty much every lady I know over to my house tomorrow.

I figured nothing would make me feel better then a good ol'girls day.

I am making a hazelnut cake, and some other little things to snack on.

 Then I will sit on my couch and wait for some friends to arrive thru the day.

Hubby is off to Vegas for a weekend with friends and a celebration of his birthday.

The last thing I need right now is a weekend alone to JUST THINK

that never really spins into a good thing

I am also still working on my 3000 photos from Ireland and I thought you all needed a little break from all this doom and gloom too, so here are a few for your enjoyment:

The Inagh Valley-said to have inspired the creation of fairy tales

Me walking the ruins at Clonmacnoise, founded in 545

Guerrilla knitters in Sligo

Hubby overlooking the Burren

a typical town pub, the two men seen are a fisherman and an undertaker

Ramble On...

Aside from the deep sorrow of losing people in my life; I find witnessing others struggle in that grief just as heartbreaking. Maybe even more so....

I was asked over and over again after the services "how are those beautiful children of mine"

It wasn't until the third of the 5 times I was asked, did I realize it was my brothers children they were remembering and wanting to talk about.

One woman even said "well, when are you going to get some?"

I laughed and said with a deadpan face "I am not"

ugh, I chalked it up to the awkwardness of the situation and the desire to find small talk and children are the easiest of topics for most.

My parents witnessed much of it and simply smiled at me as I swung my combat sword and responded in a composed and refined manner.

The kicker was when another survivor was telling her story (it is part of our history, so it is important to hear again and again and share with others...forgive but never forget) I did not know her story so I sat and listened...it was fascinating and detailed.

Then she called me closer and I sat beside her as she said

(I swear I am not making this up and she did not know who I was or anything about me)

"  I didn't believe in god after I was placed in the camps. It wasn't until I finally got pregnant that I knew god existed. All my life all I wanted to be was a mother, it took two years after liberation to get pregnant. Being a mother is the most important thing."

At that, I stood up, thanked her for sharing her story with me, and quietly walked into a distant bathroom and cried. It felt like a pitchfork was stuck into my chest.

I clearly did not believe in god enough....

I hope to not have to go to a funeral for a long while, I am pretty emotionally cooked.

***

I am slowly, SLOWLY, going thru images I took while away. I took close to 3000 images from the 10days I was gone. well, 8 if you count travel to and from when I really didn't take any pics en route. well not real ones, point in case:

veggie meal en route to Ireland

The gallery was busy all night for the reception, it was a very surreal experience but I am so THANKFUL to have been there to watch it all!

Stylish lady looking at my piece opening night

 Before leaving I contacted an IF support group (they have a 24hr suicide prevention hotline as part of their support services) in hopes to get their thoughts on submitting my IF show in Ireland. I received a very kind but short note back from them that said

"Dear Barreness,

Many thanks for your email. I forwarded your email to our chairperson but I know she is extremely busy so I am not sure if she has had a chance to reply.

I would be interested to find out if you have a positive response from Irish galleries - you might let us know and we could post a link on our website.

Best regards,
Wendy"

When I hand delivered my proposal on CD to a very well established gallery and gave my "elevator speech" to the director as we walked up a flight of stairs leading to her office that my work might be considered controversial as it is about my infertility.

There were two people at the top of the stairs that stopped dead in their tracks and froze.

When we made it to them at the top of the stairs and passed them, they just stared at me like I had said I was going to bomb the place. The director smiled graciously at me, allowed me to see the show they had just hung and went into her office.

As I left I thanked them again and passed the two people who were still just staring at me in silence.

I know that none of this is suppose to be easy.

I prepare and work really hard for every little thing I aim for.

I don't get anything easy, never have and never will...

These days

I am feeling tested and taunted