Honest, ramblings

a letter to those who have no hope for the holidays

Dear friend, 

I want you to know I get you.I don’t understand or know your circumstances. I don’t know the deep places of your heartache.

But on a soul level; I get you. 

There are a lot of times in life that dealing with a gamut of heartache sucks.

Anxiety, grief, loss, singleness, depression, estrangement.

All of those are magnified during the holiday season.

Even just finding a template for a Christmas card was a glaring reminder of my relationship status. Every template featured a happy couple, a new home, a new baby, a diamond ring.

But, this isn’t a blog about that.

It’s just an example to you.

I get heartache.

On so many levels.

And I know that yours is oh so different. 

Your story, your heartache doesn’t match mine.

And mine doesn’t match yours.

But I guarantee that there are at least two people around the table with you who could say the same thing.

Who get you.

What I am trying to say is that you are not alone.

And I know that’s hard to read without rolling your eyes.

(It’s hard for me to write).

Because when you are physically alone it’s hard to remember. When you feel alone it’s hard to remember that. 

But it’s true. The beautiful thing about humanity is that even if it’s just the person in front of us at the grocery store, or the barista who makes are coffee- we are not alone. We all have stories and frown lines and spots on our pillow from tears.

We just have to fight the battle to remember that.

I have to fight the battle to remember that.

So, here’s the deal: I want to challenge you.

I want to challenge you to find a new way to infuse joy into your holidays. Make a new tradition, revamp an old one.

I want to challenge you to laugh. 

And be ok with laughing.

And lastly, I want to challenge you to be ok with crying. To not feel shame in telling a story around a fire.

To not feel shame in taking moments to yourself or sitting in the dark with just the Christmas tree on.

Because when there is a heartache so great that it comes to you in times of joy, I believe, for the most part, you can find joy on the other end of that heartache.

Don’t put yourself in a box of heartache this holiday season. 

You aren’t defined by that heartache. You aren’t ruled by it. It’s just one of the colors in your picture of life.

It’s not all that you are.

Even if it feels like it.

And if you ever feel alone, just remember me, in rainy, blustery Bellingham. I’m with you.

I’m for you.

This holiday season will be new. It may still have heartache but if you need some I am holding some hope for you (and cinnamon sugar almond bars).

With love,

Meghan 

Honest, washington whimsy

what the snow taught me.

The snow was incredibly discombobulating. It was stressful. It was in no way, shape or form an easy low week. It wasn’t restful. It was full of questions and worry.I am trying to figure out how something so peaceful was full of anything but peace.

The snow caused me to feel a little lost. 

One of the days that I was walking to and from work I was being very careful not to step where someone else had walked. Walking in fresh powder is one thing. Walking where one or two people have walked is fine too.

But once all the people have trudged down a path and compacted the snow and turned it into an ice rink, the worst life choice you can make is to walk where someone else has walked. 

That’s where we fall.

I only fell once last week and it didn’t even have anything to do with the snow (I blame Trevor).

But that fall caused me to walk with even more timidity and care. It caused me to be cautious of all of my movements. Even holding my tiny humans seemed like more work than normal. 

I learned something in all of my steps through the snow this week.

I needed to trudge my own path.

There were days when I could hop on those only slightly walked on paths, but as the week got further in I had to find the spots where no one had walk. Or the spots where people had given the sidewalk a fresh start and there was no longer ice.

Have you ever reached a fork in the road and had to come to terms with the fact that you didn’t want to choose either path?

It’s funny because I actually don’t know what’s down either road–I just know I don’t want to go down them.

I’m heading just off the path. 

But currently my feet are pretty much cemented to the ground.

And I have no clue what to do.

I was, I think I still am, incredibly hopeful for this year. I think that I am going to make some big, life changing decisions this year. I feel the change in my bones. I feel as if I am about to trod my own path.

And that slightly scares me. 

I remember a very real conversation I had with myself back in college. It was in the year after Joe died and I was very much still mad at God. I was lost. But I decided I wasn’t going to wait for someone else to be who I was anymore. I had met this human who made me laugh and feel cherished and loved. And I hadn’t gotten him for long enough to see what could have been.

I knew in that moment I had to walk my own path.

I feel that lost feeling again.

Like I am living the life I am supposed to be, not the life I could be.

This isn’t bad people. It’s ok. It’s this edge my seat antsy-ness that will propel me into new.

I just don’t know what it is.

Have you been there? At that place where you know in your knower that change is on the horizon. And you are waiting for it with bated breath. 

I’m right there too. Walking towards the horizon to see if it will get closer. 

Because we can’t really pause waiting for change. 

I would love too. I’d love to take a week and sit at a cabin and stare at water. I’d love to go to a foreign country for a month. I would love to stop showing up.

But I hate to tell you this, the change won’t come if you stop moving. 

That’s what I’ve come to realize. It’s like in a video game-you physically can’t get to the end of a level if you stop. Eventually the monster or the villain will walk up to you and eat you. But, if you move forward, you can collect things that help you finish the level and vanquish the monster. 

So, I am going to keep moving. I am going to collect tokens along the way. I’m going to be hopeful. I am going to put myself forward in each day.

I’m just a little lost.

And that’s ok.