52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 36- Free

As I dropped my daughter off at school on the morning of September 11, I noticed that her elementary school was flying the flags at half-mast.  I snapped a picture with my phone because it was a touching commemoration.   As I drove away from the school, I decided to take some time out of my schedule and photograph other flags in my community, to honor the survivors and victims of 9/11 and the wars that came in the aftermath.  

Elementary School Flags
taken on a Motorala XT897, edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

Train Station
taken on a Fujifilm finxepix HS 35 EXR, edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

City Halltaken on a Fujifilm finxepix HS 35 EXR, edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

Hall of Justicetaken on a Fujifilm finxepix HS 35 EXR, edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 31- One's Place

One's Place- My Hometaken on a Motorala XT897, edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

One's Place- My Backyardtaken on a Motorala XT897, edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

Forgiveness?

for·give
fərˈgiv/
verb
1.
stop feeling angry or resentful toward (someone) for an offense, flaw, or mistake.
verb: forgive; 3rd person present: forgives; past tense: forgave; gerund or present participle: forgiving; past participle: forgiven

I got "friend" request on Facebook last year.  When I saw the notification, I expected that it was from someone in my graduating class because our 20 year reunion about that time.  I didn't go, so I have been tracking everyone down via Facebook.  Nope.  It was from someone who was my friend for the shortest duration of time ever, three or four years.

My very first thought was "Oh, HEY-ell No!"  I then hit the decline button and continued with my day.  Later I mentioned to my husband that I got a friend request from this person and his response was "You're kidding!"

This prompted a discussion on forgiveness because I was unceremoniously dumped as a friend after she became offended by something my husband had said on Facebook.  Something that most assuredly was not directed at her.  Something that continued to offend her after my husband clarified, apologized and attempted to resolve the situation. 

While she wasn't one of my closest friends, her behavior hurt and it made me angry.  Mainly because of the impact on my daughter.  My daughter was only 4 or so at the time and really enjoyed playing with her children.  She kept asking to play and she didn't understand why she couldn't.  She was sad and grieved the loss. I had to forgive her for the hurt experienced by my daughter. 

I have to say, I don't know that I am the most forgiving person.  I don't think I have many experiences as an adult that have hurt me enough that forgiveness was struggle.  Or maybe I am am forgiving person because there are only few instances that forgiveness is a struggle.  Either way, I had to forgive this.  I was pretty pissed for a while.  The friend request allowed me to realize that I wasn't hurt and angry any longer. I was able to understand that her reaction stemmed from her concerns and insecurities.

I like the definition above, however.  Forgiveness is not letting the other person off the hook or minimizing the impact of their behavior.  It is to let go of the feelings the behavior initially created.

I have some feelings that need to be excused from my person.  I have instances of anger, bitterness and dismay over 10 years after leaving my first husband.  I had expected that I would have moved much further than this in that time.  Even as I sit and think about it my psyche clutches at the anger like a coat on an especially cold day.  I am not sure what my unconscious thinks it is protecting me from, but whatever it is, anger is not the best defense.  At least not in my current circumstances.  Anger is doing nothing for me currently.  It creates problems and the protective function it once served is no longer necessary.

Forgiveness clearly has nothing to do with my ex-husband, it is all about me and my feelings.  My guess is that I have not fully forgiven myself for marrying him in the first place.  I have come to partial forgiveness of myself with three ideas. First, I remember that I made the best decision I could with the information I had available at that time.  Second, I try not to judge myself then based on the information I have available now.  Finally, I remember that the cumulation of experiences in my life make me the person I am now and give me the life I have now.  I don't want to be a different person and I don't want a different life.  Consequently, I chose not to regret the events that lead to the place I am now.

In other words, I chose to love my past self unconditionally and appreciate the events that lead to my present self.  It is my hope that as I continue to walk this path, I will fully forgive myself for my first marriage.

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 29- Sooner or Later

"Sooner or Later"
by S. Clark

Last week, my husband's coworker invited him to a birthday lunch and he wanted to bring a gift. "She likes owls," he told me as he and our daughter departed in pursuit of a present. They returned with a wood cut out in the shape of an owl, an owl stamp and an owl sticker.  My daughter had agreed that she would paint the cut out when they got home.  She reneged on the deal upon entering the house.  Okay, so, his coworker would only get the stamp and the sticker.

I am not one to pass up an opportunity to create something, so no worries!  I am good friends with my glue gun (read here). And I also have a solid relationship with a large green tackle box.  It contains the bits and pieces that might be handy for projects. Things like old beads, sea glass, pine cones, buttons & other debris. It was a gift from one my younger brothers, given to me at Christmas about 25 years ago.  Like I said, I have a solid relationship with the tackle box.  We've been together longer than many marriages!

The glue gun and the contents of the tackle box helped create the above "bulletin board do-dad."  Because, sooner or later, those little bits and pieces will come in handy!

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 28- Cake

"Pancake"
Taken on a Motorola XT897
Edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 27- Pain

"Pain by Cactus" 
Taken on a Fujifilm FinePix HS 35EXR
Edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

I love cacti because of my grandmas; which you can read about here.  However, if you are not careful, they can be a pain.  Typically in your hand.  I can't number the times I've been stuck. Usually this happens when I transplant one of them.  Luckily, they outgrow their pots slowly and warrant very little handling.  I can simply appreciate their prickly beauty and memories of my grandmas.  

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 31- EatE

Eat

taken on a Motorala XT897, edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 30- Pull

Pull
Taken on taken on a Motorala XT897, edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

Cruising

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we have reached cruising altitude and you are free to move about the cabin."

Whew!  The rational pilot is fully in control again.  The hijacker, depression, has been removed the cockpit.  It was a fight and I was pretty sure the whole thing was going to go down in flames but I was able to right myself.  I am more or less flying steady now.

Cat Therapy

The strategies used to fight the terrorist were varied.  I went to my naturopath to see if there was any nutritional or herbal support.  I saw my psychiatric nurse practitioner to make sure my medication was were it needed to be.  I met with my counselor.  I talked to my husband, my best friend and my mom. My best friend and I exchanged daily texts for about a month providing each other with affirmation and support. I got massages, I took walks, I did yoga.  I read funny books and uplifting blogs.  I bought plants and puttered in the garden.  I sat in a rocker on the deck and watched the chickens scratching around.  I took naps with our cats.  I pet the dog.  I slacked off on chores when I needed to.  I did art projects. Every day I made a choice to do something nice for myself.

Garden Therapy

It was hard.  All these nice things were incredibly difficult, especially at the beginning. The hijacker likes to whisper advice that is the OPPOSITE of what should be done.  The hijacker suggests that being alone is the best, hiding my feelings is always a good idea and I should probably just give up anyhow.  Hardest of all was to tell others that I was in the midst of a major depressive episode.  So often in my personal life, I am the strong one, the one who knows what to do and how to take care of others. In my professional life, I am always the strong one and the voice of wisdom.  I did my best to ignore the hijacker.

I also redirected his harsh voice that told me how awful I was.  The ugly hijacker voice had all sorts of horrible things to say.  "You are a horrible mom."  "Your family would be better off if you weren't around."  "You are a failure."  At the time, that voice was pretty compelling.  While the rational pilot didn't allow me to believe that those thoughts were real, they sure felt real. Which is why I often repeated to myself, "Feelings are not facts.  Feelings are not facts. This is a product of your brain chemistry. Feelings are not facts. Feelings are not facts. FEELINGS ARE NOT FACTS!"   If I wasn't feeling convinced, I would go find my husband or text my friend or reread a supportive message from another loved one.

It was a process.  There was not an immediate reward.  My depression didn't leave after using one coping strategy or intervention.  I had to ignore the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness and carry on with the plan of attack.  I had to always remember the hijacker was a liar.  Each of these things was a blow to the hijacker, even when it seemed he was winning. Each activity, each connection, each healthy choice was a hit against the one who wanted to fly me into the ground.  Each one of these things gave my brain chemistry a boost.  I hit the hijacker in the gut, over and over again.  Eventually, the hijacker could no longer take it and succumbed to the blows.

Like the process of becoming depressed, the process of becoming well is gradual.  The downward spiral slows, then I a fly low but straight for a while.  Then, imperceptibly, my brain begins to head upward.  After a while, I get to the end of the day and think "That wasn't so bad." "That wasn't so bad" then becomes "Life is good."  

I am back to "Life is good."

Thank God and science and perseverance.

Yoga with my friend Kira who is staying with us while her mommies are on vacation.

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 26- Piece

A Piece of My Childhood

Creosote smells of Summer to me

tangy

brash. 

Hot planks beneath my bare feet

burns

just a little. 

Pony tail kissing my shoulders

tangled

blonde streaks.

Whirs of cicadas serenade the sun

high pitched

tseeee.

Gravel driveway stretches between

dusty

full of agates.

Old Minnesota farm house beckons me

welcoming

loved.

All my Summers

tangy

brash.  

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 25- Head

"Chicken Heads"
Taken on a Fujifilm FinePix HS 35EXR
Edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

At the beginning of May, our friends who own a flock of chickens, gave my husband 6 eggs.  He was informed that they were fertilized and would hatch if we incubated them. He went home a promptly build an incubator.

Waiting for the chickens to hatch was excruciating because other than shining a flashlight on them, we had no way to know if they were developing normally or developing at all. We had to have the temperature and humidity just so and because we had this wonky homemade contraption it was heard to maintain the correct environment.  Every time the temperature got too high or the humidity crashed we felt for sure we killed all the chickens.

One egg wasn't fertilized and one egg "quit" after just a couple days, which left 4 eggs.  On May 26, three days earlier than expected, Freckles hatched in 30 minutes.  This is well under the several hour timeline Google informed us it would take. We named this chick Freckles after my Great-Grandpa and Great-Grandma Freckles who had chickens when I was growing up. (Their name wasn't really Freckles, but I named them that because my Grandma looked freckled to my 3 year old self.) On May 27, Lucky agonizingly pecked her way out of the shell.  She took well over the timeline given by Google. We named her Lucky because it seems pretty lucky that she got out at all!  Two eggs didn't hatch at all but we felt a 50% hatch rate was pretty good given that we are completely ignorant chicken farmers.

Freckles immediately after hatching.

Freckles after he fluffed up a bit.

Lucky immediately after hatching.  

Freckles at a few days old

Lucky photo bombing Freckles

Lucky at a few days old.

 Chickens grow super fast and pretty soon we had to put them in a large tub in the garage.  We initially kept them in the closet under the stairs because the temperature was more consistent than the rest of the house and we could keep the cats away.  The cats were much too interested!

Lucky & Freckles around 3 weeks old. 

Exploring the chicken run.  

My daughter loves the chickens!

Freckles and Lucky around 1 month old.

The photo at the top was taken when they were around 1 1/2 months old.  They look pretty much the same except for Freckles has more of a coxcomb developing now. Yep, despite our deepest desire to end up with two hens, we have a rooster and a hen.  He is practicing his crow in an adolescent chicken voice.  Have I mentioned we are not morning people and we have neighbors? Stay tuned for future reports on Freckles' developing crow!

Learning From My Small Girl Child

"Mom, I need to take a break. I am going to go watch a show," my small girl child said as she exited her room, which we had been cleaning at her request.  Her bed was piled high with stuffed animals, there were at least three piles of toys and debris that needed to be sorted and put away, and the top of her dresser was obscured by more debris.

I sort of wish I had taken before and after pictures but it is so horrifying that I also don't want a permanent record.  I did take this picture a couple weeks ago of a bunch of stuff found in her bed:

She informed me it was a "nest" for her stuffed pterodactyl; although I believe she gave me a specific species name.

Her entire room pretty much looked like this, only with a greater variety of objects.  I am either raising a future hoarder or an amazing collector.

I'll be honest, given the enormity of this task, I was not impressed when she announced she needed a break.  However, rather than going with the dictator version of my parenting persona, who would have responded with "Oh no you are not! You get back in here and finish this job! It is not my mess!", I kept my mouth shut. The dictator mode is generally an ineffective way of parenting my child.  Because she inherited a stubborn nature along with her hoarding tendencies from me, her response to this is a smaller version of my dictator self.  We then lock horns until one or both of us is crying (because we are also sensitive as well as stubborn, it is a fantastic combo, let me tell you!) and then my sweet husband comes into break us up.

Happy girl making s'mores

I'd made a commitment to myself a couple months ago that I wasn't going to use the dictator mode, so I took a deep breath and said nothing.  After a few minutes of cleaning her room without her, I determined that if she wasn't working on her room, I wasn't going to either.  I found a magazine and took a break myself.  My husband took this opportunity to pitch in on completing her room.  Eventually we both joined him and finished the task.  We can now see the floor and walk without tripping or stepping on a deadly Lego.

Today I was folding laundry and was feeling a bit ragged.  Very enthusiastic birds have been waking me up prior to my preferred time, so I was tired, and the laundry seemed a bit overwhelming.  My usual mode is to push myself (I've written about that here).  I decided to take a page out of the small girl child's book and took a break.  I sat on my bed and caught up with Facebook.  Then I finished the laundry and had lunch.

Both times the task was completed and both times I felt much better when I was done. Following the inner wisdom of my child is allowing me to find my own inner wisdom.  Parenting can be such a beautiful thing.

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 24- Out

"Out"
Wire wreath made of objects found outside in my yard
by S. Clark

The wreath with other items that make me smile.  

This weeks prompt was "out," which made me think of a small piece of wire I found outside a few months ago. It was bent when I found it, so I shaped it into a circle and thought it could be used to make a cute wreath.  I put it in one of the many nooks and crannies in my desk and didn't see it again until just recently.  This week's creativity challenge seemed like the perfect opportunity to complete that project. I gather dried grasses and flower stems as well as four delicate pine cones from one of the evergreen trees in the yard.  

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 24- World

"From Around the World"

Photo taken on FujiFilm HS 35EXR, Edited in Google Chrome
by S. Clark

"From Across the Ocean"
Photo taken on FujiFilm HS 35EXR, Edited in Google Chromeby S. Clark

When I edit photos, I don't typically include the original photograph in the blog post.  This week, however, the final product for each picture was so far removed from the original image, that I decided to include the originals for the  sake of comparison.  

My usual approach to editing photos is to enhance the image.  I usually try to make the image more vivid but not fundamentally alter it in anyway.  

This week I decided to try something different.  I wanted make these photographs look like the old pictures I found in my grandparent's attic as a kid; old, beat up and with poor exposure. Photographs that came from old film cameras and spent several decades in a box somewhere.  The editing deviated significantly from my usual approach as a result.  I think that the images above evoke the same sense of age as the photos I remember finding as a kid.  I hope that they give you a similar sense of history.  

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 23- Keeping

"Keeping Up With the Kids"
Taken on a Motorola Photon Q
By S. Clark

My refrigerator is an ever evolving work of art dedicated to the comings and goings of the kids; my daughter and my youngest brother. The bits of this and that on the fridge keep track of their comings and goings, their accomplishments and interests.  This photo is a still life of one section of the refrigerator art gallery!  

Hijacked

I feel like vomiting out my brain.  It is not working and I would like to exchange it for a new one. I've tried writing about what it is like to be depressed in the past, but I realized that I can't do it when I am not depressed.  Well, I am depressed now and I wish I weren't.

Being depressed is like having your brain hijacked by a terrorist.  You really don't have control.  You can put in security measures and focus on prevention as best you can, but it can sneak through anyhow.  Once the bastard is on board, you can fight back and try to wrest the controls out of its hands, but there is no guarantee.   You can still crash and burn.

I am in the process of fighting my personal terrorist, it snuck past my security measures. All the things I can control, I am doing.  I take my medication, I take steps to get good sleep (although it doesn't always work), I eat right, I do things I enjoy and seek social support.  I haven't needed to see my therapist in a while, but I have an appointment now.  I also haven't exercised consistently, but I am now. Every aspect of my life I have control of I am setting the dials to full on fighting depression mode.  Unfortunately, it feels like my brain is going down, anyhow.  Stupid brain, stupid depression.

I haven't had a full crash and burn in years.  Just little bits of turbulence.  I was really okay with not remembering exactly what a major depressive episode felt like.  But, yet, here it is.  I feel mired in the mud of hopelessness and sadness.  I want to cry and cry and cry.  For no reason, no reason at all.  My days seem like a burden. All I want to do is sleep.

And for an extra special bonus, sometimes I have atypical depression, which means that I also have a lot of agitation and irritability.  I have road rage.  Once upon a time I flipped off a bunch of thugish looking young men in a sketchy neighborhood.  I feel full of hate and I can't manage my mouth.  Last night I told my husband that I had to ask our daughter to brush her teeth "800 times" and used a horrible, harsh voice.  She said "you only asked me two times" and then burst into tears.  I open my mouth and a monster comes out.  Don't I suck?  Now I have oppressive guilt because I am a bad mother.  

There is some of my rational brain left in there, the usual pilot isn't just cowering in the corner.  She just told me that everyone makes mistakes and I don't have to be a perfect mother, I have to just be good enough.  I love my normal pilot, she is so nice and I feel so undeserving it makes me want to cry.  She is my friend; Rational brain is still in charge of decision-making, the bastard depression has only got the controls of my feelings.  Stupid brain, stupid depression.

I've gone on this trip many times before.  For many, many years I was depressed twice a year, every year.  There were some very, very bad times where the idea of dying seemed like a wonderful relief.  I just wouldn't have to feel anymore.  I get why people commit suicide and I have a sense of how much pain they carried.  I get that depression took over their controls completely.  But at my very, very worst, rational brain was always in charge of the live or die question.  She always soundly held those controls and held them firmly on "live."

I learned during my first year of college, when I had a severe depressive episode, that my symptoms were the result of haywire brain chemistry.  I used that bit of information to shore up my rational brain.  I  also knew that I would come back out; this also kept rational brain going.  I learned that being hijacked was a temporary state, even if the hijacker managed to drive me into the ground in a ball of fire, I would rise from the ashes.  I always rise from the ashes.

But, oh how I wish the hijacker would go away once and for all.  I wish I didn't have to fight.  I wish I could go about my life as I was before.  But, that is not what I got.  What I got is depression.  And what that means is I will make sure rational brain keeps control of my decisions, because I know my choices limit the power of the hijacker.  It means I will never give up because I will always right my path and head back to mental health.  Ultimately, I am stronger than depression and that bastard hijacker won't have his hands on any controls.  He's going down, not me.

note to reader: I wrote this approximately 4 weeks ago and have improved since then.  I am not 100% back to cruising altitude but I am also not headed for a crash and burn.)

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 21- Spot On

"Spot On"
Photo taken on FujiFilm HS 35EXR, Edited in Picassa
by S. Clark

I had lived in Washington only a few months when I had my 30th birthday.  I had a birthday party and invited my co-workers, along with family members from all over the state. One of my new coworkers walked into my house, wished me happy birthday and said "I left you a roadie in the garage." This statement was confusing to me because I was under the impression that a roadie was an individual who worked for a band on tour, hauling gear.  I assumed that she wasn't actually getting me someone to haul my gear, although that would have been appreciated, I didn't have any other alternate ideas.  

After the party was over, I walked into my garage and found a rhododendron plant.  Oh! A "rhodie" not a "roadie"!  Having lived in the midwest and California all my life, the term rhodie was not in my vocabulary.   

Azaleas and rhododendrons blanket the Pacific Northwest. These shrubs are part of the genus Rhododendron are found in nearly every yard in this part of the country.  In 1892 the women residents of Washington voted that the state flower should be the Rhododendron macrophyllum, or Coast Rhododendron.  They wanted an official flower to represent the state in the 1893 World's Fair.  Washington had only been a state for 3 years at this point, so I am guessing the the voter turn out was pretty low!  The choices was narrowed down to clover versus a rhodie.

I am glad that they chose a rhodie.  I have come to really appreciate both azaleas and rhodies in the 10 years I have lived here.  My yard has several of both types of plants and I think they look much better than clovers.  My favorites are the ones with delicate spots near the center of the flowers.  They are spot on! 

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 20- Nuke

"Peaced Out Nuke Sign" Color Pencil Drawing
by S. Clark

Well, one can always hope....

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 19- And Then

"And Then...She Made A Goal!"
Taken on a FujiFilm FinePix HS 35 EXR
Edited in Google Chrome
By S. Clark

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 18- Now

"Green Blueberries"

New growth abounds in my gardens right now!  

"Honeysuckle Satellite"

I found these plants to because especially intriguing because their form is an unexpected departure from what we typically associate with spring and new growth. 

"Lily"

Also, these plants are not yet dominated by color, which makes the beauty of their form more evident.  

All three photos were taken on my new camera, a Fujifilm FinePix HS35EXR.  I didn't do any editing.    

52 Week Creativity Challenge, Week 17- Help

"Help" taken on a Motoral Photon Q phone, edited in Google Chrome
By S. Clark

Here in Washington state, we like to help our squirrels by building tiny squirrel bridges to help them cross busy streets.  We have four in town, the oldest was put in place around 50 years ago. This bridge is decorated with lights every year at Christmas because in addition to safe, we also like our squirrels to be festive!

I'm Finally My Age

My cousin and I celebrating our birthdays in 1989.
I was 40, I mean 14, and she was 7.
Her brother was "helping" with the candles.

My 2nd dad, whom I have always referred to as "Dear," always said I was 12 going on 24 or 13 going on 30, or whatever age I was and whatever age I seemed.  I am not exactly sure what specific behaviors he was referring to, but I was avidly reading Newsweek and Scientific American in middle school, so I imagine I had some commentary to offer on Clarence Thomas or possibly the Iran Contra Scandal.  I was always reading things above my pay grade.   I also read my mom's self-help books on how to raise teenagers or adjust to living in a stepfamily or whatever was laying around.  My senior year I really felt like it pointless to be dealing with Physics or English when there was genocide in Rwanda.

This is pretty non-standard for  teen girls, so I can see where Dear was coming from.  I know I was a standard teenager in a lot of ways; I cried a lot, I liked dumb boys exclusively, never the nice boys, I disliked driving the ugly station wagon and spent too much time fussing over my ginormous bangs.  I often wanted to kill my brothers and I didn't always clean up after myself (Dear may tell you I never cleaned up after myself and his scissors were always missing, but I do think that is probably an exaggeration). But really, I always felt older than the years I'd actually spent on earth and often acted older, too.

I've been feeling closer and closer to my age for the last few years.  Yesterday, I turned 40 years old and I am finally my age. I finally don't feel decades older than my actual life.  During high school, my English teacher had us write an essay on what we wanted to be doing with our lives.  I was adamant that I was done being a teenager.  The life I described is pretty much what I am doing now; a home with gardens & animals, meaningful work, and engaging hobbies.  The only thing I didn't envision was a husband and daughter, because, hey, I couldn't know everything, right?  All this time, I've been 40. It is difficult to describe this feeling, but my inner world and outer world feel congruent.  My psyche is not banging up against my real life constantly.  It is such a relief.

My daughter, my dog and I on my 40th birthday.

The best I can describe myself is it as though I am psychologically standing in mountain pose, very firm and grounded.  I feel really settled into my hips and solid on my legs.  Like I can hold myself up, regardless of the weight the world might place on my shoulders.  I feel solidly myself.  And while I am certain that I will continue to grow and change as a person, it is my hope that I will also continue to feel solid and become every more myself.

From the Window- a Study of Images While Traveling

"Girlfriend"

I have been taking pictures with my phone from the car (and once from an airplane) of images that have caught my attention.  I think they tell the a story of my life.  These pictures show the beauty in the mundane, everyday stuff as well as the more easily identified beauty of nature in the Pacific Northwest. 

"Giraffe Bling"

All these photos where taken on my phone, the Motorala Photon Q and edited in Google Chrome.  These were taken starting in February 2014 up until today.  They are in reverse chronological order.

"Drive from School"

"Lewis and Clark Bridge"

"Mountain View"

"To California"

"Snow Day"