A letter, a commitment, to vulnerability

Dear me, myself and I,

A lot has happened in the past three years.  You got another dog, you bought a house, you worked for a major state university.  You gained about a hundred pounds and then lost it all (except for a few stretch marks).  You've been filled with joy and, conversely, depression and anxiety.  Through it all, you've kept going and that's pretty awesome.  Thumbs up, girl.

Now you find yourself rolling out of another major life transition and you're going to keep going and being awesome.  Your sweet, dear husband re-enlisted into the Army last year and you've moved back to Texas.  You sold your house, left your job and family, and you are becoming.  You've left everything behind and are starting over with a fresh slate.  Its what you've truly wanted, deep down where nobody knew, for the past few years.  Its what you've enjoyed about this military life.  Like how you crave airports and packing your yellow bag and settling into cramped airplane seats every few months.  Probably because it challenges you and your fears and forces you to mature and grow with every move, but also because you hate feeling stuck.  There is a phoenix inside of you that knows your purpose on this planet is to truly grow into and evolve into and become your fullest, most true self.  You're realizing this more and more every day.

It takes effort and work to become who we truly are, but its also a privilege as Joseph Campbell has pointed out.

One of the things that you've committed to yourself to do this year is to write.  No need to write a novel, though that would be fun.  Just a little bit here and there everyday will do just fine.  But no matter what, write.  Write until its no longer hard to be yourself, until vulnerability is as comfortable as your favorite pair of sweats, until you can no longer hide behind any particular voice or pictures or lack of either.  Show up for yourself even when there's tension and pain.  Or even when you don't know what to do with yourself, when you and your life are overwhelming.  

Its time to put in the work to make you, us, me happy.  Really happy.  One day, one choice, at a time.

Now let's not get too ambitious.

Hello.  Long time, no see.  I feel like writing today so, BOOM.

I never know what to say after not writing for a while.  Hopefully it's like learning how to ride a bike again, you never forget, except I never learned how to ride a bike.  Here goes nothing?

I've been doing pretty okay lately, doing okay in school and doing well at work.  My boss recognized me in front of the entire staff for great customer service.  My reward: a stuffed puppy.  Because puppies have great customer service, of course.  And, bonus, I actually kind of like my job.  It's almost like a career thing which is great, there are awesome benefits, though there is this awkwardness to it since I'm only 23.  Is that too young to get settled in a career?  Aren't I supposed to be bouncing around between experiences and travels?  Not saying that I want to be a financial aid officer for forever.  Idk.  Let's hold off this discussion for another time.

In other news, here's some life lately:

There's a new fave in the house.

Long hurr.

Early morning rainbow on the way to work.

Cezar has discovered pizza.

See, now this is where I get awkward because it's like, I've talked about these obvious conversation topics, now what's next?  But I think this is the place where writers have to push through, take charge of whatever they're writing and make it their own.  And this is really important to me because like I said everything is okay but it feels like something has been missing.  You know that feeling of taking charge and feeling like you're changing and becoming a person that you want to be?  Of adventure and vulnerability and confidence?  Yeah, I don't have that right now.  Days are good, but they consist of waking up, going to work, working, coming home, eating food, watching tv, going to bed.  On the weekends, I do homework.  It's monotonous and I want more, more creativity and activity and initiative.

Hopefully I'll be on here a lot more.

Like I said in another posting, and even in my "About Me" section, I like writing on here because it makes me vulnerable.  Lack of vulnerability seems to be a common problem in scorpios and something that has also just been an issue for me individually.  So I'm working on it.  Step uno: do things that stretch me and let me be creative, a la writing.

Step dos: TBD.  Though the first step should probably consist of me NOT drinking an entire bottle of Prosecco the night before work and maybe also going to bed before midnight.  Let's start tomorrow, ay?

Yesterday you said tomorrow.

I haven't had the heart to write on here since I wrote about Brittany.  It's like I wanted that post to retain its sanctity, for my blog to be a cairn for my amazing friend.  All I have left of her is pictures and a necklace which is enough because in a way I feel like there's only so much of her memory that I should have.  What about her husband and her family?  What about her best friends back home?  Surely they deserve to hurt more and grieve more and love more than I do.  So I felt invested in my writing and the space that I made for her here, but she would want me to make space for things other than the aching in my chest and the dark space where she no longer shines.

I don't have the heart to write anything about her memory, especially because most days I forget that she now only exists in memories and maybe in some other place far away.  A thought will drift to the forefront of my mind reminding me that I need to send her a message on facebook, or I'll hear a song and want to let her know that we heard it first, together, and now everybody else is hearing it too.  I'll admit that I sometimes talk quietly to the dashboard or the empty living room, hoping that she can hear me and I haven't lost her forever.  I want her to know that she's missed, that I hope she's okay and not lonely or in pain, and that I wish we could go back to the family we created together in small German towns.

As far as I know, she didn't believe in god or heaven and hell.  But I can see her existing on some other plane, looking on and approving of the times I stand up for myself and take care of myself and miss her.  Because she would want to be missed.  She would smile and laugh and demand that I do something awesome for her, and then, with her blunt honesty, she would declare that I need to get my shit together, get out of my bubble already, finish my degree, go to a damn concert, read a good book, decorate the house, work out and eat some guacamole.

Though clichéd (and I don't care), the best way for me to love and grieve for Brit is by making choices every day to purposefully live the life that I want.  By letting myself open up, spread out and stand firm, by surrounding myself with the things and people that will improve my life and space within this world, by being inspired and creative and adventurous.  She continues to teach me about fearlessness and confidence.  She reminds me constantly that I should make the life I want and not give a shit about what other people think or the barriers that stand in my way.

Brittany was smart and kind and beautiful and strong as hell and that's only touching the surface.  She was so much good, a strange, unique kind of good that I can't even touch on explaining well enough.  I hope someday I'll be almost that good, and people will ask what made me that way and I'll be able to tell them about my brave, strong friend who shined.

-----

This piece of writing doesn't feel finished, and I will write about Brit some more, but this initial little bit has to get out so that the mess tumbling around in my mind can be straightened out a bit.  I can imagine her urging me to move on and start working on some good shit for this upcoming year.

So yes Brit, I'll get off my ass and stop moping around because I miss you and you're not here anymore.  I hope you'll be proud.

How can this happen.

One of my dearest friends passed away almost a week ago.  Last Friday, to be specific, at about 9:00 am on the west coast and about 6:00 pm in Germany.  And I really miss her, and it still doesn't feel real.  She was okay and now she's gone and it doesn't make any sense to my head or my heart.

She was a magical mermaid angel fairy who lived her life to the COMPLETE fullest.  Man, the adventures that girl had...out of control!  And she never let anything get in the way of achieving her dreams.

I can't write anymore right now.  This hurts.

We miss you, Brit, so so much.

Does this mean I'm old?

Yesterday I celebrated three years of mawage to this hunk of love:

That's the picture of our first dance.  Our song was "I Wanna Grow Old With You" by Adam Sandler and I sang the entire thing to him.

Nobody tells you how awkward the first dance is, or is that just me?  You and your special love partner swaying back and forth in the middle of an open dance floor for several long, long minutes while tens, maybe even hundreds, of people stare obsessively at you.
And that is why the song for our first dance lasted for, ehhh, maybe about a minute.
I'm sure there's a dirty joke in that somewhere.

Annnyyways.
Hubby and I were super romantic last night.  I saw some delicious looking baklava on my lunch break so I grabbed a few pieces to share and didn't even open up the packaging until after I got home (winning!).  Then after I got off of work late, we just went out to dinner for some meh-okay Indian food, came home to watch a movie, and then I almost immediately fell asleep on the couch.  Hot, right? ;-)

So here I am this morning, sitting at my desk at work, still wearing yesterday's makeup and totally not rocking it, needing about twenty shots of espresso.  All because of my crazy anniversary night, of course.


Are we sure today isn't Monday all over again?

All the love,

Jenni

So, now I'm here.

After hundreds of miles of traveling over continents and mountains of stress, we've made it back to the Pacific Northwest.

And btw, I did not mean to make that rhyme.

It's been a long journey.  And though I've been back in the U.S. since July, I'm still working on getting home.  Settling in to a new house is not easy for me.  I'm a creature of habit and routine so creating familiar grooves in a new environment is full of stress and uncertainty.

Maybe over time I'll share stories of the multitude of things that have happened over the past few months, but right now I don't have the time or the energy.  Homework is calling my name (as always) and I've been up since 5 am with a sick dog.  So here is a bit of a summary of our time back in good ol' 'Murica:

We left Frankfurt at 10 am and arrived in Seattle at 11 am on the same day.  Cezar surrived.
Moving in with my parents was not as awkward as expected.  Many Friday nights were spent drinking wine, playing games and laughing over my dad's attempts at charades.
Jon got a job as a security officer after just 3 weeks of being home.  He's working full-time in Seattle with a radio and bulletproof vest.
Just a few weeks later, I got a job in the financial aid department of a medical vocational school.
We moved in to a 2-story house in a nice neighborhood just 30 minutes away from Seattle.  An entire weekend was spent learning that there's no way our German furniture is going to fit in the living room.
We've since enjoyed cable (real commercials!), a Sam's Club membership and Domino's pizza.
Jon's BFF moved in last two weeks ago.  I've learned he's quite proficient at making chocolate chip cookies and fried pork chops.  Also, he and Jon have acquired Nerf guns and regularly have wars throughout the house.

Now, here's an overly large amounts of photos from the day after we landed until now:

Signing off for now.

XO

Jenni

I'm in 'Murica.

This is my update right now:

XO

Jenni