Strength and Beauty

Just some ponderings and feelings this summer evening…

I find it so unfortunate, unfair, upsetting, whatever words you would like to choose, that I am not just a normal human being that is going through the regular course of suffering and pain that one might walk through on this earth. Not that life is all suffering and pain, but…

So I find myself being the normal human with the normal course of suffering and on top of that I am a tertiary adult child of alcoholic(s). This quite sucks, pardon the expression. Actually, let me think of another expression. Hmmmm. Shitty. Crummy. Pissant! That’ll do.

I made up that term, tertiary ACOA. It occurred to me the other night that I am not just the adult child of one alcoholic, but almost all my mother’s and father’s are alcholics. It sent a pang through me that I had not felt so acutely before. It’s hard to describe the pang. The above description is full of anger and a whiny, confused voice that says over and over again like a broken record, “This is not fair!” But another part of the pang is just feeling the great loss it has brought to my life. And there may be a little irritation in that pang, like I don’t have enough to deal with already being a normal human experiencing the normal course of suffering. Alcoholism is piled up on the heap of it all and I am not happy about it.

But it is what it is, right? That is my new mantra these days. My friend Kathleen gave me a mantra a year ago that went like this, “Be kind to yourself, Shanel.” Well, my mantra has changed to “It is what it is.” A mantra that allows me to surrender and move to a place of acceptance rather than bucking like a small lamb that doesn’t want to be caught and sheared.

I press into feeling all the emotions around that pang and swing from one vine to the next hoping that someday I can see the beauty that has become of my life, despite being a tertiary ACOA.

God, help.

I was driving around the northwest suburbs the other day with my preceptor with my new home care nursing job and I saw this man driving a big black truck. It was sparkling new and on the back window he chose to put this quite large bumper sticker that said in big,bold, and brazen letters, “I LOVE MY WIFE!” I loved it and found myself smiling with an endearing and affectionate little feeling in my heart. And I all of a sudden knew why…his public display of affection and tenderness for his wife spoke a very similar language of my very own husband.

I was reminded of a story many years ago. I was newly married and living in our first apartment in Skokie. I would drive to Highland Park every day (and for those of you not familiar with the north shore of Chicago, it is about a 30-40 minute drive in traffic) to work. One morning I walked out to my little VW Jetta named Jubilee and discovered that my husband had securely plastered a very large hot pink sign to the rear of the car, declaring a very simple statement. “My husband loves me,” in big, bold and brazen letters.

I sure did drive to work for a few days with that hot pink sign on the back of my car–just letting it sink in.

Well, recently I was doing a simple reflection in preparation for a little mini college reunion I am having this weekend with some college girlfriends. I was reflecting on all the the things I feel thankful for in the last year since I saw my friends, from the little things like, my lovely glass bird votives in my kitchen that make me feel happy to really deep and profound things like, the bountiful network of friends who have loved and supported me and Ivan through this hard year of yet more grieving. One of the items on my thanksgiving list was that I felt surprisingly grateful that the recognition I had of Ivan in that simple yet powerful bumper sticker was proof that his love for me had sunk in. His love and affection for me had really sunk in so deep that I have become to know it to be true without any questioning or doubt. That feels good and so much a God-thing.

He loves me, this I know. He loves me big, bold and brazen.

Second time around here, and I want to know what gender we are having. Ivan initially did not. Ivan loves surprises, especially the very few good ones in life, like having a baby and it being announced in that triumphant way, “It’s a girl!” If you think about it, most surprises are usually not good ones and are usually really bad setting off turbulent and sometimes volcanic emotional reactions in us. Like, discovering right before you go grocery shopping that your checking account is overdrawn. Like, finding out your parents who have been married for close to 30 years are getting a divorce out of the blue. Like, hearing the news that a dear friend discovered she miscarried when she went in for her 20 week check up and they found no heart beat. These are the typical surprises of life. But waiting to find out the gender of your baby to come; that is definately one of the good surprises of life.

I have been working on Ivan, so to speak, trying to bring him to my side of wanting to know what we are having. Most of it is logistical for me for I am a planner. And as Ivan pointed out later, I think it will aid and bless our bonding with the little one even before he or she is born. At first, I found Ivan conceding to my desires to find out the gender; almost like we were competing in a race and all of a sudden he gave up. This would not do for me. I could see it backfiring on me in the future when Ivan was filled with disappointment and possible resentment. So I found myself resigning to letting him win the race and waiting till the actual birth to be surprised. And I was mostly okay with that.

Until a few days ago, that was the plan. Wait and be surprised. Ivan calls me on his way into work on a brilliant sunny morning. This is when he does some deep thinking. He tells me he thinks he is “excited” about finding out. “Ivan, tell me about your excitement.” He goes on to tell me some well articulated and thought out reasons why he feels some growing excitement and openness to finding out the gender. He passes the test, in my mind, in terms of his level of excitement.

So as excitement grows to find out more specifically who this little one is tucked inside fluttering about like a hyperexcited little squid, I went ahead and scheduled the ultrasound for July 2nd!

Let the ballots fly and cast your vote.
XX or XY (for those of you nonscientific sorts that would be the chromosomal signs for girl or boy…)??
You have till July 2nd at 8:30am to make your vote known.

Ivan has taken up a new hobby: brewing his own beer. Last summer we spent a weekend with my sister’s in-laws in Iowa and Lou (Dana’s father in law) is a master brewer (hee hee, kind of a funny pun since his last name is Br*ewer). He has jerry rigged a tap in a refrigerator where he usually has two home brews ready for dispensing into a frosty glass. My husband loved that he could just go downstairs and fill and refill and refill his glass through the whole weekend with delicious beer.

So at Christmas time, one of Ivan’s brothers gave him a start up kit for his first brew as a gift. And since then the hobby has caught like wildfire. For a while there, my kitchen was being taken over by big stainless steel pots and bottles galore. And it has shifted to the basement and is beginning to look like a brewery down there.

When Ivan first started brewing, I think he was feeling a wee bit insecure about his beer and whether it would turn out. The way it works is you brew in many steps that require waiting with each step, kind of like baking homemade bread. So in all that waiting, Ivan has plenty of time to get worried about his brew being “no good”. And I would always say to him, “Let it be. Give it a few more weeks and it will be just fine.” This same conversation must have happened multiple times.

And then the day came when he made a “triple” [not sure exactly what that is, but it required more waiting then normal]. He was about to give up on it and pour it all down the drain after he sampled one with his brother and I once again said, “Let it be. Give it more time.” He ended up taking a bottle to his local brew shop where he gets all his supplies and has made friends with some of the guys that work there. They sampled it and guess what they said? They loved it and thought it was great!

Ivan comes home and tells me the report and you know how he concluded his report?
“I think it just needed more time in the bottles,” with a look of naivety and mild shock on his face.
I laughed aloud and thought it was so endearing. It hit a funny bone and I continue to smile when ever he gets insecure about his beer, saying all along, “Give it time.”

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One night we were eating dinner at our kitchen nook. I had lovely candles burning as the centerpiece. I have been teaching Audrey how to blow out candles (as training for her next birthday, of course). We were done eating and simply lingering with one another in a Martens’ fashion. Ivan was sitting directly across from me and Audrey to his left. Audrey wasn’t getting the hang of the blowing, so I took over. It was a 3 inch pillar candle that had been burning a while. I was getting kind of dramatic in my “pretend blows”. And on the final blow, I took a deep breath in and blew with all my might.

And you guess it. I didn’t just blow out the candle, I blew out all the melted wax which flew in every direction. The table was peppered with little splats of hot wax. Ivan got it and so did Audrey, very mildly. But more significantly, wax was splattered all over my face like big freckles. I spent the next few hours picking wax off my face and out of my hair. It sure was funny. Audrey didn’t think so though. She cried. And I kept laughing.

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Audrey’s language is really picking up speed and we are moving on to 2-3 word sentences that have follow up sentences. She is also getting cute in expressing herself with different intonations. My favorite that causes me to smile inside and out is when Ivan does something silly or cute or even farts at the table (imagine that), she will cock her head to the side and with glitter in her eyes say, “Daddddeee, silly.” I wish I could perfectly articulate the intonation of the daddy with words but I will do my best. It is something like, I can’t believe you just did that and a mixture of you are so silly with some I find you charming sprinkled on top. It is simply and utterly delightful.

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Smiles and giggles peaking out like sun through the clouds on a gloomy day.