Beginning again

A big move for my family and I a few months back has kept me quite busy getting settled so I have not been able to Blog about creative escapes because I really have not done much of that. My energies have been spent in adapting to a whole new environment. 

Jumping through the hoops of a cross country relocation is exhausting. Moving away from family and friends is exhausting. Helping my children adapt to a new home, new school, and new neighborhood is exhausting.  It is an exciting adventure but I am finding myself a bit numb. Lots of questions running through my mind and I am so used to having all of the answers. Before the move I was totally in my element.  My compass has been shook up. 

                                          Is it really time to go

                                          So hard to leave

                                          Goodbyes to all that was

                                           In the place i knew so well

Our lives in boxes

Organized chaos

Headed down a new road

To our future

Sounds so far away

   But it is not

                                           Anxious excitement

                                           New possibilities

                                           Beautiful air

                                           Wishful chances

                                           Beginnings

                                           Starting again

                                          Where are we

                                          Who are we

                                          Who am I

                                          What do I do

                                          What do I not do

                                          How to begin

                                           Begin

                                           Begin

                                           And begin again & again.

There is alot of time to adjust and that is what we will continue to do. With challenges we grow and we are all in this together. I am so grateful for the small blessings each new day brings. I have found wonderful new neighbors, rekindled an old friendship, and am embracing our new home of Texas, where the stars shine bright. 

What to do and how to find the time

I can remember being a young girl and asking my Mom what I could do because I was so bored.  So I would draw or sing or play with dolls. Now in my moments, few and far between, of me time I sometimes find myself with a long list of wonderful things to do but not enough time in between the responsibilities to do them.


I have taken up pottery in the last couple of years and find it very therapeutic. I make silly little creations and have loads to learn but find the feel of the cool smooth clay between my fingers lovely. I enjoy the way the clay molds to your movements and turns into the images you have in your mind. The process is also very healing. You make a piece and then let it dry. Once it is dry enough it is ready to go through the first firing to harden the clay. After this you can add some color by painting on some vibrant underglazes or just dunk it in a bucket of glaze. Another drying and kiln firing and voila, a unique creation to behold or a learning experience.

This process is alot like life and challenges we face. We all go through a process and face the difficult waiting and unfortunate cracks that sometimes appear. We either take our time to make it work or jump right in and figure it out. But no matter what we come through changed and having learned so much about ourselves and others. Another phenomena I have found in the studio that occurs is that the artist is very critical about whatever they are working on and most often will see little flaws that are unobservable to a bystander. We can be our own worst critic. This is not only in our creations but in the big arena of life. What we create comes from deep within us and serves a purpose so every piece is of value whether it ends up on display in a gallery to inspire or lovingly sits on a shelf in a friend's home.




My cousin recently exposed me to a new form of doodle art called "Zentangle". Online it is called the yoga of the mind.  It reminds me of the doodles and squiggles I did on my paper notebooks in high school.  It consists of repetitive patterns and shapes and is quite meditative and free flowing. I have kept an art journal for years and love to get out my markers and play. Just like my coloring book and crayolas of my childhood. One of my great inspirations for art journals has been the author, SARK.   I love her vibrant scribbles that are so full of deep meaning. Anyone can express themselves this way whether they have artistic talent or not. We can all doodle. You just need a pen and paper or nowadays an ipad, hee,hee. I am so old school but I still really enjoy my pens and paper. Sorry trees!!!! 

I love to read and write when I can. I have not written a new blog post in a couple of months so I had to plan ahead to make it happen. I also love to write poetry and find that the words come to me when I am quiet and everyone else is in bed. I am a bit of a night owl that way. I am able to reflect on the moments from the day and the feelings float to the surface to be studied.  I also love to read books. They are such a great tool for learning, exploration, escape and inspiration.  I carry a book in my car or purse for when I am waiting for the kids at school, doctor's offices, or whenever I get a few minutes.  I find reading fiction to be like dreaming with your eyes open. Some people paint with words and make such beautiful statements.  We all have our own story to tell and so much to learn from one another.

Let it out, Laugh, Cry, Create

I have been experiencing many emotional moments lately. I could list a variety of reasons or excuses for these occurrences but what does it really matter? What matters is how I make it through it all and what I decide to do afterwards.  We all deal with conflict, change, drama, negativity, sadness, disappointment, grief in different ways. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry, sometimes I take all the feelings and make something out of it. 


"So, the way that crying and laughing are similar is that in both cases, it is a releasing of resistance in a moving downstream. So, sometimes crying is being in a desperate place and just crying releases some resistance and moves you in the direction of downstream. Laughing always moves you, in other words, when you are really feeling humor it's always a downstream from where you are."from Jamie Southworth's FB page


When I ignore overwhelming feelings and try to bottle them up I end up having dreams that are very vivid and often work through some of what is troubling me while I sleep. I often remember these dreams when I wake. 


" Last night I dreamed about being in a desert valley. I was up on a plateau watching both of my sons wander through a meandering pathway in the sand that would lead them home. I was up so high and could see where they should go but all I could do to help was yell directions. They were not listening and were pestering each other so I was yelling at them to be nice to one another and threatening that I would call their dad if I had to. In the dream I felt  frustrated that I was up high on the hill and was trying to get down to where they were but every time I tried to find a way down the cliff was too steep and treacherous. I could not risk injuring myself on the way down because then what good would I be to my boys. I had to backtrack and go further away from them and trust them on their own in order to get to a place where I could get down safely and join them on our journey home. In the dream I remember feeling helpless, out of control and scared for all of us. "

Often the challenges I face as a Mom are like the ones I faced in this dream. There is not always an easy solution.  I have to trust that I have prepared my kids to face some things on their own.  I will not always be by their side and they will have each other. Some day when I watch them from Heaven above they will continue the pathway of life together as brothers. 
I know this may sound a bit morbid but having lost my Dad over a year ago my thoughts often drift to places like this.  I feel him watching over us and it provides great comfort and I receive such healing from my dreams and thoughts of my Dad. I will see reminders of him or one of my sons will sing a song my Dad used to sing. I often look at the clock at a certain time each day and I know my Dad is not far away. How far away is Heaven really anyway? 

Spring Cleaning of the Mind and Body

Spring Cleaning of the Mind and Body

I am trying to clean out the dustwebs that have covered my willpower and knock the dust out of the cushion of comfort from sitting in my pity. 

Time to make some changes just like the gardens that are blooming yellows, pinks and purples from the faded grays and browns of winter. 

Examine your Bad Habits:

1. What's the pay off? What do you get from it?

2. What's the trade off? What do you lose because of your habit?

3. When you look at it this way it does not seem like you are making good choices. Are you willing to "Actively" change?
What do you do now? Replace the old habit with a new one.

Now that you are "Actively"  aware each time you start to do "the habit" you have to actively chose.

Which do you value more?

It does not matter so much what it is as how you feel about it.

It should leave you feeling good about your choice. 

The only way to continue with a bad habit for very long

 is to sink back into denial of why you are doing it in the first place. 

It will get hard before it gets to be a new way of life. You will want to go backwards. You will get weak but in this "middle" is where winners are made. Wish I could say that I thought of that on my own but I heard it recently from Joyce Meyer and it was like she was speaking to me. I start things and never quite finish. 

Whether it gets too hard, or becomes less of a priority, or that I just start to believe 

that I am not worth it or cannot do it. 

 I deserve to win. So here I go. Time to shake the dust off and blossom. 

Your "favorite daughter" Misses You

Today marks one year since my Dad passed away. It is so hard to believe because it does not seem like 12 months have passed with out him.  But days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. No matter how sad or sick we feel, the world keeps turning and celebrations happen. 

I have felt loss in my life. I lost pets and relatives. I had lost all of my grandparents by the age of 23. The loss of my Dad at the age of 39 was something I was not and could never prepare for. 

When with my Dad I was his little girl, his only girl, thus he called me his "favorite daughter".   It was our little joke and I have to admit as silly as it sounds it made me feel special. As I grew older I discovered my Dad and I were alot alike and when struggling with understanding myself and others he had a quiet way of guiding me.  No matter how old I got I still saw my Dad as that man with all of the answers. He was the mountain that our valley was built around. Even as a married Mom of two boys, my Dad allowed me to be the starry eyed girl full of dreams. When he got sick and when the doctors said his days were numbered this little girl didn't know what to do. So she did what she could to make her Dad comfortable and reminded him of how much he was loved. But the day came for him to leave. 

And it has not been the same since.

Standing in the shadow of the little girl that used to be

Stood the sad woman that now was

The father who called her “his favorite daughter” had gone away

She could not call him

She could not hug him

She could not see him for a long time

Who was she now

With him gone to that other place

So far away

Yet right over there

The little girl ran after her father

And slipped deep down into the darkness of the earth

Where the finished things go to turn back into dust

It was time for the sad woman to turn her face upward

Into the daylight

Little girl days are spent

Womanly days are now

Take the love he showed you

Take the lessons he taught you

Take the stories he told you

Take the songs he sang to you

 And share them with your little boys before they grow to men.

LB 2-13-2011

Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day, either you buy into it or you don't. I am a romantic so I have always loved the cupids flying around with those harmless bow and arrows. Until, ouch, get hut a few times unexpectedly and you see how tough the loving thing can be. 
My Father owned a Drug store so he always got the most amazing selection of heart shaped boxes of chocolates and lacey greetings cards. He would pick the prettiest ones for his Mother and his Wife. I remember being a young girl and seeing those pretty velvety hearts in shades of pinks and reds. I wanted someone special someday to buy me a heart. 
As I have grown I realize I do not need the fuzzy box of chocolate to feel special one day a year. The push for men to express their love with material gifts is a bit too much. I speak for myself but I want a gift out of love not guilt from commercials.  I feel lucky to have a love to call my own every day of the year but I feel especially sad for those who have loved and lost on this day for lovers. My heart aches for them. Whether they are going through a difficult break up, separation, divorce or have lost their mates to illness. 

My sweet husband made me this heart from a newspaper bag "just because".
Not the hearts my little girl mind dreamed of
but it was romantic just the same.

Happy Valentine’s Day 
Innocent love
Holding hands in the movies
Staring at the stars
Long goodbyes in the car
Study dates in the library
Remember these days

We knew we were forever
Late movies that never ended
1am drives home on Goldenrod 
cooing pigeons singing us love songs over the window ledge

Sundays in bed
Wondering what to do with the day
Late lunch and tv
Napping and loving
Was is that easy to be in love

Fulfilling our dream of family
Love wrapped in a lil baby blanket
Your lips and my eyes
We made amazing things together twice.

Days go by so quickly
Kids growing before our eyes
One is as tall as us now
How did it happen?
A kiss in the morn and a kiss at night

Aging love
Forever love
Wisened love
Sitting next to each other
Holding hands
We will remember all of these days
Together.
LB 2-14-2011

I am "The Mommy"

Raising a child with Autism brings many challenges to the parents.  My son was slow to speak and communication can still be a major hurdle. We are beginning to learn so much more about who he is through our transactions with him. He is funny, smart, caring, creative and in love with the alphabet. Such an interesting fixation for a child that did not talk.   

As his Mommy, there have been moments of sadness. We want so much for our children. We want them to be happy and to have an easy road ahead. Life has not been easy. Communication is what connects us to each other. For a while I felt disconnected to my son. I feel torn as I type this because it is a hard thing to put into black and white print for all to read. I felt such frustration at his silent looks and his blank stares to my persistent questions. What was going on inside his head? Who was I to him? What did he want from me? What did he need from me? What I chose to do was learn as much as I possible could and get him the therapy that he needed. 

 I can remember the day that he called me, "the Mommy". I was in tears because he acknowledged me and titled me.  Parents of Neurotypical children would wonder what the big deal is but he finally connected with me. he reached out and gave me a name.  I wanted to be the Mommy for such a long time and I was so proud that day. 

I am your Mommy

You are my son

The bond goes deeper than words

                          Deeper than blood

                           Deep deep deep

I am your teacher

You are my teacher

We learn so much from each other

                        How to be

                        How to feel

                        How to love others

I am your safe place

You are my soul’s gift

I will protect you always

And you will live on as part of me

                        I keep you safe

                        You have saved me

                        You will always be part of me.

I know who you are

You know me

We are beginning to see what lies

In the future for both of us

                        You are Cade

                        I am Laurie

                        What will we become

                        Together we are

                        Separate we will be

                        What?

I am discovering a new world

You are sharing your world

The world is so full of promise

                        So much to explore

                        So much to learn

                        So much to communicate

                       

I am me

You are you

And we are amazing

LBarone Feb. 1^st  2011

My son is almost four and my oldest almost 12 and we have a long way to go.  I have faith that we will continue to be guided in the right direction. As his Mommy, I will do my best to advocate for him.  The title Mommy is one I do not take lightly for either of my boys. They are a part of me and I understand the protective Mama bear with her cubs. I have those instincts as well. I will shield them and provide them with the protective gear that they need to go out into this world and advocate for themselves and others. 

Lump of Clay

Year 2000, 29 and laying in a darkened hospital room with only the blinking lights to fight with the shadows.  I cannot sit up due to the spinal drain that is in my back to filter out the excess spinal fluid my body is producing. I have confused my brain by having surgery to fix a condition, Arnold Chiari Malformation,  I discovered that I had a year before.
(Chiari Malformation (Arnold-Chiari)  is a serious neurological disorder where the bottom part of the brain, the cerebellum, descends out of the skull and crowds the spinal cord, putting pressure on both the brain and spine and causing many symptoms.)     

Laying there in the dark with the door partially closed I am as alone as I can be in the hospital. My husband and 18 month old child are at home sleeping in their soft comfortable beds. I am feeling as if I am becoming part of the one I lay in. Where does my body end and the bed begin? After a week of being in the bed this is how it feels. In the darkness, I cry and pray and picture myself as a lump of clay in God's hands. My prayer, "Lord make of me what you will. I am at your mercy. I will become whatever you wish me to be." Never in my life had I been at a place so deep and alone. I thought I was alone but I was not.  I was one of the lucky people surrounded with family and friends who did whatever they could to help.  I also knew I was not alone because I felt the presence of something way bigger than me. I was just a lump. Laying there on the white sheets with my wounded head resting on the blood and tear stained pillows. Those pillows provided comfort while I healed.  At times those pillows wrapped around my shoulders became angel's wings holding me in a protective hug. These visual thoughts helped me make it through the difficult days that followed.


Now 40 and unless you were my hair stylist you would never know I had brain surgery. I am healthy and capable. I now have two beautiful children and their Father is my loving Husband who was strong enough to go through all of the challenges right there by my side. Yes, I was strong to make it through the healing process but he was the one who went through it all for us.  I have learned that it is true, what does not kill us makes us stronger. Never easy to see this when you are in the middle of it all.  Our vision is limited to survival at that point.  One day at a time.

I still have those strong visual thoughts to remind me of how blessed I am and that I am never alone. Wings, angels, hands, and clay are symbols I often see to remind me of how strong I am and that prayer is a powerful force.  Anything is possible. God began molding me into a new person and it continues to this day. I am not sure when the project will be complete. I have a long way to go and He is the artist.

Friendship

Some thoughts about the people that we choose in our lives:

I believe that we meet some pretty incredible teachers in our lifetimes.  In the classroom of life our teachers are all around us.  They can be the person standing next to you in line, the friendly person that lends a helping hand, the rude sales clerk, the smiling child covered in sticky goo, the elderly person waiting in the lobby.  They all have something to teach us if we take the time to listen, learn and absorb the lesson of the moment.  

As an adult I have realized that the more responsibility we have the larger the blinders become. We have our own agendas and we focus on the steps to get it done instead of watching the process unfold before and around us. Children do not have these blinders. They see so much that we do not see.  My children have taught me some amazing things. I have to take my blinders off and let the little girl in me out sometimes so that I can see the world on their level and then I can remember the magic.  We all need to do this once in a while.

“Truly wonderful the mind of a child is.”-YODA, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones

Friendships are great opportunities to grow.  The friends we have known the longest tend to know who we are sometimes better than we know ourselves.  I have friends that I can talk to once every few months and we just pick right up were we left off with no hesitation.  These relationships are a gift but they have to be taken care of as well. Just like an actual gift, if you unwrap it and oooo and ahhh then put it in the closet, it will remain out of reach. You have to nurture your friendships. This becomes complicated with our busy adult lives.  But the benefits of interactions with a real friend are valuable and opportunities to heal and grow. 

“There are people in my life who give me comfort when the going gets tough, as it invariably does. I can count on them for a shoulder to cry on. They will lift me up when I fall, they will hold me in their arms as I cry and tell me everything’s going to be okay. I am so thankful for those people, they are priceless.” –unknown

We’ll be friends until we are old and senile.

  Then we’ll be new friends. –unknown

Our childhood friendships teach us how to have a relationship and step outside of our egocentric selves.  These important friendships can be lifelong or transitional. Some of them can be painful but through the pain we learn what we need and what type of friend we want to be to ourselves and to others.  Like I said, everyone is a teacher.  Some relationships are not good for us and we have to let go of those friends. We can reflect on those friendships and remember the good times because no matter what there are always some good with the bad.  Along with letting go of the relationship we strive to let go of the bad feelings and dysfunction.  Let go and grow.

“Friends are God’s way of apologizing to us for our families.” –unknown

Wear your sadness like a sweater...............warning this is SAD!

One of the most comforting sympathy cards I received in February ,after my Dad died, had the saying, "Sometimes you need to wear your sadness like a soft old sweater just because it suits you for now." We got this card from friends I have known since I was a small kid in church. It was such an appropriate choice because we had just buried my Dad in his favorite sweater, the one he even wore on hot Florida days to ward off the coldness  he felt because he was suffering with congestive heart failure.  We could not picture him in a stuffy suit because he was never comfortable with a tie around his neck, what man really is though. His sweater reminded us of soft hugs,  his masculine cologne,  and fun times at the River. I have chosen to wear my sadness and almost a year later I still wear it. When I first put it on it was soaked with tears but I have grown used to the feel and weight of it and find that I know I will wear it always. There will never be a day that I do not feel my Dad with me in some way. He has become a part of me and I feel blessed for that.

I have been able to write some poems to express the sadness of my loss and find it truly healing to put my emotions into words. It releases that knot in my throat and I hope that everyone can find a way that works for them. We all handle grief differently.

A month before my Dad died he was sent to ICU where he had to be intubated and put on a breathing machine. We thought for sure he was leaving us right then and prepared for the worst.  My Dad was in and out of consciousness and would not open his eyes or communicate at first. I found myself staring at him and wishing he would tell me what I could do for him. It was such a helpless feeling, standing there and watching him fade away.  I told him, "penny for your thoughts? and then joked that if he could talk to me I would give him whatever amount he wanted. He could not.  Then the next day the tube was removed and he was unaware anything had happened.  I asked him if he wanted anything and he said all he wanted was a deep breath.  That inspired this poem:

Penny for your thoughts
   all of my treasures for a deep breath
Penny for your thoughts
   all of my treasures for a while longer
Penny for your thoughts
   all of my treasures for a body of health
Penny for your thoughts
   all of my treasures to be with those I love
Penny for your thoughts
   all of my treasures to see my grandsons grown
Penny for your thoughts
   all of my treasures to stay with my sweetheart
Penny for your thoughts
   all of my treasures to fulfill our dreams
Penny for your thoughts
   pennies, thoughts, body, loved ones,
   all of my earthly treasures I will leave behind.
God is there, my parents are there
   and I will be there too.
And someday we will all see
   the treasures of Heaven. LB 1-26-2010

and also this one:

I am not ready for you to leave
   thought you are fading fast
I am not ready for all of the memories of you
   to be referred to as the past
I am not ready to say good bye
   to the dad I hold so dear
I am not ready to explain to my sons
   why Grandaddy is no longer here.
I am not ready to brush back your hair
   once shiny black and now gray
I am not ready for you to leave
   so down on my knees I pray.
I am not ready to hold your hand
   the hand once so big and strong
I am not ready to kiss your cheek
   one final time to say so long.  LB 1-2010

Poem: Thirty Five Years Later

Thirty five years later

Sunday night on the road

 the very same road

 traveled many times.

Glow of the dashboard lights

 on the passenger window

Reminds me of childhood

 riding home from visiting Grammy

 at the River.

Bamboo fishing poles, Publix,

 blue flowered couch, crochet hooks,

 starlight mints, red rabbit's foot,

 seafood and comic books.

Laying in my Mom's lap

My tired head on her soft shoulder

The comfort from her warmth

Her loving embrace lulling me

 into a state of stillness.

Quiet glances at my Dad's reflection

 above the lights as he held the wheel

 speaking to his love.

As she answered,

 her words vibrated through my little body.

Their exchanges were loving

 and they became a part of me.

Recollections of study dates

 and melodies that took them back in time

 to their lives before a carful of kids.

My gentle Mom

My strong Dad

His eyes on the road ahead

 making me feel safe and protected.

 the glow

 the darkness

 stars twinkling in the sky

 and the man in the moon.

50s music on the turn dial of the radio

 round air vent aimed to the backseat

 of the station wagon

 dark green with fake wood panels.

Five years old in my winnie pooh footie pajamas

Safest place in the car

 front seat in my Mom's lap

 brothers in the back

 side by side

 like comrades

 on the lookout

 for those red lighted towers

 to us- Batman's secret hideout

 not so secret

But childhood is magical

 we believed

 we imagined

 we dreamed

We were safe, loved and on our way home.

Seems like yesterday

 but now the man above the glow I see in the window

 is my husband

 the boys in the back are my own

 Same stars, same moon.

I am the Mom

Blessed to have a man

 that fills the reflection my Dad left behind.

 Strong, yet gentle.

 Sentimental and focused on the road ahead

No matter where it takes us

 it will be magical.

Laurie Barone 1-11-2011