Tuesday, January 04, 2011

One Word

I started and then dropped the ball on Reverb 10. I also didn't realize that I was supposed to sign up to participate. Oops. However, I like the idea and the prompts so much that I'm going to start with the December 1st prompt and (eventually) work my way through them, even if it's a little late and takes far longer than a month.
Prompt (December 1st):

One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you? (Author: Gwen Bell)
The first word that came to mind was change but then I reconsidered. There have been many years in the last decade that brought with them more change than 2010. There was the year I got divorced, started graduate school, and moved four times during my first four months as a graduate student (2002). There was the year I met my dear husband and my doggie soul mate died (2003). There was the year I got married and then cared for a friend who moved in with me after she was left disabled in car accident on her way to my wedding (2005). For the record, that was a disaster and it ruined our friendship. Sometimes, trying to do the right thing turns out to be the wrong thing for everyone involved.

There was the year that the disabled friend went home (and we were no longer friends), I got a Master's Degree, I got pregnant, we bought a house, my father got in a motorcycle accident and spent 6 weeks in the hospital (and we didn't think he was "coming back") and my brother-in-law committed suicide (2006). There was the year I had my first (and currently only) child (2007). There was the year I finished my dissertation, moved to North Dakota, and started my first real job (2009). Compared to these other years, 2010 doesn't seem to be very filled with change.

I thought about other words to describe the last year: Turmoil. Anguish. Relief. Acceptance. Awe. Community. Satisfaction. Contentment.

Turmoil and anguish when I thought my marriage might end. Relief than my marriage didn't end. Acceptance of my husband for who he is, my career for what it is, my family for who they/we are, my son for who he is, and myself for how I mother. Awe that I could fall in love again--with my husband, my child, my career. Awe that I could trust--other people and myself.

I found community where I least expected it, and for the first time in my life feel truly connected to the people who live within a 5 mile radius of me. I specify the distance because I feel connected to other women for sure--you crunchy mamas and besties know who you are--but all were/are so spread out from each other that it's hard to physically connect. Here, we've had spontaneous potlucks with neighbors. Last summer, there were several days where we just threw together whatever we all had to contribute to dinner and we ate at the picnic table that sits between our front yards. I have people to watch my son in a pinch that I trust and they live on my street. We spent Christmas dinner at a friend's house. She and her husband are (were?) journalists and their son is grown. Theirs is the same house where we celebrated Thanksgiving. She was delighted that I brought the boy to Christmas dinner in his pajamas, and that she had a little boy and a grown boy at the same table. I was delighted to feel like I have a soul family here. I go out with the people in my department because we genuinely like each other. We go to drag shows some nights and have research meetings (with wine!) other nights.  One of my good friends and mentors is a (gasp) Republican, but I respect him because he's neither crazy nor mean-spirited (i.e. fiscal conservative, social liberal) and we can have conversations about politics that actually make sense where I feel like I've learned something. Plus, we both LOVE to cook and talk about food and we bring in leftovers to work to share with each other now and then. The person who is probably my best friend is a single mother and colleague who I thought hated me until I realized she was just reserved...until you get to know her. We go to drag shows together and write papers together. Our sons have birthdays two weeks apart (her son is actually a leap-year baby born on February 29th and mine is a Valentine's baby), and we're having a joint birthday party this year. I am totally stoked!

My father and his girlfriend came to visit and I actually introduced them to some of my friends, instead of being ashamed of my roots. This community looks nothing like the community I envisioned when I was younger. That community involved lots of property and trees and free-spirits (and pot! lots of pot!) and people with ideas and opinions just like mine. I know that I am not the only one thinking about community and what it is and isn't what we thought it could and would and should be. This community is made of people who disagree with one another but still respect each other. It is neighbors clearing snow for each other. It's neighbors coming over, literally, to borrow a cup of milk or sugar. It's a neighbor who is watching my son texting me to tell me stay out with my husband as late as we want and the boy can just sleep at her house since he's watching Muppet Babies with her kids and half asleep on the couch already. I never lived in a real neighborhood growing up. My parents didn't have regular friends that came over. We were very closed off from other people. This life, my neighbors, this town, is what I saw on TV when I was younger and wondered why I didn't have it. I actually get choked up about it sometimes.

I gain satisfaction through the work I do and the students I teach. I am content because this family my husband and I have created is not without its quirks and challenges, but it is beautiful and fun and crazy and we laugh a lot and sometimes yell and I have learned so much more about myself than I ever thought possible. I have loved so much more than I ever thought possible.

Perhaps the word that best sums up this year, for me, is change after all. Not because there were big external changes like jobs and moves and marriages. Not because there were changes that would be noticed by an outside observer. This was a year of change for me because I changed on the inside. I worked, for real this time, to cast away old relationship patterns (though they sneak up sometimes), to cast away old grudges (for the most part) and to cast away the notion that I can "fix" other people. I stopped feeling guilty for being happy and I cast away the burdens of what an "ideal" mother does. It feels good.

No comments:

Post a Comment