Packet of Wildflower Seeds

Awhile back I shared a poem I wrote about the experience of partner abuse. At the time I wrote the poem, I had a newborn, and I imagined that a woman might choose to stay in an abusive relationship because she felt she had no way to provide for her child otherwise. My child is now older, and as she has grown up, I have imagined how abuse might seep from a spouse to a child. Would the mother continue to stay in the relationship if she thought she had no other options? Would she see her children hurt and decide it was finally time to leave? How would she protect her children? Could  she protect her children? I wrote this poem to sort through my thoughts and feelings about the topic. As with the last poem, I drew from several sources. I digested news stories and imagined what I'd do in similar situations. I cried after hearing what friends have endured. Yes, I've been hurt, too - with words only and certainly not to the extent depicted here. As I sat with the pain, I wondered ...

If you have read even a fraction of my blog posts, you know that mental health is an important topic to me. That probably makes sense due to my own personal struggles. I also worry how my illness will affect my children. Does it impact how I respond as a parent? Is it something they will inherit from me? I have additional reasons to be concerned about the latter. I alluded to my husband's family history in a previous post, but I feel ready to share more fully his story (with his permission). My husband's father suffered (and, if we are being honest, died) from schizophrenia. I didn't know this when we first started dating. I didn't even know that his father was deceased. At the beginning of our relationship, someone mentioned to me that they thought his father was no longer living and asked if it was true. I had no idea, so I asked one of my husband's best friends about it. The friend actually believe his father was still alive. However, shortly after we began d...

Six years ago, a high school classmate reached out to me and my husband to see if he could stay at our house for one night. He and two friends from seminary were passing through the city on the way to Chicago; they were trying to keep costs low on their trip, and we were the only people he still knew in the area. We agreed that they could crash on our couches. Our collective history with this particular person was an interesting one. He transferred to our high school sophomore year. I got to know him a little bit in some of my classes, and he played soccer with my brother. He also became friends with my husband. At some point near the end of junior year, he admitted that he had a crush on me. I agreed to go on two dates with him, even though I didn't believe that the relationship would become serious - in part because he was moving to Massachusetts that summer. In fact, my husband helped him pack one day, and he later told me that the other guy spent a lot of time talking about h...

The following is a journal entry from my junior year English class: When people ask me what I want to do with my life, I usually have a response that seems certain, yet in actuality, I have no idea where I'm going. Sometimes I think that I know what career I want, but then I end up changing my mind. In the past six months I have changed my mind about these possibilities at least ten times. How am I supposed to know what I want to do when there are so many choices? First there is the desire for a creative field. I cannot imagine life confined to limitations. I often dream of becoming an interior decorator or a fashion designer because of the freedom of those areas. I actually draw some of my own fashions, but I do not have the artistic skill required for either of those careers. Then I move into considering jobs that involve writing. I love to write, even though I don't think I'm very good at it. Words give me a chance to express myself or to create a fictitious world...

I have only been rock climbing since January, but it is already my favorite fitness activity. I think that has a lot to do with the fact that I don't see it as a fitness activity. Climbing is more like my happy place. I love the challenge of each new route I try. Since I'm still not very good and most gyms change their routes frequently, climbing will continue to be challenging for a very long time. It is almost impossible to be bored while climbing. Part of the reason you can't be bored is because you are very focused on solving the problem. Climbing provides mental as well as physical stimulation. That also means you aren't preoccupied thinking about how much you hate the activity and how you've only done two minutes, which clearly doesn't count as a workout. Those thoughts creep into my head every time I try running, for example. With climbing, I have to stop when I am physically exhausted, even though I usually have so much more I want to try. There ...

A few years ago, I accompanied my husband to a work function that was being given for a coworker who was moving back to France. I had never met this particular coworker, but the party meant free food and drinks, so I agreed to go. We didn't talk to the coworker until just before we left, and we didn't talk to him very long. In that short amount of time, I found the man unexpectedly charming. He winked when we said goodbye, and I was surprised when I blushed in response. In the car on the way home, I confessed to my husband that I found his coworker very attractive. He laughed and said, "I guess it's a good thing he's returning to France!" Wait a minute , you may be thinking. You told your husband you found another man attractive?  Yep. Well, what if the tables were turned? How would you feel if your husband said another woman was attractive? That's a fair question. My husband has been taking some Master's classes. One time when he was at school he ...

I don't want to. I don't want to be. I don't want to be a teacher anymore. I mean, I work really hard. I research current best practices and try to implement what science says works best. I try to make it fun as well as educational. I try to maintain high standards while supporting the students as they get there. Maybe some of them would miss me. A change in the middle of the year is never easy. But maybe they would get someone better. More successful at everything I try to do. And I wouldn't have to stress anymore. I wouldn't have to research, and plan, and grade. I wouldn't have to be so tired. I don't want to be. I don't want to be a mom anymore. Okay, okay. Obviously things would be more difficult. Who would get them to sports practice or the ninja gym? Without a second Girl Scout leader, the troop would have to disband. There would be a lot of therapy involved, but they probably need therapy thanks to me already anyway. No matter how muc...