The Noise of Silence

I can only write in the quiet, in stolen moments of peace from the often chaotic pace of my life.

My words come alive when I sip coffee in the quiet of a house granted when my husband is at work and my son goes to the few cherished hours of school he attends each week.

They dance onto the computer with a late night cup of tea to the symphony of snores that parade around the upstairs in the darkness of nightfall.

“Hey babe, I need you to look this over,” my husband asked/demanded in his stress of gathering materials to apply to a fellowship.

I sat down at the desk cluttered with test scores and resume drafts and felt overwhelmed.

“How do you turn this noise off? What window do you have open?” I asked in a flustered way.

“Hang on, I’ll fix it,” he said, reaching over to close the many tabs that helped him find his way around this project and the one that played music.

“I can’t write with noise,” I explained matter-of-factly and determinedly.

My husband’s face was incredulous. He is a lover of background noise; music on his phone or the computer, the TV always on when he’s home, a game on the x-box on just to be on. “I can’t do anything without noise,” he replied.

This, I know about him. I’ve learned it through years of living with him and his background noise. Add in a loud three year old and I feel constantly on the verge of over stimulation.

I am a lover of the silence. I find it peaceful and reflective; a chance to listen to the things in our minds we often shut out through out the business of the day.

I can only blog when I have the time to meditate in the silence of life, moments that are rare and treasured to me.

And so I write, think, and dream in stolen silent moments, welcoming my rare background noise of silence.

 

What I Know About Writing

What I know about writing is that it’s a complex simplicity of time and effort.

Sometimes the words flow easily and sometimes they are impossible to find.

What I know about writing is that it is soothing and frustrating all at the same time. It is healing and thought-provoking and time-consuming.

What I know about writing is it is isolating and connecting. It is a solitary activity but once shared it becomes part of someone else’s awareness; someone else’s story.

What I know about writing is that it is intangible, and yet printed words hold a magical power. You can not see words, or hear them, or touch them, but when placed together in an article or a book or a story they come to life.

What I know about writing is it is too heavy and too light and sometimes just right. My silly inconsequential posts seem so insignificant when I go read an article written so beautifully that it moves my thoughts; changes my perspective.

What I know about writing is it is powerful, necessary, and, to me, the very essence of all-encompassing simple complexity.

Elated Exhaustion’s One Year Blogiversary!

Guess what? Today is Elated Exhaustion’s one year anniversary!

 

Happy Blogiversary!

Happy Blogiversary!

Don’t worry, I forgot too, because in my mind it was December 27th and I had this whole post outlined for you to celebrate one year and as it turns out, I wrote my very first blog post on December 26th last year.

December 26th. Why did I do that? So now it’s like Christmas and a birthday all at the same time.

But anyway, on the day after Christmas last year, I started a small little blog called Elated Exhaustion.

Newly opened presents still decorated the living room and the Christmas tree and other lights still twinkled around the house, making our home feel much more cozy than usual.

Much like today, it must have been a cold day that made you want to curl up in pajamas and read or watch a movie.

One year ago today (I mean, yesterday),  I wrote my first post on Elated Exhaustion, a small little post entitled Is That Chocolate or Poo? which welcomed you into my world of toddler motherhood. It got no comments, and the only person I showed it to was my husband, but there it was in writing, the beginning of my blog.

When I started this blog, I was very lost. I had struggled on and off with postpartum depression and spent hours at night crying myself to sleep after the husband and baby had drifted off.

When I started this blog, I had a two-year old still in diapers and a world that revolved solely around my role as a mother.

I felt lost from myself and isolated from a support system.

I didn’t tell anyone about my blog. Not my mom, not my family, not my friends. My husband was the only one who knew about this little space I had created, and really I only told him because it would’ve been really hard to hide it from him if I was going to spend a lot of time writing.

I didn’t tell anyone because I needed a space of my own. I needed a support system beyond those people who already loved me unconditionally but I felt at the time didn’t quite “get” me. Still struggling with my birth experience,  I started this blog because I needed a space in which to connect with other moms who had some of these same struggles, who could relate to me, who could tell me that I wasn’t terrible or crazy.

I started this blog with the intention of sharing my birth story, which a year later and three years after the actual birth I still have not found the words to do. Finding them is still a goal.

But I also started this blog to find the missing parts of myself, the parts that had become buried under the weight of my motherhood. And in doing that, I found you.

In May, I wrote a post that best summarizes why I write in a post titled, appropriately, Why I Write. My favorite  and still the most relevant line? “I started writing to find myself. I continue writing to find you.”

I had discovered the world of “mommy” blogging in the fall of 2011, a few months before I decided to start one myself. I would spend late nights pouring over words and once I found a blog I loved I would read post after post until the early morning, devouring the gift of words and stories these writers told.

The first blog I ever found was Not Super Just Mom, who I instantly loved because like me, she is a graduate from the University of Georgia and suffered a traumatic c-section experience with the birth of her first child. Her words were the ones that first saved me.

I later discovered Late Enough through Richmondmom.com, whose down-to-earth life approach I love,  and Spilled Milk and other Atrocities, whose words can weave a beautiful story that brings tears to my eyes almost every time.

I would read each of these blogs and treasure them as if they were precious jewels. I felt like they were just my own hidden discovery.

As it turns out, the blogging world is not just made of 3 blogs and they are not just my own little secret discoveries  The blogging world is huge, a whole community of people stretched across the world, writing stories and sharing glimpses into lives that make you feel not alone. And, as I discovered after I joined Twitter, they all know each other. When I started this blog, I didn’t just find a place to write, I found a place of support, a place of friendships.

If you had told me a year ago that this blogging community would come to mean so much to me, or that I would become so dependent on the comments and thoughts from other bloggers, or that I would make true friendships online, I’m not sure that I would have believed you. In the course of this year, I have discovered many more blogs that I have fallen in love with, and made blogging friends whose opinions I truly treasure and even depend on. I talk to my husband about my blogging friends and carry pieces of each of your stories around with me. (You can see some of my must read blogs in my blog roll. There are many others I keep up with in my reader.)

With every post I write, I become braver about sharing my world. Each time I hit the publish button, it is with a delicate balance of vulnerability and bravery, and each time I receive a comment on my blog my heart smiles with the contentment of knowing the love and support you have all given me.

As I’ve learned more about this blogging world, I’ve discovered so many more blogs, writers, and friends. The year of 2012 was a very big year for me in putting the pieces of my life back together post motherhood, and this blog and your friendships have been a big part of that.

This year, I potty trained my son, became the mother of a three-year old, re-discovered my performance self, decided to take blogging seriously by getting a blog redesign and move to wordpress.org, and became a “real” writer when I had the honor of joining the Moonfrye team. I have had the pleasure of sharing all of that on this blog with you, and of starting friendships with so many of you through blog comments and Twitter conversations.

This little blog that I started as a space of my own blossomed into a thing that people actually read. As it turns out, my mom and my family and friends did discover it’s existence and a few other people I know “in real life” too. Though it scares me to now actually know that people are reading this, it doesn’t change the amazing tool it has been for me in a path of growth and healing.

A few months ago, my best friend from childhood said, “You know, I think you’ve gotten a lot more confident since you started the blog.”

Another one of my best friends recently texted me, “You’re getting spunky again.”

And I received one of my most treasured compliments from a person “in real life” who found my blog and said she poured over it entry by entry until two in the morning one night, just as I had done with some treasured blogs a year before.

So I want to thank you, all of you, who have supported this blog, read a post, left a comment, talked to me on Twitter, or “liked” Elated Exhaustion on Facebook. Your support of this little online space means so very much to me, but your friendships mean even more.

And so now as I enter into my second year of blogging, I do so with a full heart and a wish that I could treat each of you to some Starbucks and chocolate where we could share hugs and conversation.

Confession: I am a huge fan of hugs.

To celebrate one year of blogging, I don’t have a big giveaway for you. I did not partner up with a sponsor or a brand.

But what I would love to do, is give one of my readers a $10 gift card to Starbucks. It is my small gift to you, to celebrate a year of this space, and to thank you for a year of support and friendship. Truth be told, I am probably going to send you some chocolate too.

If you would kind of like the Starbucks card, just leave a comment below.

If you really want the Starbucks card, you can Tweet about this giveaway or post about it on Facebook. Be sure to leave a comment below for each entry.

If I could reach through the computer and tell each of you thank you in person, I would. This, in some small way, will let us share a moment together and celebrate the space that allowed us to find each other in the first place.

I will leave the giveaway open until January 6th, because it’s the holidays and we are all busy and even I forgot what day the actual blogiversary was. Oops.

I will contact the winner and mail your gift out Monday, January 7th.

Thank you to all of you for making this little space what it is. Truly.

Updated January 7th, 2013: And the winner is… Jen Hall from Just Jennifer! Thank you to all of you who entered and who have supported this blog over the past year. You all mean so much to me.

Winner chosen using random.org:

Here are your random numbers:

13

Timestamp: 2013-01-07 15:14:29 UTC

 

Some BIG News

Do you remember how I very briefly mentioned a new writing opportunity?

I am so excited to finally tell you what it is!

I am thrilled to announce that I will be a contributing writer for the newly relaunched moonfrye.com.

I have long admired this site, and have always been moved by the words of contributors such as the sweet Katie F. Hurley and Jenny Feldon.

Jenny is the editorial director for Moonfrye, and under her kind guidance I am so pleased to say that I am joining the team!

Seeing my name among this list of such talented writers makes me so nervous, but incredibly happy.

Who knew that one day this little blog would lead to such an amazing opportunity?

So today I invite you to go check out the beautifully redesigned site and read some of the kick off posts. They are stunning.

My first post is not up yet, but look for it soon. In the mean time, you can read about me and all of the other contributors here.

My sweet blogging friend, Galit Breen, whose words always take my breath away, is also leaping into this new venture. Read her announcement post here, where she describes a bit more about the background of the site.

I am so excited to be able to call myself a “real” writer and have the chance to contribute and be a part of the voices of this site.

I can not wait to see you there!

Priority

It happened.

I missed a day of writing.

Right after I wrote about how committed I was to this.

Sigh.

But life has a way of sneaking up on you, doesn’t it?

Of changing plans and stealing hours.

And so today I just dropped my son off at school and I am burrowed in the computer room with a hot chai tea latte and some banana bread, ready to focus on writing and reading and capturing thoughts.

It’s a perfect day for it really, with a house draped in silence and rain pattering against the window. There are still some things on my to do list, a lot of things, but perhaps they can wait until I have filled my writing soul.

Perhaps, today, writing can be the first priority.

 

NaBloPoMo is Hard

What I have discovered about NaBloPoMo so far is that it’s hard.

Hard to find time to sit down and write every day.

Hard to find things that are relevant to write about.

Hard to visit and comment on other’s blogs who are taking the same time out of their schedules to compose a post each day, and my long time favorite blogs that I don’t want to miss.

It’s hard.

But like every worthwhile task, it is worth it.

Worth it to sit down and practice the art of writing every day.

Worth it to challenge myself to compose (hopefully) enjoyable posts, no matter how short they are.

Worth it to take the time to visit the blogs of others and read their hearts.

So tonight I tell you that just a week into NaBloPoMo, I have learned that it is hard.

But oh how I love being a part of it.

Finding My Voice

Last night, I was stuck in a downward spiral.

I was trying to coordinate holiday plans with family that lives far away, and heard news of a trip to Paris and some pregnancies. I started to go down the path one should never go down; a path of self-depreciation.

We have no trips to Paris on our schedule. Whenever we have free vacation time we use it to go visit relatives. There is no exciting baby news here. Our lives are inundated with work, running a household, and taking care of a toddler.  There are no major accomplishments or life changes to celebrate here. Basically, it is just plain boring.

As I spiraled into a negative thinking pattern that involved questioning my worth and my path in life and wondering what I would ever amount to, I packed my son’s bag. I was getting ready to take him to childcare so I could attend a rehearsal for my lead role in a Christmas production.

After getting my son settled, I walked into the rehearsal area and busied myself with rehearsing lines.

After a few minutes, one of the older men in the production approached me and asked my name, and followed up by saying, “I didn’t realize that was your real voice.”

So here’s the thing if you haven’t met me in real life…I have kind of a unique voice. One that has been made fun of, drives comments from cashiers at check out lanes, and sometimes even receives a compliment. But it is noticeably a different thing. And it lands me lead roles on the stage.

So sometime towards the beginning of rehearsals in October, this older gentleman had complimented me on my theatrical voice. Last night when he approached me, he said he didn’t realize that was actually my voice. I responded by saying, “This character isn’t me, but, yes, it is my natural voice.”

And then the most amazing thing happened.

This man stood there and inspired me. He asked if I had ever considered performing professionally.

“Well, yes, that’s what I always wanted to do. I was even a voice major in college and I used to perform a lot in community theater. But then, you know, I got married and had a baby, so now I’m just a mom. This Christmas show is just for fun.”

He stopped me from my spiraling as he said, ”I’m not saying this to be nice, I’m saying this to be true; you are very talented. You have a gift. God gave you that. Is this something you want to do?”

“Well, yes, it’s always something I’ve loved doing, but you know, now I’m just a mom and…”

“No, it doesn’t matter what anyone says. If this is something you want to do, you need to do it. If your husband loves you, he will support you. This show isn’t just for fun. This show is your starting point.”

He continued to tell me about how much he enjoys watching me perform. How unique my voice is.  How he loves this character I’m bringing to life. He quoted scripture to me. He made me cry.

And then he said, “This is my mission. Because I was meant to talk to you tonight. And you are meant to do something great.”

As I wiped tears away from my eyes, I said, “Thank you. That is something I really needed to hear tonight.”

He left with a smile and a “See you on stage.”

*****

 It’s a prayer I say often, “Dear God, You gave me a voice. Please show me how to use it.”

And then it was answered with a speech from a man at rehearsal and an email about a new writing opportunity…both on the same day. (I’m telling you, fives are significant!) (And I can’t wait to tell you about the new writing opportunity..more news on that soon.)

 *****

Late last night, after my son and I returned home safely from rehearsal and my husband got home from his 12 hour shift, I began to recount my encounter to my husband as we stood in the kitchen, him eating leftovers and me sipping a cup of hot tea. Our toddler was eating a late night snack near by and we were all winding down to head to long-awaited bed.

“I guess I just thought that part of my life was over, you know? I mean I made a choice between pursuing performance or getting married and having a family. And now I’m just a wife and a mom and this show was just something to do. But tonight, this man inspired me. He reminded me that maybe I could be more than that. People used to say things like that to me all the time, but no one has said anything like that to me in a long time. I don’t know, it just really meant a lot for him to say that. And then there’s this writing opportunity  That’s one of the reasons I started blogging  right?  To become open to possibilities.  Maybe I could still be somebody.”

At this point, somehow my husband and I had wandered over to the refrigerator (I tend to pace when I talk.) My husband hugged me and gave me a kiss as he said “Of course you’re somebody.”

And then, on perfect cue, the cereal boxes on top of the fridge fell down and hit me on the head, spewing a few Apple Jacks and Frosted Flakes around.

My husband, toddler and I all erupted into hysterical laughter that was just as much from the humor of falling cereal as it was from exhaustion before finally heading upstairs to bed.

Maybe there’s a greater purpose for me somewhere out there. Maybe I can use my voice for writing and performing in some capacity. But at the end of the day I will always be a Mommy, finding humor in spilled cereal and beauty in slobbery kisses.

**************************************************************************************************************

Speaking of using your voice, today is election day! I was thrilled to take my son to vote today and loved how proud he was to participate. Did you use your voice and vote?

We voted! Presidential Election 2012

 

 

I Am

I Am

I am strong and hopeful
I wonder if everything really happens for a reason
I hear laughter
I see tomorrow
I want to be happy
I am strong and hopeful

I pretend that I have it all together

I feel lost

I touch my toddler’s sticky fingers
I worry about how it will all work out
I cry when I allow myself to let go
I am strong and hopeful

I understand that life is never what we expect
I say that I can handle it anyway
I dream for all the pieces to fall into place
I try to focus on the moment
I hope that one day I will KNOW I made the right choices
I am strong and hopeful

*This poem was made with the I AM template through Mama Kat’s writer’s workshop. It’s funny the things you discover about yourself when you are given the right prompt. What would you discover if you tried?

Mama’s Losin’ It

Writing Woes

So I have this writing problem.

I love writing. I think it heals me.

It allows me to process, to vent, to understand. It allows me to explore humor and candor, reality and dreams, and all of the pieces that fit together to make a whole me.

It gives me an opportunity to recognize myself.

There are times when the words form together in my mind and pieces compose themselves. I don’t have to think, I just have to listen to myself and urge my fingers to catch up to my mind.

Often, this happens late at night, when I am lying in bed.

If I am really feverish to document these musings, I reach for my phone on my nightstand. I open the “memo” section and text like a mad woman.

And then I am relieved. I am saved from the burning emotions brewing in me. Once I have released them into print I feel more calm, and can drift to sleep.

When the morning arrives, and my day becomes busy with getting the toddler dressed and making breakfast and trying to go somewhere so we don’t go stir crazy in the middle of this heat wave, the thoughts I composed the previous evening remain unshared in my phone.

And so my phone holds multiple posts, holding onto words and emotions that were once so prevalent they were all I could think about; but not being shared in the one community in which I could openly disclose them.

My phone hides all of my secrets.

(Yes, I am in BIG trouble if I ever lose that thing.)

So, in an attempt to re-connect with the blogging world and do what I came here to do in the first place, share myself, I will have to purge into the depths of my phone.

I am really not even sure of what is on there.

Some memos are just lists of what to get at Target. (Ok, a lot of them. Target is like my second home.)

But some memos are pieces of my heart.

So I will challenge myself and this blog (and my phone) to reveal more of the pieces of me.

And I will try really, really hard to be more present here.

On that note, does anyone know where the toddler hid my phone?

Why I Write

It’s dark here, as the light of the moon casts shadows over the bed.

Toddler breathing and cat purrs form the soundtrack for this particular scene of my life.

It’s a nightly occurrence, the glow of the moon through white cotton curtains, the steady breath of my beautiful boy, and the contented purrs of a cat beside me.

The clock ticks, warning me of the dangerous hour it is approaching and my impending duties of mommy in the morning that will be made so much harder if I don’t surrender to sleep.

But it is here, always here, that my mind becomes alive.

I remember my past, present and future as they all intertwine into a current conversation lulling me away from rest and restoration and into questionings and ponderings.

Sometimes, I revel in this time. This time of me. Sometimes, I dread it. Often, I feel alone.

One night, in this time of me, I stumbled upon a blog. I read posts by a woman who had struggled with her birth experience. For the very first time, I knew I wasn’t the only woman who felt this way.

I spent that night, and many more, pouring over her words and allowing tears to stream down my face as I motionlessly jumped up and down and silently screamed, “I am not alone.”

So I started writing. Writing thoughts more composed than just scribbles in notebooks or notes in the memo section of my phone. I started putting thoughts on paper and screen instead of just narrating them in my mind. I started to open my heart to the vulnerability and bravery that comes with hitting the publish button.

Sometimes, I write stories about my son. I try to capture memories that I want to hold on to forever. I would like for my son to read those one day. I hope they will mean as much to him as they do to me.

But mostly, I write to sort out the collisions of past, present and future that occur at my most fragile time; when I am in the midst of myself.

One day, maybe someone will read these words and they will mean something to them. Maybe one day I will understand them all myself.

And so I write for my vulnerability, my process of grief and self discovery, and my hope that one day these words resonate with someone so that they might say, “I am not alone.”

I started writing to find myself. I continue writing to find you.

Today, I link up with the lovely Galit and Nicole as they ask the question, “Who do you speak for?”

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