The Menopausal Empty Nest Conundrum

First an important disclaimer.....There are so many terrible, big things going on in the world. I am in no way oblivious to this and I acknowledge that my ability to discuss my ongoing challenge to move through this perimenopausal, empty nest stage is a privilege.

I don't write much these days. It seems to have been the case the past couple of years I have really slowed down writing. I feel like I am swimming upstream and I don't often get out of the water long enough to evaluate what's going on. Because when I do, I have to acknowledge that the phase of life I am is challenging and, at times - sad, lonely and surprising. And I even have the benefit of a super supportive partner. I feel like a lot of days I have more questions than answers. When I stop for a moment there is not an emptiness so much as a "floaty" feeling. Like my world is not quite right.

I continue to try to make sense of the empty nest phase. I still think it's bullshit. Quick recap, you pour your heart and soul into the health, safety and care of these humans. They consume most of your waking hours and then they turn into these cool humans that move on, make decisions on their own and forget to call you at times unless they can't find their phone or need some medical advice. This is an ongoing conundrum for me because...if I did my job right, this is what was supposed to happen. But, I didn't expect it to feel bad or be so damn hard. When the kids left this time at Thanksgiving, Mason said "mom, no tears this time! Progress." Yep. Don't tell him I cried later that night.

Here's the new kicker though....turns out for many women, this empty nest syndrome aligns with perimenopause! What a delight! NOBODY TOLD ME ABOUT THIS PART. What on earth. If, like me, you had your kids sometime in your late 20's or early 30's, when they head off to college, work or whatever comes post high school, on top of navigating this empty nest.....you are also ON FIRE. In addition to the multiple fires a day, you get mood swings, sleeplessness and a host of other exciting symptoms.

Why are we not talking about empty nesters? Or menopause? When we talk about our various life phases, we stop at the kids graduating from high school or college. Do you know most of us will live hopefully decades beyond this? So, I have started talking about it. I have been talking about empty nesting for a few years and I have seen a lot of head nodding and heard "me too" from many of my friends. I am not the only one that really misses our younger humans. Or, the only one that is figuring out what life looks like now. I have been contemplating this one for four years. As I approached my 51st birthday and my amazing counselor listened me to discuss the floatiness and the meaning of life, she suggested that I make a list of all the things I still have yet to do in this one precious life. I grabbed on to the idea. Yes, let's make a list. Let's see what is still out there that I want to see, do, experience. A good list is something that I can get behind.

So, while grappling with the ongoing empty nest syndrome, I started having several small fires in my body a day. I heard someone call it "personal summers" once but I am here to reject that idea. I love summer. Summer suggests something lovely, freeing, warm. Hot flashes are none of those things. My understanding is that every woman experiences perimenopause/menopause differently but I would not consider a hot flash lovely. It's like you have suddenly walked directly into the sun and can't find the way out. This is super inconvenient if you are at work or trying to sleep. And this can repeat many, many times a day.

When I started to realize what was happening I started talking about it at work. I have a lovely group of coworkers and we spend a lot of time side by side. We have also seen a lot of shit so there isn't much I feel like I can't discuss with at least someone there. I am one of the oldest in the group but I mentioned that I am not sleeping well because of the hot flashes. Quickly another nurse starts telling me about how her life/sleep was changed when she started an estrogen patch. Hallelujah. So, I started doing my research because so much of what we have heard over the decades is the negative information regarding hormones. I found a gynecologist and started asking a lot of questions. And guess what? I am sleeping again which is good for everyone!

I am still trying to differentiate the feelings related to empty nest, menopause and just general aging. They become a confusing blob often. Just this week I had a conversation with my ob/gyn about some random symptoms I was having. I was hoping she would tell me the muscle/joint pain, faster heart rate and few extra pounds were related to the estrogen patch. I can't sit through a 2 hour car ride or a movie without having to shift positions multiple times because my legs ache. She had the audacity to tell me it wasn't the estrogen. It's just my age. For all those things. Not my favorite answer. I had a coronary calcium artery scan recently. I had asked for it. My primary care isn't as concerned about my heart or my family history as I was but she obliged and ordered the scan. The good news is, the coronary arteries look great! But the incidental diffuse osteopenia wasn't great. Don't worry, I have already increased the calcium and vitamin d and am trying to add weight bearing exercise which I should have done years ago.

My gynecologist echoed the sentiments that I really need to add weight bearing exercise because of my age, my bones, etc. Then she went on to talk about how motivation can be hard so to set realistic goals like maybe two days a week. This irritated me. I know it's just the generic talk I was getting but I wanted  to jump up and down and say "lady, you don't know me." Motivation is not my problem. I have been running pretty much every day for years now. Turns out I just wasn't always doing the right thing. And, as a nurse, I know better. I just DIDN'T REALIZE THAT I AGED. I mean I know that sounds weird  but it's true. When I looked in the mirror on my way out of the doctor I did a double take. When did I get those wrinkles? When I am at work I often don't remember or even consider that I have decades on a few of my coworkers?!?

So, here it is. If you made it to the bottom the real point of this was to say....you aren't alone. If you are reading this and experiencing an empty nest, perimenopause, or both...you aren't alone. We should be talking about these things. We should be sharing resources. And if you aren't there yet? If you are years from being there? I want you to remember this. I want you to remember to talk about this stage that is hard. Find people who will talk about it with you. Share strategies. Laugh at the absurdity of  your body suddenly being ON FIRE at the most inopportune time. Talk about how much you miss your awesome humans that you helped bring in to this world. Order the Menopause Manifesto. I did. Don't be afraid to talk about it and for my sake, please don't assume empty nesting is awesome for everyone or that hot flashes are like personal summers. Carry on.

The Consultant

I haven’t written much this past year. I have been in some type of transition that I didn’t see coming. Although, when I think about it, most transitions we don’t necessarily see coming. There are the obvious ones - starting a new school from elementary to college, moving, babies, marriage. We know about those - maybe not the degree of transition but they are more expected. What I didn’t expect was that I would be going through so much transition just because my kids are. This has been a doozy that I didn’t really see coming.

I had to deal with the transition when Mason left for college his freshman year. I didn’t expect to be nearly as emotional as I was. Lots of tears. Did the same for Audrey last year. You are welcome kids. At least you know clearly your mom loves you and likes you being around. I am sure it makes it easier on them if you don’t sob in front of them as they are trying to prepare for this new adventure but I couldn’t help myself. Whatever.

What I didn’t expect is that it continues. Someone described it as moving from the director of their lives to a consultant. That rings true for me. When they are small, they aren’t making any decisions for themselves. I coordinated meal time, play dates, sleep time….everything really. As they get older it switches but pretty gradually. They start having more control over their own schedule in a limited way. They decided how some of their free time was spent, who they hung out with, who they dated, where they wanted to go to college. But even so, family vacations, groceries, bills, appointments…I was still in charge of those.

Until now. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they aren’t fully financially independent quite yet but really, over just about everything else it’s their decision. I am fully aware that they are over 18 so they could create an entire life without me in it if they so choose. I am not trying to be dramatic here but it is sobering to realize that they really could. I have no doubt they both could get decent jobs where they could make a living wage at this point in their life. They are both smart and could figure living on their own if they so choose. So, when things like family vacations or family dinners are discussed, none of this is any longer an expectation or mandate. It’s an ask. It’s a consensus. And I am grateful when it all comes together. I have very little, if any, control over their schedules any longer.

Some of this might sound freeing but honestly, it’s been a bit unnerving. I have been in the role of mom for 21 years now. I feel I have a good sense of myself and the multiple roles in my life besides mom - but this has been the biggest for the past couple of decades. And the most fulfilling. And I am beyond amazed at the two adultish humans in my life. I love the people they are - even if at times we disagree or frustrate one another. They are genuinely two of my very favorite people in all this crazy world. So the fact that they are gone more than they are here has been quite hard. Learning when to suggest something and when to just observe has been a huge learning process. I’m trying but for sure don’t get it right a lot of the time.

I was so excited for them to come home for the summer and I have enjoyed my time with them but, it has gone way faster and much differently than on paper. I won’t get into it here but it didn’t really look like what we imagined. There were a few unexpected health adventures but everyone is doing pretty well now as we wrap up another summer. In about three weeks they will both make their journey’s back to college ... .and here I will be.

People talk a lot about empty nest. I just don’t remember anyone saying that it continues. Like beyond that first year. I feel my identity is shifting and I am in the uncomfortable in between space. I suppose I will grow into being a consultant and it will bring me joy to watch their adult lives unfold but I miss them. Being their mom and in a more active role has been one of the greatest joys for me.  I finally hit my stride in the teenage years. 

I have more time to read now and garden. Dan and I take trips that don’t involve the kids. It only seems to irritate them so far when it’s Disneyland without them. Who knows, maybe I will pick up a new hobby? Or maybe I won’t. But for now, I have to sit in the discomfort as I figure out what this new role of consultant to adultish people looks like. I think it’s going to take a minute.

The 50 mile celebration

I have now outlived my dad. This is what gives me most pause about turning 50. He died 10 days before his 50th birthday. I was keenly aware of the milestone 10 days before my 50th. I remember thinking how crazy it would be if that was my last day. I have lived a full life and am so extremely blessed with my friends, partner and kids. And, also, I feel like there are so many more experiences left to have. 50 still seems so young.

I had many thoughts about turning 50. I have never been too tied to an age or growing older. Of late I often surprise myself when I look in the mirror because my grey hair and increasing wrinkles betray an age that I forget I am. I believe I look my 50 years (and I am not looking for compliments here) but physically I feel better than I did a decade ago. I never stop to consider my age when I am thinking if I can or cannot accomplish something. I have a lot of younger friends and coworkers so maybe that helps me feel like it is all relative.

In addition to a birthday trip to Maine and New York where Dan and I toasted our 50 years on this planet, I knew I wanted to do something else to commemorate the day. Never really one for a party, I knew I wanted to somehow include my beloved people and my love for the outdoors in the celebration. I did not want to run 50 miles.....that just seems too long and painful. So, the 50-mile hiking adventure was born.

Today I wrapped up 50 miles of hiking spread out over 10 days with some of my favorite people. When this idea was forming a few months back, I made a list of friends and hikes. The specific hikes and distance were not as important to me. Each person I asked could tell me what day and distance worked for them and then I would find a hike. The adventure began on October 15. I kept a spreadsheet of the distance and hikes. I had left today open to finish whatever was left to get me to the 50 miles (turns out 5.58 miles).

The last 10 days have been truly beautiful for me. I am forever grateful to all of my amazing hiking partners. It was a chance to catch up, reconnect, enjoy our amazing state and remind me of my beloved community. I know each person who said yes was committing to make time in their schedule to hike and celebrate with me and did so with love. I am a better person for each one of you and the love you have shown me this week. Audrey joined one hike and Mason, since distance prevented him from joining, called me on my actual birthday hike and rode the same distance of the hike on a bike in Indiana to commemorate the day.

My heart is full. I am grateful for a body that will carry me 50 miles. I am grateful for my tribe and all the conversations and miles I have logged these past 10 days. I can't wait to see what the next decade holds.

Mission Impossible

   
I had a friend tell me once, when my kids were small, that she was surprised I had become a mom. It was an odd thing to say. I think she meant it more because I was not outwardly warm and fuzzy and was introverted I guess? It didn't feel like a compliment and it has always stuck with me. And, truthfully, being a mom has been one of the best things I ever did. Mason and Audrey are two of my favorite humans on this whole planet. Which makes this whole empty nest thing a bit challenging.

I did not know this part would be so hard. I was focused on making sure everyone was organized and ready to head off to college for the fall. With Mason at this point, it's easier. He is in his junior year and since school is in Indiana, most of his stuff lives in a storage unit by campus during the year. For Audrey, there was a lot of lists, purchases, plans and angst. She is super organized though so other than one really full day of dorm shopping and picking up some things here and there, she had most of it covered.

I cried when Mason left. I didn't go with him this time. As he was getting ready to go he asked "is this the year you won't cry when I leave, Mom?" Nope, not a chance. I told him that it appears I will cry each time he goes whether it's summer, Christmas or spring break. So we might as well get used to it. I recover but, since we are in the third year and it happens every time, nobody should be surprised.

Since I have done this with one kid already, I knew taking the second kid would be HARD. She is within driving distance which maybe makes it a little easier? Maybe? But, I anticipated the tears and, true to form, they came. And, this is with the entire move-in being PERFECT. Her roommate is lovely and such a good fit for her. She loves the dorm she is in and was already going into rooms and introducing herself before I even left. She has already hammocked multiple times, ridden the bus, found yoga and a church where somehow she scored plants and a ton of fruits and veggies. I couldn't have asked for a better transition.

So....the kids are safe, thriving, surrounded by some good humans and content. That is everything I could hope for. What I did not anticipate is the void left behind. I expected the tears on departure and the strange feeling of not having them here but the void was unexpected.

It makes sense though, doesn't it? For 20 years I have been responsible for the care, mental and physical well being of two humans.  It's wild when you think about it...how dramatically your life changes once they arrive and how for 18 or so years you are responsible for all the things surrounding them? Sure, it changes over time. As they get older and learn to drive, instead of being a glorified Uber driver, you are watching them on Life 360 making sure they arrive safely at their destination or to discover why they aren't home. Conversations change too. No longer are you talking about who they sat next to at lunch or what reading assignment they have but instead discussing climate change, relationships, sex, budgeting...you know, the easy stuff.

The transitions in high school help prepare for their leaving. No longer are you so much the focus as they spend more time with friends. Well...except for covid where they were forced, for better or worse to spend more time together. But even as they grow and mature and you think you are decently prepared....it is still unexpected.

And this is from someone who has a full time job. Also, for the past few years of them being at home, they were only with me about 50% of the time since their dad and I got divorced. And, I have hobbies and friends outside of them. All the things were in place that in theory should make them leaving easier.

But, there it is...a void since they have gone. I miss them. I recognize that my life with them will never be the same. I am not being dramatic. This is how it is supposed to be. Their independence increases. They will still return home for breaks and maybe if they need a place to live short term while they get situated after graduation. But, them being dependent on me for their everyday needs, is gone. And, it's harder than I expected. My role is evolving. I told them both over the summer that I don't know how to parent this age. I am learning and it is not always graceful and I screw up and will continue to. It's okay. It is just how it is.

I am not asking anyone to feel sorry for me. I have two amazing humans out in the world doing great things AND calling their mom and checking in. I will be okay as I learn a new normal. I have a job I love and a partner who adores me. I had a beautiful friend with kids a bit younger tell me that she didn't know the adults felt it quite like this because nobody was talking about it. So, that's why I am talking about it. I have to imagine that each parent who watches their kids leave feels different. It must depend on the kid, the relationship, the circumstance. I have to imagine that some are a bit relieved when they get to this stage. None of this is wrong. My experience is that it is lonely when they go. Pieces of my heart are in Indiana and Washington and I have to carry on in some new kind of normal. It may take a minute, but I will figure out the new normal until the next transition. But this I am certain of.....I have done hard things and can do them again. Carry on.

Who Are You Now?

Summer is such a time of transition for so many. I see Audrey now wrapped up with high school and looking towards her next adventure in college and know the transition is a little unsettling. My friend just told me her 8th grader is having trouble finding a rhythm with summer since she is on the cusp of high school. The unknown, a new chapter. Exciting, disarming, unsettling, hopeful, all the things.

I cried when the graduation march started. My youngest at the end of her time with me. Things will never be quite the same - and not in a bad way. She will need me differently. I need to be different. The tears were happy and sad. I am so proud of all that she has weathered and of the person she is. She ended high school with so many accolades. One of my favorites being "most likely to brighten someone's day." I concur. She brightens mine all the time.

So many changes the past five years. Some I saw coming...some I did not. Dan often reminds me that my value is not in my productivity (trying unlearning 4+ decades of this belief) but in who I am. Okay, but who is that? Many of the roles I associated myself with are....fleeting? changing? In transition? I am no longer a mom of kids at home. I no longer will have people to tell to be home at a certain time or get their homework down before heading out with friends or ask if they will be home for dinner. I know some people see empty nesters as enviable. I can see the benefits but I will miss much of it for sure. I am a huge fan of these two humans I have helped raised. I still cry every time Mason leaves. And I still struggle when he comes home knowing my role as more of an advisor than an enforcer.

In addition to my role as mom, I  put so much value in my role as an oncology nurse. Thinking that that role helped define who I am. And, while I love my job, I am reminded this week that it also doesn't define me. It isn't who I am but what I love to do. For the past two years I have been vigilant about avoiding COVID for a multitude of reasons. Obviously, nobody wants to be sick, but also the thought of passing COVID on to one of my immunocomprised patients is TERRIFYING. They can't fight it like I can. So I have been as vigilant as I can be. And guess what....2 years and a few months in, I am on day 5 of COVID. The irony? I think I got it while one of only a few people masked at a graduation party. I could be wrong. Who really knows? But that's my best guess. And, guess what? I'm replaceable! COVID will not end my run as an oncology nurse. And, I don't believe so far that I shared COVID with anyone other than Dan (who, to be fair, refused to isolate from me). But, in the end, I call in and they replace me. I didn't even get a "hope you feel better." I got a "please refer to the modified flow sheet and we will see you back on day 6 if symptoms are improving."

Like many, I imagine, I have been so defined by my roles: Mom, Nurse, Wife, Believer, Friend. I am just beginning to realize that this isn't right. So, if I am not defined by my roles, who am I? In truth, I think this will be a question I am asking for the remainder of my life but I thought I would start, in the midst of so much uncertainty, with what I know to be true here:

I am a lover of:
Life
My people
Fairness
Autonomy
Order
My People
Running
Mountains

Kindness
Health
Coffee
Learning
Reading
Wine
Chocolate

If you are feeling out of sorts, maybe start with your list. There are so many reasons to feel out of sorts right now and I am finding that being out of sorts leads me to a greater and more real truth. And, once I understand the truth about myself, my beliefs and who I am, action also becomes more clear. So here is to your list and the greater truth.

Mental Health and The Adult Adjacent Population

You know what we don't talk about enough? Parenting the adult adjacent population. I love the term adult adjacent. I was talking to a patient a few months back about my kids. This individual had kids a bit older than mine. We were talking about how they are mostly out of the house, doing adult like things...until they aren't. Until they call you and tell you they lost their phone, inadvertently missed a final exam or only have three day's left of contacts in their dorm (obviously random examples not meant to implicate anyone I know.) This patient referred to this set as "adult adjacent." Brilliant. They have moments where they pass as adults...and moments were they remind you that they aren't there yet.

I did not know how hard this time would be. And I say this from a position of loving who my kids are and who they are becoming. They are kind, smart, funny and remember to call home. I call them out on behavior I am not a fan of and they do the same to me. We have great conversations. It is still DAMN hard. Not hard like when they were small. That was so physically exhausting when they were learning how to walk, run, share, make friends, navigate school. That is a hard time and people talk about that time more. And then in high school it seems like parents often go a bit more silent. Silent for various reasons. Silent because our kids would be embarrassed if we talk about some of the things we are navigating. Silent because we want our kids to keep talking to us and if they thought we were sharing they might stop. Silent because we have years of parenting under our belt so we should at least pretend we know what we are doing.

Guess what? I don't. I have not done this before. I am making it up on the fly. Sometimes I have brilliant moments and sometimes I have terrible ones. I told Mason when he was home for Christmas that I LOVE being his mom AND it is hard to be his mom. And he knew what I meant. And, no worries, he is still talking to me and still loves me.

I have had more conversations than I can count with friends, coworkers and acquaintances that are parenting this adult adjacent set right now. And, the common theme that I am finding is that this population is NOT OKAY. And, as the people trying to love and support and help them navigate through this unprecedented time, we are struggling too.

What a time to be trying to chose a college or a career, meet people, navigate COVID and keep your shit together. I have heard many times how, even when the pandemic starts to recede, we will have a mental health crisis that we are only starting to see the beginnings of. And I believe it. I know so many people who are dealing with anxiety and depression either personally or with their adult adjacent people. So, let's talk about it. Let's get rid of the stigma. Let's use our collective knowledge and intellect and start directing people to help so they don't have to sit alone in the dark.

I have anxiety. Have for years. This is not new. On most days, I am a functional anxious person. Functional though because I have an amazing counselor, partner, and group of friends who love me well. And, I run. Sure, I run for my physical health but even more for my mental health.

I have kids with anxiety. Both of them. No worries. They pre-approved this message. I also have one that was recently diagnosed with ADD. This is not a surprise to me but the journey to name it has been a long one. We are still wrapping our head around how best to create structures to allow him to flourish knowing our conventional learning systems and structures don't work the same for those with learning differences. I am also learning it is much harder to help navigate the healthcare system on their behalf once they approach and turn 18. Providers don't have to talk to you and won't always let you set up appointments. And, as a nurse who works with people 17 and up, I get this. Sometimes having the parent present is not helpful. Sometimes the kid who do better with the parent present. Sometimes. 

I agonize regularly knowing there are limitations to how much I can help my adult adjacents. I can guide them. I can provide resources. I can help reduce the stigma regarding mental health and seeking help from professionals. But then? Then I have to stand cheering from the sidelines, answering the phone, answering questions and support whatever direction they chose. I had no idea HOW HARD PARENTING THIS AGE would be. I said it. And from the conversations that I have had with others who have kids this age, I am not alone.

So, let's talk bout it. Let's talk with our adult adjacents. Let's provide resources. Let's admit we don't know what the hell we are doing but they aren't alone. And then let's talk to each other. Let's talk to the parent who is looking for a counselor for their kid who they just learned is depressed and let them know they aren't alone. This has been the LONGEST two years. Information is changing all the time. Let's admit we are all doing our best. We are here. We will show up for our people and for each other. And if you need someone to walk this path with you, reach out.

Jenny makes me shirts to wear at work that carry messages with them. Sometimes I wear them for my patients, sometimes I wear them for me. I wasn't at work today and I wore this one. This one was for me.

Envisioning 2022

 Life's Work    

I have had a cold this past week. I know it's a cold because I tested for COVID because you can't just have a normal cold any more without panic and doubt creeping in. I think it was a combination of becoming run down with Christmas, work and the whirlwind of activities I tried to cram in - tubing, zoo lights, peacock lane to make this weird world seem as festive as possible. New Year's Eve was a comedy of errors and we ended up serving the kids a fancy dinner at midnight - which might sound like a great plan but when you generally don't function well after 9 pm, cooking at 11:30 is not ideal. Anyhow, it's just a cold.

Feeling a bit low, I watched church online instead of attending. My church, Resonate, is small, spaced and very vigilant so I feel safe attending when I am well. But last Sunday, I watched. In addition to leading the church, the pastor owns my favorite coffee shop across the street. They also serve whiskey at the coffee shop. He also quotes Brene Brown on occasion. I can't think of a more perfect fit for me. On this first Sunday in January he was talking about envisioning the year ahead in a more strategic way. Not resolutions per se, just giving different areas in your life some thought and attention to plan for the year ahead. I am not big on resolutions but I can get behind good planning. One of the areas was thinking and planning around your "Life's work." He did not refer to it as your job but your life's work. The place where you want to put your talent and energy to express who you are. This was probably the only area I didn't take any notes. For the record, I am not much of a church note taker on normal days. I have often resisted places of worship that provide me with a program and an outline where I am supposed to fill in the blanks during the sermon. This is not how I learn AND not at all how I experience God. The church I attend now does not provide those outlines or ask me to do anything I am not comfortable doing. I digress. I said to Dan, "how fortunate am I? I am doing this." I don't feel the need to do any planning in this area. I AM doing my life's work. I have no doubt about it. If you asked me what my dream job is I would say that it is exactly what I am doing. 

I knew once I started nursing school that it would be a good fit. It's the balance for me between the head and the heart. The schooling is no joke. You don't sleep through Pharmacology or Anatomy and Physiology AND you get to care for people. To have real conversations. To problem solve. To navigate a crisis. To work with like minded people. I knew nursing was the right fit and I thoroughly enjoyed my time working in neurology and medical/surgical to learn various skills and increase my knowledge base but being an oncology nurse? I believe that is my life's work. Maybe it will change down the road but for now, I found it. New chemotherapy is being developed all the time. Learning is constant. But even more than the learning are the people. I work with the most incredible people. Some patients come once a month. Some come every week if not more often. I know about their families, their jobs, what they did for the holiday. I know about their nausea and their pain. And they know about me. Many of them know that I miss my Indiana kid and that Audrey is visiting colleges. The place we stopped for dinner after visiting Gonzaga was a recommendation of one of my patients who use to be a truck driver and drove to Spokane often. I have one patient who is avid golfer and after I had mentioned Mason was in a tournament that day and the school he played for she figured out how to find it online and was giving me regular updates throughout her chemo on the progress of Mason and his roommate. 

I know I am fortunate to be spending many of my days doing what I see as my life's work and, as an extra bonus, I get to do it alongside some amazing coworkers - kind, intelligent and funny. My kind of people. The downside? Well, it's oncology. It does not always end well and I get attached. This past month I have seen some loss and it has built up. Just yesterday I learned that one of my favorite patients I cared for when I worked at another location died from his cancer several months ago. I had suspected that he wasn't long for this world when I left that location as his cancer was unrelenting but I was hopeful. He taught me a lot about attitude and kindness in the midst of adversity. I know part of what makes me good at what I do is that I connect with a wide range of people. I dislike small talk. I would much rather just go straight to how you really are than pleasantries. But....this is the same part that makes this job impossible. I have seen people make the decision to go on hospice. I have had conversations with people who were just hoping to live until Christmas. And I can't let that go when I leave work. I think about the people I have shared these sacred moments with. I also want to remember to give just as much importance to the joys I get to experience - such as celebrating with the patient who was receiving her last chemo, or look at the picture of the patients' grandbaby in her first snow. The joys and the heartache are equally important.

I think the cold was one way to force me to slow down. Take some time for self care - which is not my strength - feel the losses of this past month, year and recuperate. COVID is once again sweeping through healthcare and everywhere else. We have staff out with COVID, patients who have cancelled due to COVID and many living in fear. I need to remind myself that it's okay to take a break so I can keep doing this for the many years ahead. So, as I envision my year ahead, I will continue to pursue my life's work AND I plan to get better and keeping myself healthy so that I can continue on with this dream. 

The Daunting 49

 I have wondered for three decades what I would feel like when I turned 49. I found it to loom larger than 50. My dad died when he was 49. Even as a 19 year old kid in college I knew that, although I thought of him as "ancient,” 49 was not an age you expected to have a massive heart event that ended your life in minutes.

Yesterday I turned 49. Mason is the same age I was when I lost my dad. It has caused me to be even more reflective than usual....which is saying a lot. Sorting out all my thoughts surrounding this is a bit like when you played that string game with friends when you were a kid and the string is all intertangled and you have to work together to completely unweave it. A bit jumbled in there but this is what I know.....

I have had quite a year. I got married, moved, changed my work environment, received covid vaccines, gave covid vaccines and stayed healthy during a pandemic. When I look at my life to date, I am content. I have a career I love, a partner who adores me and makes me feel special every single day and kids who seem to still like talking to me and spending time with me. I have a core group of friends that show up for me and make me laugh until I cry. 

I work with people daily who may be in their last year. It is rarely lost on me how precious this one life is. So, when I pause to think about life ending at 49 I recognize what a beautiful and full life I have had. If this was it, I haven't left anything on the table. I don't have things left unsaid or wrongs I feel I need to right. 

That being said....I sure hope 49 is not it. Considering my health seems to be working in my favor (except for unexpected high cholesterol that I recently learned about. It appears my dad left some things behind for me), I expect/hope I have decades to go. There are conversations still to be had, places to see, hikes to hike and coffee to be enjoyed. I want to take Mason to play golf in Scotland and watch Audrey graduate from high school and college. I want to see where they land. I want to go to Italy with Dan and find all the fantastic vineyards and enjoy the countryside. I want to hike with Savannah in Colorado. I want to live next to Jenny when we get old and lose some of our marbles so we can sit in rocking chairs and crack jokes with the people walking by. 

I make a list each birthday of the things I hope to accomplish in the coming year. Usually it includes the number of books I hope to read, a long run or two and a couple of other items. I didn't knock off everything on the list this year but I did pretty well. Need to up my reading game. I did have on my list to run a half marathon, which I hadn't gotten to as of two days before my birthday for various reasons....and lack of training. So, on Friday, the day before my birthday, I completed the Newberg Classic 13.1. As the sole runner, I crushed it and won every category. Good thing the competition was lacking because it wasn't pretty but I got it done...thanks in part to Dan who made sure to cheer and hydrate me along the way. As I ran around most of Newberg I thought about how fortunate I am that I have a body that is able to run 13 miles. A mind that keeps me on track, mostly. And a group of people who supports me completely. 49 seems less daunting now. So, one foot in front of the other…let’s do this.

My Ten Favorite Things in the Universe

Damn. Mental health is not to be taken lightly. I have always known this but it feels like it's hitting from all sides, publicly and privately right now. We are watching Olympic athletes pushed to the brink who are standing up and saying enough.. I need to breathe. I will not even pretend to know what that is like. I have people close to me telling me about physical manifestations of what is most likely anxiety in disguise. Others whose anxiety is potentially keeping them from reaching their potential in certain areas of their life. On top of that add covid, the delta variant and the wild ride this past year has been. I am very good about taking the mental health needs of those around me and my patients seriously but not always my own. I am on my fifth day in a row off of work and today I had to say out loud that I was devoting it to some self care activities because the past four have been filled with yard/house chores, tasks, lists... and not so much rest. My own mental health doesn't always take priority and I know I need to be more intentional about it.

So today, I started with a trail run at Tryon Creek. I can't remember the last time I went trail running and it brings me such peace. I got lost....not uncommon, but it was great. Then I followed it with a visit to my counselor who is remarkable. We have been together for several years and she laughed and was not all surprised to hear my break day included trail running. Then I had the chance to read and hang with Audrey and now here I am. I haven't written in awhile either. I had a whole myriad of life changes at one time and it turns out one needs a bit of time to unpack, process and remember how to share toothpaste and ice cream with another individual. So...I am going to work on this - my own health. I have scheduled all my medical appointments, reached out to friends and plan to get back to hiking, trail running and paddle boarding before the summer passes me by. 

The other night Mason told me that he and Natalie, who is now at Pepperdine and I miss greatly, made a list of each of their 10 favorite things in the universe and he challenged me to do the same. It has taken me a few days because the universe is big, but it's a good reminder to slow down and remember the things I am grateful for in the midst of all the chaos, discord and stress. So, here it is:

My Ten Favorite Things IN THE UNIVERSE in no particular order  

Mason's laugh

Audrey's hugs

Dan warming my side of the bed and then tucking me in at night

Hiking/running in Forest Park, Columbia Gorge or any of the beautiful PNW

My 5:30 am daily check ins with Jenny

Coffee

Standing in front of the Pacific Ocean

The feeling of Christmas morning BEFORE all the presents are opened

My library

Riding California Screaming (now the Incredicoaster) with Mason and feeling that stomach drop crazy free feeling even if it is momentary.

How lucky am I? The next couple of weeks I am going to work more diligently at reminding myself specifically what I am grateful for AND taking care of my physical and mental health. Audrey got in my space the other day when I was negative self talking and exclaimed "DON'T TALK TO MY GOOD FRIEND THAT WAY." It made me laugh out loud but she had a point. We talk to ourselves way worse than we would ever talk to a friend or loved one. I am a big believer in counseling and talking to someone who is not within your sphere so if you need any resources for counselors or just someone to listen...hit me up. The world is a big, weird, sometimes unkind place. No reason to go it alone.

 

The Little Blue House

 

I close on the sale of my house today. I signed all the documents yesterday. It took less than 10 minutes. The whole process was really pretty easy. My realtor/friend Chris already had a buyer when we first met. He was working with some people who had been trying to buy into Sherwood but the market is so crazy right now they kept losing out. He knew they would like my house and the opportunity. My house is perfect for a first time home buyer - small, low cost for this market,  good school district - a lot of perks. It ended up being a good deal for both of us. I didn't have to put a ton of work getting my place ready and having lots of people walk through and they didn't get outbid in a crazy market. I still will be renting here for another month until I get married and move to Newberg with Dan.

I didn't expect to be quite as nostalgic as I am about leaving the little blue house but I am. I have many good, hard memories in this house. It is the only place I have owned on my own. When I moved into the house I was starting over. I was overwhelmed. I spent many late nights hanging from the top of a ladder painting, fueled by wine and M&M's. It's kind of a miracle I didn't injure myself when I think about it. I had dear friends insist on coming to help me because they knew I wouldn't ask. I learned how to replace a toilet, remove and paint doors, rip out a shrub that had taken over the entire front yard and had a life of it's own, and assemble furniture. I started a new job and then changed clinic locations since I moved in here. I sent a kid to college. I helped another navigate high school during covid. I hosted a covid friendly prom and homecoming. I hung up my friend's art that she made for me. I ran an ultra marathon. I adopted Chewy Lewis. I fell in love.

I love the new house that Dan and I found in Newberg. It is in a neighborhood but it has beautiful backyard views of hills and alpacas. We can hear the crickets and birds that live in the marsh just off our backyard. I have found a new running path. We are putting together our library. I have an entire room devoted to a library! It will be amazing. But still I am so grateful for my time in the blue house.

It is here in this house that I remembered my strength. I took up trail running. I remembered I was brave enough and had enough support to try oncology - which is the perfect fit. I had incredibly honest conversations around the dinner table with my kids. It cracks me up when I see articles talk about "conversation starters with your teen." Nothing is off limits here. I imagine at times my kids would like a reprieve from the life discussions. They know it's a safe space here though and I will do my best to create that in the Newberg house.

The next chapter will be good. I know it and I am looking forward to it. But, I will be forever grateful for this 1000 square foot space that was a learning and loving place for me the past three years.

The Next Right Thing.

 So.....I have been taking a COVID mental break and realized I had not written in quite some time. The last time I wrote I had finished my 30 mile Wildwood trek and it took a minute to recover....and then Covid went on, and on, and on. And then all the political division. And then we were all just trying to get by, to get through, to wear our masks, to do our best.

2021 came and with it the promise of new leadership and VACCINES. One of the brightest spots in a long time are the vaccines. I have worked at several vaccine clinics because I like being part of the light, the promise, the hope. People who come feel hopeful. I soak it in.

There have been losses. Oh so many losses. But there is some light. Some hope. And....some love. One of the biggest surprises for me has been love. 

I met Dan when we were just learning more about Covid last spring. It was April. I met him online - which is a entirely other post because I still can't believe that I was even online and I have thoughts about that. Even so, there I was and we had enough of ...something....to meet in person. But I was VERY clear with Dan. I am an oncology nurse. Covid is real and I take it seriously. If you actually want to meet me in person we will be masked and maintain social distancing. Dan wasn't phased. He was in. He was still in when I told him before we were to meet that if he wasn't really interested or was going to stand me up, not to waste my time. He was undeterred, even intrigued perhaps that I was someone who wasn't afraid to speak my mind.

So we met. We had a lovely walk across the Tilikum bridge. It is more fun for him to tell the story and if you get to meet him some day, maybe you will hear it. Apparently I made some sort of impression. So we walked again. And again. And again. We did a lot of walking Dan and I. Eventually he made his way into my bubble but it took some time. There is a lot more to this story but to highlight - we have weathered Covid together. He has seen me tired, discouraged and disheartened. He has seen me hopeful. He and Jenny were my primary support system during my 30 mile Wildwood trek. He has shown up for a tired, at times disgruntled, oncology nursing again and again and again.

In some ways we are very similar. We both have a crazy love for books, red wine and coffee. In some ways we are very different. He will talk to anyone, is always enthusiastic, is a hopeless romatic and is ahead of me by about 20 tattoos. But, in the midst of COVID, we started a love story. An unlikely, quirky, lovely love story.

He had not been snow shoeing as an adult. I almost did him in taking him up a very steep hill on his first snowshoe this winter. Yet, he was good natured and went with me again. As a matter of fact, he has been up for every crazy adventure I have suggested. And today, as we stopped to take in Mt Hood while snowshoeing around Trillium Lake, he asked me to marry him. And I said yes. 

So, the story continues. My kids were in on the plan and are excited for us and the next chapter. They are part of it. So is Chewy. He's ecstatic. It was perfect - adventure, sunshine, outdoors, hope.

As I reflect on today I think of Mary Oliver's famous words  "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" Well, I plan to marry Dan.

The 30 Mile Reckoning

Back in January, my non resolution self made a resolution. After reading an article written by a guy that had run the 30-mile Wildwood Trail in Forest Park, I decided that I would do that. Running in the woods brings me joy and peace. At the time when I made the resolution I wrote "I need an adventure to call my own. One that feeds my soul." And, typically, once I speak something out loud, I can't turn back.

So yesterday at 8 a.m., in the rain and with my support system firmly in place, I was dropped off at the northern most end of Wildwood and my journey began. It would finish roughly 6 1/2 hours later, amidst cheering, festivities, and tears from me at the end near the Oregon Zoo. When I was texting with a friend later who asked me how it had gone, she said "I can't wait to read what you write about it later." And she is right, the best way for me to process what transpired in those 6.5 hours is to put it down here.

Many people who run the Wildwood trail choose to start at the southern end because there is a brutal hill up to Pittock Mansion that falls early when you start from the south but comes at 25 miles when you come from the north. I knew this but something made me want to start from the north. I wanted to end in the city. So I started in the less traveled north amidst a light rain. The first 5 miles were lovely. I listened to my playlist that included many songs that friends and my kids had contributed to. I was able to stay upright and was glad to have the adventure started. I couldn't look around as much as I had hoped because the new rainfall meant a slippery path and I didn't want my adventure to end as quickly as I started.

My first checkpoint was 5.5 miles. I was on "schedule", in one piece and grateful for the Gatorade and encouragement. I continued on feeling hopeful. My ear pods turned off a couple of miles later. I knew this would happen but figured they would run out of charge closer to 15 miles not 6. I wasn't prepared to spend time in the quiet with my thoughts only this early on. So, I pulled out the portable charger, started charging them and since I was still relatively alone, played my music just from my phone.

Those first 12 miles I spent a lot of time thinking about this past year. When I made this resolution, COVID, social distancing and masks weren't part of our every day discussions.  I didn't know I would be wearing a mask on this adventure that I would make sure was on as I was passing others (of note, I went through three on my run and all of them ended up shredded). We didn't know about online school, wildfires, toilet paper shortages and that we should be hoarding clorox wipes. I did not yet know how much I had to learn about racial injustice and my own bias. I knew I would have a child leaving for college in Rhode Island and my life would change dramatically as a result, but that's all I knew - and even that didn't end up being right. He is now happily planted in Valparaiso, Indiana. Oh all the things we didn't know in January. So, as I ran along the trail I thought of how grateful I was. Grateful for my health and that of my loved ones. Grateful that the air was not smoky and forest park was open. Grateful in the midst of the chaos of 2020.

I reached my second check point around mile 14. Still on "schedule" and in one piece. I was starting to notice my ankles and some minor pains. I hungrily ate a peanut butter and jelly and continued on. What came next in the six following miles before my next checkpoint was a slow overtaking of my body. My thoughts were no longer as reflective and peaceful.  I started to hurt. The time between miles extended. I might have scowled at a hill or two. 

What kept me going was knowing that if  I could just make it to my final checkpoint at 21 miles, Jenny would be there. Jenny had agreed to run the final nine with me. I knew she was the one person who could encourage and/or drag me through the final 9 miles. Living in Eugene, I don't get to see her as much as I would like so I would get 9 miles of her just to myself...if I could get there. It wasn't pretty but I made it. I refueled and we were off. Well, actually Jenny was off until she realized what was happening. At this point I was at more of a shuffle. Each time I stopped, restarting was becoming harder and parts of my body were yelling. Without missing a beat she said, "you sent the pace. I will follow." I, of course apologized for the slow pace which she replied "okay, that's your last apology" and off we went.

We spent the first few miles catching up - which was a great distraction for me from my body. She is a teacher so I wanted to hear firsthand what that was like. That's an entirely different post but I so feel for all the amazing teachers - as well as parents and kids - in the midst of this. This is not sustainable. But, I digress. We chatted, laughed and I cursed at any incline - because she gave me permission to. But then that hill came. The hill that most people try to do in the first part of the run....that one. But I was on mile 25 and not feeling all that great. And there it was. IF you have done the Pittock Mansion hike, it is no joke on fresh legs. Nothing about me was fresh. My going up that hill was not pretty. There was walking. There was cursing. But THERE WAS JENNY. "We can do hard things." "Small goals." "Just to the tree." Every time I stopped, she stopped. We got to the top where Pittock Mansion was and she has never been up there. At this point, what does ten more minutes mater? We jogged/shuffled over to the viewpoint, ohhhhd and ahhhd, snapped some pictures and continued on. I would love to say after the hill all was great and I sailed into the finish line. That would not be true. I walked, got frustrated, ran...but Jenny was there every final painful step of the way. On a couple of occasions she even yelled to the fellow hikers "this lady is on her 27th mile! Let's clap for her." This is why I chose her to do that last stretch with me. Time and time again she has sat with me in the dark and reminded me we can do hard things.

We made it. And at the bottom were posters, cheers and people that love me. Even Mason was there - face timed in for the finish. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I had done it. They had believed in me every step of the way and were proud of me. It was beautiful, hard, painful, ugly, joyful, peaceful and freeing. I am better for it and reminded of all that I have to be grateful for.

During those first few reflective miles I thought about different ways I identify myself:

Mom, daughter, friend, nurse, learner, believer, reader, writer, runner, nature lover...and yesterday I got to add more...ultra marathoner. Who would have thought? Thanks for being part of the journey.

Lobe you forever

First, to my friends who have sent their kids to college prior to this year, I’m sorry. I had no idea what you were going through or how hard it was. I am sure I didn’t check on you often enough. I now know better.

Now, for those of you are on the brink of this and maybe were blessed with extra feelers, you may not want to read this. Just move along and reach out to me when it’s over for you. Because I do not want to do what I just did ever again. Ever. Don’t worry, Audrey has been alerted and will have to figure out a way to just stay home. Right now she’s just mostly hugging me and nodding.

I don’t know how one leaves part of their heart somewhere else and then walks away. How do we spend countless hours with this human....teaching them to walk, read, sleep, share, play nice, apologize, work hard and then leave them in this teeny tiny room with a stranger and walk away? This is a thing? My heart is definitely opposed to this. 

This decision to go to Valparaiso University was a whirlwind. We had never seen campus before. But, we prepared, packed and planned and, on Sunday, we arrived in Chicago. After a short visit with dear friends who we are very grateful will be near Mason, Michael, Audrey, Mason and  I headed to Valparaiso, Indiana. We arrived Monday. I was relieved that Mason likes the campus. It’s a very small school with a great engineering program. He got to move in ahead of most because he was part of the final orientation group. Our move in time coincided well with a powerful and violent thunderstorm. We watched from our hotel as outside got dark, the wind picked up, the rain came down wildly and our lights went out. Of course Mason was still anxious to move in. We waited until at least the winds died down and the lightning  stopped because...you know...carrying golf clubs on campus in a lightning storm...

Mason got to stay two nights in his dorm with hardly anyone else there. I think that was a good option for him. He seemed more comfortable with the idea of dorm life after.  A couple of years ago he told me he wasn’t sure he could move away for college. Then before I knew it he was gaining confidence and looking Midwest and East Coast. His confidence has grown so much but the extra days were helpful. Orientation was good and the golf coach fabulous. 

Valparaiso is truly a great fit for Mason. He’s rooming with the other freshmen golfer who we just met. They already made plans to golf right after move in. They seem perfect for one another. Everything is right about this place for Mason. I see it.  I was skeptical about their Covid precautions but after hearing several presentations I know they have thought it through. There is a chance it won’t work and Mason will be home within the month, but maybe it will? Who really knows? He is masked, covid tested and attending hybrid, in person and online classes.

So....everything should be great. Easy. This is how it’s supposed to be. But....guess what???  I found the second purpose of a mask! To hide the terrible thing my face does when it cries. Yes. Been crying regularly. Wondered if I would kick into tough mode once we got here. Nope. Not a chance. I even asked Mason to start being difficult to make it easier. Trouble is, I like the kid. Of course I love him but I also actually like him. He’s one of my favorite people to talk to. He’s funny, kind and wicked smart. He and Audrey have become even better friends with Covid and distancing. I will miss his company, his face and his hugs.

He has been feeling more apprehensive  as well as excited as the time we were to leave drew nearer. I am not projecting, he told me this. New is hard. New everything even harder. But here we are. I knew we were in trouble as the day started growing late and I started crying when ANOTHER mom and her son were saying goodbye. I did not even know these people! Both kids looked at me...”mom...you okay?” Nope. We said goodbye shortly after.

Here’s the thing. I am not okay. I just said goodbye to Mason. He is one of my very favorite humans whom I have talked to or seen every day of his life. His laugh is one of my favorite sounds of all time. He is starting this next journey of his life with me cheering from the side....miles and a couple time zones away. I have had a blessed life but I have also done some hard shit and this might have been the hardest.

I WILL be okay. Mason will be great. This I just know. And this knowledge does give me some peace. For now I miss him like crazy and may have to randomly mask and sunglass up even when not necessary to work it out. I remember being told when I had my babies about the sleep, the feeding, the medical...I do not remember anyone saying ...”and then 18 years later you will send them into the world and your heart will break.” But apparently that’s what happens.

Somewhere  in the last couple of years autocorrect changed a text from me to him from love you forever to lobe you forever and it stuck. We have been saying this ever since. So, my Valparaiso Crusader who is now an Indiana resident and embarking on a new journey...your momma lobes you forever. 👂♾❤️

Keep Pivoting Until You Dance

I have not felt able to write for quite awhile. Since the pandemic, I have had trouble wading through many of my thoughts and feelings. Much of the time I have just felt like I was on a merry go round that would not stop. On occasion it feels like it is slowing down but then someone comes along and gives it another push.

In the midst of the world crazy, we had a little of our own kind of crazy. Mason texted me at work one morning and asked if I could call him. We don't generally talk when I am at work and it was a busy morning. I told him I probably wouldn't get a break until lunch and was that okay? He said "no problem. That's fine." A few moments later I got a text from a friend saying they were so sorry about the news but they had confidence Mason would be fine. Ummmmm....I knew I was missing a crucial piece of information. So, I took my phone into the supply room and tried to reach Mason. On a zoom call that morning, Mason learned that Brown cut their golf program, along with several other sports. The school Mason had committed to attend and play golf for back in November would no longer have a competitive golf program. In the moment, I will say that Mason handled the news more graciously than I did. While I cried amongst the wound care supplies, Mason said he knew we would figure it out. I also instructed Mason on texts. Seeing your college dream crumble is not a "wait until lunch" text. It's a "mom, call me now, " text.

I will spare you the details but the last month or so has involved looking at options. Talking to golf programs and coaches, zoom calls, touring campus's virtually, spreadsheets and many difficult conversations. Michael, Sebastian, Mason and I have met a few times to share thoughts, questions, options and to listen. We did not all share the same opinion and Mason knew this. We all brought a different perspective to the conversation. But, despite our feelings, we all knew the two most important things - that the decision belonged to Mason AND that he would have our support whatever he decided.

Father's Day he had it down to two schools. Brown was still a strong contender. He could still attend. He would pursue Engineering and play club golf. Most of the team is staying and will play club golf with the same coach. They will likely get invited to some of the tournaments but as a club team, they don't have the ability to qualify and have all the same opportunities that a varsity sport has. He loved Brown. It was his dream school when it offered BOTH golf and engineering. He had met the golf team and enjoyed them immensely. He loved the campus. He loved the open curriculum that allows him to pursue engineering but still take other classes that interest him such as English....BUT he has always wanted to play competitive college golf. It has been his dream for a very long time and Brown was no longer providing that opportunity.

Valpraiso was the other school that had emerged from the group. Valpraiso is a small school in Indiana. They have a competitive Division 1 golf team. They had a freshman they had recruited that was no longer attending. They were interested in bringing Mason on. The coach was interested, encouraging, personable and persistent. Valpraiso also has a good engineering program. It might not have the academic program diversity Brown has, but it had the golf he dreamed of. He was torn. We had given him all the input we could and now it was up to him. So, Sunday afternoon, in honor of Father's Day, I asked him to do what my dad would have done. My dad, who ironically had a huge passion for golf and would have been one of Mason's biggest fans, would always take out a yellow legal pad and make a pros and cons list. So, I told Mason to make his pro and con list for each school and bring it with him to the river. I was on my paddeboard and Audrey and Mason were in a double kayak. In the middle of the Tualatin River, away from the people, I told him to read us his lists. He had a lot of great points for each school. He had well thought out arguments for both. We listened and asked questions. At the end he said he just didn't know. I told him that was okay. He would figure it out. We enjoyed the rest of our adventure, returned home and he was showering getting ready for dinner with his Dad. After he was showered and dressed, he walked out of his room and with confidence said, "Mom, it's Valpraiso." I said, "okay, it's Valpraiso." And it is. Today he signed his letter of intent to play golf at Valpraiso. He leaves early August.

This kid. I could not be more proud. Someone asked me how I felt. Beyond the excitement and relief, I told them I felt a little sad. I was sad that he was passing on what I am sure is a pretty amazing, well rounded education. He is passing up on Boston and a wonderful and more diverse campus. But, I would have also been sad if he picked Brown. I would have been sad that he was letting go of this dream of playing competitive golf and wondered if he would regret it. There was a bit of a loss either way. But this was his decision. I know with 100 percent certainty that he made this decision for him. He thought long and hard about what he wanted. Mason takes this part of his journey alone. He cannot live someone else's dream. This is his. And he is going for it. He is confident, kind, thoughtful, smart AND a college golfer. He knows he is all of these things so he picked the only one he could pick.

So tonight we had signing day #2. A group of his friends, several who were with him on signing day #1, joined us and we celebrated. Celebrated this kid who had taken an adverse situation and made it into something full of potential and opportunity. With each turn the past few months where things didn't go as expected....over and over....he has pivoted. He has shown more graciousness and courage than most. He has pivoted so many times and he has not wavered or become dizzy. He has just kept going.

So here is to you my amazing Mason. This is your moment...again. You remind me that when one dream doesn't work out, you keep looking until you see the next one waiting behind it. Go do great things and know that you are loved.

My Senior, Class of 2020

The world is so weird right now. I am actually sitting at home on a Tuesday reading a book in the sun. Those who know me well will realize how unusual this is. I don't sit and read in the middle of the day. I have issues with productivity and relaxation - working on them. Also, it's a Tuesday. I took two days of this week so I could attend the kids' high school golf tournaments. Guess what? No tournaments. Not even just no tournaments - no high school golf season, no prom, no school, graduation?...yet to be seen.

I thought about giving my vacation time back. We bid for it months ahead of time so it is not like I can just trade it for another date this summer - those vacations have all been claimed. We actually have been staffed decently at work recently too so I knew my taking my vacation wouldn't cause a shortage where I work. I also needed to wrap my head around this online learning since I kept getting video updates from the principal and by the end of the work day, I didn't have the emotional capacity to watch them and pay attention. So, I decide to keep the time off and it turns out to have been a really good decision. I had no idea how tired I was.

With three days at home already behind me and a world that has pretty much shut down, I have already accomplished my to do list and more. I have fixed the screen door, done a ton of yard work, run more at one time than I have in at least 17 years, cleaned my house, and hung out with Audrey. So, I find myself reading in the sunshine in the backyard in the middle of the afternoon. And then I got to reminiscing....

I would usually have both Mason and Audrey with me right now. Unfortunately, a couple days in to their week with me, Mason made a few decisions that put him in contact with more people than he should have been. I know people have varying degrees of social distancing strictness - and I know people more and less than me. But, considering I work with immunocompromised people in my work, I have some expectations. To his credit, he recognized what he had done and told me that in light of what I do and the people I work with, he should go back to his dad's for the remainder of my time so not to put me and my patients at increased risk. I was proud of him for coming to that realization AND I was heartbroken to miss time with him. Especially when I know time with him is limited.

I have seen a lot of posts this past week about the Seniors. Pictures, thoughts, ideas of how we are grieving over the end of a significant time in their life that came so abruptly. I imagine many of us remember the end of high school with fond memories of prom, spring sports, graduation, etc. I am sad for him that he will miss out on some of those things. Realistically, his high school experience has not been all sunshine and roses though. With this in mind, I asked him what he would ACTUALLY miss with school ending - not what I assume he will miss.

What he will miss most? His final high school golf season. His team looked good this year...probably the best one in the past four years. He also wanted one more year with his amazing high school golf coach Jeff Stirling. Those two have a great bond and he wanted more time. He was looking forward to the last week of school for the seniors because it involves a lot of fun events and not a lot of work. He was looking forward to taking his girlfriend to prom. He was looking forward to graduation.

Even with all of the misses, he has a really good attitude. He is hopeful that some of the summer golf season will be salvaged and he looks forward to starting at Brown next year - assuming that will also go as expected. He is spending a lot of this quarantine working on his golf game - and hopefully finishing up his classes. He reminds me that I need to approach the end of his high school career with a good attitude as well. Because, if I am honest, I am sad for me too. I was already preparing myself for watching him walk across the stage at Sherwood, with all those stinkin' cords around his neck and his amazing big smile...thinking how far we have come and honoring his achievements. I am sad that the trip the two of us were going to take to Philadelphia so he could play in a USGA event he qualified for has been cancelled. I am sad for the experiences we will now miss out on. But, I will take my cue from him and together we will take it in stride and with perspective.

What is happening in this world is so much bigger than us. People are experiencing tremendous losses - losses of loved ones, of jobs, so much loss. People are struggling with loneliness and isolation and food scarcity during this time. The uncertainty of what the next few months will look like is hard for everyone. So, we will keep moving forward. We will be sad for our seniors and the experiences they will miss out on and we will find ways to honor them.

Today, this is how I am going to honor mine. Mason is a great writer. He took poetry last trimester and wrote some really beautiful things .A couple weeks ago he saw that the New York Times accepts submissions each week for love stories that are 100 words or less, so he submitted his. It hasn't been chosen yet.... their loss...



"When I’m single, I binge romcoms. Don’t ask me why. Despite this, standing outside with my arm around my “best friend”, I’d been actively avoiding my destiny. The rain started falling, the only thing missing some ambient, upbeat romance song. It took me 4 months to realize how to feel about the cute, smart, funny girl in first period, 30 minutes to kiss her. Underneath the stars, we’d finally gotten it right. Unfortunately for me, it turns out none of the Netflix romcoms remembered to show the guy getting home 2 hours late. Go figure."

*oh and of note, the 2 hours late didn't go over so well but that made it less poetic.

**photo credit to the amazing Jeff Peters