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Bright New Beginnings
I’ve been sad for so long. It was my normal. I could “I’m fine” my way through it and even fool myself when I wasn’t fine at all. Every day, I had this lead feeling in my chest about this or that perceived failure. I feel like I’m finally stopping and catching my breath, and I can feel that heavy feeling lifting. I feel happiness creeping in more and more. I think I’m finally going to be okay and start getting better. I don’t want to taunt fate but I feel like I finally reached bottom and the only way is up now. Up is looking really possible. Every morning I wake up feeling optimistic. The sun is literally shining on me every day and I am recharging my batteries.
Freezing cold sun, though! It’s okay. I finally get to wear all the jackets, coats, and sweaters I never wore while living near the ocean. I live in the high desert now, and it gets below-freezing some nights. I know this is nothing compared to what other parts of the country deal with, but for me, it is chilly! But that doesn’t stop me from enjoying the cold sunrises. I bundle up and drink it in.
This is a picture post but I do have a bigger point I will get to at the bottom. I just wanted to share the lemons I’ve been picking. One day I got a bug up my butt and trimmed some bushes in the backyard that were hanging over the fence. I worked up an actual sweat and rewarded myself with real homemade lemonade. There is nothing like fresh, homemade lemonade after a sweaty task. I drank three glasses in a row.
Later, I made these lemon cookies for the neighbors, who kindly lent me a backup battery to charge my phone when the power was out for three days. It’s fun to be baking again. But get this: my parent’s oven is awful! Figures. Now, when I have all the time in the world and can bake because it’s a great way to heat the house, their oven doesn’t work properly. There is something wrong with the thermostat, and it takes forever to get to the temperature. If I want to bake at 350, I have to set it to 400 and wait half an hour for it to get hot enough. It’s okay, though. I’ll get used to it.
One day, I walked out to the backyard to watch the sunset and saw tell-tale smoke. This is why the power has been shut off so often lately. We’re lucky if we can get through three days without it shutting off. But I’m thankful. My parents live in a high-risk fire area. I’d rather pretend I’m camping Little-House-on-the-Prairie-style any day than deal with evacuation and losing everything. Thankfully, the fire was across town, and the wind was blowing in the opposite direction, so we didn’t have to evacuate. But it was scary. Smoke and flames strike fear in all of us.
That night the winds were fierce. All night I heard them blowing and the sounds of metal stretching.
The next day, Cody and I walked around the neighborhood and saw all the damage. The windmill in our backyard unscrewed itself. A battery off my dad’s chop saw flew across the patio, and tree branches were everywhere. Patio chairs were in the street, trash cans were tipped and blown, and tumbleweeds were wedged into places they don’t normally go. It made me thankful for a solid safe house to sleep in.
That brings me to my big point: I am really thankful to my parents for the shelter and love they are giving me right now. They are so happy to have someone cook and clean; I am glad to do that. Finally, I feel appreciated for doing something easy and it comes naturally. I love projects. I love home makeovers. I love the sense of accomplishment I feel when cleaning and cooking. I’ve given myself the grace to take it easy and start over. Of course, my money problems are far from over, but I don’t have to worry about being evicted. The worst has already happened, and I’m okay. All the late fees and overdraft notices have come, and I’m still alive. There is peace in giving up. I’ve done my best. I gave it the best fight I could.
I’m so lucky to have a safety net to fall into. I didn’t think I would. I thought I was on my own. My parents were always the ones struggling, and I used to help them, but now the tables have turned, and they are helping me. There is something so wonderful about being taken in by your own family. I don’t mean to be bragging about it when I know so many people don’t have family who love them unconditionally. I thought I was so poor. I thought I was a failure, but this huge lesson has taught me how rich I am. I’ve learned the most significant lesson. Finally, I see what so many people have been trying to tell me. I have so much to be thankful for.
I like being a caregiver. I always have been, from super auntie to mommy blogger extraordinaire to empty-nest pet owner… This is me. Now I’m caring for my parents and am good at it! I’m sure we’ll have our hurdles, and I’ll be thankful for my quick trips to visit Matt and other friends, but I can feel my depression lifting. I’m excited about building my way back.
I have hope.
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There’s a free calendar at the end of this post.
I don’t even know where to start with this post. Everyone asks me how I’m doing, and I make up some bullshit story about “healing in the desert” because it sounds good. But I’m here because I have nowhere else to go. I couldn’t cut it in the OC anymore, and since Bug moved out, it just didn’t make sense for me to deplete my retirement by paying rent on an apartment I couldn’t afford. So I packed up and moved home to my parents. It was a huge relief to give up finally. I’d been fighting it for what seemed like forever. I was hustling every side job I could find, borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, borrowing from friends, knowing I’d never be able to pay them back…I was getting rejection letters every day from jobs I’d applied to months before. It was hopeless.
My mental health has taken a blow, but there is a little bit of truth to my bullshit story about healing in the desert. I feel the sun out here. It gives me hope. I am solar-powered, and every time I feel the sun on my face, I breathe in and out more easily.
When I lived in Costa Mesa, it was foggy every day. I was close to the ocean but not close enough to walk. The ocean came to me in a big bank of fog. My apartment was dark. I know it looks bright in photos, but it isn’t. I tried to make it pretty and appreciate the ducks and the trees in the neighborhood… but when it was too cold to sit outside, I felt like I was living in a cave. The low popcorn ceiling, the few windows on only one side, and the cloudy days blended into a dark mood that wouldn’t lift.
Coming here has been a breath of fresh air. I feel so lucky that my parents live in the prettiest part of an otherwise depressed town. They are on the outskirts of Hemet in the low hills. The horizon is vast. As far as I can see, I see rocks and hills and shrubbery, and the skies go on forever. There isn’t any fog. Just dry, cold air. It’s the high desert; right now, it’s very dry and chilly. But I grew up here, so it’s sentimental. I am a desert child.
Every morning, I wake up super early and watch the sunrise. I’d go for walks, but the coyotes are kind of creepy out here, so Cody and I stay close to home until it gets light. I was sitting in the vines of dead raspberry bushes in a raised garden, but my dad built me a little platform. I love being around my dad because he’s super handy and has every tool you can imagine. I can’t wait until summer when we have a thriving garden.
But right after I got here, my parents left for Texas to take care of my brother, who had hip surgery. He had some complications and is in some pain, so they are staying with him until he heals a bit and gets settled. I miss my parents. I feel like I’ve been out here alone for months, even though it’s only been a few weeks.
The power went out for three days to make things even more challenging. I’m not mad about it, though, because SCE is taking all precautions so that the high winds don’t knock down wires and start fires. Where my parents live in a high-risk fire area. When I see the devastation in Los Angeles as I scroll through Instagram, I am thankful for all these precautions. I miss my dad, though. Trying to find my way around in the dark was scary, as was figuring out how to turn the generator on and hook up the refrigerator so the food inside didn’t go bad. Afterward, I felt like such a survivor. But the dark did get old quickly. There isn’t much worth doing when the sun sets at 5:30, so I’d go to bed and sleep. Then I’d be up super early and start all over again.
I cooked my food on the gas stove (thank the Lord my parents have gas!), read books, and one day drove to the library to do some work.
Then, magically, on day three, the power turned back on! It was so amazing and wonderful. I think I felt like how people think crawdads are the most delicious food they’ve ever tasted when they’ve been starving for weeks. Crawdads are not delicious. Well, not to me, anyway. LED lights in the kitchen aren’t impressive either until you’ve bumped around in the dark for three days. Then they are the best invention ever!
The winds are still whipping around, so I brace myself for another outage. Until then, I’m typing out a blog post and dropping a calendar for you to proof!
This is just for you, Cathy: a free calendar. Please proofread it and let me know if there are any errors.
***UPDATE TO ADD NEW CORRECTED CALENDAR***
I am planning on taking this blog down this year. I’m in the process of copying and pasting it into a digital document for Bug and her cousins so that it will be up for a while. I’ve got twenty-plus years of content to copy and paste. Maybe I’ll want to keep going by the end of it, but I’m ready for a change. Secret Agent Josephine has lived her days. Thank you for reading all these years. I’ll keep you posted on Instagram.
xo