MidLife MidWest
I am a pretty normal and usual woman. To pay my bills I work at a non-profit. To feed my spirit, I work as a listener, mediator, writer, and artist. These posts use metaphor, watercolor, haiku, poetry, and contemplative musings to create signposts and guide marks for those looking for meaning and direction in ordinary everyday life. Contact me if you think I might be able to help you sort a few things out - I would love that.
Wednesday, February 21, 2024
Castle
Monday, May 31, 2021
Flowing on Jordan to the Dead Sea
For a few years I saw this person regularly and they helped me learn so much about myself. And then, not surprisingly, about my connection and relationship to my children, my ex, my family of origin, and this is corny, but, the world. This learning was empowering and helped me see so much of my life through a lens I did not even know was available for me to look through. Life didn't become perfect, but it did become informed.
Over time I moved to a few other places. I'd seek out counseling now and again, but it never seemed as real and authentic as with Jordan. Sometimes I'd book an appointment with Jordan and drive a few hours just to have a counseling session where I didn't have to explain every bit of context for what I was dealing with in that moment.
Fifteen years ago, I moved about forty-five minutes from Jordan and re-established an "as needed" schedule of counseling. Some years that means monthly, sometimes there have been five or more years between visits. Last year, during the pandemic, I asked Jordan for zoom counseling sessions and they obliged. I stated that when I first met them, I thought it was the most difficult time in my family's life. But I was wrong. It was even more difficult last year.
Currently Estranged from a Family Member
Scott Berkun - Research from "The Ghost of My Father" 2014
Jordan listened to me, questioned me, and as usual asked me to question myself about the things that I was bringing to our sessions. Eventually, Jordan said, "I think you need to talk to someone else about this. Someone who specializes in estrangement." I agreed.
Jordan introduced me to Chris via zoom. I liked Chris. They told me all about estrangement and the studies, the science as it is, behind estrangement. That made sense to my mind and my heart. The loss does not hurt any less, but I understand and can wrap my heart around this.
Until today. Now I question if Chris is a real counselor. Chris has wanted me to do some "work" on my own. Chris says this work will prepare me for the possibility of the estrangement lasting forever, or the estrangement being reconciled. I want to be prepared. So I agreed to do the "work."
Seems the "work" is verbatim lesson number X from an online writing class:
- What is it that you feel is missing from your life right now? List as many or as few items as you like.
- Is there something that you had in the past that you wish you still had?
- Do you feel like you are simply destined not to have some of the things you may want out of life? Where did this belief come from?
- Is there a time in your past that you "realized" it just might not be in the cards?
- Can you think of anyone you know that has the thing that is missing from your life? What did he or she do differently than what you're doing right now?
- Why do you think this thing is missing? Try to find as many "reasons" as you can.
Wednesday, April 1, 2020
Covid-19: And the Need Goes On
Many of your who read my blog know that I am the director of a small nonprofit agency, Good Neighbor that offers financial assistance to people who live in Story County, Iowa. Every day when I walk to my office, this song starts playing in my mind, one beat for every step I take.
I have changed some words:
And the need goes on, the need goes on.
Bah, bah, bah, bah,bah - the need goes on.
Lada lada dee, lada lada da.
Here I come to help you if I can.
For four blocks, this is my mantra. You can imagine how many times I repeat it duing that five minute walk. Sometimes I am sort of whispering it aloud, but most of the time it stays quietly in my mind. I'm not exactly sure when I started doing this, but now I can not stop doing this.
In case you worry about social distancing safety, when I walk to work, I am walking there to be alone in the office, helping people who call or email Good Neighbor. I mail things out to them, or I call on a team of volunteers from a local faith community to deliver papers and other things if USPS will not work. Again, we find a contact-less way for volunteers to make these deliveries.
I want to say more about the people I am helping. I want to talk about the people who have always been poor and struggling to meet their basic needs, the ones whom it hasn't occurred to, that the moratorium on utility disconnections and rental evictions might apply to them as well as to "other people who had good jobs." I want to talk about the people who call in from all over the state and country, disappointed to learn our services can only assist residents of Story County, then asking me what they need to do for me to make an exception. (Nothing, sorry.) I want to talk to all the people who were doing "fine" living paycheck to paycheck, and now with their first missed paycheck can not pay their mortgage, utilities, or car insurance and have no money for groceries or prescriptions. I want to talk about the people who are still working but want to get all the assistance they can now so that they can keep their savings for when they really need it. I want to talk about the people who promise me their $1200 Federal Assistance check if I will only give them $500 now. I want to talk about all the people who have given us donations because they know that there is more need than ever right now.
But, I can't tell you those things. Each call is unique, even when it falls into broad categories. Each call is a plea to be heard. Each call validates the uncertainty the majority of us are living in right now. And each call is confidential.
And now, for the shameless plug - here is our website info. If you, or someone you know in Story County, Iowa, needs help - go to our website. If you want to help Good Neighbor hep others - go to our website. Because, don't ya know? The need goes on, the need goes on . . .
Friday, March 27, 2020
Isolation Haiku
isolation, I'd visit
all your special haunts.
First to the park where
we fed the birds for two years
before you couldn't.
Next, to Unistar.
I'd tell stories to grandkids
as they fall asleep.
Then, I'd invite your
family to dinner and
cook something healthy.
I'd walk to the end
of your block, turn, imagine
my hand on your back.
Now, I isolate
with your daughters in my home,
trying to ignore
the hole in our lives.
Mermaid tubs, Laura Ingalls
Wilder, foot rubs,
melatonin, and
hugs can never fill the space
your life occupied.
You are twenty days
gone, twenty night's visiting
in my dreams. My dreams.
Because of this damn
isolation, I visit
all your special haunts
with you every night
in my dreams, with you in my
dreams. Sweet peace. Sweet peace.
Saturday, August 10, 2019
Circe
"Sorceress Circe" Angelo Caroselli c.1630 |
To the last chapters I say, "Really Madelyn Miller?" You used all that creativity and imagination to create a life full of strong, brave, insightful, tender, and self-preserving episodes in Circe's life. But in the end, you could not resist, like so many before you who have told Circe's story, having her swept away by the love of a good man who made her life complete.
I am not anti-love or relationships. But I am a realist, I know the statistics for women my (and Circe's) age and re-partnering. I would like to see a protagonist, especially one like Circe, who was so strong on her own through the majority of her life find peace and satisfaction in their solitary life.
In the spirit of my blog's name, Midlife Midwest, I give Madelyn Miller's Circe, 🌽🌽🌽🌽🌽 out of ten, because reading is better than not reading.
Monday, May 27, 2019
Lacuna
- an unfilled space or interval; a gap
It's been a year . . . .
I posted on this blog . . .
I traveled to Scotland . . .
I left a job I loved but did not have the energy to continue . . .
I started a job I love even more than the last one . . .
It's been ALMOST a year since:
I made any new art . . .
Molly almost died . . .
I spent an hour writing for me, not work . . .
I went swimming every day . . .
I went to bed at night without thinking of work . . .
I went on vacation . . .
I took a sick day . . .
We decided things were just too complex for it to work . . .
But it's only been a MOMENT since:
My heart swelled at the thought of you all . . .
I worried about you all . . .
I reminded myself for the millionth time that you all are strong, smart, brave . . .
I missed you all . . .
I had grandiose plans to be motivated to . . .
I committed to finally do it this time . . .
What have you all been up to?