The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

 This book.

I found myself absorbed into this book. I felt broken down by this book. Broken in the way that life-changing truths can break you. I believe in the power of books, words, ideas, and the way they come together in a story to change you.

And I think this one did. I can't get past the idea of life being full of regrets and choices, sadness and happiness, light and dark, and that will be true no matter what your life looks like. I can't get past the idea that the true beauty in living is seeing that you have to be appreciative of what you have in front of you.

This book made me want to believe in parallel universes. It made me want to believe in an infinite number of Megans out in the world living completely different lives than the one I sit in today.

The Megan who lived out her childhood dream of being a writer living in New York City. The Megan who still lives in her hometown and has two kids. The Megan who joined the Peace Corps and lives in a completely different world. The Megan who met a handsome foreigner and lives in a tiny cottage in the south of France. The Megan who stayed single and travels around the world with friends. The Megan who went to a big university and is under a mountain of debt now. The Megan that became a mother and loves it. The Megan that became a mother and hates it. The Megan who wrote a book. The Megan that became a college professor. The Megan that lives in a house with a group of female friends. The Megan who lives in a little house by the sea and paints and drinks tea. The Megan who never met Brandon and lives in her small town still. The Megan who moves to Greece and eats fresh yoghurt and honey every morning. The Megan who teaches English in Paris and picks up a baguette on her way home from work. The Megan who lives in a tiny village and rides her pink basketed bicycle to work every morning. The Megan who lives in Seattle and writes for a newspaper. The Megan who jumps out of planes and has no fear. The Megan who married a woman. The Megan who adopted four kids and revels in it. The Megan who opened a school for girls and spends her days inspiring young girls to be anyone they want. The possibility of all those Megans out in the world feels so fulfilling and empowering. 

I have this mental picture in my head of all these Megans out living their lives, still feeling sad, happy, confused, and unsure of herself because those experiences are essential to being human. I can see myself standing in the center of a whirlwind of echoes from those parallel lives. Unable to fully see them and yet feeling how different and wonderful all their lives are. 

Just like how different and wonderful this life I sit in now is. 

It isn't often that a book comes into your life and changes your perspective. Changes how you see yourself and the world around you. A book that comes into your life and makes you more grateful, humbled, and compassionate about the hardships of being human. That we're all experiencing joy, sadness, confusion, and regret for the choices we think ruined our lives. That the only flaws in our lives are being unwilling to look past the regret to see everything we should be thankful for.

Thank you, Matt Haig, for writing a book that completely changed my perspective, came at a timely moment in my life where thoughts and conversations around choices and regret were commonplace and creating this new space where I can imagine all the lives I could have lived. And perhaps, am living. Thank you.

No, Thank God

 Today I said "No, thank god," when asked if I had kids. I didn't even think about it. It just popped out of my mouth.

A week after a long session with my therapist talking about if I want kids or not. 

Talking in circles about life choices and regret. 

I still don't know how I feel about becoming a mother. 

And today as I was washing my face and thinking about all the ways I've grown and learned this year and all the years before, I thought, 

"I'm so glad I'm not a mom right now."

And that was it. 

That's how I feel right now. 

That doesn't mean the feeling won't change. But I'm still growing into myself. I'm still learning new things. I'm still experimenting. I'm not ready to give all that up to be a Mom, but I also need to get over my desire to lockdown an answer. 

Life is ambiguous. 

I'm trying to put this decision up on a shelf and out of my head for a few years. I'm not ready yet. Maybe I'll never be ready. Maybe it's okay to not know and just keep living my life. 

In my very early twenties, I posted something about your twenties being your selfish years. I'm so thankful for these years of growth and development for myself. Only in a world in which we villanize a woman who chooses herself over the "selflessness" of motherhood would call those years selfish. 

I can't imagine giving up how much I've changed in order to be a mother. Maybe the woman I'll be in ten years will feel the exact same way. Maybe she will be so thankful and amazed at the extra ten years of growth and development she got all because I decided not to become a mother at this point in time. When I wasn't ready.

Saying not now isn't saying not ever. I don't have the same peace of mind or clarity about motherhood as most other women around me, whether for or against. 

I have a vague sense of maybeness that is quilted in not now, not yet, I'm not done figuring out me yet.

I went to Therapy

 I'd been thinking about it for a while.

All the small issues that had been piling up over the years, all the little things that seemed to circulate in my head over and over again, and the beliefs and issues that hadn't worked themselves out.

I'm fine, I told myself, constantly. This is fine. Your life is good. Be thankful for your life. 

And I am thankful for my life. And I am also unhappy with many aspects of it. It was time to reach out. So I finally found someone that I thought might work for me. I emailed, set up an appointment, signed a counseling agreement, and then spent a week talking myself out of and back into going.

How dare you complain about your life? Who are you to take the time to complain about your privileged issues? Those questions plagued me all week. But I decided to just suck it up and go. The fact that I made the appointment was a good enough sign that I needed it.

I had never been in therapy before. I had never sat and talked about intimate details of my life and how I feel about it with a stranger. Those thoughts were regulated to my husband and best friend. I didn't think I would be able to open up about my struggles.

But then after some small chit chat, she just stared at me. Waiting for me to open up. So I did. I opened up so much more than I thought I would. 

I cried. Of course. Can I get through tough conversations without crying? Throughout my entire session, my voice was in that whiny snivelly state it gets in when you're on the edge of crying. I had a tissue in my hand that dabbed at my eyes every few minutes. I talked with my hands. 

It felt a bit like a weight had been lifted off of me and at the same time, I felt drained and emotional. 

Life in the military community has been incredibly hard on me. It's hit my self-esteem, my desire for control and stability, and my ability to form deep attachments. It has really done a number on me. And year after year, I just keep telling myself that it will get better. And it does, but not because the situation is better, but because I become more resilient. 

Something she said that stuck with me was, 

"Are  you really okay, or are you just really good at coping?"

Am I okay, or am I just really good at coping? Am I okay, or am I just really good at coping?

I think I've come to the point where I've just managed to push down and ignore so many of my own issues that I'm coping at a surface level. I'm just coping. And I want to be truly okay.

The Vanishing Half

Who would have thought that after all of my book club drama earlier in the year, I would find myself in the perfect book club of two? All of our book choices have been so interesting, gripping, and great for discussion, and it has given me the opportunity to grow a friendship with someone that I might not have if we had continued as a larger group. I can't recommend doing partner reads instead of book clubs more. The conversations are more intimate, the book choices better, and there is so much less stress about scheduling, choosing books, handling opinions, and waiting for everyone to respond. It just gets to be a conversation about books between friends.

And I love that.

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett is a book that made me want to stay up all night just to finish it. I haven't experienced that in a novel in a long time. It ignited my passion for reading again. That's not to say I haven't read good books this year, but this one pulled me in and I didn't want it to stop. 

The premise is simple: two twin girls who are Black but white-passing grow up and choose completely different lives. One marries the darkest man she can find while the other marries a white man, abandons her family, and reinvents herself. Their stories twisting through the stories of their daughters until it all comes together. 

So much of this novel focuses on race, identity, racism, colorism, the choices we make, the roles we choose to perform, and how they impact others. 

I loved how this novel explores how we create our own identity, and even though there might be consequences to that choice, they aren't always as dramatic or as dire as some fictional stories make them out to be.

This story felt so realistic in the way Stella's choice impacted herself and her daughter. They both had to reckon with their identity and it created a wedge between them because of the lies, but in the end, there were no real consequences. Stella remained married to her husband, a professor, living out her life as white. She found her way back to her mother, sister, and hometown, but she still chose the life she created in the end. The author could have villanized Stella. She chose being white, she chose to use racism to protect herself, and she chose to lie to her husband, daughter, and friends. The author could have chosen to create consequences for Stella where she is found out, a fraud, and abandoned and alone. But sometimes the choices we make are hard to live with but don't end with dramatic consequences, or even learning this huge moral lesson. Stella made her way back to her family, but she still chose herself and the identity she created over them. Stella could have been a character that Bennett made us hate. She could have been used as a foil for Desiree, showing how being inauthentic and lying causes disastrous consequences. But she wasn't. She lived the privileged if ultimately, less happy life. But even with all the horrible choices, Stella makes to protect herself, we, the reader, can still empathize with her. We can understand why she chose to become something else in order to live a better life. We can also empathize with Desiree's desire to shed the shadow of colorism that she had grown up with to create a new life. We can see how one life experience can impact people in two completely different ways, even when it seems like they are two sides of the same coin. 

This story felt so realistic in the way Stella's and Desiree's choices impacted themselves and their daughters. They all had to reckon with the choices their mothers made, the lies that were told, and their identities because of those choices. Desiree's desire to shed the shadow of colorism that she had grown up with and marry the darkest man she could find, impacted her daughter's life when she brought her back to that town that is so focused on lightness. Stella's desire to live a life of ease that led to her lies created a wedge between herself and her daughter. We can empathize with both twins, even though it would have been easy for the author to villanize Stella. Ultimately, both of their choices had consequences but none of them were dire or dramatic. Sometimes the choices we make are hard to live with but they don't end with lives being ruined. It felt so poignant that all of these women continued down their own path, living with their choices, and forging their own roles and identity from the choices the generation before them made. 

This was such an interesting and gripping novel and I can't recommend it enough. 

Motherhood or Otherhood

I've spent the last five years dodging questions about babies or telling people outright that I don't want motherhood, to please stop harassing me about choosing that life. That I absolutely 100% do not want to be a mother.

I even wrote a post on this blog about being childfree by choice. I pointed out the many talking points about not asking women about having children. Which are all true. You shouldn't ask questions about motherhood unprompted. It's rude and presumptuous.

I tell people I don't want to have children because it makes it easier. It makes it easier to just let them think that the decision has been made so that they leave me alone about it. So that I don't get this external pressure from family (or less of it) and I can figure out what I want on my own. 

But, honestly, not having external pressure hasn't helped. I am still so confused about choosing motherhood. 

I sit directly on the fence between motherhood and otherhood, seeing the realities of both choices.

A choice that can't be taken back once chosen. This decision creates a fork in your life like no other. You have to choose one.

I have these conversations with friends but most of them have adamantly and whole-heartedly chosen to be childfree. They don't feel the conflict that I feel. Does that mean that I want to have a baby if I can't one hundred percent commit to being childfree? If I'm afraid of regrets or if I sometimes feel pulled that way...

I see the childfree life with my husband. Money, travels, free time, less fighting, less hard decisions, less worrying, our dream home... I see a very full life that I think I could be happy with. I'm mostly happy with my childfree life now... Why can't that continue?

But then I see a parent with their child and I see the joy, the love, the experience of nurturing someone into their best self. I think of the bonding experience of creating a little person with the person you love. I think about the relationship that I will have with my child that will be unlike my relationship with anyone else. I also see the guilt, the messy houses, the worry, fear, financial strain, sleepless nights, having to choose someone else over yourself constantly.

I'm at that age where I'm standing at that fork in my life. I'm paralyzed by fear and indecision. What if I make the wrong decision? What if I'm hopelessly unhappy once I've made it?

All the women in my family were mothers by the time they were my age. Most of them much earlier.

I don't have a grown role model who chose a childfree life. Who lived their life on their terms and didn't regret it. 

I try to give myself little scenario exercises to see how I feel.

I recently had a bit of a scare and when I saw that negative test, I felt just as relieved as I was sad.

How can that be? How can I feel equally sad and relieved? 

I ask myself if I would go through infertility treatments if I couldn't conceive naturally... I don't think I would. Does that mean that I don't really want motherhood?

I ask myself if I would leave my husband if I wanted one and he didn't and neither of us was willing to budge. I don't think I would. Does that mean that I don't really want motherhood?

Sometimes I think about just leaving it to chance. If it happens, then it happens and if it doesn't, it doesn't. But I hate not making an intentional decision about such a big life-altering choice. I know a lot of people have children this way. I just don't think it's what I want.

I am still sitting on this fence, looking both ways, and feeling the weight of both choices, with no clue as to what I actually want. 

I think there will be regrets either way. I think if I choose childfree then I'll always think of the child that could have been. I think that if I choose motherhood then I will always think of the ease and joys of my life before becoming a mother.

I guess the question really is, which choice will I regret more?

August

It's August.

Today, I looked at the date realized we were already several days into August. 

August. The month I decided I would give up on finding a teaching position for this school year and apply to grad school.

That was my deadline. School is supposed to start in a few weeks and I haven't had an interview since May. 

I know things are different because of the pandemic and so many school districts have no idea what they are doing or what school is going to look like this year.

I know many teachers on social media have discussed quitting and not coming back for this school year because they don't feel safe and heard in the back-to-school plans.

Some would love to be able to financially afford not to go back. Some would be envious of my position.

And yet, I'm envious of theirs. I'm envious of their bitmoji classrooms and virtual learning plans. I'm even envious of the ones who are going back in person with all of the fear and masks and ridiculous plans. I know I would be stressed if it were me but it seems better than spending another year not being able to do what I love.

Last year it was because the military left me to rot in Missouri all Summer and I thought, next year I'll be setting my classroom up, I'll be greeting my students, planning lessons, and sharing my love of learning with a wonderful group of kids.

But here is next year. And I am not doing any of those things. I am left wondering if I will ever be able to do this thing I love. It seems so simple. And yet I can't do it. 

I'm glad for the opportunity to go to grad school. I have realized that I would like to work with older kids and I'm going to transition to secondary school through my Master's. 

But that doesn't mean that I don't want the experience of my own classroom this year. I want it desperately. It fucks with my self-esteem that I can't get a job in my field.

I know that this is the reality for a lot of Americans right now. I know that the pandemic hasn't just affected education. I know that I am lucky to have the chance to go back to school and to be financially secure. 

But I've been putting off applying and starting. I keep hoping that they're waiting until the last minute to hire teachers. I keep thinking that if I put off grad school then by some miracle, I'll have a job. I can't keep putting it off for long. I have to use this time off productively. I have to improve and do something with my life. I'm excited about going back to school and learning.

I just wish it didn't come with this cost of not getting to teach. 

Empowered Girls

I did a thing.

I did a thing built out of boredom, creativity, love, passion, and deep knowledge that young girls aren't getting the tools they need to become the empowered women who will change the world. 

I've seen first hand how girls are told to be quiet, nice, and to know that they are expected to behave better than the boys from an early age.

I wanted girls to know themselves. To know that it is okay to love themselves, to love and accept their bodies, and to care for themselves so that they can be their best. I wanted them to understand their emotions, negative thought patterns, and how to acknowledge and accept that they are a part of life that has to be dealt with. I wanted them to know that it's okay to reach higher. To change the things you cannot accept and do better. I wanted them to know how to build healthy friendships and relationships from a young age so that they don't have to learn how to do it in their twenties like so many of us. I wanted them to know that it was okay to show up uniquely and wonderfully as themselves in this world. I wanted to empower girls to live their lives intentionally and empathetically. I wanted to remind them of all that they are and all that they can be. 

And I also needed to remind myself. I needed to remind myself that it's okay to be who I really am. That I can acknowledge and accept my emotions but not unpack there in self-pity. That I can outgrow things and strive for better. That I deserve people who love and respect me for me. I needed these lessons just as much as the girls that I wrote this for. 

There is this quote that sat with me as I wrote and created this journal. "Be the person you needed when  you were younger." So that's what I did. I created this journal because it's what I needed when I was younger. I needed someone to sit me down and tell me that it was okay that I was sensitive, that I saw the world differently than others, and that my body was fine just the way it was. I needed all these reminders. 

So here is my creation that started it all. It started a creative fury of journal making, a small business that I'm still trying to get off the ground, and a hope that I can help make the future better for a few young girls. 

When you empower girls, you empower the world.

Shop paperback journal here on Amazon and printable journal here on Etsy.

 

That Small-Town Feeling

I went on a bit of a rant this week on social media. Not an angry yelling kind of rant.

Just a rant.

Because I got a glimpse into my hometown. I got on Facebook for the first time in ages. Why? I always regret it.

I couldn't exactly tell you why I regretted it before. I just knew it left me with a gross sinking pit in my stomach. What was that feeling? Why did Facebook bring it up?

That feeling is shame. Shame and anger wrapped up with a sense of longing. Longing for a time when I felt connected with my community and my family.

I don't anymore. 

My Facebook is my hometown. It's full of family members, schoolmates, people from church and work that I used to feel close to.

It's a reminder of what most of them are thinking. What they think about politics, god, and people like me.

Atheist.

Feminist.

Liberal.

It's not just Facebook. It's being told that I'm everything that is wrong with our country by my own grandfather. It's being judged and treated differently when you politely decline invitations to church or bring up Black History and Women's History months. It's people talking about people of color in derogatory ways and expecting that you believe the same things they do. It's listening to people blame the working poor or the people on welfare for our country's economic issues instead of the billionaires and corporations that don't pay taxes. It's hearing people who call themselves godly revere Trump when he calls Mexicans rapists, puts children in cages, sexually assaults women, and does nothing but lie. It's hearing people who call themselves godly demean people of color, women, and the poor instead of doing what their Jesus would do. It's having to call my own family out for all the sexist and racist things that they say. And feeling like it isn't doing any good. 

I have become an outsider. I used to be the good, quiet, non-political, religious girl that they could be proud of. 

But I'm not anymore. 

I don't feel connected to my hometown. I don't feel connected to many of the people there, including my own family. It's like my roots have been pulled up from under me and shaken over my head. Where do you belong? Where will you end up? Who will love you for who you truly are?

I've outgrown that area. I can't make myself fit there like a jagged puzzle piece. Cutting out pieces of myself to fit. 

I want to feel connected with people who see the world I do. People who believe in social justice and empathy. People who don't have their noses pressed so far up White Jesus's ass that they can't see that they are nothing like the real Jesus. People who choose the good of society over the rights of the individual. 

I think that our families expect that we'll end up back home when Brandon retires. That's such a long way off that I can't make guarantees or plans. But I do know that the small-town I grew up in doesn't fit me anymore. And I'm not sure I want it to.

Seasons

I just went back and read this post that I wrote in November. It was a writing piece titled 'Thankful' about all the ways that life felt good about six months ago. In my writing, I recognized that all the good and wonderful things I was feeling in regard to work, my marriage, friendships, and this country I'm living in could just be a season and that I was going to enjoy it while I could.

I spend so much time worrying about the future. I have a very difficult time focusing on the present moment and appreciating it for what it is. And yet, in November, I was able to take all that in stride and be present in how good life was. 

I can choose to look back at that moment and laugh at naive Megan. I could choose to mock her for not knowing what was coming. Not knowing that those friendships that she was feeling thankful for would all but dissipate in a few months. One of those friends would become increasingly toxic and would end with a bang. Sure, it ended up being a good lesson on boundaries and intuition but that didn't mean that losing a friend who was always up for fun and adventure didn't hurt. That book club that she was excited about would fizzle out by the time this virus came around and not exactly in a pleasant way. She didn't know that Coronavirus was coming to ruin her well-intentioned plans for travel and work and even put a strain on her marriage. She didn't know the long winter months that were ahead of her with very little respite. She had grand plans for her future in England. She felt connected and comforted by the life that she was building. And a lot of it would come tumbling down in a few months. 

So is life.

I don't want to laugh at naive Megan because I'm so thankful that she wrote that. I'm so thankful that I can look back on a time when things felt right, connected, and peaceful in my world. It is a reminder that those feelings will come again. That life is full of good and bad seasons and no matter how much I worry about the future, things will be okay. I will be okay. My ego may be bruised but I'll carry on anyway. My heart might be worse for the wear but I can choose to let it soften instead of hardening me. The wrong people might have fallen out of my life but that just makes room for the ones that matter. 

And even in the worst of times when the world feels chaotic and full of pain, when my own life feels difficult and out of my control, I can feel joy and gratitude. So here are some things that I am grateful for in this season.

I am grateful for sunshine. I'm not sure I've ever experienced a winter quite like an English winter. It was cold, dark, damp, and windy for so many months. It was quite miserable. But here I am on the other side of it and English summers are gorgeous. It isn't that hot. The sun is shining. The flowers are blooming. The world is green and gorgeous. I'm thankful that at least in this horrible season of life, England is giving us her best smile with this sunshine. 

I am grateful for security. For a husband who works hard and saves hard. Military life is hard on me personally but it has been a financially secure path. Even with me not working and finishing school, we've never been reliant on me earning a paycheck. I would love to be working and following my own passions. But we're not in trouble if I can't.

I'm thankful for the friends that have stuck around in my life. These friendships are kind, supportive, and loving. I know that I can turn to these friends and talk about my dreams, struggles, and all the little things in between and they will be there with kindness, loyalty, and support. And they are there to call me on my bullshit when I need it. These friendships (including the friendship of my husband) are teaching me my worth and that my expectations of what friendship should be are not outlandish or ridiculous. Will most people be able to show up in the way that I will? I have learned many times that they will not. So much of my problems with other people is being frustrated that they won't show up like I will. I think that this is teaching me to let go of the ones who can't or won't show up in that way (or keep them at arm's length at least) and continue to look for the ones that will. I'm not perfect with friendships and I have messed up many times but I know what I want from people. I want deep connections and loyalty and that scares a lot of people. I'm thankful for the people in my life that aren't scared.

I am thankful for creativity, curiosity, and a desire to never stop improving and learning. I go through phases of apathy and frustration but right now is not one of them. I'm thankful that the inspiration to continue to do better and care for myself always comes back.

I am thankful for my health. Right now this seems to be the most important thing to be thankful for. So many people have lost their lives or their loved ones to this virus. At this current moment, I have been unaffected by it in any true way. And I have to be thankful for that. 

This feels like a long-winded way of saying that good and bad seasons come and go in our life but we always have things that we can be thankful for. 

Worried

Life feels strange lately.

Some days I have this incredibly productive energy that allows me to work on professional and personal goals, focus on creative play, listen to podcasts and music I love, take time to enjoy the beautiful weather and nature, and spend my time nurturing and creating in really lovely ways. 

All this free time off without guilt feels like a treasure. It feels like a piece of time that I am finally able to use exactly as I want with no outside influence. Most days it feels good.

Yet in the back of my mind, there are worries. I am so worried about the future.

I am worried about insignificant and superfluous things such as my ever-growing dark roots and my ability to fit into my "real" clothes. 

And I am worried in very real and meaningful ways.

I am worried about the state of the world, obviously. We all are. What will the next year look like? But specifically, I'm worried about job searching in the middle of a pandemic which isn't being very fruitful. I'm worried about the unknowns of teaching and education at this present moment. Will teachers here not move due to the pandemic? Will they stay and there won't be any jobs? Will schools not replace teachers who are leaving because they will still be doing distance learning and therefore can make class sizes bigger? I was not able to teach in my own classroom this year because of the military. Will this pandemic screw me over this year? Will dramatic cuts in funding to education make finding a job incredibly difficult for me? I have a back-up plan in mind but it is hard enough following your passions and career as a military spouse without the unknowns of a global pandemic. I know that I am lucky and financially secure but I have given up a lot to be with my husband and live this life. I just want to follow my own humble dreams and not feel like a total failure. 

I am worried about the state of my country. It is difficult to be proud to be an American. I can't say that I have been for a while. I have been disillusionized out of blind patriotism and into an increasingly concerned observer (spending much of the last six years overseas hasn't helped that). I can't believe what Americans have accepted as normal. A president who lies out of his teeth constantly with no repercussions and people who blindly follow in the name of republicanism and patriotism (a president that I fear will serve another term). A system based on white supremacy that allows viral videos of Black Americans being lynched almost weekly to be the norm. A system that has created if not downright hostility then blatant apathy from many white Americans. A system that I can try to change with the little influence I have in my own life but isn't going to make a crazy impact. Leaders who are more worried about "rights" and making sure that big corporations live on than they are about human lives. And individuals who are more worried about getting a haircut than they are about other people's lives. In the past few weeks, the media has presented a society that is so self-serving and self-centered that there are people out there who genuinely think that their right to a haircut or to go to the damn beach is more important than other's rights to live and not get sick. I am constantly disappointed in my country. And I get to say that as an outside observer who doesn't actually have to live the atrocities that are occurring. 

I'm worried about my own family. Many who are high-risk and probably aren't taking the precautions that I wish they would take. I'm worried about their finances and their health. I'm worried about the next time I'll get to see them.

I'm worried about the ways that I've messed up with people or the ways that I haven't shown my best light. I am my hardest critic and I dwell on my own flaws and mistakes more than people might ever think.

I feel like these worries just scratch the surface of what is going on in my mind every day. But I also know that there is a lot of joy, productivity, connection, creativity, and amazing things in the works for me and I am trying to trust the process. 

Book Club: To the Lighthouse

Book club has been different since the pandemic crisis. Well, everything has been different since the pandemic. Even before the virus felt like a serious threat in the UK, we were having a hard time getting together. Our last two books were One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Animal Farm by George Orwell. I didn't write about either of these. Marquez's novel is a brute to try to explain the usage of non-linear writing and characterization throughout an entire family instead of individual characters. It was a novel that I was so glad to have read but would probably never read again. And with Animal Farm, well... what is there to be said for a novella written as an allegory for communism. I felt Orwell was a bit heavy-handed in showcasing how terrible communism is but I understand that that was the point of the story. It feels like there isn't much more to be said about the novel, to be honest. We had to have both of these meetings virtually and it was different but not a terrible situation. It was nice to talk about something of meaning and to connect with our group.

April was my choice of novel. We originally started this group with the intention that each month it would be a different member's turn to choose a book and that is what we would read. However, we have gotten into the habit of picking two or three books and giving choices to our fellow members. I suggested a novel by Amy Tan (I started it on my own after we chose and abandoned it a little over halfway through) and Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse. My group chose To the Lighthouse (they seem to have a proclivity towards classic novels) and we didn't talk for over a month. I was putting off reading it. I was in a crazy reading slump. Life felt hard and stressful and although I generally love to read, it wasn't bringing me the joy and distraction that it usually did. And it seems that the other members are also experiencing this as at the date of writing this, nobody else had even started it. 

Finally, at the beginning of May, I started this novel... and instantly regretted making this my choice. Although I have an appreciation for many classic novels, I find many to be overrated and tedious to read. Just because something is old does not make it more meaningful or literary than a modern novel. To the Lighthouse suffers from something I believe many classic novels do, it bounces between interesting and uninteresting so quickly that it is a paradox to the reader. If the author can write clearly and interestingly, why then do they choose to write in nonsensical over-descriptive meaningless circles? I know judging the quality of writing is so subjective to individual taste but I find pretentious writing that tries too hard to be "meaningful" tiresome. Maybe because I find that I have those inclinations in my own writing. 

I've found Woolf's life to be interesting ever since I wrote a research paper on her in school but I had never actually read one of her novels. Perhaps this was not the one to start with (although I believe it was suggested as a starting point for Woolf) and I don't believe I'll be reading any more of her novels. I found myself pushing to finish the novel because I chose it and I didn't want to not finish a book I chose. But it was a process to make myself read it. Do I appreciate elements of the novel? Yes. I do think that there are some interesting parts and uses of her writing that make it an interesting piece of writing. I do think it could have been a short story and made a better impact though. 

The use of stream of consciousness is lauded by many critics and readers and I understand why. It allows us to see the inner workings of many different characters' minds as well as to ponder the meaning of the human conscious. However, the way it whipped back and forth to each character with no indication that the narrator had changed was very frustrating as a reader. If each character had a more distinctive voice, I believe it would have been more interesting and less confusing. I'm sure Woolf's writing has influenced many modern writers to do just that and I appreciate how difficult it is to be one of the first to do something. Mrs. Ramsay is very much the most developed character as I instantly related to her thought processes. I felt like she had the most unique voice of all the characters and I found her parts the easiest to understand. 

Sometimes I like to write down instant thoughts about a novel when I finish it and one of my favorite quotes from my own writing is that "Mr. Ramsay is an insufferable twit who shows the fragility of the male ego well." Perhaps I've been spending too much time in England but I stand behind my statement. Mr. Ramsay's need for everyone to feel sorry for him and to pump up his ego about his attempt to become timeless through philosophy is so frustrating and annoying. And I believe that this was Woolf's attempt at criticizing the male ego and the women who fuel it. Mr. and Mr. Ramsay were testaments to the inner workings and thoughts of normal marriages of the time. From my research To the Lighthouse is semi-autobiographical and Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay were based on Woolf's own parents. I think you can see how she was trying to get to the root of who they were as people, parents, and how their relationship was flawed but still loving.  And when you realize the work is semi-autobiographical, you realize that Lily is obviously representative of Woolf herself. I see this especially in the use of Mr. Tansley saying that women can't write or paint and how Lily fixated on that message even when she disliked the person saying it. It is such proof that our insecurities plague us throughout our lives. I also saw in Lily her conflicted feelings about marriage and family. You see Lily be extremely jealous of the life Mrs. Ramsay lives while also criticizing and denouncing it for her own life. I feel the stream of consciousness was used to it's best effect during the dinner party scene. It was the one scene where I felt comfortable with the movements from one character's thoughts to another. I loved how Woolf showed how fickle the human conscious is, oscillating between love and disdain for other people based purely on the current predicament. I feel like she showed us that just because we think something doesn't mean that is is actually true or that we believe it in the end. Our thoughts can be cruel and false. How wonderful it is that no one can read our minds. 

While writing this, I do see the merit of the novel. I realized that I actually got more out of reading it than I originally thought. However, the actual process of reading it was monotonous and difficult to comprehend. I even found the Time Passes section so incredibly boring and uninteresting while others marvel at that section. To each their own but I don't think I'll be picking up a piece of Woolf's work for quite some time. 

Parallels

The thing about a global pandemic that has been the most interesting to me is seeing how it parallels our military lives.

I have spent my time on social media reading and listening to all the things that people are struggling with.

They are struggling with not seeing their families and friends on holidays. They can't comprehend not getting together over the Easter weekend or, for some, every week. 

They are struggling with all of their communication being done digitally. They are dealing with how hard it is to converse and show love through phone screens and messages.

They are struggling with being a solitary family unit. They can't lean on their families and communities in ways that they are used to.

They are struggling with depression, loneliness, screen fatigue, and relationship issues with the people in their homes.

And to be honest, I feel affirmed as hell. I don't want everyone to feel this way but I do feel like I am seeing my own struggles with the first few years of military life living overseas being played out by everyone on social media. Everyone is struggling with it. And it affirms my own struggles with military life. 

Now you know how it feels to be a military family. Now you know what it was like for me, I think to myself as I read a post after post complaining about the things that I've experienced for years.

I don't want to shame people for complaining and I would never comment directly, but I want to remind people that this is often the experience that we military spouses and members have when we live so far away from our families and communities. 

We miss holidays and family gatherings to the point where I put in the bare minimum for holidays now. We don't get to have weekly dinners with family or friends where we have our cups overfilled with the love that comes from those relationships.

We have to communicate with everyone over the phone or by staring at one another through a screen. It's not the same. You know that now. 

Being a solitary family unit can be depressing and lonely. I've dealt with these issues over and over again since Brandon joined.

Yes, we can build communities and friendships but it is hard to do it over and over again knowing that they will most likely be gone and out of our lives in a few years. It is also hard to find your people. For me, it can take years before I feel truly comfortable with someone. 

Military life is hard. Pandemic life is hard. I just hope that others can see the parallels and finally understand when I describe how hard military life can be. 

Mourning 2020

I'm not a believer in the "this is my year" mentality. I don't ever think that an entire year will yield good or bad things. At least, that's what I believed before 2020.

I was looking forward to 2020. I was looking forward to traveling to different places in Europe this Summer, family coming for visits, exploring our host country, book club meetings, starting my first year teaching in an actual classroom (or at all), date nights with my husband, planting flowers, and all the other wonderful things that were going to be a part of my year. 

I know that collectively we all are feeling the loss of 2020. We are all tired of hearing the words coronavirus, social distancing, stay at home, mask, hand sanitizer, etc. We're fatigued from staring at screens and doing everything from our own homes. 

I know it's a great privilege to simply be bored and not having to risk our health working or being worried about missing another paycheck or mortgage payment. I know that what I'm going through isn't that bad.

I also know that it's okay to be sad, to use defense mechanisms like numbing out and eating too many comfort foods. I'm trying to accept where I'm at each day. But it's hard. And I know everyone else is feeling it too.

I am mourning 2020 and all of the expectations and excitement that I thought were going to come with it. I'm going to miss sharing my travel pictures and what our trip was like on this blog (although I still have one from when Brandon's cousin visited that I haven't posted yet). 

The most we can hope for at this point in our lives is to be secure and okay. And I'm okay. Not thriving, not progressing, not spending lockdown becoming amazing at something, but just being. And that's okay for now. 

Book Club: The Color Purple

I am really behind on writing about my reading. It seems especially redundant to write a blog post about our January book after we already had our meeting but this is one of my favorite books I've read as an adult and I want to take the time to write about it. This month, Morgan chose The Color Purple by Alice Walker. I was the only one in the group to have read it already but I really enjoyed being able to read it through a second time and truly soak in how amazing Walker's novel is.

Normally I hate a book that relies too heavily on dialogue for character development, but Walker manages to make Celie, Shug, Albert, and all the other characters feel like real people and not just an accent. Celie is warm, intelligent, flawed, and transformed by trauma in an authentic manner. 

One of my favorite aspects of Walker's novel is the diary format and how it spans so much of Celie's life, hitting the important parts and cutting out anything that would make the story superfluous. And the way the second half entwines the lives of Celie and Nettie even though their experiences and maturation are so different.

This book hits on some heavy controversial issues. I find it fascinating to think of a relationship being formed between a lesbian and bisexual women, both of whom are married to men, and there being very little homophobia or outrage present. I loved how normalized their relationship became.

Another controversial topic was the point of religion and God. Walker allowed us to see the transformation of religious thinking that happened throughout not only Celie's life and experience, but also Nettie's as she experienced being a missionary. I loved how we saw them come to the conclusion that God was nature, love, and life instead of the white man portrayed from the pulpit through two completely different life experiences. 

And of course the famous and wondrous quote:

"I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple and don't notice it."

I love this view of religion. I've identified as an atheist for quite awhile now but I think if I had been raised with this view of God, maybe I wouldn't have taken that label.

One way that Walker subtly shows who Celie is as a person, is in how Celie refuses to name men in writing when she's speaking for herself. She refuses to name her husband, Albert, and even makes a point of forgetting his name when Shug uses it. I love how Walker uses this tactic to allow Celie to have control and agency over her own life. By not naming her oppressor, she takes away his power. It isn't until Albert apologizes and stops trying to control her, that Celie calls him by his name and claims him as an equal. This subtle use of language conveys such a huge message about Celie and her will and character.

I understand why The Color Purple is one of the most reread books out there. Walker manages to do something most writers can't, write a book that's language is simple and unfettered by pretension but conveys a beautiful and powerful story.

Edinburgh, Scotland

I really procrastinated on this post. I feel like I have done absolutely nothing for weeks. Reveling in the laziness and lack of productivity that is Winter Break.

But before the holidays happened, Brandon and I celebrated six years of marriage.

I'm not going to get too sappy about our 9 years together with six of them being married and in this crazy military life. All I will say is that I'm happy I married him on that icy cold Friday the 13th and I'm so proud of all of our accomplishments and adventures we've had since that day. It was also fortunate that this was the year that we got to celebrate our December 13th anniversary on a Friday again. We laugh in the face of superstitions.

So to celebrate our anniversary and because I am itching to explore the UK and Europe, we decided to drive up to Edinburgh... in December.

We came in relatively late once darkness hit. We drove into the city of Edinburgh which I don't recommend because the streets are tight and parking is insane. But we found a car park and started walking around the city trying to find the Christmas Market. Because of a need to urinate and being hungry, we stopped at a kebab restaurant where we had jalapeno doner quesadillas that were amazing. Then we made our way to the Edinburgh Christmas Market, getting to enjoy the sight of Edinburgh Castle lit up at night with lights and lasers and the beautiful architecture of this bustling city.

The Christmas Market was quite a bit bigger than the one in France but it didn't have the same charm and had the same booths repeated throughout. I can't wait to get to a German Christmas Market as they originate from there.

After we walked around the city in the dark for a while, we made out way to our cozy AirBNB flat, The Leith Snug. This flat was gorgeous and I would highly recommend it if you ever visit Edinburgh (although it is pretty far away from the city center and you will need to take the bus or drive and park to get to the heart of Edinburgh). This little 'snug' was the perfect place for us to spend our anniversary.

On our actual Friday the 13th anniversary, the weather was gorgeous. Sunny skies, relatively warm, only a bit of wind. We explored Edinburgh Castle (do all castles start to seem the same after a while?), walked the Royal Mile and perused a few shops, stopped at the gate of Holyrood Palace, the Queen's Summer home, and walked a ridiculously convoluted path (thanks, Google Maps) to the National Museum of Scotland which is huge and diverse and is definitely worth a walkthrough. After that, our feet were killing us so we made our way to a ramen restaurant on our way back to the car park. Best ramen I've had since leaving Japan. It was so good. 

On Saturday, the weather was not nearly as good to us as on Friday. It was crazy windy and spitting rain and cold. So we decided to enjoy a late start to our day and had breakfast at the cozy restaurant under our flat and it was delicious. I had poached eggs with roasted potatoes and red pepper sauce that was so good. And then we made our way to the Greyfriar Bobby section of Edinburgh to meet for The Potter Trail tour. These tours are donation-based as they wanted everyone to be able to enjoy tours in Edinburgh. Our tour guide, Sam, was so enthusiastic and knowledgeable and I learned so much about Rowling and her connection to the city of Edinburgh as well as myths about her. He was such a good tour guide and you got these little wooden wands to carry around (which felt cheesy but Sam was so animated and fun that I felt less self-conscious than usual). You get to see many of the sites that inspired characters, settings, and plots in the Harry Potter books and it was just so informative and fun. Definitely go if you visit and I hope you have better weather than we did.

After that tour, we stopped in a Mexican restaurant which I wasn't expecting much from but that was incredibly good and satisfying after such a long walk in the cold.

And we ended our evening with a Ghost Tour that was also donation-based on the Royal Mile. Our tour guide wasn't as good for this one but it was still interesting and fun and worth our time.

And the next day as left our cozy Leith Snug, we said goodbye to Scotland. We drove back home and had to stop along the way for some beautiful footage of the winter coastline as we listened to bagpipe music. 

It was a lovely visit and I know that I have to come back to Scotland in warmer weather to see the Highlands. 

Death in the Family

Today, I took the Christmas tree down. For so many weeks, this little Christmas tree has been such a joy and source of comfort for me through these long winter evenings.

Christmas used to mean the smell of woodsmoke, the thrill of presents under the tree, the joy of family spending time together, eating, talking, and being close.

Now, Christmas is a holiday that I tend to opt-out of, to do as little as possible now that we live so far away. 

This was the first year in a long time that I had even put up a tree. That I had even tried to capture the joy of Christmas without family, children, or presents.

And it brought me a lot of comfort to see my fancy lit-up tree each night. 

And then I took it down. 

The day that I had been informed that my great-grandfather had passed.

My Grandpa Ivey.

Being far away when death and heartbreak hit is a lot easier than one might imagine.

It means that I get to disconnect to a certain extent.

Not being around the emotions of everyone as they grieve allows me to do so more quietly and less emotionally.

Grandpa Ivey was a sick man. He was an old man. He was suffering and although we might be sad to lose him, death was probably the preferable outcome.

So I took the Christmas tree down, bit by bit thinking about this man and my family.

Thinking about all the times that I didn't visit him in the nursing home because it was hard for me. Thinking about all the times I did visit him or he was brought to my Mom's for holidays or parties and I felt like he didn't recognize me anymore.

Thinking of all the times that I wrote letters to him when we were far from home. Telling him about Okinawa and Idaho and how I was trying to finish school.

Remembering how I stopped sending those letters once he was put in the home. Thinking that he was no longer lucid enough to care about my life or anything that could be said between the pages of a card. 

Thinking about all the times I visited when we came home from our various duty stations and being able to see the deterioration of a man that I loved and always tried to include in my life, even as a young child.

We shared stories of military life, Asia, school, and teaching.

Until we didn't. 

Or he couldn't. 

Until he couldn't speak coherently but looked at me with blue eyes that were full of pride, love, and sadness. Eyes of a man that were in the midst of suffering and at the edge of death.

I do not grieve for his death because I know that, in the end, this concludes his suffering. No matter what kind of afterlife you believe in, we agree that suffering comes to an end as breath leaves the body.

But as I took the baubles and bulbs off the Christmas tree, delicately and mindfully, I was reminded of all the ways he has shown up in my life as I've grown up and even moved away. 

I thought about my Nana and Mom who are grieving now and how little I can do from this far away. That's the hard part. I can't do anything to ease their suffering or love them from afar. 

I thought of the huge family that exists because of this man, three daughters, sons-in-laws, and countless grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even, great-great-grandchildren.

And I let the tears run down my face for a man that I loved and for the people who loved him who are hurting right now. 

Taking the tree down felt like a reminder of how life changes, evolves, and the passage of time. A reminder that all good things must come to an end.

Grief, although about the one who has passed, reminds us how we didn't show up in the ways we wanted or we find comfort in the ways we did. 

Grief and death are such a reminder to love the ones you love while you still can. To show up in the ways that you won't regret later. That it is in the common mundane moments of everyday life that you show people who you are and how you love them. 

To my Grandpa Ivey, I loved you and I hope you rest in peace.