Janel Brubaker's Blog, page 15

Things I Giggle Over

One of the things I’ve been trying to unlearn is the impulse to wish bad on the people who’ve hurt (and continue to lie about) me. I see this as part of my healing process. I don’t think forgiveness is mandatory, nor even advisable for a lot of people; I see it as an individual’s choice of whether or not to forgive others, especially when they are not asking for forgiveness or taking ownership of their choices. But it can be really hard, especially after literal years of people lying about me behind my back.

However, I do giggle sometimes when I see what my life was when they were in it, compared to now after years of no contact or interaction. Back then, I was in poverty, I was going through a wretched divorce, I wasn’t even sure of who I was or who I wanted to be because my entire identity was built up in my marriage, and I had finally left my ex’s abuse and manipulation. I was, quite literally, in the worst mental, emotional, and personal place in my life.

Six months. That’s all it took for my life to completely transform into something unrecognizable. And in that six months, I found a strength and determination to build my life into something better. I didn’t have direction, I didn’t have an end goal in mind, but I did have motivation to unlearn everything that caused me to stay in my abusive marriage. Little did I realize at the time that such a resolution was going to expose the other manipulators in my life hiding behind smiles and a false sense of love and support. Turns out, not everyone is happy to see you heal, especially when it means you won’t engage in their toxic conversations and behaviors anymore.

I never would have imagined then the life I have right now. I’m in love with the most amazing man I’ve ever known. I’m building a career that I am enormously proud of. If taken chances, I’ve done the scary thing and chosen to believe in myself, love myself, trust myself. In short, I’ve invested in my own desires and my own wellbeing, even when it’s meant making the really hard decisions, like choosing not to be a constant people pleaser. And I giggle about this because it really is just fucking hilarious when you know people from your past want nothing but the worst for you, and yet you’re thriving despite them.

I giggle as an act of celebration, a release of everything that has only weighed me down. I smile and I laugh because this is a win for me, where I am now, the life I have. I built it, choice by choice. And sometimes I think back and I have regrets, but more than anything, my life carries hope when it didn’t before. Even when struggles arise and unexpected things happen, I know that I will continue to thrive, even if I fail, even if I face loss, even if I revert back to old habits. My growth, my healing is entirely up to me.

So I give myself permission to take pleasure in my own happiness. And I give myself permission to pursue even more happiness. They can say what they like, it won’t change my commitment to my own wellbeing, my own life, my own story. Manipulators and narcissists won’t change their tune, so I might as well invest my time and energy back into myself.

And that’s what I intend to do.

The Rush of New Things

I’m on day four of my new job, and I couldn’t be any happier with how it’s going. I’m adjusting to the longer drive and the later days (I’m used to working from 6-2:30), but aside from that, I’ve been nothing by excited and pleased by the new position. This is the second major job I’ve ever had, and I’m thoroughly enjoying the work, the learning, the growing, and the promise for continued advancement. Moreover, the pay is more than I thought I’d ever make, if I’m honest, and that only fuels my desire to keep moving forward and trying my absolute hardest.

It’s been a bit of a challenge tackling full time grad school on top of the new job, but it isn’t insurmountable by any means. I take an hour long lunch every day, and during that time, I get reading done and I work on my two upcoming final projects/papers. Then, once I get home and I finish making dinner and taking care of the dog and the cat, I settle in and either relax or I get more homework done, even if it’s only a little. And so far, in my first week of these adjustments, it all seems to be working well.

I can’t even begin to express how fulfilling my life is and has been since my divorce. With every new year, with each new choice I make for myself and my own wellbeing, I fall more and more in love with myself, my goals, my ambitions, and my life.

Another big accomplishment: I came out to my family as bisexual.

The conversation did not go at all how I’d hoped, and that was painful and hard to take in the moment, but now, I feel so much lighter knowing that my family now knows who I am, in full. Nothing hidden. And the rush of that feels like large wings flapping, like I’m lifting off the ground little by little and preparing to soar above the trees. Elation. Absolute elation. And not just because I came out, but because I took such a difficult step. And to be clear, it’s a perfectly valid choice to not come out to your family, especially if they’re unsafe or untrustworthy with the information. But I genuinely never thought I’d have the courage to do something so difficult and so scary, but I am enormously proud of myself for doing so. Seeing the courage and the strength within myself to make those hard choices is something I’ve grown to love about myself.

It would be so much easier to just sit in a perpetual state of everyone else being responsible for my life, my happiness, my safety, my choices, but it is infinitely more fulfilling to recognize that I am the one in control of my life, my mind, my body. I get to choose for myself at every stage. It’s a beautiful feeling. And I’m building a beautiful present that will lead me to an even more beautiful future.

September is when my debut book of poetry will be published, and thus will begin my continued love affair with poetry and all genres of creative writing. My life is going to be one of love, one of beauty, and one of transparency.

Iced Tea and Sun Between Branches

Week one of my two weeks off before I start my new job is nearly over.

It has been an entire week of self-love and outright pampering. Hydration, eating healthy, and then eating much less healthy, a micro-needling facial, a lash lift and tint, buying new clothes, a mani/pedi, and sleeping in. On the list for next week: a full body massage, brunch with a dear friend, lots of preparation for my new job, some cleaning, some time spent outside with my puppy, and anything else that feels like what my soul, mind, and body might need.

Tomorrow, my partner and I are heading to the coast for a weekend get-away. Our dog, Kiki, absolutely loves the beach, as do James and I, so it’s the perfect end to what has been an absolutely perfect week.

These things may seem trivial, but when I think about how far I’ve come in my healing journey, sometimes it’s hard to see the progress. But today, when I examine just how kind I have been to myself this week, when I think of how much love I’ve shown myself this week, when I compare how I see myself now to how I used to see myself as little as a couple of years ago, the difference is spectacular. Loving one’s self is not a trivial thing, no matter how insignificant the ways we love ourselves seem to others.

I recently discovered a new favorite beverage: iced black tea with a generous pour of half and half. I started watching Bridgerton (I’m still annoyed at just how much I love this show) and it made me want to drink all the tea. But, not wanting for that tea to always be piping hot, I decided to try iced tea with half and half to see if it was as refreshing. And the answer to that is yes – it’s delicious. I’ve already gone through one pitcher of iced tea and had to order another.

Again, it seems trivial, but allowing myself the pleasure of enjoying what I put in my body is something I never thought I’d do. My ex placed so much value on my attractiveness and my athleticism that I’ve struggled to define my value outside of the number on the scale. Learning to love my own body as I’ve watched that body lose and then gain weight has been very hard, especially when so much of our society still insists on body-shaming and enforcing fat-phobia.

But really, the relationship I want with my body is not one of shame or dieting or counting calories. I want a relationship with my body where I simply enjoy existing, one where I can both take care of my body, and also enjoy with I consume. No more dieting. No more counting calories. No more restrictions. I can and will – and have – eaten an enormous, healthy salad, and then gone on to eat a three-scoop ice cream cone for desert. And tonight, my partner and I are going to eat our favorite burritos from our favorite taco truck in Multnomah Village.

Right now, the early spring sun is shining into the copse of trees behind our condo. I see the budding leaves and the deeply green nettles on the firs and evergreen trees. I see birds hopping from branch to branch. And it’s a comfort to know that what has been dormant in the soil of my growth and healing is about to bloom. I now have a job that is going to pay me a living wage for my labor, a job that will set up the rest of my career, the rest of my life. I did the scary thing and I advocated for myself.

I look back over the last few years, at the difficult and painful choices I’ve faced, and I can honestly say it was all worth it. Some lessons were hard to learn, and some are still ongoing, but I am grateful for them all because they have lead me here, to this place of stability and promise that I could never have dreamed of.

Healing is hard.
Healing hurts.
Healing often hurts worse than the original wounds themselves.
But healing is also worth it.

Only Three Days Left

Friday March 25th will be my last day working at the engineering firm.

As I said in my last post, I got a new job, and I am so excited to begin this new moment in my life. I’m going to be an Assistant Project Manager learning how to be a Project Manager, which means that my goals, my dreams, my ambitions for my career will be made by this new job. I’ll be making an outstanding wage as well as working in a job where I will learn and grow and thrive. It’s almost too exciting, too wonderful, to think about because I never imagined that I would ever have a job as good as this one. But since my divorce in 2019, I have grown in so many ways, I’ve healed in so many others, and this new job is the outcome.

I’m also still in my new masters program. It’s going extremely well. I’m absolutely loving my classes. I just finished writing the final project proposal and annotated bibliography for one of my classes. And this week is spring break, which means no homework! There are some things in my life that are still uncertain, but the one thing I know and cling to is that I am going to make it. This year has been the result of everything I’ve done for myself since I left my ex. All the struggles, all the pain, all the loss that came afterward…it was all old skin that I needed to shed so that the new me, the new life, could shine through.

It wasn’t easy. But through it I have built a life I love, a life I am proud of, a life that will fuel and feed me, no matter what else happens. I have friends who support me, cheer me on, and celebrate my victories. It’s been a hard few years, and at times it was extremely painful, but I’ve learned not to let myself down. I’m learning how to control even the little things I think about myself. I’m learning to invest in self-love, not just self-care. And I hope to see the fruits of this labor continue to bloom.

The Big News

As I said in a previous post, I had some big news to share at a later date. Now is that date.

I put in my two weeks notice at the engineering firm I’ve worked at since 2018, and accepted an Assistant Project Manager position at a construction company in Clackamas. It comes with a lot of advancement opportunities in a rapidly growing company, as well as a hefty boost in pay. I am absolutely thrilled about it!

It is also bittersweet because I’ve loved working at the job I have now. They’ve been supportive and they’ve helped me grow. I feel very lucky to have gotten such great experiences with them. And I really have loved the work I’ve been doing. So I’m going to miss the work, the place, and the people. But I’m looking forward to where this new job will take me. It could very easily turn into my career. The company is growing fast and there’s lots of opportunity for me to gain training in different areas.

It’s interesting to see how different my life is now from what I thought it would be at this point. I thought for sure I’d be a part time teacher by now, not growing my experience in the construction industry. But I honestly love the work and the ability to have a job that pays a living wage.

I start the new job next month. I am so incredibly excited!

Sometimes It’s the Little Wins

I am officially in a financial place where I could afford to live on my own, should it ever come to that.

I’m celebrating this win because, as a survivor of domestic violence, I know that I don’t have to be so reliant on anyone that I have to compromise my wellbeing for the sake of money. Never again. I did what I needed to do over the last couple of years, and now I’m seeing the branches bear fruit. It feels amazing that I can actually be in this place and have this comfort. It was something I never thought I’d have. And as much as I love living with my partner, it’s a comfort to know that I will be just fine.

I’ve been trying to keep to a practice of gratitude throughout each week, to remind myself of all the beautiful things in my life. And even though I haven’t been able to get out into nature as much lately, due to the tendinitis in my ankle, I’m still grateful it’s only tendinitis, and that I have the opportunity to pursue physical therapy to try and heal it. It’s nearly spring and my plan is to get my ankle strong enough so that I can start hiking again. Our dog, Kiki, absolutely loves being outside. She loves going for walks, and especially for hikes. She loves all the smells and seeing all the animals. She’s my hiking buddy.

It’s a short post today. Have a beautiful week.

Beauty Among the Mess

I’m not gonna lie, I’m both in love with and exhausted by life right now.

I had a fantastic weekend full of reading, pink champagne, and hate-watching the 2005 Pride and Prejudice with my best friend and soulmate. She and I had just finished rereading Pride and Prejudice, and after finding some truly astonishing (and honestly, infuriating) TikToks about Pride and Prejudice, we decided that people’s misconceptions about this timeless classic were entirely the fault of Joe Wright’s vision of the book, and it was time we dissected it at length.

And so we did.

With pink champagne in hand, we trolled the shit out of that movie, and it was some of the best fun I have ever had. The movie is about two hours long and it took us almost four to get through it. We paused at literally every single moment that made us angry and ranted. I don’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. It was magic. And surprising because, honestly, the movie is even worse than I remembered. Just, truly, in every way, abominable. I don’t understand why it’s so popular. I’m not sure I ever will, especially for those who have read the book and still like this movie. And look, I’m usually the one advocating for letting people enjoy things, and I really don’t think it’s wrong to like the movie as a movie, but it is not, in any way, an actual adaptation of the novel Pride and Prejudice.

Okay, moving on from that.

I received my student loans for the semester and, once they post to my account, I have plans to pay down some outstanding bills, and invest in some new technology for the remainder of my education – namely, an iPad so that I don’t have to use so much paper to print out reading assignments and such. My classes are going extremely well. One of my professors emailed me and said my participation so far has been “exceptional.” I’m already planning what I want my final project to be in that class, and in the other class we’re reading The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli. I’m learning. I’m growing.

And even though the world is, well, fucked, and my daily mental and emotional health isn’t as consistent as I’d like it to be, I can see the faint light of still-burning embers. I have an almost completely edited manuscript and an almost completed cover for my debut book of poetry. How fucking cool is that? Especially in such a tumultuous time, poetry, art, literature, film, feeds the soul. I have a job that is beginning to bloom into a career, financial independence, and a deeper understanding of what I want from life: which is abundant, thorough, tremendous happiness.

And I have a home, a stable home, with a partner who loves me and cares about my well being. I’ve never had that in my entire adulthood, and now it’s something I cherish, something I hold tenderly. More too because, for the first time in a very long time, the person I’m living with inspires me to love myself, take care of myself, and allow myself to be imperfect. This relationship, this partnership, has shown me what it’s like to be built up, rather than torn down, and to build myself up.

This is what healing looks like.

I didn’t realize just how damaging it was to be in multiple living situations where I genuinely didn’t know if my home was stable. It started with my ex, and then extended to the people I lived with after him. With my ex it was the always fluctuating state of his “love” for me. With the other roommates, it was never knowing from month to month if they were gonna pay their portion of the rent or not; so much so, I had to get a second job on top of being a full time grad student. NEWSFLASH: if you can’t pay your own bills, you don’t have any business taking on roommates.

The wounds are still there, but they are healing. It’s a hard line to walk – healing so that I can be independent, but still allowing myself to trust the people in my life. I still, to this day, hyper-fixate on the tones in people’s voices because I’m worried the next thing I say or do will be enough for the people I love to shove me away. But then I remind myself: if a friendship or a relationship is such that someone can just shove you away without warning, explanation, or a chance to make amends, then it was one-sided anyway.

And I’ll never allow myself to be treated like that again.

Another beautiful part of healing: you raise the standard for the ways you expect to be treated.

Keep shining, lovelies.

Returning to Austen

I’m sure no one is surprised that I just finished rereading Pride and Prejudice for the…I think it’s seventh time, now.

My bestie/soulmate/spirit sister and I, after reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy decided to immediately dive back into Austen. She suggested we start with Pride and Prejudice and, never one to say no to anything Austen related, I agreed and started the novel that night.

People who have never read Austen simply can’t understand how iconic she is. I know that people know she’s popular and that there have been many film adaptations of her novels, but unless you’ve actually sat and experienced her writing, you won’t grasp how easy her novels are to obsess over. Pride and Prejudice is one which never ceases to make me laugh, smile, sigh deeply, and then laugh again, every single time I read it. Not only because it’s hilarious (and it is), but because it’s a novel that holds up as relevant today, now, in this era. Austen’s pointed commentary on both social and gender norms captures just how little we’ve changed since 1813, when the novel was published.

How? Well, let’s start with men and their audacity.

This may be a running joke/meme on all the social media, but it is canon in Pride and Prejudice. When Mr. Darcy proposes to Elizabeth the first time, he does so genuinely believing that she welcomes his attention. He proposes in the least romantic way possible, insults Elizabeth and her family to Elizabeth’s face while simultaneously declaring his ardent love for her, and actually believes he’s going to be accepted. The. Audacity.

Does he believe she loves him? No, I don’t think he’s deluding himself that much. But based on his wealth, his connections, his station in life, he is confident that she will be overcome with gratitude and accept his proposal. Elizabeth notes to him later in the novel that he must have first started falling in love with her explicitly because she wasn’t throwing herself into his way, like every other woman was. This is said in a teasing way, but I think there’s truth in it. Even Caroline Bingley, a woman who has come from money, who has her own inheritance and does not need to advance herself, throws herself at Darcy over and over, so of course he’s going to be the object of desire for others.

But his love is even more solidified because Elizabeth doesn’t accept his proposal, no matter how wealthy or connected he is. She does not like him. She does not want his attentions at all. And she says so, to his face, and openly criticizes his behavior towards herself and her sister, Jane. Who else would have done this? And as we learn from Darcy, his immediate anger is directed at her, but very quickly turns inward as he realizes how abominably he’s behaved.

Yes, I am obsessed with Mr. Darcy. I’m not ashamed of this.

There are other themes and lessons throughout the novel that are equally applicable today; for instance, that abusers will say/do whatever they must to gain allies and deceive even well intentioned people (looking at you, Wickham), that not everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, no matter how difficult it is to accept the worst (looking at you, Caroline Bingley), and that love – real, true, deep love of any kind, whether familial, friendly, or romantic – must begin with respect, and respect is not something we feel, it is something we exhibit in the ways we treat the other person.

Darcy feels love for Elizabeth when he proposes, but his behavior is disrespectful and offensive. His love, at this point in the novel, is inwardly directed. He loves her for the feelings she excites within him, but not for who she is. Therefore, when they meet again at Pemberly and she sees how much his manners have changed, we also see how much his love for her has grown. He actually listens to her criticisms of his behavior and made active change. And not because he carries any hope of renewing his proposal – he explicitly states that, until very nearly the end of the novel, he has given up all hope of that – but simply because he respects her and wants to earn her good opinion. These changes are not fleeting, either. They last, and they stretch even more deeply than Elizabeth can imagine.

And Elizabeth changes, too. Her dislike of Darcy, she realizes, is not only unfounded, but based almost entirely on outright falsehoods imposed on her by Wickham. And even though Darcy tries to take the blame for this too, Elizabeth owns that she believed Wickham because she wanted to; she disliked Darcy from the first and, unwilling to find him agreeable in any way, accepts Wickham’s account of their history, despite the gigantic red flags that she reproaches herself for not seeing sooner. And so by the end of the novel, we have two people who, while they were already, at their cores, good people in the beginning, have by the end changed not only their outlooks on each other, but also their behaviors towards each other.

It’s a novel I never tire of reading, or of writing about. If you haven’t read it, I strongly encourage you to do so.

More Thoughts on Writing

My Theory of Expository Writing class has been taking up all the space in my brain for the last two weeks. The reading assignments are absolutely amazing, thought provoking, and inspiring. They’ve challenged everything I’ve believed about writing up to this point. Specifically, about how writing is a process and what that process is/looks like/how it manifests, and how writing is taught. Because while I do think that writing is a process, I also think that process is going to look different for every person. In the same way that standardized testing isn’t actually a representation of what someone knows or how much they love learning, “standardizing” the writing process to try and teach students to all write the same way is also not an accurate representation of writing skills.

Moreover, the idea of writing as a process implies a linear journey, moving from one step in that process to the next. When anyone who actually spends their time writing knows that it’s a recursive, circular process that changes not only between each person, but between each version of each person. The writing process I employ right now is not the same as the process I employed in my M.F.A. The process I use when writing prose is usually not the same as my process of writing poetry.

In class this week, some students put on presentations and we were encouraged to respond to at least one of them. The presentation I responded to focused on how writing, and especially moving through different genres of writing, can increase neuroplasticity; that writing literally creates new neural pathways in the brain, contributing not only to what we create, but who we are as people. How fucking awesome is that? Writing literally impacts who we are. We always hear about how reading is good for the brain and creates empathy, but we don’t often hear about writing doing the same.

There’s something about this that fills me with hope. I love writing and always have. It’s something that’s been part of me since I was a kid. I’ve always seen writing as a huge part of my identity, but I’ve never quite gone so far as to see it as the thing that’s made me who I am. And yet, now that I think about it, it seems silly to think that anything other than writing has shaped me into the person I am now. Obviously my experiences in life have shaped me, too, but writing is and has been what helps me process those experiences and learn from them.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. It’s all still mulling around in my mind. But I’m fascinated. I might have to write about all this in my essay this semester.

Enjoying the Beautiful Moments

I cannot even describe how amazing it has been to be in a second masters program. I know I’ve written about this a few times before, but I am never as happy as I am when I’m actively studying and growing. I’m about to complete the third week of my first semester, and I am already seeing an enormous change in my mood, my attention to detail in all aspects of my life, and my motivation for the future.

My English 510 class, which is on the Theory of Expository Writing, has been expanding how I view the writing process. It’s interesting too, approaching this subject after having obtained an MFA in Creative Writing, which is entirely about writing as a process and how we, as aspiring writers, can hone our individual writing processes. And while it’s true that writing is a process, the act of writing is also made of many sub-processes that we move in and out of, often at random, before we arrive at anything remotely resembling a cohesive piece of work.

Thinking back on my MFA, especially when I shifted my focus from prose to poetry, I can see how I moved in and out of various steps in the writing process, sometimes wondering if I was floundering for no good reason at all. In those moments, I wondered if maybe I was attempting too much? Maybe it was ludicrous to try and change my genre halfway through my degree? Maybe I was causing myself unnecessary stress and struggle? These were all questions I had over the course of my second and third semesters because I really did struggle over my poetry. So much so that I often questioned what it was I was struggling for.

Now, reading through the assignments for this course, I’m realizing just how complicated this whole conversation is. On the one hand, I wholeheartedly agree with the concept of embracing the struggle of writing, embracing its rigorous nature, because that is how we grow as writers. One of the writers we’re reading this week postulates a way of teaching writing as a process so that the process is more easy to digest, understand, and act on. And while this works in theory, I don’t think it works in actual practice because it removes the whole process of writing by reducing it to its most basic components: outline, write, revise. And to be clear, I’m not arguing that the writing process can’t be reduced to these three steps, but I think it is a mistake to try and teach these steps as being always linear, or even always necessary.

I do not outline my projects, unless it’s a large work of fiction. But even then, I try not to let myself outline too much because then I get hung up on the writing matching the outline, which it doesn’t have to. Prewriting/outlining is meant to help students visualize their content, and for some, I’m sure it works. But it won’t work for everyone, and for those whose writing process is more fluid/less rigid, feeling as though we have to keep to those three steps in order, can be debilitating to creativity.

This also made me start thinking about the concept of “making writing easier,” which is what this person (last name Murray) seemed to be suggesting. Should we be trying to “make writing easy?” Writing is a rigorous process, and for good reason; can’t something be rigorous but also be accessible? And how are we even defining writing in the first place? Is it the mechanics of spelling, sentence structure, grammar, punctuation? Or is it the ability to communicate an idea in a clear and convincing way? Is critical thinking included in this process? What about the willingness to accept feedback?

These are difficult questions to answer because they can border on elitism, which I don’t think should have any place in writing at all. I also don’t think that those who struggle with the mechanics should ever be made to feel as though they aren’t/can’t be writers. However, I also don’t agree with the idea that for writing to be an accessible subject, we have to remove any and all critical feedback. (Please bear in mind, I don’t mean criticisms or even “constructive” feedback, because those can be soul crushing, depending on how they’re delivered. I mean an honest look at the writing itself, without shaming the writer.) Because while it is a subject, it is also a skill, one that anyone can hone if they’re willing to put in the work. And it is just that: work.

That does not mean that anyone’s individual writing process has to like to everyone else’s. I personally don’t adhere to the idea of writing every single day. I love you, Stephen King, but I do not have three to five hours every single day to commit to the writing process. Maybe if I didn’t have a full time job, that would be different, but since I do, I have to be mindful of everything else that requires my time, including resting my body and my mind. This means that my writing process fluctuates, sometimes daily. So in terms of the amount of time I spend writing every day, it’s probably not going to look like a lot.

However, I am still extremely dedicated to my craft. I’m constantly reading, I’m thinking about what to write/how to write it, I’m taking classes and asking others for feedback to improve myself, and I’m mindful of my weak areas so that I can strengthen them. I don’t write every day, but I am constantly thinking about my writing and making choices that will improve my skills. And this is rigorous work. It isn’t easy, but it is digestible, doable.

I think that should be what is taught.