Michelle L. Rusk's Blog, page 10

The Story Changes

I spoke at the high school where Greg teaches at two health classes a week ago. It had been some years since I’d spoken at a high school and I worried about how to tell the story of Denise's suicide, now thirty years in my rearview, to students who are fourteen/fifteen, two lifetimes for them removed from it happening.

But as I began to speak and weave parts of her story leading up to her death as well as the immediate aftermath for us, something struck me– how much the story has changed in those thirty years.

I first spoke at schools about three years after she had died, maybe less than that. Comparing it to having thirty years of happenings to share, I wondered how I filled the time previously. But I spoke in more detail about the events leading up to her death and the immediate aftermath. Those are the very things that I now weave into the story, more sidebars to other parts of what I share.

When I was living back in Naperville after my divorce and not long before I moved back to Albuquerque, my high school health teacher, Mazz, asked me to speak at his advanced health classes (there were two). Even then (now more than ten years ago), I worried what I could say that might inspire them.

After I finished speaking, a girl came up to me and told me how much she appreciated my story because they were all seniors getting ready to graduate and hearing all that I had been through made them see, “That no matter what we go through, we’ll be okay.”

I had been so focused on working through my challenges that I didn’t see how they could help others. Now it’s time to share how I made it happen.

Sustaining Hope: National Suicide Prevention Week

Sunday was World Suicide Prevention Day and I thought I wrote a really good post on reminding people to seek help and where they could do that (one can call or text 988). The post didn’t go anywhere on Facebook, did a little better on Instagram, did the best on Stimulus. I bring this up because in the United State each day, we lose 132 people, that means a plane full of people dying each day. And yet I find it interesting that Meta, which owns both Facebook and Instagram, clearly kept my post from going anywhere.

Suicide affects us all and the numbers continue to push upwards. There are a lot of reasons to not be happy when one rolls out of bed each morning. Despite all this, I’m here to remind you that there a lot of good things in our lives, but it’s up to use to find them! No one else is going to do it for us. No matter what’s going on around us, we still need to get up, we still need to go through the motions. But in that, we need to add something– seeking what sustains the hope inside us.

I know where I find hope. I have worked hard to cultivate that in my life and I have tried to help others with these blogs and the things that I post on social media. As I write this, I’m getting ready to head up to the high school where Greg teaches and speak to two health classes. Part of my message will be about this very thing I’m writing here– sustaining hope. We can all find hope, but how do we sustain it?

In this National Suicide Prevention Week, my challenge to you is to think about what sustains your hope. Make a list! I hope it’s a long one! Keep it somewhere so that you can refer to it when you feel down (or down on the world at large). Remember that quote and saying, “Happiness is an inside job”? That’s the truth.

Seek it, find it, hold onto it.

Hope in Emptiness

It’s funny, for several weeks this phrase– there is hope in emptiness– has been running through my mind. And yet I can’t remember where I saw it. I actually think it might have been something I wrote in the manuscript I’m working on and stumbled on, but I don’t want to give myself that much credit.

How easy it is to forget that no matter what’s happening to us, no matter what road we’re traveling, there is hope..

Somewhere along this journey, we seem to have been taught that we will get instant answers if we pray for something. I learned that one the hard way- the answers don’t always come right away (have they ever?) and sometimes the answers aren’t quite what we expect them to be (remember, always be specific for what you’re asking for!).

The reality is that prayer often feels dry and empty. But, yes, there’s hope in that because there is hope in taking the time to ask, to know that there is possibility in that asking.

Someone once told me the sun can’t stay down forever and I always remember that when life feels overwhelming and challenging. It’s like the sun has to break through those clouds eventually.

It’s much the same for hope– it’s out there even though we can’t always see it or feel it. Life isn’t joyful and fulfilling all the time. We must be open that even when we do feel empty, that life feels meaningless, we don’t know what beauty and joy is around the corner.

There is hope in emptiness. I bet each time you repeat that when you feel emptiness, the dark clouds will subside and you’ll see some glimmer of blue that reminds you that it’s there and you’ll find it soon.

The Surfing Anniversary

When I wrote about surfing and Bali last week– or the lack of surfing I did in Bali- wasn’t aware that twelve years ago today I surfed for the first time (in Rye, New Hampshire). And eleven years ago last week, I picked up my custom-made surfboard in Redondo Beach, CA.

These anniversaries, paired with my move to Albuquerque for graduate school in August 1994, sit in the back of my mind, but always come to the front when the calendar turns to August each year.

While I understand the significance of starting a new numerical year on January 1, for me, the most movement forward has always taken place as summer turns to fall. Some of it is obviously school related, but there is something about the fall that brings on new things in my life. Perhaps it’s because the start of school always meant new things– new clothes, new friends, new classes– and that has become a routine of sorts and carried through to the rest of my life.

But taking that surfing lesson in Rye on that August Saturday and getting my board a year later were part of sweeping changes of moving my life forward. The photo above also was taken in Rye although I believe in 2012. When I see those two girls (the daughters of a high school friend’s sister), they were to represent Denise and I and the significance of water in our sister relationship.

I have always written about the importance of the ocean and the Holiday Inn (usually!) swimming pool and how much time we spent in those places together. Surfing not only challenged me to do something new in my life as I was getting divorced and turned forty, it also gave me a different relationship with the water, specifically the ocean.

I wrote last week that I long be on the back side of the waves, listening to the water lap under my balsa wood board. I never would have had that without surfing. It has helped me form different relationships with places I have visited from Hawaii to Australia to Wale.

And it changed my relationship with God as a priest I knew started to call it “surfing with Jesus.”

I had no idea how much my life would change twelve years ago today when I took that chance on something I never ever thought I’d get to do my life. But I see now it helped me become closer not just to the person I want to be, but the person I’m supposed to be. I don’t get to surf at least for now, but I still get to keep forging forward and surfing has helped me do that.

Mourning the Surfing Loss

When I started to surf, over ten years ago now, Bali was just hitting the surfing map. It wasn’t on my radar of places to go and I was so lucky that I have surfed both coasts of the United States, Hawaii, Australia, and Wales (the most unlikely of them all!).

Surfing wasn’t the reason we traveled to Bali, but I had this glimmer of hope inside me that maybe, just maybe, there might be a low-key place for me to get out of a board with a long rolling wave. More than anything, knowing I can’t push the left arm too hard or it’ll pop, I know that if the waves are low key enough, I can get to the backside of them and at least listen to the sound of the board as it hits the gently lapping water.

The one ocean spot we traveled to in Bali was a crazy, soul-less tourist infestation. There were good things about it, but there were so many people and so many of them out on the waves that I knew instantly I wasn’t going to get out there. It was the complete opposite of any other surfing experience I’ve had, even the mecca of Waikiki.

I haven’t trashed the surfing dream forever, I know there will be a day that life will get me back to Rat Beach in LA on a warm September day after school has started, the beach is empty, and the surf is nearly flat. I will have that opportunity to at least ride my board Orangey as a body board and hear that lapping sound I miss so much, and that chance to connect with God as I do on the water.

But in Bali I mourned the opportunity I wouldn’t have there, of being on another ocean, of meeting people on the water and the beach, of another unique memory of the trip. I have to remind myself there are other memories, there are other opportunities.

Still I mourn what I can’t have and by acknowledging it and all it taught me, I’m understanding why it was part of my life, if only for a short time.

The Advantage of Taking a Step Backward

None of us could ever count the number of times people have been rude, unkind, or downright mean to us. Especially in recent times, it feels like it’s more prevalent than ever before. It’s annoying and obviously hurtful. We wonder why people have to act, well, that way. And we find it easy to get caught in their web and might start snarling ourselves.

And that’s when it’s time to remember: it’s usually not about us. If you trip someone, that is about you (unless you didn’t mean to do it). But if someone treats you badly for no reason, perhaps just because you’re standing right there, then that’s on them. Don't get caught in their bubble!

Their bubble isn’t a happy place; it’s not a bubble you want to be in. I realize it’s painful and baffling, but you don’t know why they are projecting such annoyance on you. Perhaps it’s better not to know.

We’re complex beings (if my dogs spoke English they’d tell me that all the time) and often we do things that don’t make sense. We all have bad days; we all say things we don’t mean. Our world would be better if everyone took a step backyard before saying something (or in today’s world, before posting that comment!), but that might not change. What we can change is our reaction to it.

Think of something positive; think of someone in your world who likes you, who cares about you. Think of your dog. Think of what inspires you, makes you happy.

Anything that will take your mind off what isn’t worth giving another thought to. Life is too short for that.

Where Hope Resides

It’s hard to believe it’s the start of August and that Greg went back to school yesterday. I’m always reminded, as we head toward fall, that September is the month we put extra effort into suicide prevention with National Suicide Prevention Month and World Suicide Prevention Day.

But there have also been some deaths lately, a death here in New Mexico that no one is saying is a suicide unless one reads between the lines and the death of Sinead O’Connor who couldn’t seem to find peace in herself and then the suicide of her son that made it even more challenging.

All this together started me thinking on what my message September is this year and I realized it’s going to be much different than usual although not a new message for me.

It’s about where we find hope.

I don’t know why, but so often my head the phrase, “where hope resides” travels through and it did last week as I contemplated these deaths and the emotional pain that these people- and so many others– feel.

Life feels so much more challenging these days than ever before- we remain divided and angry. There has been change that makes sense to some and not to others. Even going to a restaurant has come to feel like a chore when you don’t know if they have enough staff to feed you (another topic for another day). Sometimes finding joy feels sucked away with the vacuum cleaner in this change.

When I find myself getting down, the question comes floating through– where does hope reside? In some way, it does in this photo of sunrise in the rice fields in Ubud, Bali. A new day always means a new start. And no matter how difficult the day before was! There is something about darkness giving way to light. After all, it can’t stay dark forever, the sun has to come back.

Perhaps instead of a message this year, a statement of inspiration, I’m issuing my own challenge to everyone (a good challenge, I’d like to think!): where does your hope reside?

Barbie

I have written multiple times over the years about the positive influence of Barbie in my life. It was usually because an article would crop up about what a negative influence she was for girls (which is totally interesting given that right now I’ve heard nothing bad about her with the movie out). And the film made a crazy amount of money over the weekend.

My older sister Karen had a Barbie and Ken. What I remember most is that Barbie had so many careers, notably she was an astronaut. I don’t remember that Ken had an astronaut suit although he was the pilot when she was the flight attendant (still a stewardess in those days).

As you can see from the photo, I received my first Barbie when I turned seven. Superstar Barbie. For Christmas, the furniture started to arrive (a wardrobe case and a vanity from the Dreamhouse collection). I believe Ken showed up the next year– Superstar Ken to match.

There would be more Barbies, Kens, and Skippers. And a Scott, too. There was a house of furniture although I longingly never received a dream house. When Denise was given her first Barbie (Malibu Barbie and then Malibu Ken), we were sent to the basement to make our own houses using boxes for walls and 1960s carpet samples for flooring. I had new furniture (I had most of the Dream house furniture but not the Dream house itself) while Denise used Karen’s Karosel Kitchen and a set of furniture our Grandpa Linn had made Karen for her Barbie.

We played Barbies all summer especially (Mom’s favorite way to get rid of us on hot days, “Go down into the basement and play) or sometimes outside in our plastic wading pool. After all, Karen had a boat and camper so we got to use those, too. Often, we were joined by my childhood friend and neighbor Christine.

Our Barbies did whatever we wanted them to. They went places. They wore beautiful gowns and the coolest 1970s dresses. I learned to sew making Barbie dresses. And learned how to design clothes when Mom gave us her bridesmaids dresses to cut up. I could go on and on and I will about side topics related to this in future posts.

But the bottom line is Barbie is where I learned to dream. Barbie taught me that I could be anything I wanted to be because she was whatever I wanted her to be. I could have her life if I worked hard and set goals.

How lucky I am to have such a positive influence to be the spark for my inspiration.

The Pillar of Home

We’ve been back from Bali a month and a lot of that time has spent working on house projects. While I have been writing about the importance of travel and exploring the world, I also believe in the importance of home.

I was reminded of this a few weeks ago when we popped into Bed Bath & Beyond, which was surprisingly still open. As I walked around the leftovers of what was once an important store for me and many other people (although I liked Linens ‘n Things better, having met its demise some years before Bed Bath & Beyond), I thought about the many things I had bought from the store, especially pre-internet shopping. Greg and I also registered there when we married.

While in more recent years it had become a place for certain basics (mattress pad sort of things), there was a time when I might look for a shower curtain, towels, or sheets on clearance (those I used for the backs of quilts I was making).

If you take a step back and look at it, picking out items for a home, decorating a home, all those things are a big part of our lives. We devote a sizable amount of time to making our home look good. We are raised that this is important and when we take a dip back in time, one registered for all those things that would help a house become a home.

I have always devoted a chunk of my time to where I’m living. Someone taught me you should sow your seeds wherever you are planted. You should be happy to be home, you should feel like you will thrive where you live because you like being there. And, if you choose, you should be happy to share your home with others.

Home is the base of everything. We rest, we sleep, we reenergize at home. That’s why we should put time into making it a place we like to be. It’s like home is the rock of who we are, the pillar of our existence.

Exploring the World

I can’t say that it was explicitly stated in my life, but I was raised to believe it was important to explore the world.

As I mentioned last week, when we visited my maternal grandparents, the ride took us right by O’Hare and all the billboards reminding us of new places we could travel to, or sunny locales to escape to during the ugly winters.

But my grandparents also had a world map hanging in one of the bedrooms over a couch that held pins for the places they had traveled. Each time they returned, there was some sort of small gift for each of us ten grandkids (I still have some packed away, some I’m not sure where they were purchased– a small leather pouch from Italy, a beaded necklace, a wooden doll). There was a book in the bedroom, too, from National Geographic showing people and places that felt like faraway lands I would never see.

I loved when we researched geography in school, from looking up Sweden and Australia in junior high (leading me to get pen pals in both places) to the travel brochures from Asia my parents collected for me from travel agencies for a project in college. The photos and unfamiliarity inspired me to want to see these places, to explore them.

However, I admit that this trip to Bali was much harder to actualize than anything in the past. The pandemic had squashed our ability to even make plans for several years and we began to doubt whether we even try to go to far-flung places. I hardly told anyone we were going to Bali until we were nearly ready to leave because I was so afraid the trip might get canceled.

The closer our leave date got, the more worried I became. I worried about everything that could go wrong– for us, at home, with the dogs. We have a great dog sitter, but I know things can happen outside one’s control. I wasn’t sure I would survive my anxiety, built up because I’ve been home the bulk of four years.

That’s exactly why I needed to leave- I had been home too long. While I missed exploring the world, I also needed to get out and see the world beyond my bubble. Home is great, however, we also need to leave home to appreciate it more. And that’s exactly what the trip did for me.