Michelle L. Rusk's Blog, page 32

Carson's shangri la

I’ve put off writing this blog and it’s been easy with the holiday hustle and bustle. I’ve felt like I’ve been chasing myself and now as things start to wind down, at least through the new year before they wind up again, I know that I need to write this because life is going to change again soon. I’ve made it a tradition– although I don’t think that’s a good word– to write about each of my dogs after they have died and while Carson was only with us for the end of his life, he deserves a blog, too.

I miss him. I miss his presence. I find myself grabbing three treats from the cactus cookie jar where I keep them rather than two. The house is quieter. Lilly needs someone to at least pretend to chase her around the yard and Hattie wishes Lilly had someone to chase her around so she would leave her alone and quit being the annoying little sister.

But this is what I remind myself– Carson is happy now, he is out of his pain.

The last month of his life was trying for all of us and I’ll admit it was a strain on our relationship. Carson had lost control of his bladder and my days were spent changing his wrap (fancy word for diaper), sometimes him running from me after I had let him outside, but needed to put it back on before he returned inside. At 4:00 am the day before we put him down, he stood at the far end of the yard and we had a staring contest, me refusing to go any further outside in my bare feet and thirty-some degree temperatures. I won the contest only after I shut the door and pretended to walk away– inside the house.

I felt as if Hattie and Lilly missed out on attention because most of my time was going to Carson. I started to find Lilly sleeping upstairs by herself, a place she never went unless someone was with her.

The strain took its toll, but I still struggled with actually putting him down two weeks ago today. He had a zest for life and I didn’t want to put him down too early. But I also didn’t want to keep him around too long because it wasn’t about us. It was about releasing him from his pain.

Two weeks later, I now remind myself in my sadness that he’s happy now, he’s met my family and all the dogs that have gone before him. After what appeared to have been a challenging life, he found happiness with us, so much so that he defied the expectations of his lifespan and may have been seventeen when he died. He’s out of pain and anything that happened to him that left him fearful here in his life melted away as he went to sleep with that sedative and drifted into his new life.

His new life of love.

Meaning in the Christmas Season

I told Greg that I’m going to make prickly pear hard candy until the cows come home, partly because we have so much puree and partly because it feels like something unique and special that I can share with everyone.

Yet it took me by surprise last week when I dropped off a bag to two Native American friends and he told me what a special and meaningful gift it is. He and his wife grew up eating prickly pears near the Gallup area where they were raised. It also surprised me how happy they were to taste the candy, telling me it was a taste from their childhood, and one they hadn’t had in a long time.

I was so excited as I left their business (where I drop off my packages for shipping), knowing I had given them a treat, a piece of their childhood, something that left them in awe.

As I drove home, I thought about how this is what the Christmas season is about. It’s about doing something meaningful for others, about making the season special by making something for others.

The holiday season goes fast, but we can fill it with joy by giving to others. And thus filling ourselves with joy.

Keeping the Dream Alive

As I spend much of my time working on moving forward, what I don’t do often is reflect on where I’ve been. But because I keynoted several conferences over the past six weeks– and I was speaking about how I’ve gone forward in my life despite my many losses which was a new talk for me– I had to take the time to think about how I’ve gotten where I am to create my talks.

Sometimes I share the aspects of my life that inspire me, yet I’ve also realized that I might not be reflecting fully on them and that’s what happened over the month prior to speaking.

Since I was six years old, I knew I wanted to be a writer. Not just a writer, but an author. I wanted to tell stories. I don’t think I knew what those stories were going to be beyond the picture books I made with Raggedy Ann and Andy starring, but it was my dream to have my name on the side of a book.

That dream stayed alive for most of my childhood and teen years except for several side roads I veered down, testing other waters. But the roads always took me back to writing. What I see now is that many times I took those side roads to learn something I needed to write about. Even today when I find myself deeply interested in a topic and wonder why I didn’t pursue it before, I realize that somewhere it might fit into a story.

When my sister died in 1993, at least in the memories I have now, I don’t remember that the writing dream died. I believe it remained an ember– an ember that all of us have as I written previously about hope– because it wasn’t going to die. I had a road to travel and eventually I would make my way back to it.

I also believe that that dream is what has kept me going all these years. While I make handbags and clothes and do all sorts of other things, it is when I am writing that I truly feel I am doing what I’m supposed to be doing. The stories, the people, their lives, are with me constantly and many days keep me motivated around frustrations and the routine of life.

The hard part is that the dream hasn’t manifested itself yet as want it to. Yes, I have written multiple books, but I’m not where I want to be, on the bestseller list– yet. That ember keeps burning and I keep writing, knowing that somewhere along the way the flame will spark and suddenly the fire will take off.

A Multitude of Goals

I had two major goals for October: one to continue my goal of swimming every day between July 1 and November 1. This wasn’t something I set out to do so much as I realized in September that I had been swimming every day, not on purpose, it had just happened. So I thought, why not keeping it going as long as I can? I am happy to say that despite the cooler weather, I have managed to keep swimming past November 1.

But I also wanted to have a 100-page writing month. I managed to finish that one early although about halfway through the month I found myself gravitating toward the kitchen, wanting to use new recipes, make new dishes. And make these jam bars pictured above.

As I was doing it, I figured out why: I’ve been so engrossed in one big goal that I could feel myself needing a sense of accomplishment of finishing something small, something easier. Manuscripts take a long time to complete and this current one is going to take me well into next year. That means I need to find smaller goals I can accomplish in the meantime.

That’s where much of my creating comes into play. I can have something completed after a few hours or less and suddenly the antsy dissipates as I see what it is that I’ve created. It allows me to keep working on the manuscript, yet gives me the instant reward of having done something else.

Our lives are filled with big goals and if we want to keep ourselves motivated, the best way to do that is to balance them with little goals. After all, life is about balance so why shouldn’t it be the same with goal setting?

Starting Small, Building Strength

I knew exactly what I was going to pray for Saturday at mass when I picked a candle to take to Our Lady of Guadalupe. I debated between the orange and purple, choosing the purple because I had chosen the orange on All Saints Day, just a few days before that.

What I didn’t check was the wick. It never occurred to me to check the wick, especially on Saturday when I was most concerned with my prayer. Although I keep busy with many projects, there are days when I wonder if I should be concentrating on one thing over another. And on Saturday that’s exactly what I was going to talk to my friend Guadalupe about– I wanted to make sure I was focused where I should be.

However, when I went to light the candle, I discovered there was almost no wick. That meant I had to stand there and hold the flame over it until enough wax had melted away so that the flame could catch.

In that moment, I knew I was doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. While our prayers aren’t often answered in church– instead they are answered in other times when we are going about our daily life– this was one instance where I got a clear response. Perhaps it was because I had been asking all day, thinking about how I would ask Guadalupe for help. Or perhaps it was because that was the best way to show me what I needed to know.

Sometimes the candle doesn’t light right away and on this time not only did it not light right away, it took some time for it to light. Once it did, it was a small flame, but I felt confident it would endure and burn the wax down to the bottom of the plastic jar (the purple candle on the right side of the three in the photo).

A small flame, a strong flame. The reminder that while it might not seem like things aren’t moving quickly, they are moving, they are building. They are catching fire.

Stay the course, Guadalupe seemed to tell me. Keep at it. You’re doing what you’re supposed to.

Now it’s my job to believe it and keep the flame burning.

Commitment to Hope

I believe that hope lingers in the shadows, often in places where we can’t see it. I also believe that each of us has an ember of hope- it might burn very faintly, but it is there- and it’s up to us to find the hope that makes it burn brighter.

That’s no easy task, I know it well. However, while life isn’t easy, it is worth living. But it’s up to us to find where we belong, what we want to do, what makes us happy. If it were an easy thing to do, I don’t think any of us would be here today.

Somewhere inside of me I know that faint light of hope has always been there. I have spent a lot of time this past year exploring how I got to be who I am today. I see now how often in the face of loss of in challenging times, I might have been upset or grieving, yet I was still hopeful in some way. There’s always been something inside of me to remind me that even if I was feeling down on life, if I let myself process my sadness, eventually my hope would return. And it always has.

What brings each of us hope is as unique as we are. What’s most important is that we are committed to finding hope in our lives and sustaining it. I know I am.

Because They Said I Couldn't

At Saturday’s soccer game, the district rival that Greg’s team will play next, girls all sat down next to me in the stands. The district championship will come down to this upcoming game and the girls made a few dissing comments about Greg’s team which obviously irritated me that they just assumed how good they are.

When I got home from that game, still irritated about what I heard, I began to ask myself why it irritated me so much. Greg’s team lost the game I had just come from and there had been a goal that had been pulled back which changed the outcome of the game. While Greg’s girls played well, something still ate at me and it took me a while to figure out what it was.

There have been many times in my life where people didn’t think I could accomplish something. While many more people in my life have been supportive, it’s hard not to focus on the ones who said I couldn’t– my ACT scores that predicted I would be an average collect student (a doctorate later who predicted that one I ask?), the sports journalism professor who laughed at me in front of the sports writing class when I said that I didn’t want to cover a team so much as I wanted to write stories about their motivations, and the continued rejections from a variety of things that I tried to do. Mix in the cross country coach my freshman year of high school who clearly stated I wouldn’t amount to much of a runner until I made varsity at the end of the season and proved him wrong.

That’s just it– if you tell me I can’t do it, I’ll work harder and I’ll get there. That was what annoyed me about seeing the team lose and then having to listen to the comments of the opposing team (and the called-back goal). In my world, I’d use that as fuel for the fire. While Greg’s girls didn’t know about the comments said about them, there clearly is a perception somewhere that I’d like to think isn’t true.

Inspiration and motivation are all around us. The question is if and how we choose to use it.

The Signs Around Us

One of the greatest aspects about life is that we don’t know what’s around the corner. I say that in the most positive, glass half full way. Most days, life is fairly routine and, well, not very exciting. It’s up to us to find ways to keep it interesting. I’ve been working hard lately, but after several weeks of having a clear sense that I was moving forward, I suddenly felt like multiple aspects of my professional life had ground to a halt. It’s nothing bad, but just a general feeling that I was spinning my wheels

However, on Saturday morning in the midst of my morning prayer while I ran Lilly, asking for help to continue to forge forward, I looked down– and even in the darkness– saw a dime shining up at me. Just two days before I had found a penny at Target completing my “usual” dime-penny combination. After my dad died in 2006, I started to find pennies and other coins, something that had never happened before so I believe was a clear sign from him.

However, seemingly not be outdone, when I went for my run (without Lilly), "Harden My Heart” by Quarterflash began to play on my iPod Nano. This was my younger sister, one of two songs we loved to roller skate to (the other being “Shadows of the Night” by Pat Benatar).

I laughed and thought– while also sort of putting out a dare– that Mom needed to appear as she usually does through “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” by Poison. There are several other songs, but both my sister Karen and I have had her come to us lately through this one.

I went on with my day and honestly forgot about the signs. I had plenty to do, but at church, late that afternoon, sometimes I cheat and look ahead to what song we’ll be singing after Julianne the keyboardist posts them on the digital board high in the church.

She had chosen, “On Eagles’s Wings” that day. Mom.

It hadn’t occurred to me that I might have a sense of Mom at church and that’s probably why it happened. The more I look, the less they are there, but then they surprise me. Especially when I need them but I’m not looking.

They are small signs, but they are just as important because they are just enough to keep me going in the dry spells. And they are reminders that everything I want is still to come on the path ahead. I just need to keep journeying forward.

Finding Liverpool

There are always British voices coming out of our television on Saturday and Sunday mornings.

Since Greg and I got together, he introduced me to Premier League coverage on television. But it wasn’t my first introduction to soccer in the United Kingdom; that came from John Peters, the man I called my “UK Dad.”

While I’m not much of a tv watcher, Greg will attest that when I leave to run on weekend mornings, I flip on the tv to whatever soccer game is being played and I go about my morning with it in the background.

However, at the end of last season, I decided I really need to follow a team. While Greg would tell me all about what was going in the standings, quite honestly, I didn’t really know what was going on. I wasn’t following any one team and it was as if I were floating above the fields, er, pitches, just kind of taking a look occasionally. I knew that if I adopted a team, I’d be far more interested.

Without having a clue of which team to pick, I turned to Wendy– my UK Sister and one of John’s daughters– and asked her which team her dad favored. John died just about a month after my mom in 2014 and I thought I could carry a torch of sorts and follow his team. I also knew that would make him happy.

Liverpool, she said.

So Liverpool it was although I wasn’t sure why I didn’t know this before. What I did know was that as child I knew that the Beatles were from Liverpool and it always sounded like a dark, depressing place. I’ve been near Liverpool traveling through Wales but I’ve never been there (next visit, Wendy, I guess I know where we are road tripping to!).

John’s mission each time I went to the UK was to show me Wales because he thought Americans only see London and he wanted me to have a sense of what else his country offered. I have written before about his influence on my life and the photo here– of him and Jean in their car with a surfboard running across the middle so that I could surf on my last visit before he died– also indicates how he showed me another part of Wales, this time through a beach and my love of surfing.

Recently, I found a letter that one of my mom’s best friends wrote me after first book about my sister’s suicide was published. In it, Mrs. Ortyn said that after her mother died she realized how her love for her mother could grow, even after death.

I know well the pain of losing someone, but I have also learned that if we are open to it, our relationship with that person doesn’t end in the loss. It changes, it grows.

And maybe even brings a Premier League Championship with it.

When Life Feels Fleeting

In the corner of my backyard is a peace angel statue, a gift from my good friend Karen to my mom after Karen sold Mom’s house– the Linn family home– nearly ten years ago. It sold within days– which obviously made everyone happy- and I hoped that when it came time to sell my house in Naperville when I had the chance to return to Albuquerque, I’d have the same luck.

Without going into all the details, it wasn’t a very pleasant experience involving multiple sales falling through, a renter who let the yard go so long that I nearly got cited by the city for the overgrown front yard, and then finally a sale but not without a new buyer who insisted she had no idea how to install the new garage door opener (that the renter insisted was left in the garage but no one ever found) and Karen had to go over there and show her how to do it. We tried everything we could to sell it– I even sent a bundle of sage from New Mexico and sent her and her husband Rob to sage the house, to rid it of any negative spirts that were keeping it from selling.

Karen worked hard to sell it, knowing that it was the final piece of me letting go of my life in Illinois as my life in Albuquerque reset and began again. After the house had closed, I told her that nothing could ever come between us after all that we had been through because of that house.

On Friday Karen died unexpectedly, much too young at 62, and I honestly still can’t wrap my head around the idea that my friend’s funeral taking place tomorrow (which will be today when I post this).

Growing up in the Chicago area, there were things that I knew about people but didn’t really appreciate or understand until I moved away. In many ways Karen was family to me because she reminded me of those core values I was brought up to believe were important. When my mom died, she and Rob where there at the funeral– I can still remember seeing them sitting together when I did Mom’s eulogy. And when I married Greg, she and Rob traveled to Albuquerque to be part of a happy occasion.

They lived around the corner from me in Naperville and I spent a lot of my time with them and my across-the-street-neighbors, Doug and Sue. Naperville is a family place which is great. If you have a family. But when you’re a divorced woman whose mother is living with you and you work from home, it’s a challenge to say the least. While most people were busy with their kids, I was walking my dogs and Karen and Rob were scheming up ways to find me dates (it was Rob’s idea that I take up golf- that’s not how I met Greg and even though I’m terrible at it, I admit I do like it).

In March 2017, I somehow managed to get her to agree to host a Chelle Summer party at her house. We both invited our friends and I realized as we were prepping for the party how fun it was to plan a party with a friend who, well, also liked to host a party. We were definitely kindred souls that way.

There’s so much more that I can say– about the meals we shared, the time she, Rob, and I took the train into the to have dinner at Rick Bayless’s Frontera Grill before I moved back to New Mexico, and, while I know that Karen, is doing well in her “new home,” I am going to miss the verbal love and support she gave me. She had a large loving family and a ton of friends so I always knew she was surrounded by people she loved because she made them feel loved.

Her time here was too short, but so often time feels too short for all of us. And yet I know how lucky I was that she embraced me– and my mom- in those years on Hidden Spring Drive and after I returned to Albuquerque.