Michelle L. Rusk's Blog, page 47

The Dress

There are three wedding dresses in my house: my grandmother's, my mom's, and mine.

When I married the first time, I had planned to wear my mom's dress but when I tried it on it looked terrible on me. My mom loved her dress and it was definitely her but the way it spread out like a gown made me look like a little girl playing dress up. Not the look one goes for at a wedding. After I said it wasn't going to work, she looked relieved and said, "That's good because I wasn't sure how to tell you it looked bad on you."

This time I wanted to wear my grandmother's dress.

Mom and I spent a day tearing the house apart looking for it until we finally found it rolled up in a towel. This was about a year before I met Greg but we were starting to pack up the house to move to New Mexico and we just wanted to know where it was. It was just the outer layer of lace, it would need a new slip, but the lace was what made the dress hers. I held it up next to me and I realized that wouldn't work either. The dress had cigarette burns (it was from the early 1930s) and it looked stained.

I put it away and told myself I would worry about it when the day came.

And when that day did come, I decided I was going to buy a dress, an experience I didn't have the first time because my dress was handmade. But I also knew I had a theme in mind: classic elegant.

Two weeks after Greg proposed, I had a trip to Los Angeles planned and Lois– the woman I call my California mom– and I decided we'd go wedding dress shopping. I figured it was worth it to look around, not thinking I would find anything.

I did a Yelp search of the nearby bridal stores in the South Bay and found one with good reviews, made a phone call for the appointment, and there we were that afternoon.

Stacy, they owner was pulling dresses out of a box for an Allure Bridal trunk show when we arrived. She grabbed one of them and said I might like it, before walking through the rows of dresses searching for others that fit what I was looking for.

Ten dresses later I knew which dress it was: the first one I tried on. And that dress Stacy had pulled out of the box for the trunk show.

While another woman there with her mom and sister were going through a huge number of dresses and noting details they liked about each, I looked at Lois and said, "I can go to more places and try on more dresses but I don't see that I'm going to find anything more unique."

She agreed. My dress was lace, a cream color– with a vintage feel. Yet the open back gave it a modern twist.

Classic and elegant. It was perfect.

Opening Doors

Near the end of our honeymoon, we spent an afternoon strolling through the LA Garment District. I have something I want to try to do and I thought that would be a good place to find what I will need (what it is I'm not ready to reveal yet though). I saw the dress pictured above a few blocks after we began our trek through the district and I was instantly attracted to it.

The reality is that I don't need another dress because the closet is full (Greg will correct me when he sees this and remind me that it's closets although I will argue that one is very small). So we continued exploring the district and I did buy a very cool and unique handbag as well as some other items for my project. But I couldn't let go of the dress.

On our way back to the car, we stopped at the store and I tried the dress on. It didn't look that great on me, probably because I'm too short to wear certain things and this one was one of them. But I loved the color and Greg spotted something he thought would look better on me (it did) and I returned to the small dressing room to try it on.

As all this happened, he struck up a conversation with the woman who owned the shop. While I went in and out of the dressing room, I joined the conversation but mostly listened to them. She was younger than me and this store was her dream. While it hasn't been an easy road, she loves having the little store filled with women's clothes, especially because it's hers.

As we told her about my plan– and she knew nothing about the books I have published or the speaking I have done– she said how she prayed to have her store, how she believed. And then the doors began to open.

While it's exciting to have a dream, it's also scary because we don't want to fail. And somehow we must have faith that no matter what we want, that it will happen. As we left, with my new pink dress in a bag and Greg carrying the rest of the stuff we bought, it was a good way to wrap up the afternoon in downtown Los Angeles.

As I start work on something new, yet another dream, but something that is tied to a part of me that I often don't talk about (or that most people don't know about me), I am reminded that it's all about belief. And then the doors will open.

 

The Wedding Favor

I didn't want to give everyone drink cozies with our names and wedding dates on them. I know people mean well and often are compromised by costs, but having a nice wedding favor was important to me.

And because writing– storytelling– is such an integral part of me, I thought that writing a book and publishing it on the day of our wedding would be the perfect gift for our guests. It's a personal part of me, something I created, and hopefully something that others will hold onto rather than throw in the donation pile. 

To keep it out of the donation pile (in case they aren't impressed), we added a bookmark suggesting that people share the book with others when they are done with it.

But I will admit it was hard. It's been three years since my last book was published and I'm sitting on a stack of unfinished or unedited manuscripts. Could I pull this off? I wondered, 

I set to writing, not telling anyone what I was working about. Mostly I was vague. "Some fiction," I would say at dinner parties when I was asked. And then as the wedding date got closer and people kept asking what I was doing, "It'll be out in the summer." Just a few people knew what I was up to and I joked that I had my own Manhattan Project going. I shared few details with Greg, knowing from past experience that the more I talked about the book, the less I was keeping for the storytelling experience. He helped me come up with names and some ideas but mostly he didn't know much about the story.  I wrote about three pages a day, making a minimum of fifty pages per month, and kept myself interested with writing rewards, a new dress or maybe a new bag.

By January I had enough done that I felt comfortable asking several friends whom I trust the opinions of to read it. There was another challenge I had placed in front of myself though: for the first time I wrote from beginning to end.

While this isn't something I had ever done before, always allowing myself to write whatever part came to me, the last two manuscript made me realize that it wasn't working. I would repeat myself or things didn't flow right. 

It was a challenge well worth doing because I learned not only that I could do it but when it was it was finished I had written my best story to date. I had to be patient when I wanted to jump ahead, learning something about writing as a craft during the process.

And one worthy of becoming a gift to my wedding guests on the day I started a new journey, together with Greg.

 

The Magic in a Spiritual Wedding

Twenty years ago I would have laughed at the idea of my wedding being spiritual. But in the past five years, as I realized that I hadn't done a good job nourishing that side of me, I knew that when I married again, it would be in a Catholic church. And it would include mass.

The florist we used told me that only about two out of twenty weddings they do are in churches. Many people will say that they feel spiritual in nature or in another setting but the Norbertine priest I work on my spiritual direction said it best when he reminded me that not only is a church sacred but it's also a place where community gathers.

And for me, Immaculate Conception Catholic Church is my community. When I walk inside and take my first breath, I feel like I am home. It's the church where I restarted my life after my divorce. And it's the church where I held my group for separated and divorced women. It's a place where I feel as if I'm heard. And each Saturday evening I venture there with Greg to sit in front of my friend Alicia, light a candle, and take the time to both reflect about what has transpired but also about where I want to be and how I can be a better person.

But just because I feel that way in the church didn't mean my wedding was a guaranteed spiritual success. Quite honestly, even having done this before, I didn't know what to expect. I had my hopes: that the church would feel full despite the fact that very large, that the priest would deliver a personal homily about Greg and I, and that everyone would feel moved by the experience.

That's exactly what I got. If there is something called a magical spiritual wedding, I had it.

From the moment I walked down the aisle, the church feeling full even though it wasn't packed, the harpist starting it off with "Canon in D" to Fr. Broussard's blessings and personal words of support for our marriage in a homily where he talked about dinner at our house and how we give each other space and accept each other.

He also arranged that we faced our guests as we said our vows (his back to them instead), reminding us that the promises we made to each other were also made to our guests.

What I often forget is that sometimes we ask for something and don't realize that it is prayer even if we don't say that we're praying about it. Just the mere thought of it throws it out to the universe. And sometimes it comes back to us, just as a boomerang would.

And when we get exactly what we wanted, the gratitude goes a long way.

Thank you.

 

What inspires you?

My marriage nearly a month ago is the start of many new journeys in my life. And one of those is a big shift in my work. I'm using this new beginning as a opportunity to move the focus into the things that really interest me and aspects of my life that I have pushed aside for other projects.

The first of these is spending more time on what inspires me. The photo above is my favorite that my mom took of me. I was 18 months old and vacationed in Florida where my dad was working. As you can see, she also kept the swim suit that I have on (I think I wore it up until I was about six when she bought me my first bikini- pink, green, and orange). 

On our trip to California for spring break this year, when Greg and I stopped at the Kate Spade outlet store in Barstow I saw the wallet, also pictured above. The reason I wanted it? You guessed it, the stripes are very similar to the bathing suit. 

I didn't buy it then and through a series of events (meaning not buying it in Barstow this time and the Las Vegas store not having it) I ended up getting it sent to me from the Cabezon store thanks to a very helpful Kate employee.

However, this isn't about the Kate Spade wallet but instead about taking what inspires us and putting our focus there. What you'll see more of in the coming days, weeks, and months from me are photos and stories about what inspires me, whether they be objects, places, or people. 

We all need to know what inspires us because that's what keeps us going in the face of loss. These things are what get us out of bed when we dread the day. The more we find something to keep us motivated, the more we enjoy life. And find happiness again.

And what inspires me about the stripes in the photo? Stay tuned to find out. I'm starting work on it today.

Finding The Green Dress

Writing The Green Dress changed me.

Sometimes I duck out for estate sales on Thursday or Friday mornings as a break from work and to see what interesting item I can find for my house. The first week of September I ventured to Four Hills in Albuquerque for what promised to be a stuff-filled house.

Hanging on a closet door I found the green dress. I think vintage clothing is cool but I never wear it because I'm still traumatized from the hand-me-downs I was given from relatives growing up. Still there was something about this dress. I wasn't going to try it on but it looked like my size. I grabbed it, knowing if I didn't take it then, it might not be there when I walked back around to that bedroom.

I spent a lot of time in the house and I also bought a pair of wrought iron candlesticks that I spray painted yellow and now sit on my dining room table. While the dress had a stain on it, it fit like a glove when I tried it on at home. I had no idea where I would wear it but I hung it on my office door (as you see in this photo) and left it there. 

Yet there was something about the house and the woman that lived there: it was filled to the brim with stuff: clothes, jewelry, dolls. And it was in a once exclusive part of Albuquerque. Plus it had a pool which meant I was more interested than usual. The house needed work but it had character and it felt as if it had a story to tell.

 That Saturday I asked Greg if he wanted to go with me mostly to see the house. We were just discovering we both had an interest in looking through houses. My parents instilled that in me early when we used to tour model homes. We were on our way to Santa Fe for the day and I thought it might be a fun stop to make.

The joke in our relationship is that I thought Greg was going to propose to me that day. We had been talking about getting married and I figured he had something planned by taking me up north. I tried not to be disappointed when it didn't happen because I knew it would happen and it did the following day.

As we began to plan the wedding, I couldn't let go of the green dress and I realized there was a book to be written; I suggested to him that it be our wedding favor, our gift to everyone who attended our wedding.

I quickly set to work and slowly the characters began to emerge. I took the dress to the cleaners and the stain came out (although I have yet to have somewhere to wear it). By January I had finished and sent it off for several people to read.

But it wasn't until it was a finished project that I began to see how it changed me. 

More on that soon. Check out The Green Dress at Amazon.

 

 

"Your Prayers Have Been Heard"

I knew it was going to rain on our wedding day.

My mom always told me stories about how it was good luck to have rain on your wedding and she would use the examples of people she knew who lived happily ever after. 

But I so badly wanted a beautiful New Mexico day for my guests who came from all over the world. I asked my mom for that beautiful day, I watched the chance of rain in the forecast bounce around from 20% to 60% back to down to 20%, knowing that our unusually wet spring meant it could still rain even if there was no chance of rain in the forecast. I asked that it at least not rain when we did our photos but clouds were okay. I know enough that too much sunshine makes things look washed out.

It started out sunny and beautiful but I could see the clouds in the distance coming over the west mesa. During the ceremony, my sister and I watched her wife leave the church and when she returned my sister whispered, "It's raining."

And after the ceremony, the thunder started and it began to pour. 

I was disappointed as we sat the church waiting it out, knowing that it was starting to throw our schedule off. No matter how much I told myself that it would work out, I began to get a little nervous.

My friend Gary Keene came from Acoma Pueblo to attend the wedding and do a blessing before dinner. As I was standing in the library at Los Poblanos, some of the women from my group bustling my dress, they told me how Gary told them that the rain was a blessing. I found him at the cocktail reception, me still feeling upset about the rain (and mostly that things had not gone how I wanted them to).

He assured me it was a good thing and when he did his blessing he explained to all our guests that the rain meant that everyone's prayers for us had been heard.

The reality is that what I wanted more than the sunny day is my own happily ever after. And Gary reminded me that I got it.

"That's probably the first time someone at an event location like this has been told rain is a blessing," said my father-in-law David. 

Indeed it was. Thanks, Mom.

Trusting the Journey

I ran into a woman who lives not to far from me the other day when Hattie and I were out on our morning walk. She told me that she had just signed her divorce papers and we talked about various things including my wedding this weekend. As our conversation came to an end, she told me that I give her hope.

This isn't the first time I've been told that, particularly since my fiancé entered my life and now with my upcoming marriage. 

It's been nearly four years since I found myself and divorced and many parts of my future unknown. I don't regret my first marriage as it has made me who I am and I learned a lot. But what I do understand now is how, as someone once told me, we all stay too long. We do this because we don't believe it's supposed to end, because we want to make it work, and because it's also comfortable.

Sure it sucks, we might be treated not so well, and/our our needs are not met. I could go on with a long list of reasons why a marriage could be bad. But the reality is that for many people it's easier to stay than it is to move on.

While the marriage might not be good, we still had someone to do things with, that companionship that someone was in the house– although maybe the opposite end of it!– and we weren't alone.

Setting out after divorce means that we will be alone for a period of time and we might not know how long. I know that feeling well although I kept myself busy taking care of me and making the most of the time I was given to travel the road of life by myself. I remember one day sitting in the office of the priest who helped me with my annulment and I said that I was worried I would end up alone the rest of my life like a woman with a bunch of cats (forgive me, cat owners– I do like cats, I was simply using the stereotype to explain my feelings). Before the words were completely out of my mouth, I knew I was wrong.

"That's not going to happen, is it?" I asked him. He shook his head, knowing full well one day I'd be married again.

However, I didn't know when that would be and found myself in a variety of complicated relationships (I'm not even sure they deserve that much credit) and then life handed me something that has made all the difference in the world in who I am.

In the next few weeks, there is much I will reveal but for now I'm enjoying a weekend full of activities with family and friends from around the globe.

And as I go forward on my journey, I think of the high dive. We are so afraid of going off it– in life it's the equivalent of a new journey– yet there is a huge exhilaration that comes with it when we find ourselves flying through the air and landing in the water. So what do we do? Get in line and do it again.

Take the plunge off the high dive. Trust the journey. I did and it's been worth the new road ahead.

Being Who I'm Supposed To Be

With my wedding less than a week away, it's hard not to reflect on the past even when it's about taking my life forward. I am very secure in the future I have with my fiancé and one aspect I greatly appreciate about him is how much he lets me be who I'm supposed to be. Not that I didn't have this in the past but I think having lost both my parents and my sister, I see now how important it is to not let life veer me off to other roads when there are goals I want to accomplish, goals I've had for a long period of my life.

Sometimes something will come up and I'll think how great it would be to do only to realize if I do it, it will take away from things that are really about who I am. The biggest one in my life is my writing. While it doesn't pay my bills at this point, it is important to who I am and has been since I was six years old. It's part of me to keep telling stories.

And while it's important to balance life experiences (to have something to write about), we also need to make time for what it is that makes us happiest, that makes us feel like who we are supposed to be. That's why I've made so much time for my writing especially over the past two years. After the wedding and honeymoon are over, I also have vowed to myself to spend more time painting and working other art projects. While I have done a better job of that, I know there are places in my life where I could give up time that would be better spent painting (looking at my phone is one of them).

I see marrying Greg Saturday as us taking a new road together, one where we are helping each other be who we're supposed to be and from that day forward I'm vowing to be true to myself, to be not just the person I've always wanted to be but in knowing that I'm the person my sister and my parents always supported me to be.

Being Passed To Be Pushed

There is an extremely competitive side to me that has never died.

I hate to be passed when I'm out running in the morning. I don't care who you are– you could be an Olympic marathoner and it still bothers me. But as I wrote on Monday, I've gotten much slower over the years. In fact I didn't realize how slow until I got passed and then I put a watch on my run.

But several years ago, when I was back living in Illinois, I got passed and it was the first time I realized there was a reason it was happening.

I wanted to run faster and this man passed me to push me. Of course he didn't know this but after all, how else was I going to run faster in all my current laziness? (I know some people don't believe there is a lazy side of me but I believe there is because I don't push myself running as I used to). 

When I got passed twice last week– not one day but two!– I realized I did need to use that as motivation to go faster. 

So first I got the watch out to start timing myself again. And then I planned to leave a few minutes earlier since this man was running by me about the same time those two mornings. 

However, on Monday when I went to step out the front door, I realized my Nano that plays my music was almost dead. I plugged it in and emptied a few dishes from the dishwasher, giving it a chance to charge. It was back in the green and I set out, but knowing it was the same time I left that this man was going to come by me.

I had two reasons to push myself: I didn't want to be passed and I had to run as fast as I could before the Nano died because the green quickly went back to red. Now these might seem like silly reasons to run fast but you know what?

They worked.

It wasn't easy but I ran a decent time and I pushed myself the whole way. And on Tuesday? I did it again. I found I felt better and I was excited to have accomplished something that had alluded me for a long time.

Sometimes when we can't find it in ourselves to push or accomplish something, we have to find the means from outside sources. For me it was the mere fact that someone ran by me that has set me back in the right direction.