6:58am 2.76 miles 29:16 10:36 pace 75 degrees
Up at 5:30 this morning. Time to think while waiting for the sun to rise and then time to think while running. It’s been over a month since I returned from (so far) the trip of my lifetime – for many reasons. Since returning to Houston, I’ve hardly stopped to breathe. Until now. I don’t want to let this trip pass without taking the time to chronicle. My Blog is my diary.
Dear Diary,
My London trip changed my life. You know that. I’ll never forget parts of it but I’m afraid I might forget others. Please save this for me. Thanks, M
Nonstop from Houston to Heathrow on British Airways: Movies and television all the way. Meal service. Aisle seat. You bet!
I bought a roundtrip Heathrow Express ticket once I arrived at Heathrow. I’d do it again. What I’d do differently is NOT take a taxi from the train station to my hotel. I now know it’s not necessary but that day I was overcome by the enormity of the train station. I’d just arrived in Europe for the first time and all I wanted to do was get to my hotel.
Hyde Park: My stepping off point. I stayed at the Cumberland Hotel at Marble Arch. It was a great place to catch the Underground or a bus. Twice, I took long walks through the park. There are great walkways and bike paths. That first afternoon I had a strong desire to be outside and explore but felt disoriented. Give me a park and I’m usually ok. I walked to the Serpentine Café, bought a muffin and a cup of coffee and sat shivering in the cold and damp London weather. Smiling.
There was a Prêt a Manger on the corner, just steps from my hotel. The first full day I was in London, I decided that shop would be my way of surviving monetarily while I was on vacation. It worked pretty well for me. I had yogurt and fruit for breakfast, enjoyed tea and a light “something” at whatever museum I hit in the afternoon, and ate a reasonable dinner.
I purchased an Oyster Card for the week. It didn’t take long for me to figure out the Underground system. A couple of times I got off at a station in error and when I did, I just jumped back on a different train or took time to study the map. My biggest goof was thinking I’d take pictures of an “English Garden” at Covent Garden. Imagine London’s version of Bourbon Street in New Orleans. The worst part of my getting off at that stop wasn’t that there wasn’t a garden but that the tube exits consisted of four cramped elevators that took FOR.EV.ER to get to street level.
I fell in love with all the variety at the tube stations. Each had its own personality. The unifying factor was that all had gum stuck to advertising posters. Movie stars’ nostrils in each station sprouted chewed juicy fruit. When I saw one without chewing gum, it looked somehow naked.
The first time I ventured out was to the Victoria and Albert Museum. Oh -the furniture, the fashion. And my first introduction to afternoon tea. It became something I indulged in daily and I continue to do so now.
The Saturday I was there, I made the most of a sunny day. I walked around St. James Cathedral and then over the Millennium Bridge to Tate Modern. Before entering the museum, I veered left and walked through the Borough Market where I found a delicious curry vegetarian wrap and spent some time visiting with the woman who ran the stall, cooking such delicious food. I walked back to the museum and took time to wander through the collection.
May 29 was a bank holiday. I went to Buckingham Palace and waited for the changing of the guard that never happened. Luckily there was also a 10K race that day and I stood at the finish line. I was able to see Mo Farah win the race. I also watched some crazy guy at the start take off in a full suit of armor. He wasn’t 1 mile in when Mr. Farah finished.
One day I stumbled upon a rehearsal of the London Symphony at Trafalgar Square. I sat outside and soaked up the sunshine and the tunes. I didn’t feed the pigeons.
My first stop at the National Gallery was unplanned and unprepared. I stopped in one afternoon after what felt like hours of walking…kind of sort of lost. I wandered around for about 30 minutes and decided I had to come back with plans to spend more time. I’m so glad I did. My second trip gave me the opportunity to luxuriate in the expanse of centuries of visual splendor. A bonus was the Michael Landy exhibit “Saints Alive”. It was a simultaneously fascinating and disturbing take on religious legends. At the National Gallery, I found Rembrandt, Vermeer, and Caravaggio. I sought out Seurat and Pissarro. I wandered into a small room, a cavern of darkness, and came face to face with a da Vinci. There were no signs to point me to it. Nobody nudged me toward this thing of beauty. It was purely by accident that I found it. Stunning. And enough of a surprise to shock me out of my blissful ignorance and force me into picking up a guide at the entrance to the National Portrait Gallery, my next stop.
I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I have a fascination with many things Tudor. King Henry VIII, his wives, his court, etc. Especially after spending a week in London, I was anxious to put faces to my imagination. There is so much history on the walls of the National Portrait Gallery. Not only is royalty a big part of it, icons of literature, science, mathematics, exploration, and popular culture are all personified. Another bonus exhibit: George Catlin’s American Indian Portraits was showing. I’ve heard about them for so many years. I’ve seen pictures of them in books. Seeing them in person was a thrill. The depth and colors were amazing.
Tours: I took a tour arranged with the help of the hotel concierge. I went to Bath and to Stonehenge. Bath is a lovely little town and I wish I’d seen more of it than the tourism portion. I can now say I’ve seen flying buttresses. The roman baths were quasi-interesting. Being out of the city of London was nice for a day. I also wish I’d taken a smaller tour (like a mini-bus) instead of a big ol’ tour bus. Being a single, I was stuck in the middle back seat and it wasn’t easy to see out of the windows. Next time I’ll know better. I ate at Jamie Oliver’s Italian restaurant but before I could eat, an elderly woman fell and likely fractured her arm. I did a little first aid there in the restaurant. She and her husband were very sweet. I found out how emergency medicine works (in that city anyway). The restaurant called her a taxi and they fixed the old guy a panini while they waited. Everybody seemed happy. Go figure. Oh, my meal? Wild rabbit, fresh pasta and lemon mascarpone. And a glass of red wine. And then I was happy.
From Bath it was back on the bus and on to Stonehenge. Worth the trip. Absolutely. There were hundreds of people there and it was the quietest place I’ve ever seen. To say mystery is to understate dramatically. Go. Well, go if you’re into quiet and meditation and wonder. Otherwise, probably skip it.
The Tower of London: I arrived early and was one of the first people in line for an admission ticket. This was one of the only places I had to pay for a restroom (also Victoria Coach Station). It pays to keep a few coins on hand. I was only planning to stay a couple of hours at the Tower. I was there for six. So much of the history I’ve loved to read and study is tangled up in the Tower. The crowds grew as the day wore on. It was raining that day. The Beefeater Tours don’t let you hold up umbrellas on their tours. Yeah, pretty wet by the end of the day.
Theatre: I bought my tickets online at seetickets.com. Worked like a charm. My seat for “Book of Mormon” at the Prince of Wales Theatre was in the upper balcony and was perfectly fine. The show was hilarious and filthy. I laughed until I cried. The theatre was beautiful. For “Once” at the Phoenix Theatre, I sat in the sixth row. I’d been given a tip to go onstage prior to the show and purchase a drink. I’m so glad I did. The musicians were fantastic. The show was fantastic. It was…fantastic. The main difference I found between London theatre and New York theatre was that I didn’t have to arrive nearly as early in London as New York. Taking the Underground made arriving so much easier than dealing with New York traffic.
And one more thing. My last night I met new friends by way of old friends. We had a wonderful dinner then went back to their flat for champagne. I was made to feel welcome. It was so very lovely. It was the perfect ending to a perfect week.
Did I forget something? Maybe. It’s been over a month since I returned from this trip of a lifetime. I set out to explore on my own. I’m writing this more for me than for you. It seems a lifetime of events have happened since I returned and I didn’t want to forget THAT while I deal with THIS. I hope this makes sense. I owe it to myself to remember how much I enjoyed this trip and that I shouldn’t wait decades to take another. The question is, to where?
©Michelle Scofield, July 13, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Like Rain
8:30am 81 degrees 3.02 miles 35:36 11:48 pace
Back to Hermann Park this morning. To say I'm happy with this move is such an understatement but I'll say it again. I'm happy.
Last night I met up with friends for a free concert at Miller Outdoor Theatre. We sat on our blankets and enjoyed the music of the band War. (A little research tells me that there have been a few disputes about who is War and what constitutes a band when the original members aren't still playing, etc, etc...) Anyway...they still sounded like the War I remember as a kid. And I mean as a kid, like 12.
Above all else, I am a fan of funk.
Laying on that blanket last night, the haze and smog of the city blocking out all but the most stubborn of stars, I was taken back to Riverside Park in Wichita, Kansas. I can remember seeing big gatherings taking place. Some families seemed to have all the fun. There were lots of kids running around, several picnic tables pulled together, and music. LOUD music. It was like a magnet. And I was always physically pulled in a wide arc away from those gatherings. Big crowds at Riverside Park in the late 60's could turn dangerous very quickly. At least that was what I was told. But that music...
And the bowling alley. Crestview Lanes had a grill that wasn't a restaurant, it was a bar. My mom was assistant manager at Crestview. She was also a single mom. Where do you think I spent many Friday and Saturday nights? The music floated out of the grill onto the lanes and I practiced more than one dance move with other kids who had parents who seemed to live at the bowling alley.
My earliest 8-track and vinyl collection wasn't sophistocated enough to rebel in the direction I would eventually land. I had a lot of Elton John and Jim Croce. That's what a straight-A, responsible white girl did. She bought what her friends bought. Then I moved across town and...
...I had a completely irresponsible neighbor named Walter. He was a year older than me and he, in turn, had an even wilder, older sister. Neither went to school on a regular basis. Both spent hour upon hour in their basement in a haze of smoke and music. And I loved hanging out at their house. My perception was that their parents had given up any hopes of them graduating and were simply trying to keep them from getting arrested. As long as they were home and not on the streets, anything was okay. These two had all the food, drink, air conditioning, and music they wanted during summers off. Their house was full of long-haired, pot-smoking, peace-loving deadbeats. Peripherally, I was a fascinated hanger-on and they allowed it.
Jimi Hendrix, War, Deep Purple, David Bowie, Rufus, James Brown.
Hours of the stuff.
Last night, thousands of people sat on a hill and the funk fell on us like rain we'd been thirsting for. And we grooved together.
"The World is a Ghetto"
"Cisco Kid"
"Low Rider"
"Why Can't We Be Friends?"
Indeed.
©Michelle Scofield, July 7, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Back to Hermann Park this morning. To say I'm happy with this move is such an understatement but I'll say it again. I'm happy.
Last night I met up with friends for a free concert at Miller Outdoor Theatre. We sat on our blankets and enjoyed the music of the band War. (A little research tells me that there have been a few disputes about who is War and what constitutes a band when the original members aren't still playing, etc, etc...) Anyway...they still sounded like the War I remember as a kid. And I mean as a kid, like 12.
Above all else, I am a fan of funk.
Laying on that blanket last night, the haze and smog of the city blocking out all but the most stubborn of stars, I was taken back to Riverside Park in Wichita, Kansas. I can remember seeing big gatherings taking place. Some families seemed to have all the fun. There were lots of kids running around, several picnic tables pulled together, and music. LOUD music. It was like a magnet. And I was always physically pulled in a wide arc away from those gatherings. Big crowds at Riverside Park in the late 60's could turn dangerous very quickly. At least that was what I was told. But that music...
And the bowling alley. Crestview Lanes had a grill that wasn't a restaurant, it was a bar. My mom was assistant manager at Crestview. She was also a single mom. Where do you think I spent many Friday and Saturday nights? The music floated out of the grill onto the lanes and I practiced more than one dance move with other kids who had parents who seemed to live at the bowling alley.
My earliest 8-track and vinyl collection wasn't sophistocated enough to rebel in the direction I would eventually land. I had a lot of Elton John and Jim Croce. That's what a straight-A, responsible white girl did. She bought what her friends bought. Then I moved across town and...
...I had a completely irresponsible neighbor named Walter. He was a year older than me and he, in turn, had an even wilder, older sister. Neither went to school on a regular basis. Both spent hour upon hour in their basement in a haze of smoke and music. And I loved hanging out at their house. My perception was that their parents had given up any hopes of them graduating and were simply trying to keep them from getting arrested. As long as they were home and not on the streets, anything was okay. These two had all the food, drink, air conditioning, and music they wanted during summers off. Their house was full of long-haired, pot-smoking, peace-loving deadbeats. Peripherally, I was a fascinated hanger-on and they allowed it.
Jimi Hendrix, War, Deep Purple, David Bowie, Rufus, James Brown.
Hours of the stuff.
Last night, thousands of people sat on a hill and the funk fell on us like rain we'd been thirsting for. And we grooved together.
"The World is a Ghetto"
"Cisco Kid"
"Low Rider"
"Why Can't We Be Friends?"
Indeed.
©Michelle Scofield, July 7, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, July 6, 2013
The Park
7:45am 82 degrees 3.27 miles 38:25 11:45 pace
No physical pain with my run this morning.
Much to see along the way.
The tiny train wasn't running yet. The zoo isn't open until later this morning. 4 lady geese stood next to the tracks. They seemed to be waiting for a ride.
Just past the fountains, an ancient man in white pants and belted robe silently practiced tai chi sending two massive red fans through swirls and sworls as a chiseled young man sat on a stone bench near him. His head was bowed in what...meditation? anguish? sleep? prayer?
The Park People were rising from their nests. I'm starting to recognize some of them.
I wonder if any of them can achieve real rest out there. In the open. In this heat.
©Michelle Scofield, July 6, 2013 All Rights Reserved
No physical pain with my run this morning.
Much to see along the way.
The tiny train wasn't running yet. The zoo isn't open until later this morning. 4 lady geese stood next to the tracks. They seemed to be waiting for a ride.
Just past the fountains, an ancient man in white pants and belted robe silently practiced tai chi sending two massive red fans through swirls and sworls as a chiseled young man sat on a stone bench near him. His head was bowed in what...meditation? anguish? sleep? prayer?
The Park People were rising from their nests. I'm starting to recognize some of them.
I wonder if any of them can achieve real rest out there. In the open. In this heat.
©Michelle Scofield, July 6, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Choices
7:20am 3.49 miles 38:29 11:02 pace 78degrees
I received no less than 4 email notices for 4th of July races. I saved them for a few weeks but ultimately they were deleted. It would be too hot. I've spent a lot of money lately and I can run for free. I would want to rest on my day off work in the middle of the week. Reason after reason after reason.
I've been running/walking/stair climbing. I ran on the treadmill Tuesday night because it's been too dangerously hot outside to be in the park and my eyes and lungs have been bothered by (I'm guessing?) high ozone levels in Houston. (Possibly by a fire in my neighborhood Tuesday morning. Could be.) Anyway...I picked up some liquid tears and I'm feeling a lot better.
My stress levels were higher than the temperature as I went through American Heart Association Advanced Cardiac Life Support certification this week. It's been several years since I had to memorize heart blocks and cardiac medication doses. I was feeling old and memory-impaired. I was worried. Really, really worried. Without ACLS certification my job would be on the line. (This certification wasn't a requirement when I was hired and I thought ACLS was far behind me.) I passed my course yesterday, stuck my card in my briefcase, drove home, and passed out on my couch for a 2 hour nap. I woke long enough to fix a healthy dinner, watched some trash television and then collapsed in bed and slept through the night.
On waking this morning, I wanted nothing more than to go for a run.
It wasn't too hot and I wasn't too tired.
I didn't miss driving to some crowded venue to fight for a parking spot and standing around on the asphalt - wishing I'd visited the port-a-potty one more time.
I'm enjoying my cup of coffee, half a bagel, and peanut butter.
Happy Independence Day and here's to the freedom to make choices.
©Michelle Scofield, July 4, 2013 All Rights Reserved
I received no less than 4 email notices for 4th of July races. I saved them for a few weeks but ultimately they were deleted. It would be too hot. I've spent a lot of money lately and I can run for free. I would want to rest on my day off work in the middle of the week. Reason after reason after reason.
I've been running/walking/stair climbing. I ran on the treadmill Tuesday night because it's been too dangerously hot outside to be in the park and my eyes and lungs have been bothered by (I'm guessing?) high ozone levels in Houston. (Possibly by a fire in my neighborhood Tuesday morning. Could be.) Anyway...I picked up some liquid tears and I'm feeling a lot better.
My stress levels were higher than the temperature as I went through American Heart Association Advanced Cardiac Life Support certification this week. It's been several years since I had to memorize heart blocks and cardiac medication doses. I was feeling old and memory-impaired. I was worried. Really, really worried. Without ACLS certification my job would be on the line. (This certification wasn't a requirement when I was hired and I thought ACLS was far behind me.) I passed my course yesterday, stuck my card in my briefcase, drove home, and passed out on my couch for a 2 hour nap. I woke long enough to fix a healthy dinner, watched some trash television and then collapsed in bed and slept through the night.
On waking this morning, I wanted nothing more than to go for a run.
It wasn't too hot and I wasn't too tired.
I didn't miss driving to some crowded venue to fight for a parking spot and standing around on the asphalt - wishing I'd visited the port-a-potty one more time.
I'm enjoying my cup of coffee, half a bagel, and peanut butter.
Happy Independence Day and here's to the freedom to make choices.
©Michelle Scofield, July 4, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Dog Days
2.33 mile walk 36:27 15:39 pace 8am 81 degrees
Walked today. Slight heel pain at the start so I didn't push it. The discomfort let up after awhile and now it's gone. I'm thinking it's fibrous scarring at the achilles. (It's shown up on previous MRI.)
MANY dog walkers out there today. Tiny dogs, middle-sized dogs, big dogs, and REALLY BIG dogs. All leashed. All well behaved. All with little doggie smiles. The dogs, that is. The owners? I'd say about half were smiling. It's hot out there!
:)
Happy Sunday!
©Michelle Scofield, June 30, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Walked today. Slight heel pain at the start so I didn't push it. The discomfort let up after awhile and now it's gone. I'm thinking it's fibrous scarring at the achilles. (It's shown up on previous MRI.)
MANY dog walkers out there today. Tiny dogs, middle-sized dogs, big dogs, and REALLY BIG dogs. All leashed. All well behaved. All with little doggie smiles. The dogs, that is. The owners? I'd say about half were smiling. It's hot out there!
:)
Happy Sunday!
©Michelle Scofield, June 30, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Not Yet
2.8 miles 32 m 53s 11:45 pace 7:20am 79 degrees
Every day and every night, I stand on this perch and I note this new bridge. I lived in this neighborhood several years ago and the bridge wasn't there. The bayou trail was an iffy area for me. I never knew just how far I might go before the path would run out or if I'd be able to cross over to Where-I-Want-To-Be.
I tackled the trail a few times but it wasn't fun. I never went as far as I wanted. I always turned back. I never enjoyed it.
I had no sense of distance.
Now I have a Garmin. (Thanks to my wise son who gives me great running advice.)
I was impressively out of shape.
Now I have much improved respiratory stamina. (Thanks to a solid year of training.)
I lived in fear of failure.
Now I have confidence to try new things. (I worked in surgery for years and I've accomplished racing goals.) Oh, I also failed at efforts and I didn't die. Failure, shmailure.
I was afraid of getting lost. Lost. That's my monster under the bed.
Those who know me know well know that I might as well be a 3 year old who's been blindfolded and spun around a few times. My world is one big Pin The Tail on the Donkey Game. Fortunately, I've adapted to living with no internal compass by becoming very good at identifying and knowing my physical relationship to landmarks.
Today I indulged in a quiet and calm Saturday morning jog - no headphones. Hermann Park was already full of others like me. We were attempting to beat the heat. We smiled and greeted each other on our ways. I had plenty of energy as I came around the turn across from the new bridge. I had a decision to make. I could strike out and explore where that path took me. I might add a few miles to my morning. I looked to my left (my current course) and noted the welcoming shade formed by the trees overhanging the soft footpath. To my right was cement and a whole lotta sunlight.
I stuck with the comfort of what's known. I've had enough change lately.
That big, arched bridge beckons. It's good to know it's there. For another time.
©Michelle Scofield, June 29, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Every day and every night, I stand on this perch and I note this new bridge. I lived in this neighborhood several years ago and the bridge wasn't there. The bayou trail was an iffy area for me. I never knew just how far I might go before the path would run out or if I'd be able to cross over to Where-I-Want-To-Be.
I tackled the trail a few times but it wasn't fun. I never went as far as I wanted. I always turned back. I never enjoyed it.
I had no sense of distance.
Now I have a Garmin. (Thanks to my wise son who gives me great running advice.)
I was impressively out of shape.
Now I have much improved respiratory stamina. (Thanks to a solid year of training.)
I lived in fear of failure.
Now I have confidence to try new things. (I worked in surgery for years and I've accomplished racing goals.) Oh, I also failed at efforts and I didn't die. Failure, shmailure.
I was afraid of getting lost. Lost. That's my monster under the bed.
Those who know me know well know that I might as well be a 3 year old who's been blindfolded and spun around a few times. My world is one big Pin The Tail on the Donkey Game. Fortunately, I've adapted to living with no internal compass by becoming very good at identifying and knowing my physical relationship to landmarks.
Today I indulged in a quiet and calm Saturday morning jog - no headphones. Hermann Park was already full of others like me. We were attempting to beat the heat. We smiled and greeted each other on our ways. I had plenty of energy as I came around the turn across from the new bridge. I had a decision to make. I could strike out and explore where that path took me. I might add a few miles to my morning. I looked to my left (my current course) and noted the welcoming shade formed by the trees overhanging the soft footpath. To my right was cement and a whole lotta sunlight.
I stuck with the comfort of what's known. I've had enough change lately.
That big, arched bridge beckons. It's good to know it's there. For another time.
©Michelle Scofield, June 29, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Friday, June 28, 2013
Unknown Origin
I took the afternoon off work to deal with business details that can't be handled on the weekend. I tried to give myself plenty of time to make it home by 1pm and I still ended up sitting on the freeway for over half an hour. Stuck. Sitting in a snarl of traffic of unknown origin. 59 Highway was a crawling tangle for 30 minutes and then simply broke free. Who knows why?
It was idiopathic.
There are so many details involved in a change of residence: utilities to turn off and on, mail to forward, licenses and registrations to keep straight, etceteras to etcetera.
I think it's all taken care of. I plugged away at it while the cable guy did what he needed to do. The microwave guy never showed up. That's ok. I'm managing just fine with conventional culinary creation. For now.
It will resolve when it resolves.
Between my phone calls and his phone calls, the cable guy and I had a nice conversation. He's a hard-working man from Beaumont, TX. We talked a little about a lot. We both agreed that the United States is in a hella mess right now and it would be extra-sweet if people would just respect each other and treat their fellow humans as they'd like to be treated themselves.
Some things can't be negotiated.
My personal possessions have been pared down by about half. It was a huge undertaking. I'm still making daily trips to Goodwill and the attendants at the collection site no longer act surprised when I pull up after work and pop my trunk to drop off a couple boxes.
I think there's a book in here - in this experience.
Who am I kidding? A month and a half ago I was planning a trip to Europe as well as a trip to Oregon. I knew I would be moving back to Houston. Now I'm working through estrangement from my oldest child and I've made a massive adjustment in my lifestyle.
Of course there's a story there.
The problem is...I still don't know what the story is. I've been extremely busy just trying to live - to survive - while the story goes on around me. Those who are closest to me have reached out and literally held me up and supported me while I've trudged through this.
I've done a few things for myself. I've reached out to others in similar situations. I've sought counseling. I've learned that most people keep these events secret. They are embarrassed. They become cloistered and no one knows what happened. No one knows why they changed.
No one knows.
I'm not asking for intervention, or even for help. I just want you to know that it's happened. And, yes. I've changed. But I'm moving through the pain and the slice to the heart.
I'm here. And I'm moving on.
Love, love.
©Michelle Scofield, June 28, 2013 All Rights Reserved
It was idiopathic.
There are so many details involved in a change of residence: utilities to turn off and on, mail to forward, licenses and registrations to keep straight, etceteras to etcetera.
I think it's all taken care of. I plugged away at it while the cable guy did what he needed to do. The microwave guy never showed up. That's ok. I'm managing just fine with conventional culinary creation. For now.
It will resolve when it resolves.
Between my phone calls and his phone calls, the cable guy and I had a nice conversation. He's a hard-working man from Beaumont, TX. We talked a little about a lot. We both agreed that the United States is in a hella mess right now and it would be extra-sweet if people would just respect each other and treat their fellow humans as they'd like to be treated themselves.
Some things can't be negotiated.
My personal possessions have been pared down by about half. It was a huge undertaking. I'm still making daily trips to Goodwill and the attendants at the collection site no longer act surprised when I pull up after work and pop my trunk to drop off a couple boxes.
I think there's a book in here - in this experience.
Who am I kidding? A month and a half ago I was planning a trip to Europe as well as a trip to Oregon. I knew I would be moving back to Houston. Now I'm working through estrangement from my oldest child and I've made a massive adjustment in my lifestyle.
Of course there's a story there.
The problem is...I still don't know what the story is. I've been extremely busy just trying to live - to survive - while the story goes on around me. Those who are closest to me have reached out and literally held me up and supported me while I've trudged through this.
I've done a few things for myself. I've reached out to others in similar situations. I've sought counseling. I've learned that most people keep these events secret. They are embarrassed. They become cloistered and no one knows what happened. No one knows why they changed.
No one knows.
I'm not asking for intervention, or even for help. I just want you to know that it's happened. And, yes. I've changed. But I'm moving through the pain and the slice to the heart.
I'm here. And I'm moving on.
Love, love.
©Michelle Scofield, June 28, 2013 All Rights Reserved
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