Ah, so it has been awhile since my last post. But, that is the past and I've been hit by inspiration and a push to share words with the interwebs again. I cannot promise you how often I will share, but I can say that I feel like I have a lot of energy to send back out into the infinite abyss. If you choose to read the words here, I feel honored that you spent your time with me. And, with that, we shall move on.
It has been nearly six years since my father died and today I finally had the courage to open up his tackle box. The old, sun bleached tan plastic has served its time on many boats and creek banks. It is most likely older than I am and since my father died, I could not bear to open it. It was just another hurtful reminder of time and memories we had spent together.
Anyone who has suffered a loss, knows that the process to heal is very much on its own time schedule. This is probably the thing that frustrates me the most about healing. I am not a patient person, and I do not ever want others to see if I am hurting, so I rush through the stages of healing and pronounce myself fit and whole. I realize how much I'm cheating myself by doing this, but my pride often refuses to have it any other way.
On my way home today, my mind wandered to thoughts of my Dad. I passed a large creek on my drive and it was as if he had rested his large hand on my shoulder and whispered " Julie, do you remember..."
And, I did.
I remembered when he would take me to Mallory Run for the first day of junior fishing when I wasn't even in double digits. All the parents and kids would line the banks of the little creek as colorful bobbers swam in the slowly moving creek, making it look like it was full of Easter eggs. I would hover over him, watching as he carefully baited the hook of my fishing pole. He always smelled of crisp air and Newport Light Kings. I would watch him intently as he explained how to cast off the line, with the florescent pink bobber tied to it. He had scrolled the letter J in Sharpie on the bobber so I wouldn't get it confused with any others taking a dip in the water.
So, when I got home today, I knew it was time, the universe was pushing me to heal a little more, to remember, to cry and honor those memories. I wandered down to the basement and pulled the heavy plastic tackle box off the shelf. Sitting down on the cold concrete floor, I flipped the metal fasteners on each side, and pulled the box apart at the center to let the trays flip up.
I was met with a rush of memories as I looked in the box. It was full of brightly colored lures of every kind, spare hooks, a spool of fishing line, and baggies of zip ties with GTE printed on the outside of the yellowing plastic. My father had worked for this company until he retired... in 1999. (He must have raided the zip tie closet before he left!)
And, my heart stopped when I saw the little pink bobber, with a "J." in the corner of the box.
As I sorted through the rest of the odds and ends, I felt myself heal a little bit, felt my heart smile and my soul warm.
My message is this: Allow your self to heal at the pace you need. Do not rush yourself. Enjoy memories.Cry in happiness. Cry in sorrow. This is how you heal yourself; you let yourself feel. Open your heart center to all that is there, and when a memory hits you out of nowhere and steals your breath, stop for a moment and let it settle in your soul.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Sunday, November 6, 2011
It's almost Thanksgiving...
My father passed away a little more than three years ago. As fall comes to an end, it always makes me think of him since we always spent Thanksgiving together.
This is the time of year when random memories tend to hit me. For example, the other day I was watching Dirty Dancing and about half way through I remembered how much he loved that movie. Yes, it was true, my Marine, tough as nails, salt of the earth father, really loved the movie Dirty Dancing. His favorite part was when Patrick Swayze rescues Baby from the corner and then they have their little dance scene.
It came out when I was about seven years old and I remember him telling me to "Cover your eyes!" during the "dirty" parts.. Now, as an adult, I'm not sure there were any really dirty parts, they were just a little embarrassing for my very conservative father to watch with his young daughter.
I've decided that as these memories come to me, I'm going to blog about them. I'm typically very closed when it comes to the subject of my father. But, I figure this is a good way to remember him. It's also a challenge for me as writer to put something down on a subject I keep so close to the vest.
For many years my father and I fought terribly; Especially after he and my mother divorced, but as we both grew and learned to respect each other I forgave my father, and I hope he forgave me, and we learned to be friends. I also realized that the reason we most likely fought for all those years is that we are very similar. It wasn't until the last few years he was alive that I really learned who he was and I often feel like he only left me with small snippets of himself. He was a quiet guy, but his heart was big and he was always trying to give something to somebody or help a person.
I remember after snowstorms, or sometimes during them, my father would load me in the truck and we would go out on back roads purposefully looking for people to pull out of ditches. He would never take money, and he never left his name. It was just the good deed that he liked to do, because he could.
My heart still aches when I think of him, and I am pretty sure that it always will. But, it still makes me smile when I catch myself thinking of memories that we had together.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Sometimes it all comes together...it just takes a while.
I've had Rose for nearly four years. She is the first horse I have ever "owned" on my own. Yes, I've had horses most of my life, but I've always worked with those horses for other people or my mother and I have shared the horses we have owned as a family. I liken it to the family dog. You know, the dog belongs to the entire family. That's what it was like with the horses.
But, Rose - she is mine. Nobody else had a say when I purchased her. In fact, I remember telling a few people I was thinking of buying a draft mare and for various reasons they tried to talk me out of purchasing her. But, she had won my heart from the very moment we met. It was the way she looked at me, with big brown expressive eyes. Her eyes said everything. She was kind. She had a large heart. She had spirit.(She tried to buck me off the first time I rode her!) She was beautiful, and she knew it.
Our relationship has grown over the years and I hope that we have learned from each other, because I know that she has taught me far more than any other horse has in my life. But, I also know her better that I know myself. We are in this journey together, and while the path has had some bumps in it, they were all learning experiences. I like to think that I am a better horsewoman and she is a better horse every time we work together.
Today, as we were working in the round pen, I asked her to move out into a canter, and she caught her hoof on the outside board of the pen. She fell to her knees, but quickly got up and promptly came trotting to me in the center of the pen. It was like a child that had just fallen off it's bike and running to it's mother.
You could see the worry all over my poor mare's face. She thought the "tiger" had surely made her trip over her own feet and they were still after her. While I was concerned for her, it made my heart burst with love that this big, strong mare came to me for safety and reassurance - as if I could just hold her in my lap and comfort her like an 1,800 pound lap dog.
So, I scratched her belly and cooed to her and then sent her back out to work in the round pen to deal with the "tigers" and work around me. She soon forgot all about the tigers, since I (her fearless leader) re-assured her that they were gone.
Sometimes it all comes together- it just takes a while. I often felt on our journey together that Rosie and I could have gone different directions, but with a little patience, forgiveness, and firm direction we have proven to each other that we are more than just horse and owner. We are a team.
As a side note, the music today is chosen because my very first horse was named after this song by America. Yes, his name was Magic. He was the horse that started it all when I was seven. And, I still have a photo of him and me in my office at work. America - Magic
But, Rose - she is mine. Nobody else had a say when I purchased her. In fact, I remember telling a few people I was thinking of buying a draft mare and for various reasons they tried to talk me out of purchasing her. But, she had won my heart from the very moment we met. It was the way she looked at me, with big brown expressive eyes. Her eyes said everything. She was kind. She had a large heart. She had spirit.(She tried to buck me off the first time I rode her!) She was beautiful, and she knew it.
Our relationship has grown over the years and I hope that we have learned from each other, because I know that she has taught me far more than any other horse has in my life. But, I also know her better that I know myself. We are in this journey together, and while the path has had some bumps in it, they were all learning experiences. I like to think that I am a better horsewoman and she is a better horse every time we work together.
Today, as we were working in the round pen, I asked her to move out into a canter, and she caught her hoof on the outside board of the pen. She fell to her knees, but quickly got up and promptly came trotting to me in the center of the pen. It was like a child that had just fallen off it's bike and running to it's mother.
You could see the worry all over my poor mare's face. She thought the "tiger" had surely made her trip over her own feet and they were still after her. While I was concerned for her, it made my heart burst with love that this big, strong mare came to me for safety and reassurance - as if I could just hold her in my lap and comfort her like an 1,800 pound lap dog.
So, I scratched her belly and cooed to her and then sent her back out to work in the round pen to deal with the "tigers" and work around me. She soon forgot all about the tigers, since I (her fearless leader) re-assured her that they were gone.
Sometimes it all comes together- it just takes a while. I often felt on our journey together that Rosie and I could have gone different directions, but with a little patience, forgiveness, and firm direction we have proven to each other that we are more than just horse and owner. We are a team.
As a side note, the music today is chosen because my very first horse was named after this song by America. Yes, his name was Magic. He was the horse that started it all when I was seven. And, I still have a photo of him and me in my office at work. America - Magic
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Confessions: 11 secrets you never knew about J. Massing
Alright, so we all have deep, dark secrets. We do. It's part of our make-up. I'm in a sharing mood, so I will share 11 of the things, that many of you probably don't know about me. Feel free to comment (nicely!) or add your own.
1. I dream in color.
2. I can (and have) spent the entire day in my pajamas and don't feel bad about it when I do. I rather enjoy being lazy and sometimes I even have a bottle of wine on these days, too.
3. I have terrible anxiety issues.
4. I have road rage.
5. Despite my tomboy streak, I really do like being a girly-girl sometimes and have warmed up to the color pink. Sometimes, I even wear it!
6. I worry about money constantly, despite being on solid financial footing. I think my husband may start calling me Scrooge McDuck.
7. I can eat an entire large pizza if I was: a.) hungry enough. b.) really wanted to. Yes, I have done it.
8. I love going to the movies by myself. Who doesn't like to take themselves out on a date?
9. I really relish getting older. I feel more comfortable with myself, I like my grey hair and finally feel settled in my life. Getting older is pretty cool.
10. Sometimes when I try something on at home, and don't feel like refolding, I just throw it back in the laundry pile, especially when it's Dan's week to do the laundry.
11. I am terrified to have children. I really want to have children, well "child," but even the thought of it paralyzes me. I'm supposed to be responsible for a human? Check back in a couple years, maybe I will be ready then.
Eddie Vedder -Hard Sun
1. I dream in color.
2. I can (and have) spent the entire day in my pajamas and don't feel bad about it when I do. I rather enjoy being lazy and sometimes I even have a bottle of wine on these days, too.
3. I have terrible anxiety issues.
4. I have road rage.
5. Despite my tomboy streak, I really do like being a girly-girl sometimes and have warmed up to the color pink. Sometimes, I even wear it!
6. I worry about money constantly, despite being on solid financial footing. I think my husband may start calling me Scrooge McDuck.
7. I can eat an entire large pizza if I was: a.) hungry enough. b.) really wanted to. Yes, I have done it.
8. I love going to the movies by myself. Who doesn't like to take themselves out on a date?
9. I really relish getting older. I feel more comfortable with myself, I like my grey hair and finally feel settled in my life. Getting older is pretty cool.
10. Sometimes when I try something on at home, and don't feel like refolding, I just throw it back in the laundry pile, especially when it's Dan's week to do the laundry.
11. I am terrified to have children. I really want to have children, well "child," but even the thought of it paralyzes me. I'm supposed to be responsible for a human? Check back in a couple years, maybe I will be ready then.
Eddie Vedder -Hard Sun
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
A wee bit homesick...
I've been out of the nest for a while. Granted, I had a bit of a false start when I left for about two years after undergrad, I then decided the world was just too tough and went back to live at home to go to grad school. In my defense, I've long since moved back out, am married and have recently purchased a home of my own.
But, I was driving home tonight listening to some Paul McCartney and was struck by how homesick I really was. I haven't been home since April and I could feel the universe tugging at me to jump in the car and make the six hour trek back to the Boro.
Aside from the Paul McCartney, which my mom and I always listen to back home, I'm not sure what triggered such a pang to head back home. Maybe it was the fact Homecoming was last weekend and I saw all my friends posting pictures of Homecoming festivities, or how Fall always makes me think of riding horses with my mom like we used to when I was young. Whatever it was, I couldn't ignore it.
My parents/parent have had the same house since I was about two, so as you can imagine I have a lot of memories there. In fact, after my father died (Note: my parents divorced when I was 16 and my father moved to WV.) it was not his house in WV that was painful to be at, but the one in Edinboro. That was the house I grew up in with my father. I helped him build the addition on the garage, we hunted bunnies in the field surrounding the house, he taught me to ride a two wheeler there and where he caught me sneaking in after curfew.
But, I digress.
My point is while I moved out of my house years ago, and it is no longer "my" house I still miss home. I think we all do, no matter how many years ago we left the nest. And, you're never too old to go home. So, when the universe pulls you there, you should go.
John Denver - Country Roads
But, I was driving home tonight listening to some Paul McCartney and was struck by how homesick I really was. I haven't been home since April and I could feel the universe tugging at me to jump in the car and make the six hour trek back to the Boro.
Aside from the Paul McCartney, which my mom and I always listen to back home, I'm not sure what triggered such a pang to head back home. Maybe it was the fact Homecoming was last weekend and I saw all my friends posting pictures of Homecoming festivities, or how Fall always makes me think of riding horses with my mom like we used to when I was young. Whatever it was, I couldn't ignore it.
My parents/parent have had the same house since I was about two, so as you can imagine I have a lot of memories there. In fact, after my father died (Note: my parents divorced when I was 16 and my father moved to WV.) it was not his house in WV that was painful to be at, but the one in Edinboro. That was the house I grew up in with my father. I helped him build the addition on the garage, we hunted bunnies in the field surrounding the house, he taught me to ride a two wheeler there and where he caught me sneaking in after curfew.
But, I digress.
My point is while I moved out of my house years ago, and it is no longer "my" house I still miss home. I think we all do, no matter how many years ago we left the nest. And, you're never too old to go home. So, when the universe pulls you there, you should go.
John Denver - Country Roads
Sunday, October 9, 2011
What happened to Thanksgiving?
I was recently at a chain restaurant that has a gift shop attached and was appalled to see it decorated for ..CHRISTMAS! I'm not talking a small section with a few holiday do-dads, or a Christmas tree with some ornaments. I am talking 3/4 of the store decked out in Christmas splendor.
It's only the 2nd week in October! What the heck happened to Halloween and Thanksgiving? I love Thanksgiving. In fact, it is my favorite holiday. It is a fat kid's dream! It's a holiday based around giving thanks, and to show the thanks we EAT EAT EAT! I'm OK with that.
Not only that, but Thanksgiving has deep historical roots that go back to the infancy of our country.
Here is a link to history.com with videos about Thanksgiving, the Mayflower, pilgrims, etc.
I know the skipping of Thanksgiving and the harvest season is largely due to retailers not being able to capitalize as much on this holiday, which is so sad.
So, I hope you don't skip Thanksgiving. I hope you teach your children all of the historical background that goes with the holiday. I hope when you are carving pumpkins you take that opportunity to reflect on the beginnings of our great country.
But, most of all, I hope you just enjoy the time of this season, the beautiful colors, the perfect weather, the celebrations with family, it is all too great to wish away.
And, the day after Thanksgiving, you will find me putting up my Christmas tree.
The Muppet Show- Taylor the Turkey
It's only the 2nd week in October! What the heck happened to Halloween and Thanksgiving? I love Thanksgiving. In fact, it is my favorite holiday. It is a fat kid's dream! It's a holiday based around giving thanks, and to show the thanks we EAT EAT EAT! I'm OK with that.
Not only that, but Thanksgiving has deep historical roots that go back to the infancy of our country.
Here is a link to history.com with videos about Thanksgiving, the Mayflower, pilgrims, etc.
I know the skipping of Thanksgiving and the harvest season is largely due to retailers not being able to capitalize as much on this holiday, which is so sad.
So, I hope you don't skip Thanksgiving. I hope you teach your children all of the historical background that goes with the holiday. I hope when you are carving pumpkins you take that opportunity to reflect on the beginnings of our great country.
But, most of all, I hope you just enjoy the time of this season, the beautiful colors, the perfect weather, the celebrations with family, it is all too great to wish away.
And, the day after Thanksgiving, you will find me putting up my Christmas tree.
The Muppet Show- Taylor the Turkey
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
I can't sleep..
I've never been a good sleeper. My mom said that when I was a baby, she kept waiting for me to sleep through the night and it never happened. She said I was never fussy or angry about being awake in the middle of the night, and that most of the time I would just lie there contentedly.
I hate to tell her that the same is true today. I love to sleep. In fact, there is a rule in our house that when I am sleeping that you do not wake me up, or else you will be certain to suffer the wrath of Mean Julie. But, alas, I have not slept a full eight hours, ever.
It doesn't help that I have hearing like a bat and any if the neighbor two houses down on Dartmouth Drive sneezes, I will indeed hear it and sit bolt upright in bed. And my dear, sweet husband snores like a freight train, although this is much better since he lost about 40 pounds recently. So, I enlisted the help of some earplugs. Those are a wonderful invention!
I've asked my doc about this several times and he gives me the same blah blah.. wound to tight.. blah blah.. bedtime routine... Whatever. I've tried the routine and it doesn't work and I've tried Melatonin, and that just makes me a zombie for the rest of the next day.
But there is something very soothing for me to be pattering around the house at God's hours. Sometimes I go and sit on my back deck and listen to the world make all of it's beautiful noises around me. I'll even confess to waking up in a panic about my horse and going out there at 2:00 a.m. just to check on her. Most of the time I find her grazing or sleeping soundly. Happy to see me, of course, but confused by my sudden appearance. I'll also do some cleaning, or if I know that I can try to catch a nap the next day, I'll stay up just to watch the sunrise.
And, it's not that I can't sleep, I just can't seem to stay asleep. Something inside of me jolts me awake at odd hours. My father was like this, too. And, like him I have an internal alarm clock, and I've been told both he and my grandfather never set an alarm. I have the alarm next to my bed set every morning for 5:30 a.m., but I am always awake by 4:45 a.m.
I guess I have inherited this internal alarm clock, only I wish that I could set it to give me a good solid eight hours of sleep and not go off at random times.
"Muhammed my Friend " -Tori Amos with Maynard James Keenan (Tool)
I hate to tell her that the same is true today. I love to sleep. In fact, there is a rule in our house that when I am sleeping that you do not wake me up, or else you will be certain to suffer the wrath of Mean Julie. But, alas, I have not slept a full eight hours, ever.
It doesn't help that I have hearing like a bat and any if the neighbor two houses down on Dartmouth Drive sneezes, I will indeed hear it and sit bolt upright in bed. And my dear, sweet husband snores like a freight train, although this is much better since he lost about 40 pounds recently. So, I enlisted the help of some earplugs. Those are a wonderful invention!
I've asked my doc about this several times and he gives me the same blah blah.. wound to tight.. blah blah.. bedtime routine... Whatever. I've tried the routine and it doesn't work and I've tried Melatonin, and that just makes me a zombie for the rest of the next day.
But there is something very soothing for me to be pattering around the house at God's hours. Sometimes I go and sit on my back deck and listen to the world make all of it's beautiful noises around me. I'll even confess to waking up in a panic about my horse and going out there at 2:00 a.m. just to check on her. Most of the time I find her grazing or sleeping soundly. Happy to see me, of course, but confused by my sudden appearance. I'll also do some cleaning, or if I know that I can try to catch a nap the next day, I'll stay up just to watch the sunrise.
And, it's not that I can't sleep, I just can't seem to stay asleep. Something inside of me jolts me awake at odd hours. My father was like this, too. And, like him I have an internal alarm clock, and I've been told both he and my grandfather never set an alarm. I have the alarm next to my bed set every morning for 5:30 a.m., but I am always awake by 4:45 a.m.
I guess I have inherited this internal alarm clock, only I wish that I could set it to give me a good solid eight hours of sleep and not go off at random times.
"Muhammed my Friend " -Tori Amos with Maynard James Keenan (Tool)
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