Do I have anything groundbreaking, stupidly dramatic, or freshly devastating to discuss since last week? NO. What a nice fucking change!

November has been, for the majority of the time, pretty even keel. Which is a much appreciated change from *gestures at recent and extended history*. Chores are slowly getting done. Progress is getting made at longer term projects, seeds are sown (literally. Not figuratively.), and sleep has been deep and dreamless, for the most part. Time has been pretty solitary though. Which is okay until it’s not, you know?

That all had been fine, being mostly alone with my thoughts aside from the parenting bits, but then it hit me suddenly on Friday that if I didn’t GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE AND TALK TO ANOTHER ADULT RIGHT NOW I WAS GONNA SCREAM while I was watering plants. Luckily I have a close friend who lives right around the corner who let me come over and hangout for a couple of hours on 5 minutes notice and that solved it.

Past me woulda found some way to blame myself for it- whereas current me can go: Hey look at you, you felt something wrong, identified what would help, and then did that thing! That’s a win right there, buddy! Which that… that feels pretty good to now be fairly adept at- the whole being nice to me thing. It was hard won, I’ll tell you that.

Anyway, it isn’t always so easily solved, but at least it isn’t a constant these days, those uncomfortable lonely/homeless feelings. These days peace predominates, and that’s okay. I feel pretty grounded. For a long time there in grief I was pushing against it all to get through the discomfort and drifting and not knowing what I was working towards… and I chafed under that. What was all this rest for- that I was being told that I needed by my therapist and books and tarot cards? What was I resting up for? What did it serve? How to survive a day when I don’t know what tomorrow holds… it was all very much uncomfortable.

But then, through making myself do it anyway, even if I didn’t know the “why”… I did get better at it. And I guess what “it” was was being in the moment, whatever that particular moment was. And all that time I just dug in the dirt and gardened and worked to just be in it with my healing… it did kinda make sense one day. It was the nebulous concept of this: I don’t tend the garden, I tend the soil. And the garden grows.

And so kicked off the months of tending to the environment I surrounded myself in: physically as in the house and bedroom and bedding, but also my own physical health, and spiritual/mental environment with a ton more writing and journaling and meditation… and lo and behold. Look at the garden that grew, you know- if you’ll forgive me the analogy? My eyes kinda turned back on and I can smile more freely, fun is easier to find, and I feel rested in a way I don’t think I have been in a long time. And sure, as I mentioned above, some days are still hard and it isn’t all perfect… but goddamn. The hard days are not the default setting anymore. And they come, sure. But the important part here is that they also GO, now.

This, THIS is what all that rest was for, after all. All that stillness and drawing in and not pushing too hard (at least when I could manage it)… finally the harvest has come in, you know? And just like the garden or a crop, the fields will be bare again, but the spring will follow. The cycle of all of this is becoming clearer to me. That bad times are seasons, and that seasons pass is a lesson that feels like it should be shouted from a rooftop or something.

I was thinking about it the other day- while I was potting up violas, actually, and thought about it like that and thought: damn, like that was my season of sorrow, and I do think the season has turned. This current season is still so full of love and connection to Lucas and grief and all of that. But it isn’t the season of sorrow, that started in May of 2024, anymore. What is is a season of… I don’t know. I guess I will find out.

(said deep thought violas)

But it (and I) are different. This is different, now- and I know for a fact it isn’t too early to say that. And I am okay that it is different. My sorrow needed to be honored and experienced- I blame it for nothing- but I don’t cling to it either. It wasn’t holy or precious and I know that because there was no peace to be found in its depths. But it did have to be waded through. I don’t blame the sorrow for being sorrow, if that makes sense.

Anyway. ANYWAY. The analogy is probably already too much. But lately it’s all been really transformative in a way that feels just shy of alchemy.

And just because there are truly no unique thoughts under the sun- this popped up the other day for me on Instagram and I went: THAT’S EXACTLY IT HOLY SHIT.

So like. That’s nice. Maybe I’ll get one of those small bottles of champagne and have a glass in the back garden. I do feel like its been earned.

It was some of the hardest work I’ve ever done in my life.

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Speaking of the plants/garden.

Please know that big “haunted house” looking pecan tree in the back there is in the neighbors yard and not long for this world. But the fall garden is green and lush and I’ve almost caught up on the weeding.

All of my bougainvilleas are orange and slightly different shades and this makes me very happy. Lucas gave me two of these. They are very treasured.

Cactus are stunted by hard times and so similar to tree rings you can read their history written for all to see by the way they grow. This has happened to my miniature column cactus.

The Universe has a really fucked up sense of humor sometimes, that this is how the loss in my household got recorded. I guaran-fucking-tee it makes the ghost husband laugh though, so I just roll my eyes about it.

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My phone put this mashup together and while I JUST shared it last week I have to share this again in a slightly different way:

Baby French Fry and Grown Man French Fry haven’t changed much:

(Do I care about putting unflattering pics out here publicly? No- I am made to be more than decorative in this world, why would I possibly care?)

But when you combine those pics with these from this week with Asher- it does make me wonder if maybe my soul isn’t at play here with how much these tiny house panthers love smoshing their little apple sized skulls against mine… and more if I should check if my moisturizer has catnip in it?

I’m not going to look at the ingredient list because I don’t want to know.

There are many good things to be found in the world- most (but not all) of them are cats.

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And some meme and quotes… in the same vein to create a through line to the whole thing.

I’ll take it- and do so with true and raw gratitude for my life. And my love sustains me. Still.

Till next time.