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Stories From the Edge of Blindness

In 2002, Retinitis Pigmentosa changed my life. This is my story of a slow approach to darkness.

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Ireland

Sometimes Happiness Holds it’s Breath

I am happy, but unsettled. Monumental life changes during a pandemic are, understandably, wrought with complexities; the thought of holding onto moments of happiness feels somehow criminal, undeserved. Covid has left the world in stasis, and although I am living in a new country, I feel I have only seen glimpses of the town I now call home. Beautiful glimpses, but still…. The virus has stitched a shell over the sun, spread a new brand of silence across the sky. Strangers long for each other in unexplored and unexpected ways. I live my contentment in whispers now, hold joy close to my chest, like a secret. Who am I to have these things, when so much has been lost? I know I am lucky.

Do not confuse feeling unsettled with doubt. I have no doubts about the decision to shed a life that was strangled by heat and the kind of violence only a city can offer up as daily garnish. I have no doubts about trading in that life for one that is awash in green and love and more possibility than I could have imagined. I have no doubts about abandoning the noise and taking the quiet gently into my hands. I am unsettled, but I know I have made the right choice.

For now, I live as if in a dream, on the precipice of daring to imagine that one day I will awaken to the sounds of a new world, one no longer trapped under the thumb of fear . I secretly yearn for the backdrop to reveal itself, to show me who I can become in this new place, or what parts of myself I can rediscover. The mist may have descended for a time, but I finally feel certain that it will clear. This, I now realise, is the nature of hope.

And so, perhaps happiness will hold its breath for just a while longer, wait patiently for me to peel back the layers and look clearly into the eyes of this new life I have forged for myself. I am content in this new longing, in this new waiting. I have already waited lifetimes.

Holding onto the Rain (Part 1)

I have been putting a lot of pressure on myself, feeling like this post should be epic, an explosive expression of my feelings and the unparalleled beauty of this country I now call home. But, the words are pale and fall from my fingertips in stutters. It seems that writing about joy is not in my wheel house; I have connected with the words that accompany tragedy for so long, I sometimes fear that I am only half a writer. But, life is also filled with vibrancy, and I want to write about all the shades of life, not just the dark shades; I hope even a fraction of the colours of my new home come through.

I have learned a lot about silver linings this year, about what is meaningful and what can been seen through the deepest darkness. The year began, for me, with unyielding physical pain that increased with the months, and then the world was thrust into battle with a virus that continues to run rampant. I stopped sleeping, I started eating more cake and drinking more wine. I became unrecognizable. I was quietly turning old before my time.

But, coins have two sides and one of them is always shinier than the other. Despite the pain and the virus and the weight, life long dreams came true. My book, “Things My Mother Left Behind”, was published by Potter’s Grove Press, and Joe and I moved to a place I have dreamed of living my whole life, even though I had never been here. I feel so incredibly lucky, and true to my nature, I also feel guilty for my good fortune. Perhaps I am a coin as well, always moving back and forth between the two sides of my own heart, never still, never in rhythm.

The story of our move begins with what I am more comfortable writing about, with drama, with shadows. It begins with a villain, a human vulture who bought our apartment building in Los Angeles and began to dismantle it the day he signed the deed……….

Into the Center of the Kaleidoscope

To begin with the obvious, this year has been challenging, painful, demoralizing and heartbreaking. It has also been joyful and illuminating, an adventure and a dream come true. Some days, I feel guilty for the good stuff, for feeling true joy as the world breaks into pieces. But, we have to grab onto the good stuff when we can.

For me, this year has been painful, literally, as I have been struggling with frozen shoulder, not sleeping because of the pain, and unable to use my right arm with any regularity. It has been demoralizing and I have spent many nights awake and in tears, but nothing could overshadow the dreams that have blossomed right in front of my eyes.

For as long as I can remember I have dreamed of having a book published. I never imagined I would find someone who wanted to publish my work, who would believe in what I do and put their own time and energy into making my dream a reality. I hope River knows how incredible it is that he has chosen to do this for so many writers who feel lost and uncertain. I will never be able to adequately thank him. He has been an inspiration to me through his writing and his work as publisher extraordinaire. I am so proud to be a part of Potter’s Grove Press. If you want to check out the two readings I did, you can have a peek at my YouTube Channel. If you would like to buy my book, “Things My Mother Left Behind” (Potter’s Grove Press,) you can pick it up on Amazon.

Some other Giant and Joyful news……Joe and I are moving to Ireland, in October. It is another dream come true. I have wanted to live in Ireland since I was a child. It may seem crazy, because I have never been to Ireland, but I always knew it would feel like home. It has been a really painful and trying decade for me and Joe, and this move feels like we are finally getting the chance to step into our life in ways we have long dreamed of. I can’t wait to write my first blog post from Ireland, my first poem, my first story. I can’t wait to feel dreams alive in my eyes and on my tongue. I am ready to fly into the center of the kaleidoscope. Dreams

The Irishman

I don’t often write love poems.  I have written only a handful and they are all about one person. He is a man who has Ireland running through his blood and a heart that beats with a strength and rhythm that makes everyone around him feel safe.  He has faced grief and adversity, but has always persisted, always lived with a true voice and the courage to be exactly who he is.  He is the embodiment of kindness and generosity.  He brings laughter and pure joy into the world around him. He is at once brave and vulnerable, a man who takes care of everyone with gentle patience, and a boy who is delighted in the world of Doctor Who and Batman and video games.  He loves science and technology, isn’t afraid of the future and has a mind for building things.  He is a teacher and a scholar of life.  He is a friend and a strong shoulder to lean on.  He is my husband and my good fortune.  He is my champion, my safe space, my home.

Happy Anniversary My Love!

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