The final final, one chapter ends, another begins…

 And now for the time being, this chapter is closed.

My son-in-law flew back to Reno yesterday, came back to the house, picked up the rest of their belongings, the dog and cat who had stayed, and his girls, my grand daughters, and left by 5am this morning for their final journey to Kentucky. It’s been fun watching them discover this new place and new things. My grandson, Cylus, has called me each morning since his mom setup Messenger Kids on his tablet. The fact that he thinks of me every day right now fills my heart. Knowing it will not always be so brings a tinge of sadness, but any time you are a caretaker for something, unless it’s something perpetually dependent, like a pet, it will eventually get bigger, go away, and it is in those times that you hope you instilled in them the things needed for them to go forth and do well. I know Cylus has a strong heart, and hope he remembers his granny. 💜

After they left Friday, I got a text from our renter and he asked if he could bring his stuff Monday or Tuesday. HOLY SHIT, that means the room has to be habitable by then! We went in to overdrive, and made it happen. I was so sore and worked so hard to get things as presentable as possible!

When my daughter was first moving back in, she was saying the old 70’s colors were coming back. She chose the most hideous baby shit yellow for the bathroom, that was one of the first things that had to go. hahahaha. Here is a picture of what I am calling baby-shit-be-gone!

There’s so much I hadn’t realized we had never done! There’s a built-in linen closet at the far end of the bathroom, and when I started wiping down walls it occurred to me we’d never painted the sheet rock after the old remodel when all that got put in place, when my mom was still alive. She passed away in 2006. Got all that painted, I think it looks nice:

Then, when I looked at the hardwood floors, I realized the carpet glue had never been sanded off the floors. Our friend we paid to help paint the back porch had said he would loan us his orbital sander, so I spent much of the next day and a half sanding the floor. Of course, he hadn’t left the sawdust collection bag, so there was sawdust EVERYWHERE. That required the walls to be wiped down again, glad I hadn’t gotten far with that, then the floor needed to be cleaned in earnest, so a good damp mopping there with Murphy’s oil soap to get the crud off, washing the curtains, making things as presentable as possible. Then we needed to move the bed in there, and a dresser from one of the other rooms. This is what we ended up with:

It’s not perfect, the floors need to be sanded better and be refinished, but hopefully that’s in the cards soon, too. The take-sway is that we did it! Husband helped a lot, he’s been very sweet through all this.

Progress. As much as I lament the separateness of humanity and American culture, I don’t think my daughter and I collectively and/or individually right now are healthy enough to repair a relationship that was built on generations of dysfunction. I hope we get back there, but right now, we are not in that place. I think and hope this will be good for us, ultimately.

Having them back in the house last night made us realize how much we were looking forward to and have been enjoying the PEACE in our household. It’s nothing against them, they are a young family doing young family things. AND, kids are loud, they are messy, and as we get older, I don’t think it’s wrong to value PEACE and QUIET. At some point, and indeed, in the past, that silence was somewhat deafening and I don’t think I was ready yet, to be alone. I am now. I’ve known for awhile I was my own best friend. I think I had a huge amount of my identity wrapped up in being a caretaker. I thought I had avoided some of the traps of my mom, but I think I just found new and interesting ways to be selfless and self-sacrificing to my own fucking detriment. I can honestly say, now, that I am my own best friend. I have enjoyed my own company for a long time, but now I am at peace. I want nothing but the best for them, and I’m ready to put myself first, work on myself, and enjoy life.

It feels good. After they left, I think I did it Friday evening, I did a cleansing. When you want to rid things or release energy, you walk a circle widdershins, or counter-clockwise. I had learned previously to sweep inward and outward while saying “in with the good, out with the bad, in with the good, out with the bad”. I accentuated that with “I release you. I release you all prior members of this household, this family. I release you Starry’s, Gann’s and anyone who is lingering and searching for peace. Take your energy back. We love you, we love the time and energy you have put here, and shared with us. If you want to check in, feel free to do so, and know you are free to go.”

(volunteer pumpkin flowers from the front yard. The grandkids/their parents let the pumpkins rot in the front yard last Fall. Life finds a way.)

Peace.

 

RIP, My Friend...

Michael Lewis Ritchey, 12-16-1965 to 7-17-2023

Mike was my friend. I found out about his passing last night.

I met him in the mid-90’s, when I was divorced. We dated briefly. I would say, likely between 1997 and maybe 2004 of 2005, we didn’t speak, and then he started messaging me again on Messenger, I think. I think we actually met on AOL, which probably tells you anything you need to know about how old I am.

There’s so much to say about my friend. He mattered, his story mattered. I have so much grief for him. I am so sorry he never had or experienced the sort of all-encompassing, all consuming love that takes ones breath away. He lived a dysfunctional life. His mom died of cancer when he was a teen and I think his dad, a lifelong Boeing worker, didn’t know how to be nurturing. He had a brother that died several years ago suddenly and that shook him mightily, as I think the brother might have been younger, but died of a sudden cardiac event. He was brilliant and wrote books about gambling, odds, and mathematical computation to beat those odds =)

I don’t think I have records anymore of the first time he visited me in Reno again, I think it was early 2000’s. The farthest back I could find was April 2013, when he came to Reno and I took him to Virginia City. He was enchanted. He said the thing that struck him the most about being there is that it’s truly a town that time forgot. While there is electricity in the city, it is almost eerily quiet. Until he said something, I hadn’t noticed that there is no “city noise” there. It’s an isolated, sort of mountain little village/town, and there’s no hustle or bustle there because there is none. We looked across the 600 mile canyon, where, on a clear day (and the day we were there was clear), you can see alll the way to Utah, which is a feat, as VC is in Western Nevada.

He was so sweet. Because I do a ton with events, the arts, and Burning Man in my local community, I know a lot of people. It’s fair to say that we literally almost could not go out to dinner without me seeing someone I knew through the communities I am connect to. He used to tell me I was a minor Reno celebrity. One time, we went to an Italian restaurant downtown and saw the then-Mayor. He knew me from arts work and grant meetings and said “Gemini, so good to see you!” I introduced him, said he was from visiting from Seattle, and the Mayor was very gracious. We saw down and Mike said “I can’t believe we are out to dinner and you just introduced me to the freaking MAYOR of your town!” In may ways, Reno is still very much a small town =)

I had a couple of very bad years where I took a job as a full-time events manager and I hated it. I had entertained the idea of being done with Burning Man. Still being as busy as I ever way, but doing it for just one place, instead of for free for all the places. There was no work/life balance and my boss and I just didn’t communicate well. But one of the highlights of that job is that I got to show Mike through the venue and some of the “secret” things about the venue that not a lot of people get to see. Like the “Metallica Hole” at the top of grid that is above the arena floor that had to be cut for the Metallica Black tour to accommodate their specific stage and setup, and the underground drainage system that keeps water out of the venue, that is built on top of an aquafir =)

We used to sort of play this game in Reno. We were both foodies, and with the exception of very exceptional meals, when he came to visit me, in about 15 or more years of doing so, we never ate at the same restaurant twice. The rules were relatively simple, that we wouldn’t eat at any chains, they would be local eateries. There was never a shortage of unique places to take him in town, as restaurants often have a short life, and are always changing in any town.

He loved baseball, he loved the history of baseball, the history of baseball stadiums, and he was a lifelong and rabid Seattle Mariner’s fan. It didn’t matter how badly the team did, he always rooted for his M’s. Another thing we would do is whenever I had to travel for work or for fun, if there was a historic baseball place where I was, I would go there to be able to take pictures and send to him. I went to New York City and stayed in Brooklyn once, and he sent me to the former Brookly Dodgers home, before they moved to LA, Ebbets Field. It’s now a horrific housing project, like a giant monstrosity of a building, but there’s historical plaque and the portion of one wall there commemorating where it once stood. I went and took a picture for my friend. From what I gather, it was a dangerous part of town and a nice man I met, who I asked to take a picture of me in front of the wall said “Where in the world are you from?! GO HOME, this is not a nice place for you,” as he handed back my digital camera. Thanks, sir. I also went to Minneapolis for a work conference once (June 2019) and went to a Twins game because there was some historical marker or some such there that he wanted me to see, or that I saw for him. And sent him copious pictures.

He loved comic books, and one of his favorite comic book artists was Neal Adams, like old style Batman comics, he had a distinct style. In November of 2014, he came to see me in Reno, one of the few years Reno got to host a ComicCon, and Neal Adams was there. He got to meet his idol, shake his hand, and he bought me a beautiful Norman Reedus print Adams had drawn. It’s still very much HIS style, but the subject matter of a TV show was outside what he usually does. I will cherish it always. Below is a picture he took of me meeting and shaking Neal Adams hand, and below that is the print he got for me. He paid for the framing and everything, and wouldn’t take no for an answer for me to pay a portion of things.

By 2016, his health was beginning to fail. I went to Seattle to visit him and we were supposed to go to another ComicCon, I stayed at a really cool hostel across from Pike Place Market, and when I got there, I didn’t hear from him, which was extremely unusual. It turns out he was in the hospital. He was having trouble with his liver. He was always very vague about his health problems, I think he suffered a lot more than he let on.

We did manage a Mariners game when I was in Seattle in 2016:

This was really the first time I was super concerned for his health. He wanted to hang out and do the things with me so badly, and he just couldn’t. He spent most of his time with me in the area this time in the hospital. I went to visit him there every day that I could, and we did go to a Mariners game. To me, in this picture, he looks sick and jaundiced, which makes sense for liver difficulties. I don’t think he had the wherewithal to advocate for himself, or do the research that was needed to make his life better.

In July, 2019, he came to Reno again, and I was able to share some of my life with him. During that month, there is a month-long arts festival that happens in Reno called Artown. There is an event called “Pops on the River” that is a costume competition and high dollar fundraising event for the local Philharmonic. This year, we got Mike in, and I think he had a great time, I think the theme this year was the 60’s. So, my very talented friend who is a tie dye artist got to sell Mike a shirt and he had a good time. This is a sun drenched picture:

At this point I had hope for him! He seemed to be on better footing with his liver problems, he had lost weight, and was trying to get more active. I just don’t think he had a sense of how sick he was, the entire time he was sick. He looked better than he had in a long time.

Then the pandemic happened. No travel. Work from home. Sickness. Death. I’m pretty sure he had Covid, as he continued to move in and out of hospitals. He came in July 0f 2021, it was during the hottest weather in Nevada, and he was frail. We did manage some good hikes, and even encountered a bear in Galena, a mountain area on the way to larger mountains =)

He looked sick here, and he didn’t have the stamina to really walk around much and his balance was much, much worse for the wear. Every time I saw him the last few years, I wondered if it would be the last time. I’m sorry this time ended up being the last time. I wish I had taken more time. When he was coming every year, I used to sometimes get annoyed, being the social director. Then I’d try to have grace, because he didn’t really have anyone in his life. He had an ex-coworker named Larry and his wife who were probably closest to him. When he died, Larry posted on Facebook under his profile “Hello Mike’s friends. I’m very sorry to tell you all but Mike passed away peacefully Monday evening”. That was it. A lifetime of friendship, memories, good times. Gone. I have been missing my friend lately. Missing the random texts. “The Mariners won today.” Or “The M’s looked awful last night” or “How are you doing?” or even “Hoping to get down again before the end of the year, what’s your schedule looking like?”.

I miss my friend.

I loved him.

I have been composing this entry since he passed in July. I needed to complete it. Here it is. Today is October 5, 2023.

I hope he is at peace.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life…

 I create my life.

That’s SO profound. I am not a victim. I am not a villian. I am not going to cop out or drop out on my past behavior or my actions or any of that.

No one did anything wrong, this is my ego speaking for my animal, and all of this is a lie, the story my animal is telling my ego to process what is happening in my life right now.

Today, my adult daughter and her family left Northern Nevada, headed for Kentucky. We have been co-housing for over five years. The relief, for me, is tangible. I am excited to go home today, for the first time in a really, really long time. It was time for this to happen and part of me is thankful that my daughter had the temerity to be the one to make the decision that led us here, because the way I was, before, I am not sure I would have had the strength to do it. I was so, so hurt at first, and now, I am giddy in anticipation.

I am going to miss my grand kids something fierce. I am NOT going to miss my daughter or her toxic, pop-psychology bullshit. She called me a narcissist, she has said awful, hurtful things to me. I have allowed this. I have felt guilty. I have perpetuated the drama triangle with her. I think in some ways, I have enabled her behavior towards me.

What is it that makes us sacrifice everything for those we love? Society? Familial obligation? What we are taught? Yes, all of those things, but fuck, for reals, that shit is SO toxic! If swearing offends you, I’ll pause here for a moment so you can show yourself out…heh.

I have seriously been pondering this. With this new UpLvl Communication technique, it’s mind boggling how often we listen to these narratives that aren’t ours and that work against our own best interests. I have a lot of processing to do, but I know that this is the way. This is the path. It feels good and authentic to me, and it makes me feel infinitely powerful and like I am, in fact, creating my life. Things are working out. For the first time in a long time, life doesn’t feel like a slog. It feels like it’s flowing in the proper direction, and things are going to work out.

The rift between us is a repeating pattern in my life. In my family of origin, I was the “fixer”, the one that made everything okay. My mom was that way too, and as I got older, I took that role, too. The caretaker, the one who always held everyone else’s stuff, while mine never really got dealt with. This was a HUGE pattern with my sister. Silly me, I had thought that I had learned the lesson because I had established a boundary with my sister at one point and refused to rescue her. Then the universe showed me that I wasn’t done learning that lesson, or taking away what I needed to because it repeated the pattern with my daughter. I thought it was different. Then I went to therapy and it clicked. Exactly. The. Fucking. Same. Holy shit, color me stupid, Batman. I feel like such a fool. I thought it was different because it was my kid and not my sister.

So much time enabling. The beginning was a couple years ago when I realized *I* was the only one sacrificing to give people in my life who I loved the things they wanted. They weren’t and weren’t willing to do the same for me. That hurt me bad, but I kept looking for the lesson. At the time the lesson presented itself, I wanted to be the victim. Poor me. Why won’t anyone take care of me the way I take care of them?! Because it’s not healthy, dumbass. We all create our own lives, and we create our own lessons. I ALLOW or permit people to treat me in certain ways, and if those ways disrespect me, that’s on me, and no one else. Yes, I feel like a dumbass for allowing this. No more. That energy needs to get up out of here. It’s over. Done.

Today, is the first day of the rest of my life.

Thank goodness.

Onward.

Upward.

The lavender is a plant that I pass, on my way from my parking space into my office every day at work. As I walk past it, sometimes I caress it’s little lavender leaves and smell my hand for the calming blast of lavender smell it gives my brain. In the afternoons, like now when it’s near 100 degrees, I tend to not touch it….because the bees swarm it and seem to so much be enjoying it’s pollen and bounty. Thanks, bees.

Happy Friday.

Peace.