This place has turned into a mausoleum. Two years since my last entry, and even more since a commitment to write daily; It was a commitment that, for whatever reason, I didn’t keep. The WordPress interface has changed, my computer has changed, this machine now with it’s loud buttons that I can’t help but notice whenever I press.
I crash my fingers onto them. Too hard.
I’ve written two books in my time away from this place, and rewritten those two books more than twice. They are both fiction. The process of writing them made me feel like an imposter. A creative, excited, unrealistic phony. I did it anyway, even though I felt like a fake. I told myself, “There is nothing fake about writing if you are writing. It doesn’t matter if they get published. Life and pursuits of pleasure can’t be about the outcome.”
I’ve entertained the idea of returning to writing about myself, to penning another memoir – because I am quite skilled at talking/thinking/writing about myself – but something has held me back.
Perhaps it’s all the change. The overwhelming fear of where to begin. Perhaps it’s that I don’t want certain people to have access to my life, my thoughts, or my troubles (An interesting boundary to have created given my history of boundarilessness).
It’s been a challenging year, this 2018 thing. Birth of a baby. Death of my father. All in one week. But not in that order. First came death, then, life. Then death again, the Kitty, she died and joined my dad. I’m sure his head exploded when she walked through heaven’s gates – two years ago when we visited Thailand, Dad watched Kitty and she disappeared for six days. Upon our return, he told me she was gone and then the next day, she sauntered back into his house, walked across the living room meowing at him, and slinked up the stairs to the bedroom. We thought maybe she went on Rumspringa, at 13 years old (according to this random cat site, somewhere between 68 and 112 in human years?), and decided that this civilized simple life wasn’t so bad after all. Dad was shocked to see her again; we’d thought she was dead.
Now that she is indeed dead, a death I witnessed, I think of her strolling into his heavenly house, walking across his pearly living room, and slinking up his stairway. I think of him in his chair, baffled at her aloofness. The thought is comforting.
We cleaned out his home, really his garage, which like this blog, was also a mausoleum. The things he’d “won” in the divorce, a Lion King bedspread, a Power Rangers sleeping bag, a box of Christmas lights, all of it stuffed in dark spaces because winning things and not people in divorce is shitty and painful. The things physically blocked the objects he loved, functional objects with wheels and motors covered in grease. My husband dug in and removed the trash, and the trash people took my dad’s winnings to the dump. It turned out that the things that are meaningful to my father’s children, to us, are the things he collected later in life: Pillow covers from Lisboa, a stone statue of three giraffes, an intricately detailed chess board. Things that made him remember his travels and adventures. The time in his life that he lived the fullest, and the most free.
Cancer is such a fucking asshole.
And so now I am revisiting this blog space, writing about change, about how it’s happening, how it’s happened, how nothing we/I could have done would have stopped it from happening; Nothing we could have done would have changed the change. Five months later and the processing continues. Likely for the rest of my life, I’ll be processing the change.
And in that processing, I will show up to life and welcome into my house all the changes that unfold. Even the ones that are fucking assholes. Because it might be that two days after the asshole demolishes the house, as was the case, the most precious change in my entire life might arrive; healthy, happy, and unfazed by the chaos into which she entered.
Diana
July 13, 2018
I just considered it a sign of your increasing mental health and busy life that the blog faded out. Congratulations on motherhood though; hang on – it’s a bumpy ride but so worth it. The defining part of the early days can sometimes be sheer boredom as you just protect and nurture that little being who also sleeps a lot. Welcome back – I look forward to profound thoughts issuing forth during 3:00 am feedings. You’ve never been boring.
Diana
July 13, 2018
PS So sorry for the loss of your dad, but what a joy he was around for the transformation of you.
autigers1970 (@autigers1970)
July 13, 2018
I’m really sorry this year has sucked so far for you. I’ll remember you when I’m praying and send good thoughts your way.
littlequaker
July 13, 2018
Beautiful.
Darrin G
July 13, 2018
Jennie, I am so sorry for your loss. Cancer took my mom in 2016, but this isn’t about me. Nice to see you’re still chugging along. Congrats on the baby. We are so proud of you. Keep up the great work. EGBOK! (Everything’s Gonna Be OK. What’s the worst that could happen? Take care. Darrin G
becomingjennie
July 14, 2018
Thank you for sharing about the loss of your mother Darrin. Perhaps – if you believe in this sort of thing – my dad and your mom will cross paths in whatever is next.
splendorofliving
July 13, 2018
Hi Jennie…. Mike (fan since day one) from Pittsburgh, here….Imagine my amazement when I saw that you had updated this blog! And while I am certainly sorry for the losses you have suffered, I am also ecstatic for the new addition to your life and I know that this must be a very cathartic time for you in general.
I can empathize with you as I have undergone many changes in my own life. And if you would ever like to have a sounding board or vent to a kindred spirit who might be able to offer a little Zen philosophy that has helped me get through the changes myself, I would certainly be happy to share my contact information with you, if ever you so desire.
I hope you will keep writing and keep us updated because you keep doing you, and we will keep loving you simply for who you are.
And by the way, a picture of you with the new baby wouldn’t be a bad thing!:-)
becomingjennie
July 14, 2018
❤
Firstverb
July 13, 2018
Miss Jennifer.
I am truly very sorry for your Dad’s passing. My own father passed on 12/16/17, and well my sister and I went through a lot of the same stuff. So yeah I know. And such a blessing that that amazing little person came into yalls life. Talk about changing the world, a child does that. My oldest son graduated from high school, and is about to start college. Just a few blinks ago he was banging on pots. ARUGH!! Get lots of huggings off that little girl before she feels she’s to big, cause it comes way to fast. Sorry, sorry. I do hope that you publish those books and yes please absolutely write about yourself again. Well thank you for your time and energy. Hoping you and your beautiful family have a glorious day.
fkw1122
July 13, 2018
Wow, I have been thinking about you recently and wondering how you were doing. Sorry about your father. At the same time congratulations on becoming a mother.
I hope this is a beginning to you posting more often and not just a one-off post.
Welcome back Jennie 🙂
Jarred
July 13, 2018
Mazal tov on your blessings!!
ckwriter
July 13, 2018
It seems change and restarting while adjusting are such a life experience many are traumatized by them. However, life does go on. In this world and the next. As children we bond or not with those who brought us here and then later must watch them live us. Yet forgetting that they watched us live earlier when we left home for our own single journey of life. But as writers write…. cancer and death still suck. So, glad to have you back expressing and sharing.
Stewart Forgie
July 13, 2018
Welcome back Jenny! Having lost my own Father to cancer many years ago, I can wholeheartedly agree with you. Cancer is really a fucking asshole. On a lighter note, reading between the lines, would I be correct in assuming that you have welcomed a little Minnie Jennie into the world?
becomingjennie
July 14, 2018
Yes haha, and she is SUCH a mini-me!
JOY
July 13, 2018
Glad you are back… I enjoy your blogs…and wondered why I quit getting the emails.
Yes, Cancer sucks… I have lived with stage 4 breast cancer for 10 years now. I am finally back on IV chemo to keep it stable… fun fun to be here again… and bald as a baby… well not entirely. I have about 100 hairs that have hung on and are definitely hanging tight. I figure if those girls want to stay with me…the least I can do is braid them and pin them back… I sort of have a bald lady braid down the middle of my head… that I cover with a delightful ‘Gabor’ wig most days and colorful scarves on hot Florida Panhandle days. It use to be my bra was the first thing I flung off when I got home… not anymore… it is this damn wig, then my bra with D cup inserts goes next….lol
Congrats on the baby blessing… so sorry for the loss of your Dad, but as a kitty lover, it warms my heart she joined him in heaven.
I hope your life improves the second half of 2018…and continues to… and you experience much success in your writing. Thank you for resurfacing…
Warm Smiles of Joy from Florida
becomingjennie
July 14, 2018
The thought of you flighting the wig, then the bra, off when you walk into your home fills my heart so much that my eyes water. Thank you for sharing this, and for continuing the fight.
Sarah
July 13, 2018
I’ve missed your writing, so sorry about your father and Kitty.
Don Houston
July 13, 2018
Your writing is always welcome, always entertaining and refreshing to read. I’d glad you updated here and will peek in from time to time to see how great you’ve become since we first met so long ago, not to mention such different circumstances. Hugs!
Jacob Blythe
July 13, 2018
You have a powerful, authentic, original voice. Please keep writing.
michael92105
July 13, 2018
Hi Jennie: I’m glad you’re back…you were on my mind about 3 weeks ago and I stopped by here and the other site where you started to post your art. I saw the article / paper on Mindfulness and figured you had moved on to being consumed by your career.
I have always loved how you write, here in this space, as well as in I Am Jennie for that reason. You have a gift for the way you describe your feelings–honest and from the heart.
I am also recovering from much loss, and have lost many loved ones to cancer as well. My father being just one, so it’s easy to identify.
I hope you stay around for awhile. I’m looking forward to it. Stay close!
Shannon
July 13, 2018
I was so delighted to see you had written a blog post. I’m sure many others are as well. Congratulations on your marriage and baby. And I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. I lost mine about 5 years ago and I miss him to such an extent I can’t describe it. I love what you said d about welcoming change even the ones that are assholes. I am going to use that. Because I don’t welcome it. But to live is to experience change all the time. Some wonderful some awful. But you have to accept the awful to get the wonderful. I hope you got that publishing deal. I will be buying your books!
Tim Meagher
July 13, 2018
Thanks for sharing your place in life.
el_ay_es
July 14, 2018
Dear Jennie,
Thank you so much for sharing that. I have never had a baby, but I have lost both a father and a cat. I can tell you one fact based on a big scientific survey. I seem to recall that I had an occasion to share it with you once before. For the vast majority of people, grief can be predicted to last about three years, with nothing much to be done about it except live through it. Then all of a sudden it’s pretty much gone, leaving mostly just the good memories.
love and hugs,
el_ay_es
el_ay_es
July 14, 2018
…Respectfully,
el_ay_es
Jeroen Les
July 14, 2018
Dear Jennie,
I missed your blogs. Reading them helped me dealing with my own fucked up life.
Very happy to hear from you again about the moments of change.
Please keep on writing and publish your book !
Let me know if or when it’s available.
X Jeroen
Curtis Adams
July 14, 2018
Your resilience is inspiring.
Love and strength to you.
Curtis
Robert Davis (@RobertDavisBand)
July 14, 2018
Welcome back, we missed you! (Honest) You lost your dad, gained a daughter, lost Kitty, your due for something new and good to come.
Jim
July 14, 2018
I’m so glad you decided to post! I think expressing ourselves in times of change helps processing it so much. Thank you for sharing…and as the father of three beautiful daughters, congratulations!!!
Dirk
July 14, 2018
Thank you for coming back. Life can be a bitch. Good thoughts.