The End of an Era

Core memories in your 40s are interesting to recall upon. Nearly 30 years ago, I still vividly remember receiving the news from my parents about where my dad’s next duty station would take us. At the time, my family was living the island life of Hawaii as best our family could on an E5 salary. 

My best friend had moved to Arizona and we anticipated our family following hers to this weird named place in the desert. Fort Huachuca, AZ waited for us to arrive in January 1992. 

We drove through the main gate in the middle of the night. We were at the end of an epic three week journey that took us from Schofield Barracks, HI to Washington state and then south along the Pacific Coast Highway to I-10. I couldn’t see much outside because it was dark. So dark that I thought we were lost. We checked into billeting and slept in beds until the sun came up. 

That’s when genuine tears of disappointment flooded. We were in the desert. My 11 year old mind has envisioned the Wild West. I expected rock houses and teepees. As if Arizona had somehow stopped evolving after the Tombstone incident. Eleven year olds are funny that way. As I took in the first sights of Fort Huachuca, I thought my life was over. The only shred of grace I had in my emptying soul was the knowledge that my best friend was here. If I saw her, all would be ok. 

At that time, I had no idea what Sierra Vista and Fort Huachuca, AZ would become for my family, then ultimately for me. 

Thirty years later, memories are nestled into the most random nooks and crannies of this valley. I fell in love here. Multiple times. I became a mother here. I divorced here. I watched my parents leave the area to pursue new adventures once my own adulthood took roots. 

I watched my siblings come back and then leave again. I held my father in his dying breaths here. I lost my first son here. I lost myself and found her all over again, here. I never imagined the bulk of my life would be experienced in the 85635 zip code. 

When the biggest pivot of my life took hold, I had opportunity to leave. Many, actually. It was heartbreaking to turn each one down over the course of about 7 years. The one and only reason I didn’t is, my kids. The ranging exhibits of hostility between their dad and I, simply didn’t allow any room to negotiate custody to where I wouldn’t be left choosing between myself or them. It has always been an easy decision to stay, but nevertheless tough to deny selfish wants. I could never leave them. Never. He and I both, spite driven, said whoever leaves the state will forfeit their custody to the other. So, here is where I’ve been. 

Well, another pivot shockingly plopped into an unassuming me. Did I think at one point it would be him who left? Yes. When was really the factor and there had been no confidence in the validity of that hypothetical situation. However, this past summer, I was given about 30 days notice that he was in fact leaving the state and the the kids were going to be with me full time. 

While the information tsunami hit my soul, the girl I had pushed far into the back of my mind, soared up front and begged the question: Does this mean I can leave, too!?  The answer wasn’t dependent on him anymore. It was my choice to make now. I don’t need permission. He had officially taken that step neither one of us had been capable  enough to make. 

Now, the chronic over-thinker I am, went into a violent tale spin. Everything I’ve ever wanted was just handed to me. No contingency. No ulterior motive. This perfect gift of opportunity has rapidly turned into a psychological nightmare. The what ifs have taken a front seat and those bastard questions plague my anxiety, depression, and my general sense of always waiting for a shoe to drop and taken them for a ride. 

Ecstasy of possibility is something I have longed to experience. Wanting something beyond Cochise County has had a residency in my dreams since I was a junior in high school. It has taken 20+ years to have the legitimate ability to turn those dreams into achievable goals. 

My lease on my house is up the end of May. The boys finish school in the end of May. They will spend the summer with their dad at the new house in the new state. That gives me the summer to set up a new house, new job, new start…wherever I want to go (in the US of course).  If timing could play a role in this plot line, it is the star. Nothing could be written more perfectly to accommodate me in this endeavor. 

Honestly, the perfection of that timing is what scares the shit out of me the most. It’s 100% up to me to bring this all together. I have ALL the control. Have you ever been power crazed? That’s how this feels. There is absolutely nothing blocking my path except the consequences of my own choices. Giant F word. 

The journey I’ve been on in self discovery has had a very specific ideal that I have thought would make me whole. I have written in my journal about this a lot. I don’t know if it comes from the theory that we need another person in order to feel whole that has predicated my belief that I’m not “healed” until I’m in a healthy relationship. I have quite recently ascertained that the only thing that can make me feel whole, is me. 

My kids, my partner, my extended family, my friends, they are all orbital fixtures to the center I possess. I don’t have to depend on the substances of those relationships in order to feel valid and valued. This for me has been a next level comprehension of accepting joy in its purest, rawest form. 

What that realization has done has been a ripple in a brand new pond. I am for the first time adapting to changes that are my creation. I am preparing to adapt to consequences of my own actions. Before this, I’ve been forced to make massive concessions and compromises due to being part of the collateral damage from some one or some thing, else. 

I know I have time if I want it. I have a lot of planning to do and not just the logistics. My goal is to be moved to Tennessee by the end of summer. That includes securing a new job and making the leap in buying my first home. I have so many consequences I want to anticipate are mostly positive. I hope I am as prepared as the universe is testing me to prove to do exactly what I’ve been wanting my whole life. I am freaking out. 

This chronicle will no doubt run over multiple blogs because of the sheer magnitude of what lies ahead. I am pretty damned excited to write about something other than tragedy. The thrill of closing such an epic saga that has been my life, set in Sierra Vista and Fort Huachuca, AZ is also mixed with bitter sweetness. I would love the sharing of memories through this platform to help me best document these past 30 years. 

Jim-isms

 There are many things about the relationship with my dad that I haven’t written about. Honestly, some of it is just too tough to really dig back into. However, the memories I have of my life as Jim Russell’s daughter are many and are richly mixed with emotion. The further away I get from my youth, the closer I get to appreciating more than loathing the dynamic we shared. It is no secret to those who know me and knew my dad, that I am very much his daughter. Scarily so. 

As I’ve come to terms with some down right awful traumas from his and my relationship, I sometimes get pissed off how much that trauma has built so much of my character that I have come to respect. As I’ve dissected hours of dialogue, I have extracted some key phrases or anecdotes that I feel bear the value to share with you. 

The first statement is one I’ve written about before. There must needs be opposition in all things. Now, to be fair, this isn’t a statement he can claim as original. It comes from gospel doctrine in the Mormon faith. But, what was original is the organic discussion as to the relevance it plays in damn near every breathing moment in this existence. Without hate there cannot be love. I could truly spend a lot of time talking about this truth. Instead, for the sake of carpel tunnel and arthritis, I’ll leave you to ponder on the philosophy and apply it how you see fit. 

Second, he gets to in part, thank me for the practice of yoga and the necessity of breathing. I turned to yoga after the birth of my daughter. I had gained an impressive 75 pounds over the course of that pregnancy and felt like a walrus. To get myself back into a shape less rotund, yoga was instrumental. My dad was impressed at the results and asked me what I was doing. In four short months, I had lost 40 pounds and nearly looked like I did before I was pregnant. He began to study and practice. 

Frequently I have battled with the art of breathing. It’s such an absent minded exercise since we have to do it. But, when I focus and introspect, I find clarity unlike anything else I’ve used. He and I took turns reminding each other of the necessary intention of breathing occasionally. He took it way further than I ever have. A few times he turned down right poetic in coaching me through some real shit. 

One time, he sent me an excerpt from a book he was reading about how to calm the mind and exit the stress. Regardless of how intense the nightmare was I was coping through, he found a way to remind me to breathe from my core. When I thanked him, he simply replied with being a fellow breather. 

Third and probably one of my irritating favorites is: you can’t control another person’s agency. That one sticks a pin through me every time I consider the magnitude of its meaning. It’s a layer of a familiar application of coping. We’ve all heard the Serenity Prayer. …”Grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change…” It’s frustrating, because it’s so immensely true. This particular approach to nearly every problem set I have, saves me from hours of anxiety and contemplation. 

I read a lot and listen to a lot of self awareness coaching and public speakers. Today, I came across a brief yet profound interaction between a coach and an interviewer. “In 30 seconds give me something a person can do to live a more purposeful life.”  The response, “Write down every item of a situation you’re facing that presents personal challenge. Then start crossing out the things you cannot change. Focus on what you can!”  Boom. Something I’ve literally been doing for years now. But, here’s this guy who says this and undoubtedly struck a massive nerve with several people instantly. 

We have more control than we give ourselves credit. One immediate elimination we can recognize is the validity that we can’t truly control another person’s choices. We can control only our own actions. 

It used to make me crazy when my dad would tell me that he couldn’t make me feel anything. He finally conceded (yes, I wrote that moment down because it was RARE) that he could impact my emotions. The deeply rooted narcissist that he was didn’t really permit him often to recognize the cause and effect of his behaviors. Sadly, it was towards the end of his life that he seemed to get a good idea of the influence his behavior had on his child. It was a good day for us and a good ism that I carry with me daily. I can’t control anyone’s agency. But, I can execute my own. I just strive to do it wisely. 

Lastly, he never met me with a conversation about choices I had before me without asking me, “Have you prayed about it?”  As I’ve grown away from organized religion, the idea of praying has an outlining sense of comedy. However, the practice of meditation, introspection, and breathing is quite similar to the act of praying. I contemplate and ponder on choices regularly. While I may not address the moment aloud in a formal exhibit, I tend to find the same results. Consequences of choices become more clear and I’m able to more strategically approach a problem with a more optimal outcome. 

The last year of his life, we discussed so many intimate things like adults friends. Personal regrets he had were shared for probably the first time in his life. The ironic hilarity of these moments is that I turned his own words on him regularly. I questioned him. I made him explain himself. Because he dropped so much of his guard, I was able to take his words more serious than just assuming it was rhetoric. Discovering how alike we are has taught me how to learn from him in a way that I never had. 

Insurgency

I can’t remember the last time I felt this passionately about writing on the subject of current events to the degree I feel right now.   I am appalled. I have watched now for 12 years, my beautiful country turning in on itself. I do not surround myself with fully like minded political influences. I love the diversity in opinion amongst my friends. What I witnessed today in no way mirrors what my America represents. 

My America embraces culture. I need look no further than the kitchen of a friend’s to find culinary expanse. I have tasted so many other cultures because my life is filled with them. I have no idea if I were living in Singapore that I would be able to get a taste of real Mexican food. But, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that I don’t think many Mexican families have moved to Singapore and set up a restaurant. In my America, the world lives in my neighborhoods. 

My America represents freedom. The freedom to protest. The freedom to speak. The freedom to be who you are without fear of your government murdering you for it. We have the coveted ability to gather ideas and see them thrive. Today, those freedoms were desicrated. They were abused. They were taken for granted. Embarrassingly, those freedoms were misrepresented to entire planet watching. 

My America is just. Is it perfect? No. But do our processes have a solid track record? Yes. We have the ability to embrace our freedoms and voice them at polling stations. We have the ability to activate and embolden those ideals and find others to build that tower. We have checks and balances to nurture our society every two years. Today, justice was threatened by mob. I could not believe the sensibility lost today. Today, hypocrisy attempted to stop our validated and just process. 

My America does not discount history. I just watched The Trial of the Chicago Seven and then today happened. It was an out of body experience to listen to the leader of My America, insight disorder and chaos. We know what happens when chaos tries to rule.  We know what happens when disorder controls vivacious ideologists. This need only require a brief history of the Sixties in this country. 

It saddens me deeply to truly know that regardless of who won the election, America would have seen her children rival. Conspiracy theories as to who were the truly unAmerican today will follow. Finger pointing will continue. The real issue has zero to do with what side of the ballot you check a box. We have lost our decorum. We have lost our nature. We have lost our civility. Viable introspection needs to start at our dinner tables and with our friends. Every day America does not look like this. 

Right now the need for community couldn’t be more desperate. Our neighbors are suffering in silence. Pandemic has stricken normalcy as we have known it. We should be taking care of each other. It shouldn’t matter who you voted for but who you are to your fellow man. Our leadership has been given too much control of our emotions toward one another. 

I am so disheartened by today’s events. A life was lost. For what? Did she believe so deeply in what she was doing that it was worth her life? I’m sure we will find out more about her as the review of this day unfolds. Take a deep breath. My America wants peace. My America wants freedom. My America does not want insurgency by a small few become her identity.