Water is one of natures greatest forces. A requirement to sustain all life, allowing it to grow and thrive while also holding the ability to engulf entire cities, leveling everything built and familiar, leaving a pile of rubble to be sorted through. Navigating the rain, while still appreciating its contribution, is a balancing act.
I’ve sat down to write this at least half a dozen times now. Writer’s block is real. I’ve struggled to come up with exactly what I want to say and turn it in to something cohesive. I think this happens when I’m in the downpour. When my hair is wet, I’m soaked all the way through and I can hear the squish in my shoes as I walk. I’m past the point of worrying about the cold and hesitating to get wet. At this point I’m too busy looking for overhangs to stop under for a moment so I can wipe my eyes and continue to see my way out of the rain. Writing takes clarity. Writing happens when I’ve had a chance to towel off, remove my shoes and feel the contrast of a warm blanket against wet skin. Writing happens when I can stop and watch the storm from a covered porch, count the seconds between the lightening and thunder and get a sense of how close it really was. Writing comes in that time between wet and dry. When my skin is still moist, but I can see well enough to notice the way drops hit the ground and reflect the street lights with a shimmery effect. It happens when I can feel my toes warm up and I have that sense of comfort that comes with feeling cleansed after a good soaking. The one that lets me sit with wet hair in dry pajamas and watch the rain with a cup of tea from the window before I am able to relax enough to sleep. It doesn’t happen when I’m still focused on finding shelter.
Every year so far, I’ve struggled a bit with writing Violet’s birthday blog. I spent some time this week trying to figure out why. I think it mostly comes down to timing. Her birthday is May 5th and April is often my ‘wettest’ month. Bipolar disorder is cyclical. Ups and downs, often in a pattern. Down is wet. Up is dry. Writing happens during… ‘damp’. Sometimes I’m still ankle deep in a puddle on May 5th. But, shelter eventually comes, and every so often I have to force myself to find temporary refuge to dry off in for a little so I can think through her year and mine and take a few minutes to not just sit in the wet, but feel the rain, because she deserves that, and that’s just what moms do.
So, as I took a few extra days to find the words, I did a lot thinking about what was truly the most significant thing for Violet this past year. Who is she today now that she’s 6, versus who she was as she was just starting 5, and what influenced those changes the most. I think it was friends. A year ago, she was just getting to start in-person pre-K, and she was a little shy and a bit introverted and I worried about how she’d do socially. Today, I don’t think I’ve ever met a little girl as vibrant, confident, happy and social. She found a sense of humor, a sense of mischief and a sense of self she simply didn’t have a year earlier. She likes to be just a little sneaky in an effort to keep herself entertained, and she is willing to play alone, but would prefer a partner in crime every time. She has made several friends she can play for hours with without upset, and one ‘frenemy’ in class that she can’t decide if she loves or hates. It seems to depend on the day. She’s still the same little diva she was at two, who loves make up and dresses and wanted a mani/pedi for her birthday this year, to which she confidently wore her lime green ‘Encanto’ costume glasses, because she thought they made her look more fashionable. Her confidence is real. It’s inspirational, and I hope that nothing in the years to come knocks her down. Making friends seems so easy for her. She is innately happy and people gravitate towards her because she exudes positive energy. She literally sleeps with a smile.
At this point, she has no signs that she will ever have to weather a monsoon season. Maybe that’s why it’s so much harder to figure out what to write for her. I write about life, things I’ve learned, things I want my kids to know someday. I write so they can someday read these, hear my voice and know what their mom would likely say if they came to me for my take on anything in life. To do that, I think I need to feel I have something better to offer than what they would come up with on their own, and she seems to have life figured out. She seems better at it than I am most days. She approaches things with sensitivity and humor, and she finds the silver lining in almost anything. Her clouds don’t produce monsoons. They provide just enough rain to water the earth, clean the sidewalks and allow her garden to grow. Every part of me wants to freeze time for her right now in an effort to let her eternally stay exactly as she is: happy, confident, loving and smiling, so she never needs to refer to these letters to find guidance. But, as much as I have demanded she stay little for me, she continues to grow up and with growing up, life will happen. So, for now I think the best I can do is to take a few moments in my personal monsoon season and let myself feel the rain of the past few months and figure out what it is that kept me from drowning this time around. I think the answer to that question is also: friends.
Life changed a lot in the past year. It became almost unrecognizable at times and figuring out how to navigate it from day to day was often overwhelming. Some things you simply can’t prepare for no matter how hard you try and at some point, you give up trying. Planning became a habit I had to break, which means I also stopped making plans with friends almost completely. I simply didn’t have the time, the ability to commit, the guarantee I could show up, or the ability to put my own chaos aside to listen or talk about anything other than my own anxieties. I became hyper focused on getting through each day, and mentally preparing for what could come next but without making any actual plans for whatever it might be. I used to be a decent listener. I used to be the one people came to and then life happened in big ways and it started to rain. Some days it just sprinkled, others flash floods had me wondering if I had time to build and ark. But I didn’t have to. Other people in my life stopped by with umbrellas and life rafts along the way, stopping to listen, check in, force me to step out for a drink or letting me talk in circles for a few hours. And usually, those small moments of reprieve were enough to let me wring out my clothes and feel like I could go back into the storm with a renewed sense of direction.
Oddly enough, I hate to talk about the weather. Small talk isn’t something I’m a fan of. I don’t want to discuss if it might rain, I want to know how you react to it, what you do with it when it comes… Do you take walks in the rain to hide your tears, or do you dance in it to feel the mud in your toes and let it cleanse the day? Do you avoid it, and all things wet, to minimize any impact it may have on you, or do you simply stay in to enjoy watching it hit the windows and fall asleep to the thunder that will clear the skies for a brighter tomorrow? I want to know how the rain makes you feel; not just if you love or hate the rain, but why. Then maybe we can love or hate the rain together.
I’m an extrovert and a deep thinker, and it seems to be a misalignment in my personality. As a result, I often give people answers when they say ‘how are you?’ that they didn’t realize they were signing up for. How much I said or long I kept them used to give me pause and sometimes make me cringe when I’d reflect back on it later. I’ve stopped worrying about it. I realized this year that it may be a misalignment, but it isn’t one I would change. It may make people initially uncomfortable, but it also means I have more close relationships than most. It means I’m practiced at discussing things that are important when the monsoon hits, so I had people that were able to offer the occasional umbrella. Because I had of put in the time, effort and openness into forming relationships in the past, I had people that were not only able to offer the umbrella but were willing to. If you tell people “I’m fine” all the time, even if they can see you need an umbrella, human nature is to accept that answer. If you aren’t willing to stand underneath it for a moment, they will only chase after you for so many blocks. This year, I needed a little extra coverage, and people showed up. Be it to talk, or offer a helping hand, they were there and I am eternally grateful for that, for not all storms can be weathered alone.
Violet,
This year, you made friends; and although I know you weren’t engaged in deep conversations at five, watching you be charismatic, understanding and welcoming to so many new people in your life was amazing. The joy you can bring to a room when you enter it is a natural gift not everyone has, and your default state of ‘happy’ is something I hope you never take for granted. For if you realize the gift you have, you will be able to be there for others not just when they need it the most, but every day for the big things and the small and have a wide reach if you ever need that favor returned.
My wish for you this year is that as you learn to make friends, you foster the relationships with those you feel close to and become comfortable enough that you are able to be open, share and feel close to more than the average number of people. It’s that you learn to find the right balance of offering umbrellas as much as you need them, and learn to make sure that when you take someone else’s shelter, you don’t in turn allow them to get soaked, so you find yourself with a support system in places you would never have expected.
You’re going to get wet sometimes. That’s life. It’s necessary so you appreciate the good days and cleanse the bad. If you continue to offer to be the confident ray sunshine on your dry days as you have been for me this year and learn to truly be there for all the friends you make so easily, your rainy days will come with a row of umbrellas and colorful houses to seek shelter that will allow you to dry your face and simply feel the rain.
Happy 6th birthday, Peaches. May your love of life and people keep the world wishing it had more of you and in turn allow you the reprieve needed to stop for a pedicure during a storm.
Love, Mom
“Some people feel the rain, others just get wet” – Bob Marley
Enjoy Life; Eat Candy 
Once again, perfect! Be kinder to yourself. Think Violet would go with me for a mani pedi?
Love you
I’m sure she would. She loved it! 🤣 and thank you.💜