I Don't Even Know Where to Begin

When I started this journey five years ago, I was fresh-faced, young, inexperienced, incredibly frustrated by my position as a young adult trying to make it in the publishing and graphic design world, only to find that I was not prepared for the realities that would come crashing down on me and didn't know how to respond to differing personalities from my own in the world of business (read: my boss terrified me). I resolved to express my creativity and entrepreneurial wanderlust in a small stationery business. I joined a (now-defunct) forum of small stationery business owners. I started a blog to trace my steps. I quit my job of six months, moved back in with my parents, told people I was branching out on my own, and began racking up credit card debt to buy a job interview suit, pay bills, eat, and cover gas expenses.

I found a graphic arts job at an hourly rate barely above minimum wage (I had to pay the bills somehow, and that business had not taken off yet). I loved the job and the people, though finances were still a concern. Three months later, just when I was about to sign a lease for a small studio apartment in Knoxville, TN, I was laid off and was, for the second time in six months, unemployed.

This unemployment thing was becoming a trend.

I finally found a couple of part time jobs and things began looking up. But a year of working in retail and cooking in a kitchen only fueled my desire to get out on my own and realize my dreams. My parents bought half of a duplex in Murfreesboro, TN. I moved back to the town of my alma mater, shared the duplex with my younger brother until he moved to take a job in Connecticut and get married, and took an assistant job at a small Nashville advertising and marketing agency. Car issues plagued me. More debt. Medical bills when I broke my foot. More debt. Low income didn't cover my living expenses well. More debt. Depending on the season, I was either miserable and bored or stressed and energized by the fast-paced environment of the office. I had to learn to readjust my attitude. My car broke down one final time and I had to find one to replace it. You guessed it, more debt.

I tried selling vintage finds at an antique mall and actually started doing well at it, but had to drop my micro-mini business venture during busy seasons at work. My stationery dreams were labeled as "history" and shelved. It was just too impossible to start something in my financial state.

There were good things that happened, too. I made new friends, and strengthened old relationships. I found a family of peers that would later be used by God to support me and get me through the hardest months of my life. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

When I left my old job at the tea room behind in East Tennessee, I had already trained my replacement: my mother. After years and years of homeschooling her children and sacrificing her own dreams to do so, Mom was finally getting a job outside of the home as the assistant cook. But two months into my new job over four hours away, I got the phone call that changed my life. Mom was sobbing, breaking down from the stress of complications at the new job, and a mysterious pain in her side that would not go away. I rushed home immediately—didn't even pack a bag. And when I arrived, I could tell the two months had taken a toll on her. She had lost an alarming amount of weight. She looked weary. Less than an hour later, after the hugs were over and we were sitting in the living room together and I asked what was going on, my Dad looked over at me and said four terrifying words:

"Your mother has cancer."

If time can stand still, it did at that moment. All it took was one look at Mom, who confirmed his statement with a short nod, and I began to weep. I crossed the room to hold her in my arms and cry together. In that first weekend, I went through all the stages of grief and mourning in a mere two days.

For two years, she fought a battle against the disease that had begun in her colon and then invaded surrounding organs and tissue. Her lungs, liver, chest cavity—all had spots of cancer that could not be surgically removed, not even when the original tumor had been removed from her colon by emergency surgery.

My first real sense of what my loss would be like occurred in May of 2008, when I attended my grandfather's funeral. And then again June, when I attended my grandmother's. In two months, my mother had lost both of her parents. I know she must have been thinking ... this could be me some day. For me, I witnessed the events of my grandfather's funeral and wept for knowing this was what was ahead one day ... if the cancer could not be stopped.

Then, on September 22, 2008, my mother wrote her own last blog entry, detailing the news that she had gone into liver failure from the cancer. Less than a month later, she died at home. In that month, our family went through the hardest days and hours and minutes we could ever imagine as we watched her rapidly decline. Within two weeks of being told she had two months to live, she was no longer able to fully communicate with us. She slept constantly. She was jaundiced ... yellow all over, even in what should have been the whites of her eyes. She began to lose balance and require assistance to walk even a few feet. Motion and smells made her sick to her stomach. She threw up multiple times in an hour, eventually vomiting fecal matter that could not be processed by her liver. Three days before she died, she was confined to a wheelchair. The day before she died she was semi-comatose, in and out of consciousness (but not cognizant of much at all) in a rented hospital bed in our home.

I was in the busiest season of my work year. The stress level was unfathomable. I worked as much as I could, and drove home to be with Mom on the weekends. Each new trip out brought a wave of grief over me when I saw my mother's face again and realized just how much worse she was. The day she could not continue a conversation with me, I wept uncontrolably in my room. I knew then I had lost my mother, even if she was not yet deceased. During this time, the friends and family that God had given me over the years took care of myself and my father and brothers. I learned to accept help from people I knew I could not repay.

During the last six months of 2008, I was also going through my own trials. I was in an undefined long distance relationship of sorts for ten months that had me confused and feeling ridiculous for wanting to believe it could work out even though I knew, deep down, if I had to try to make it work, it wasn't happening. Two weeks before my Mom died, the guy I had dated and was talking to on a regular (if unpredictable) basis called and, for lack of a better word, "broke up" with me. Strangely, though dissapointed, I felt relieved. I finally had the answer to the pressing question that had hung over me for months: did he really want to be with me? He told me I needed to focus on my Mom and not worry about things with him, and he was right. I have the utmost respect for him for calling and initiating that final conversation. He knew, as well as I did, that we needed to move on. And I did. After a few days of mourning what could have been, I set those thoughts aside and focused on Mom.

But that was not the only pressing issue on my mind. I also had gone through some rough patches at work, and the stress was building up and threatening to overwhelm me, especially when combined with the anticipatory grief that I was experiencing during Mom's final days.

The day before she died, I drove home and spent hours watching her by the bedside, pressing a wet sponge to her lips for water (if she took a sip she would choke), wiping drool from her slumped head, and trying desperately to keep the oxygen tube in a comfortable position so she would not try to knock it off her face. A few times, her eyes opened and looked at me, and I think she saw me. But mostly, she was a vacant shell struggling to breath. My shift with her ended at 1am. Two hours later, my father knocked on my door, and my brother's, and my aunt's. He said, "She's gone," and we clung to each other and cried so hard and so long that we choked on our tears.

The days afterward blurred by. Funeral home. Travel to Pennsylvania for her bural and graveside service. A memorial service in Tennessee. More work for busy season. Before I knew it, it was Thanksgiving. I made it through two meals with other families, but the Monday after, I began to cry at work and had to go home to let the tears fall uninterrupted. I had pushed them aside to get through, but it was time for them to take over and work out the grief. Then it was Christmas. My niece was born. We all gathered in Connecticut to celebrate the life of this precious little girl and spend time together as a family in peace and quiet. We visited New York City just before New Year's Eve. I went home to Middle Tennessee, revivied, looking forward to a year without sorrow.

I have avoided blogging much until now. I wasn't ready. I couldn't express what I felt. I needed time to heal. I didn't have the strength, energy, or drive to move forward. But I know, with absolute certainty, that God has good planned for me and my family this year. Already, the joys have multiplied continually. It began when I unexpectedly met and began to date an amazing man who has since added to my happiness with each new day. It continued with the birth of my lovely niece in the beginning of December, just barely after my brother made it back from a lengthy business trip (he literally drove from the airport to the hospital to witness his daughter's birth). It was added to when I realized that my relationships with my brothers and my father had grown stronger and had patched up spots of contention that had haunted us for years. I finally humbled myself and asked for (and received) help from my Dad to eliminate my debt in a responsible way. And now, to see that he is also healing, bit by bit, as he mourns the loss of his best friend and soulmate. His eyes have a bit of a light again.

God is good. And I have grateful tears in my eyes as I type this. Never, in a hundred years, could I have imagined this would be possible, but I have joy and a hope for the future ahead of me. I truly do. And it is all because of Him.

I'm ready for the year ahead. And I am beginning to dream again. Despite the rumblings of a wounded economy, I believe it is possible for me to continue to press ahead. I feel like I am awakening from a deep slumber. A hibernation. Creativitity like electricity is bolting around inside, sparking, working to get out. I desire to seek God. To renew my interests. To use these gifts He gave me. To LIVE again.

Ruby Red ... is back.

Wait. It's 2009?

It's been awhile, huh?

This is just a post because I realized I needed to post and so that Blogger sets me up with a 2009 archive.

I'm happy. I'm good. I'm looking forward to new experiences in the coming year. Here's to 2009 being much, much better than 2008!

Getting back in the groove

There has been so much happening that I don't even know where to start, except to say: I'm exhausted. Physically, emotionally, spiritually.

And I'm ready to move forward with my life. I think I need to sit down with a cozy blanket, some jazz, and a composition book and plot the next points in the map that is my future.

The First Day of Autumn is Bittersweet

Dear friends, perhaps you did not know … but my mother blogs, as well. To know what is going on in MY life right now, you need only read what is going on in HERS. She explains things so much better than I can.

http://edifications-cjf.blogspot.com/2008/09/liver-failure_22.html

I love you, Mom.

Numb

So, I went to the second of my dental sessions today. Yesterday I got three little cavities on my left filled. Today it was the three little cavities on my right. I found out yesterday that my upper jaw doesn't numb quickly when I felt the drill a little bit. A shock of sudden cold and sensation is scary! So today, when I had TWO fillings to go in up top as opposed to yesterday's one, I was nervous. Would it hurt again?

Sure enough, she had to add more numbing agent about 2-3 times to get me numb enough to continue drilling. Also, on the bottom, she hit a nerve or something, because it shot straight into my tongue.

My face is tight and numb from the middle of my neck up to my right eyeball, and even a little bit of my eyebrow. I can barely swallow. And I have a headache.

That's my whining quota for the day. I hope that I start feeling normal by tonight, because I need to clean the kitchen big time. And MJ is coming over to help me assemble my Target pre-fab bookcases.

It's Trip Time!

August 5th was my last post? AUGUST 5th??!! How could I be so verbally inadequate? I haven't blogged in 20 days? Goodness gracious.

Lots of excitement and intrigue has ensued. Busy season at work is busy again. I feel a little lazy because we're caught up and two other people are helping me do the work of what was formerly mainly the job of one person (me.) Granted, my old coworker did so much in the background that I think we will never quite know just how much he did. He was superman of the catalog season.

I had some scares. But God helped me bounce back. And I had the support of friends and family to get me through it.

And now, I look forward to the exciting times of the weekends over the next month. Oh really, you say? And why is that? Because I get to hang out with some people I really enjoy and don't see often.

Happy Weekends, you'll make busy season a little more bearable.

*contented sigh*

Gumby Breakdancing in my Cubicle

What I do for fun in this place ...

In Praise of Peter Rabbit

Google pointed out that today is Beatrix Potter's birthday.

I couldn't imagine my childhood without Peter, Benjamin, Mopsy, Flopsy, and Cottontail. Mrs. Tiggywinkle was my favorite laundress. Jemima Puddleduck taught me the perils of trusting strangers and not thinking for myself. Tom Kitten became part of our family (literally!). Anna Maria and Samuel Whiskers made for some great times of quotations and laughter. And Miss Potter's gorgeous, timeless watercolor illustrations are indelibly marked on my memories of childhood.

Thanks, Beatrix.

Why bother?

So, here it is, 9:58 a.m. on Friday morning, and I am hungry, and I'm about to eat another yummy Snyder's of Hanover hard pretzel ... the big, fat, crunchy, salty kind. And as I reach for the box in my desk drawer, I realize that my coffee mug is still 3/4 full. Almost two hours after I trudged to the kitchen to pour myself a cuppa joe blended with two packets of powdered creamer and a smidge of sugar.

I realized, at this point, that I hardly ever finish a cup of coffee, if it isn't from Starbucks and filled with lots of foamed milk and caramel syrup.

Honestly, why do I even bother?

Colons

Colons have been on my mind lately. Granted, there are two equally true meanings to this statement. One has to do with my mother's cancer. The other ... grammar.

My Eats, Shoots & Leaves daily grammar tidbit calendar had this lovely little quotation for yesterday. I thought I'd share:

"Like a well-trained magician's assistant, the colon pauses slightly to give you time to get a bit worried, and then efficiently whisks away the cloth and reveals the trick complete."

Come to think of it, my life has been a bit of a colon lately. A big, dramatic pause. I eagerly await the Reveal.

The I Haven't Blogged In A Long Time Blog

Nothing much to say. Figuring out life. Wish some things were less complicated.

Pray for me?

Now or Later

For my friends who hit up Go USA a few weeks ago ...

I just had to let you know that I just ate my last Now and Later. It is orange flavored, but tastes slightly like chemicals.

I found it in the bottom of my purse. And I thought of y'all. Especially the part where we played Ski-Ball to earn those tickets!

I Miss You

Yes, you. You, who used to write me regular emails, or at least responded to my tidbits quickly. You know who you are. You've been awfully quiet lately.

I miss you, too. The other you. The you that I used to write to more often. I should write to you again. I'm the one slacking, here.

Funny how the electronic age has made it so easy to contact each other, and yet we don't. But I wish we would, more.

Keep in touch!

Blogging Isn't Always the Best Idea

I just read a couple of articles that made me stop and think. I know that only a handful of people read this blog, and I'm so glad to keep up with friends and family this way, but how beneficial is it for me to be writing out my life online?

I have always tried to maintain a semblance of anonymity. Sometimes names slip out. For the shy, like myself, I try to go back and adjust as necessary. But the result has been a nearly four year documentation, not just of my life, my ideas, my dreams, but also of God's working and faithfulness. I can look back at posts from previous years and see how, even though I feel like I'm just treading water, God has moved me (sometimes literally) from point A to point B, and it has been for my ultimate good.

But is online taking over the real world? It's something to think about. I never, ever aspire to be "A Blogger" ... the ones who end up on CNN or Lifetime or, as in the case of one edgy social blogger, Emily Gould, on the virtual pages of The New York Times online magazine, spilling her emotional guts in black and white and 0's and 1's. Have I followed in the footsteps of the over-sharers of the online world? Have pixels become the new red carpet? Glamorous, dangerous, exposed?

Sketch Your Own Furniture From Your Imagination Into Reality!

A coworker sent me this link, and I had to share it. Crazy, a little clunky, not so beautiful, but completely amazing nonetheless. (And Aaron ... I'm waiting to see what you come up with, my furniture designing and oh-so-industrious friend!)

Random Things I'd Like to Do One Day

- Own and drive a completely refurbished old convertible. You know, the kind that they drove in the 1930s or something.
- Take my picture standing just inside a bright red covered bridge somewhere in New England.
- See New York City with somebody who knows his/her way around.
- Make art in Portland, Oregon.
- Go shopping in Savannah, Georgia.
- Pet a monkey ... you know, one of those professional dancing monkeys, with the cute little hats and jackets.
- Watch a monarch migration in progress.
- Dress up like a pirate. And go somewhere totally non-piratey. Like, I dunno, Cracker Barrel. Or the Washington Monument.
- Win at dominoes.
- Invent a board game that becomes a national phenomenon. Retire rich.
- Speaking of games, I'd like to buy a high-quality croquet set and actually use it. On a manicured lawn. While the hedgehogs watch.
- Read Les Miserables. And like it.
- Drive across the country.
- Walk into an airport, randomly buy a ticket, and go. No luggage.
- Have a perfume named after me.
- Count how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.

Pop vs. Soda

Forget whether or not to vote Republican or Democrat this year. The real burning question is whether that carbonated beverage you are drinking is a Pop or a Soda?

Vote today.

Laugh, Don't Cry

"Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward."
- Kurt Vonnegut

Let the Networking Begin

I am going crazy in a dead-end job that a high schooler could do with little difficulty. The busy season hits in two months. Do I still want to be there when it happens?

No.

Crystal and I were talking, and I'm wondering if taking a couple (a few?) part-time jobs here in the 'Boro might be the best way to go while I figure things out. I hate the idea of leaving a professional job yet again for the unknown of part-time, but it seems the only way to economize on gas while at the same time allowing for flexibility in case I get an interview.

Then the question becomes: where and when do I begin interviewing? How soon should I start sending resumes out? And to where? Should I answer newspaper ads? Online ads? Craigslist ads?

Probably.

But there is also the factor that I won't truly be happy until I at least have gone all out and tried to start my business at last. I don't want to regret never starting it, that's for sure. Will it be risky?

Yes.

So I'm torn which direction to turn. I do know that I thought starting a business was the way to go three and a half years ago, but that did not turn out as expected for me, obviously. Plus, there is the little problem of my consumer debt (ok, a big problem) and bills and expenses, such as the car problems I need to have investigated. Having a well-paying job in an affluent area for a few years might be the best thing to do, just to pay off all my debt, get a car that is decent and will last, and have some spare money set aside to live off of for the first few months.

But then again, if I always wait, I will never do. There is never an ideal time for starting a business. And, as Crystal pointed out, It's not exactly like I'm being impulsive about this. I've only wanted to own and run my own business since I was about 4. That's only 24 years in the making!

In the meantime, I wanted to send a shout-out to all of my friends, family, and random readers, I am looking for a job in one of these areas:

- copywriting
- marketing
- advertising
- account/brand management (least favorite option, but I can't argue that I don't have experience. This is what I've been doing the past two years).
- creative directing
- online marketing
- freelance writing
- desktop publishing/publication design
- library work. Hey--why not? I liked it when I was a clerk years ago. I could do it again.

If you hear of anything, let me know. I'm looking nationwide, with a preference for big cities in a good cost-of-living area that is entrepreneur/boutique store friendly and warmish climate. I've heard good things about Charlotte, NC; Atlanta, GA; Houston, TX; and Dallas-Fort Worth, TX. And I'm still open to the Nashville, TN area, as well. However, it has become increasingly obvious to me that the kind of store I want to start is not one that will go over very well in Nashville. I need a more metropolitan, artsy-fartsy vibe area, with lots of money to spare for home furnishings, art, handmade items, vintage and antique items, indie designer clothing lines, and excellent books and journals. Either that, or lots of mid-sized businesses that might need freelance copywriting/publication design help.

Please pray for me. This is a huge decision for me. And I'm scared I'll make the wrong choice. Or even that I'll make the right choice for the wrong reason. But if you know anybody who knows someone who knows someone who needs a creative, hard-working, honest, enthusiastic worker ... let me (and them) know!

Agree With Obama? Shocking!

An interesting thing to come out of this insane presidential race: I agree with a staunch Democrat about at least one thing about this country's foundational makeup.

Kids need Dads, regardless or race, religion, creed, or political bent.