Tag Archives: love

Nothing beats the love and support of a good partner.

It is Sunday, September 30th and I am writing this at Governor Dodge State Park campsite 349 in our dark green 1999 Dodge Ram conversion van. I backed up the van to the electrical hookup just like a huge RV instead of this little van and pushed the cord to my lap top out the little pop out window. The back bench seat folds down to create a bed big enough for Mike and I to lay side by side. I am lying here on top of the sleeping bags which are zipped together to create a sleeping bag for two, typing. I am not really comfortable but not uncomfortable either. I’m alone expect for the dogs. One dog, Angie is on the floor by the bed sprawled on her pet bed. Dean-o, the other dog, is up here with me. It was a trip getting here I’ll say that, deciding whether to come here or not. First it was yes, then no, then yes again.

A few days earlier.

The Love and Support of a Good Partner

the support of a good partner“Mike I want to drive up to Governor Dodge and hike. The fall colors are so beautiful. I can leave Sunday. Spend the night and come back Monday. That will give me two days of hiking. What do you think?”

“I think that would be great.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Of course he thinks it would be great. He knows I love to hike. He knows I love Governor Dodge. He knows I am enthralled with the fall colors this year. And most importantly, he wants me to do what gives me joy. We could have come together. We could have left on Saturday and returned on Sunday because he would need to be back for work but since his health issues of arthritis and gout in his big toe he doesn’t enjoy hiking much anymore. Plus he’s not too big on driving even if it is only two hours. So I came up with this big bright idea all on my own for myself.

Saturday night, the night before I was to leave while lying next to Mike who was also reading, I set my book down and looked over at him. I realized I didn’t want to leave him. Yes, I love hiking and Governor Dodge but I don’t like leaving Mike.

“Mike, I’m not going,” I announced out of the blue.

“Why,” he asked turning to me placing his book spread open on his chest.

“Well, this book I’m reading is too scary. It’s about a woman who survives this rapist murderer and she helps get him sent to prison. He is getting out of prison and now he is going to be after her. It’s going to be one of those on-the-edge books where she is on step away from danger. I’m sure she will come out OK but the book is just too dark for me. And it’s scaring me now. Anyway, I don’t want to leave you.”

“You’re an independent woman. You can do this.” Mike picked up right away that the book wasn’t the real reason.

“Maybe, but it’s my choice not to leave you. So, you don’t have to think I’m not going because you are making me.”

“OK,” he said knowing full well it is of little use to argue with me.

With that I toss my book on the floor vowing silently to myself not to finish it and turn off my bedside light.

The next morning at around nine o’clock all of a sudden going to Governor Dodge didn’t seem like a bad idea. The sun was up and the scary thoughts and the sadness about leaving Mike have vanished with the night. After all I have to walk the dogs anyway and the fall colors are not going to be around much longer. All we need is one strong wind storm and they will all be knocked to the ground. What the heck I should go.

“Mike, I think. I’m going to go after all.”

“OK.” and with that he immediately sets out to get things ready for me. He remembered I wanted to take my hiking boots which were out in the shed. He got those and put them in the van. He got together the sleeping bags, a folding chair, flashlights, lighters and fire starters so I could start a fire. The day before when he thought it was a go, he went to the store and bought me some red grapes, pineapple, bananas and strawberries. Now that it’s on again he cut up the pineapple and strawberries, put them in containers along with the grapes and set them in the cooler he dragged out. He packed in some bottles of water.

“Do you want your salsa and chips,” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said not giving them a thought till he mentioned it.

“What about a Coke.” I looked at him quizzically wondering, should I?. I don’t drink soda at all but once a week we have a Coca Cola in little glass bottles made in Mexico with sugar instead of high fructose corn syrup. They are more expensive than regular Coke but worth it.

“Go ahead. Treat yourself.” I grinned.

“OK.”

I gathered together some clothes and put them in a backpack. I packed up my laptop and some books. Mike got the dogs food, their bowls and leashes. He put all this in the van. We were rushing around in a flurry to get me on my way. Within the hour I was draped over him in an embracing hug saying good-bye.

“I don’t like leaving you,” I said into his neck.

“You’ll be fine. You’ll be hiking,” he said squeezing me tighter.

As long as I thought I was just going for a hike it felt OK, but camping over night. I don’t know. We broke apart and looked each other in the eye.

“I could always come back after I hike,” I said with a sheepish grin. “Not even stay over night.”

“Just let me know so I can get my girlfriends out of the house,” he said. I punched him in the arm. “No, really, Janice, you’ll have a good time.”

“Well, you know I’ll be calling you.” I said as I got into the van.

So, I drove two hours to go hiking feeling apprehensive, selfish, guilty, silly. Many people do this kind of thing, I thought. They drive hours somewhere to do something they love to do. I don’t know why I should feel like I’m doing something so weird and crazy, so wrong.

About halfway there I smiled to myself thinking about the last-minute running around we both did just so I could go for a little trip out hiking in nature. How blessed I am. I am with a man who goes out of his way to help me get what I want out of life. I feel a fullness in my chest that spreads upward causing my scalp to tingle realizing what Mike did to help me get on my way. This is what a marriage, a partnership, is all about, isn’t it? Being a support, a catalyst for the other to ‘go for it’. Our marriage has had its ups but it is times like this that I understand how truly blessed I am. Nothing beats the love support of a good partner which colors my world as brightly as the fall colors.  My partner, my husband meets the seven qualities of an ideal partner that I found on Psychalive.    I just hope I do the same for him.  I hope I am an ideal partner for him.

And so I hiked for two days, four hours a day. I snapped pictures every step of the way. And, as it turned out, I had cell phone coverage even on the trails and called Mike often sharing little adventures with him. The first thing I did, after hugging Mike, was sit down and show him my pictures. I don’t know if they captured the beauty of what I was seeing. Being there and seeing the colors, inhaling the fall aroma and listening to the birds can’t be totally captured. I put a little slide show together adding some word values to a few of the pictures. Values that being on my hike, admiring the colors and having the support of Mike inspired. It took me quite awhile to put it together which is the reason for the lateness of the post. I hope you enjoy what I put together.

Coinsidences can mean God winked…

It was about 6:00 o’clock in the evening as I lay on my bed looking up at the bumpy textured ceiling, feeling sorry for myself, yet again.  I applied for a job at the local library and just received a very polite rejection letter letting me know they filled the position with someone who had more experience.

I felt zapped between the eyes in total shock at the unfairness of it all.  I believed in my heart and soul that I would at least have an interview.  I was frozen in disbelief and dismay before I broke and the tears came.  I felt like a fool for believing I would be interviewed.

Finally, I just gave up and crawled into bed feeling certain that the real reason I didn’t get an interview was because I was a loser.  In fact, just like hiccups I keep repeating, “I’m such a loser,” softly to myself.  It felt like I was on my deathbed while my life flashed before my eyes with all my failures when the phone rang shortly after six.

Mike walked over to me with the portable phone extending it in my direction, “It’s for you.  Your friend Ann.”  I sighed reluctantly taking the phone.

“Hi, Janice.”

“Hi, Ann.”

“How are you?”

“Alright.”

“Just alright.”

“Yeah. How are you?”

“I’m good. You sound like your upset.”

“That’s cuz I am.”

“If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

I waited as my brain raced through my options.  Should I or shouldn’t I?  What should I say?  How should I say it?  Does it even matter?  Tears rolled down my face.  At last I took a deep breath and told her about the letter.

“It would be nice to earn some money, you know.  But then I remembered how I was saying to you the other day about your checking out a career in interior design and how I said that you could do that, invest all your time and money in a new career and maybe ten years from now you would be making money at it or you could spend that same time and energy in your music and be making money doing that.  Because…”  I laughed because of what I was about to say.  “Well, because I think your music is your gift.  I mean, it’s obvious.”  I recalled many a time when Ann voiced her fears regarding her music realizing in the back of my mind it may not be obvious to her.

“Not to me!” Ann said right on cue.

“But you’re so good at writing songs, and singing and the guitar.  What I mean is I wish I had a gift that was that so obvious, at least to others anyway.”

Continue reading

Finding my Voice

Singing and dancing will free Joyce from the shackles that bind her

I joined a circle of women to explore, listen and be heard.  No easy task for me.  I mean I do well enough opening my mouth and speaking when I am one on one or there can be at least one other person if I know the person well, I mean for at least a year or two. Preferably two.   Other wise, I clam up, am quiet, a total wallflower.  But the group was small and I actually opened up and shared stuff.  It turned out my goal in the group was to explore my writing voice.

I touched briefly on when the idea of writing made an appearance in my life. (Hello post)  Unfortunately, the desire was stifled, for practically eons, by myself I might add for reasons of self-preservation, or what I believed to be self-preservation in my young undeveloped mind.  I had to censor not just writing but any sort of self-expression.

Out of desperation, I lived what I called my unconscious life.  I was in the world but had no clue who I was, what I was doing, that I had a say in any part of my life.  Life bounced me around like I was in the back of a pickup and someone else was driving up a single-lane, rutted, mountain dirt road.  I was just hanging on for dear life.

I would say for the last twenty years I actually practiced the art of writing.  I climbed into the driver seat and took the wheel.  I worked at finding my voice.  Voice in writing or any creative endeavor is as individual as a fingerprint or snowflake.  I know it needs cultivating and nourishing and constant practice to flesh it out from you inner being.

I feel I have found my voice to a certain extent.  I mean I am getting a sense of my voice through my blog writing.  However, I feel my voice is like a scared little bunny ready to jump and bolt at the tiniest movement.  Although at the same time my voice is feeling safer.  I mentioned this in my post a “Child of God” but more work needs to be done.  I know this because I have a writing project percolating in my mind and I am censoring it when I work on it.  My hope is, with the help of a circle of women, to encourage my voice Continue reading

With a little help from my friends

Cat sitting on monitor

A supportive friend

As I mentioned in my last post I will be changing my blog.  Right now I am using WordPress.  I will still use WordPress just the full version.  It won’t happen for another couple of weeks yet but you will know when because things will look a bit different.  But not too different.  Just a new and upgraded kind of different.  The reason I am mentioning it now is to let you know that to get to the new blog you don’t need to do a thing because my domain, jazzmineycronechronicles.com will be the same.

When I first started my blog I bought the domain jazzmineycronechronicles.com.  My reason was in case the blogging thing worked I would move over to a full version of WordPress.  So then the logical assumption would follow that blogging is working for me, that I am successful in my blogging efforts.  So now I’m wondering do I really think I am successful?  It’s not like I’m a blogging sensation or anything.  I guess it all boils down to how do I measure success.

I thought for me to be successful would be for me to post at least once a week.  But in addition, I hoped some people would like what I wrote, maybe they thought it was interesting, or it was a bit amusing, maybe someone thought about something differently because of what I had to say or maybe, just maybe, someone was inspired or even felt a bit understood when I wrote about a difficult time or feelings.

Those things would be hard to measure.  Not everyone feels moved to post a comment.  However, some of you did post a comment.  And every time I received a comment I was giddy with joy.  A person or two even clicked the like button, which is just as cool.  I then can assume that for all those who posted a comment or clicked the like button there are some who liked what I wrote without responding because WordPress has a little app that lets me see how many views my site gets and it is more than those who responded.

Based on comments, likes and views I feel like I have been successful.  Granted my blog didn’t go viral.  I mean I’m not famous or anything.   It is small.  However on WordPress’s support page titled Get Famous: boost your readership it says,

With hard work and time, your traffic will increase. (And even if it doesn’t, that doesn’t mean you’re not an awesome blogger — as long as you’re enjoying your blog, you’re successful.)

I must admit that is true for me.  I am enjoying it.  I hate to admit it because I sort of felt deep down there that I should not really enjoy myself unless I get approval from some outside source.  That somehow, somewhere along the line I decided that enjoying myself was bad, very bad.  If someone said to me, hey, it’s ok to do that, or that’s a good idea then it was acceptable.

After I would finish writing a post, sometimes I amused myself; sometimes I came to an understanding with myself, all of the time I expressed myself using my unique voice.  From all the learning and lessons in my life up to now I understood that everyone on this planet is a unique individual with his or her own distinctive talents and abilities and that following ones heart makes use of those talents.  In fact I just recently read a quote from Nelson Mandela in Stretching Lessons: The Daring That Starts from Within by Sue Bender “The world will not fall apart if we let ourselves express our vastness.  It is more likely the world will stop falling apart when we do.”

So, I am doing just that, following my heart, expressing myself from my heart, enjoying the process and believing that my doing so will help “the world” from falling apart.

So at this time I would like to thank all those who visited my blog, commenter’s and lurker’s alike. You fill my heart with joy.  I would also like to take this time to wish you all a joyous holiday season.

A Child of God

You are a child of God and deserve all the gifts that are given.

I did something I never thought I would do.  In fact, I never knew I could do it but once I did it, I have to tell you it was a relief.  What am I talking about?  I pulled a post.  As far as I can tell only four people actually viewed.  That in itself was a relief.

One night, I woke up after only two hours of sleep at around 11:30pm; two days after I posted this upsetting blog, which at the time I thought was pretty good and I thought I made a terrible mistake.  I sat up in bed wide-eyed feeling the blood drain from my face.  I crept out of bed and quietly left the bedroom with my husband safely sleeping  closing the door behind me.   At the kitchen table, I powered up my laptop and I discovered much to my delight that I could just click unpublish and it would go back to being a draft.  As simple as that and I wasted no time.

But wait, I thought.  When I publish something it immediately gets posted to my face book page.  I raced over there and yep; there it was on my profile.  I clicked on it hoping it would be a dead link.  I watched, heart sinking, as the page for that post loaded.  Then much to my relief, I found the little button to unpost.  All was right with the world, or so I thought.

I was relieved to have recovered what I thought was my grievous mistake but I was still wound up and couldn’t go back to sleep so I played solitaire.  We let our house get cold at night.  The thermometer is set for 64 so in order for the heat to kick in, the temperature in the house needs to go down to 63 degrees. There I sat in my pajamas in that chilly house no bathrobe playing solitaire like a crazed person.  My hands and feet turned ice-cold and I crawled back into bed at 4:30 after having played solitaire for over five hours to warm up and hopefully fall asleep.

I did finally fall asleep before six getting maybe three more hours of sleep.  That day I felt like the walking dead from lack of sleep and from going over in my head what I had done, not the unposting but the posting of the blog.

I suppose if you are reading this you may be wondering what I am talking about.  What did I say that was so wrong?  Well, it’s not that I think it was wrong actually.  I was discussing my feelings around one of my sons.  His life is not going well and I was feeling sad about it.  I guess what I was hoping was that by putting it out there he would receive some compassionate energy.  Every little bit can help, right?  The night I woke up, I thought that maybe what I wrote and the way I wrote it wasn’t adequate enough to help others understand.  Instead I feared I would be creating confusion and maybe even hurting my son in the process.  The last thing I want to do is create more problems for him.

This whole thing lead to a downward spiral about my writing and my blog and even myself.  I berated myself and I cried for a couple of days.  Yesterday, what came to my mind was my old standby affirmations.  I have two of them.  I haven’t used them lately but now was the time.  One I crafted in a workshop.  I took my negative self-talk and turned it around.  What I came up with was:

“I am a wise and intelligent woman regardless what anyone else thinks.

I needed to have the last part in there because I would counter any affirmation with what I thought others thought.  And of course, one cannot be liked by everyone so I needed to neutralize that thought.

My other affirmation is one that was given to me at another workshop.  In this workshop after sharing with a partner, we came up with an affirmation for one another.  When I received my affirmation, I felt an immediate rush of good feelings.  This is what she gave me:

“You are a child of God and deserve all the gifts that are given.” 

That affirmation spoke to me on so many levels and it feels good writing it now.  I carried it around with me but now there is no need.  It is engraved in my head hopefully replacing the lies I tell myself.

The final thing that helped me out was watching Jenna Avery’s Writer’s chat broadcast last night.  She said many wonderful things but there were a few things I wrote down because they seemed to address the issues I was facing.  She said fear is at the heart of resistance and that I need to

Be willing to be who I am.  Be willing to be wrong.  Be willing to give myself permission.

She also said that I need to be willing to have the courage to speak from my heart, my truth.  Now she didn’t say that last thing in those exact words but that is sort of summing things up.  So with all that in mind, here I am, back at the keyboard, for better or worse, good or bad, this is me.

P.S.  I also received encouragement from my wonderful husband Mike, my brother John, my friend Ann, and my new blog friend Pam.  Which just goes to show it takes a village to pull someone out of the hole.  🙂