love – My Life in Paragraphs

What Do We Deserve?

A ferocious storm barreled through our valley this morning at 4:30. I woke to lightning flashing, thunder cracking, and rain pummeling the windows on the west side of the house.

Below the windows on that end of our bedroom, Otis was circling in his crate, banging into its sides in a panic. Fanny leaped up from where she was sleeping at my feet.

I jumped out of bed and let Otis out of the crate (he ran downstairs to his favorite spot on the couch and went back to sleep). As Fanny and I followed him down, I remembered that I’d opened a window above my desk in the cottage last night. It was warmer outside than inside, and I thought Diamond, my foster dog, would enjoy the warmer air and smells of the night. I love that view out the window above my desk to the west to the Alleghany mountains.

Now, my desk, computer, printer, notebooks, planner, and everything on my desk were soaked. I let Diamond out of her crate. She was excited to see me and danced through the puddles on the floor, immediately tracking water all over the rest of the room and up onto the futon where she settled with a bone to watch me frantically try to dry things. The only positive about the whole situation is it forced me to finally ‘mop’ the floor that was coated in a film of dust, dirt, and dog hair.

What a way to start the day.

After I made tea, did my yoga routine that is (for now) fending off the back problems that are coming for me (both parents and both brothers have had back surgery), I settled on the couch with Fanny and Otis, with Gracie farting at my feet. Every morning, I spend at least an hour, often two if I’m up early, like today, reading and journaling.

One of the books I’m reading is a memoir written by a celebrity dancer whose husband (also a celebrity dancer) committed suicide. It was free on Kindle Unlimited, and so far, it mostly felt like reading an article in People magazine (it might have been ghostwritten by a regular at People). I was almost ready to quit the book because I was disappointed in the lack of authenticity, vulnerability, or risk expected in a grief memoir. But then the author shared an exercise she used daily to motivate herself.

Each day, she wrote the phrases, “I am….”, “I have…”, and “I deserve….” And then finished them.

I pulled out my journal and started to answer those same questions. I’d been looking for a way to examine the uncertain feelings I’ve had of late about the world, what I do, my purpose here, really all of our purposes here. But those phrases and my answers left me only asking myself, “So what?”

What ‘I am’ is still a work in progress, and what ‘I have’ is unimportant. The “I deserve…” question made me angry. I’m tired of everyone, everywhere, thinking they deserve more than they receive. In some cases, maybe it’s true, but in too many, mine included, it’s blatant entitlement.

What do we deserve? Food, water, medical care, safety? Maybe. But people choose food that makes them ill and don’t want to pay for medical care, even when they can afford it.

What about love? Respect? Truth? But do we deserve these if we don’t give them in turn?

What do we deserve?

I’ve thought about that all morning. I think we all deserve the basic freedoms of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But do we still deserve those if our use of them hurts others or deprives them of those same basic rights?

Deep questions for a rainy, turbulent morning with more storms coming.

I looked at my precious, adored, spoiled dogs snuggled all around me. Do they deserve the care we give them? Most of the people in my world would resoundingly say, “Yes!” and agree that we made dogs dependent on us, so they deserve to be cared for.

Like every other essay I’ve started this week, I’m unsure where to take this one. Maybe because I don’t have the answers. My present uncertainty in so many areas is rooted in the fact that all that I believed about people, the way people should care for each other, that respect I think all human (and canine) life deserves, has been called into question in this country, and all over the world.

Why do we hurt each other?

I have always believed in our better nature. That, at their base, most people are good. I will cling to that belief, even as the news makes me not so certain anymore. We have to take care of more than ourselves. What’s the point of any of this if we don’t?

What do people deserve?

Maybe they don’t deserve our love, and maybe granting our respect is asking too much. Unalienable rights aside, though, I believe they deserve our kindness, our time, our thoughtful consideration of who they are, and the acknowledgment of the unknown battles they are certainly fighting.

Maybe instead of pondering our answers to “I am,” “I have,” and “I deserve,” we should finish the phrase, “I will…”

I will look for ways to spread light instead of darkness.

I will connect rather than disconnect.

I will help instead of hurt.

Hey, thanks for reading. I know you’ve got lots of options, so thanks for sharing a few of your minutes with me.

Honored,

Cara

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PAUSE. BREATHE. Don’t Respond.

“PAUSE. BREATHE. Don’t Respond.”

This is a sticky note I have pasted to the top of my computer screen. I try to focus on it when I’m on zoom calls or when I read something on social media and feel the irrational urge to SCREAM AT PEOPLE (or cry).

Starting the Year Off Lighter

This past week I started the Lighten Your Load, Lighten Your Life Challenge. It’s a personal challenge to remove 5 things from my life every day of 2024.

I’ve invited others to join me (and pick their own number). Together in a private Facebook group we are sharing ideas, support, and a few laughs, plus offering accountability with optional daily reports of how we’ve lightened our loads.

When I set out to do this, I expected maybe a handful of my friends might join me, and even made two friends to promise they would join, so I wouldn’t look pathetic if someone I didn’t know decided to join.

To my happy surprise, lots of people have joined the group and the number grows every day (you can join us too! Click here to read the original post and to find the link to our group). It’s been fun and inspiring to see what everyone’s unloading, plus I’ve already gotten a ton of great tips (did you know that Smartwool has a sock recycling program?).

Falling in Love Has Nothing to Do With It

“You have to make a conscious decision to love someone.”

My mother told me this at some point in my young adult years. At the time I remember thinking that sounded like something an old person would say. It really poked all the fun out of ‘falling in love,’ something I experienced again and again and rarely acted on until I was nearly thirty.

I’ve reflected on those words many times in the years since she said it. In fact, my novel, Practicing Normal, explores that very idea. It holds up the concept of falling in love, against the reality of choosing to continue to love even when it isn’t easy. I’ve come to believe my mom is right. Love does require a conscious decision.

No more so than in marriage. I’ve been married now for twenty-two years. I’m here to tell you it’s not all fun and games. There are plenty of times when it requires serious work. And when you are bogged down in parenting or building a career you simply cannot coast on that euphoria of new love any longer. You have to make an effort. Even if you feel you’re carrying the larger load. Even when the bills and the laundry pile up, you still have to consciously decide to love this person who drives you batty at times.

The day we got married, I had a stomach flu that leveled me so badly my friends and sister-in-law had to dress me, do my nails, hair, and makeup. The limo didn’t show up and we all crammed in a friend’s mini-van to get to the church. The service started nearly twenty minutes late. Anything that could fall out of the sky, did fall out of the sky that November day – rain, sleet, snow, hail. My bridesmaids had barf bags wrapped around their bouquets, just in case.

And yet, my wedding was perfect. All the obstacles, whittled the event down to one thing for me. All I focused on, all I cared about, was being able to stand up and say my vows. Instead of worrying about my appearance and the million details I’d obsessed over for months, our wedding was about what it should have been about – making a conscious decision, even a declaration, to love each other. Forever.

In Practicing Normal, Cassie, a hospice nurse expounds on my mother’s words:

“Love isn’t romance. It’s a grind. It’s being there every day, even when you don’t want to be. I see it all the time. I watch these people who sit with their dying spouse or friend or parent. They clean up their shit, spoon feed them their dinner, bathe them, read to them, take care of them—because they love them. It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s not something you’d ever find in a romance novel. Love isn’t some grand thing that you luck into; there’s not magic chemistry involved. It’s a decision. A conscious decision. You have to decide you’re going to love someone and then you have to make that decision every day, every hour, again and again. Even when it sucks.”

I’m pretty sure my husband is forced to make the conscious decision to keep loving me much more often than I debate my own love for him. I know I’m not easy, and maybe that’s one of the things that makes me grateful for him. He tolerates my moods and whims and unilateral decisions about how many animals to bring home.

Just like sunscreen and thank you notes, mom was right. Loving someone is a conscious decision. One we all make every day, every hour, and if we’re lucky, for a lifetime.

Best,

Cara

Thanks for reading!

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