Vulnerability Hangover

Forgive me for not reading or listening to Brene Brown before I write this, but the concept itself is enough for now. I read about it in Sherman Alexie's newest book, which turns out to be a memoir about his mother, primarily. It was hard to read but also easy to read, and now I'm reading When Breath Becomes Air because a friend I ran into at the Lucky Day shelf encouraged me to..

From my gut reaction I know I've been experiencing this and it's behind my lack of posts. I'm guessing it is a condition I will continue to learn to live with. I have always wanted to find ways to be more honest and more easily vulnerable. It has always been scary and wonderful.

Mom's here for one more day. I feel pressure to talk about everything, make sure I hear everything she has to tell me, pack it all in just in case I don't get another or a better chance. All of which is not possible and makes me feel more stressed, irritated, tired. Things I'm reading and watching on TV don't help. The Vietnam War is still a defining historical event in my life. My Aunt Lud's 100th birthday party was lovely and tragic (she is suffering from dementia). I stepped out of my routine and took off Tuesday Market, and all the meetings and activities I usually find grounding and that keep me going in the endless round of how my artisan life works.

I so needed a break, that it was overwhelmingly obvious. I'm grateful that Mom's visit forced me to clean my house, think about others, and make space in my home and thoughts for family. I am missing the Standards Committee meeting today, my writing group isn't meeting, and I'm not typing any minutes or doing any printing or even thinking much about my work life. It's like a vacation though not a vacation of escape. It's only a pause. I have printing to do tomorrow, and minutes to type, and a meeting Friday, and of course Saturday I will sell as usual. I did last week. It was the one piece of my routine I was not willing to give up, and I'm glad. But a pause was welcome and needed. (In fact, I gave up the paid duty of taking the Standards minutes, so if anyone is looking for a little gig taking minutes, please let the Market know you are available.)

My only surviving (out of ten siblings) Uncle came to the party too, staying with his wife at Ritta's cottage, and it was wonderful to bring them into the Market family. My Aunt Gayle remarked upon that aspect of our community right away. Without prompting she recognized that we all seemed so connected at the Market, so non-competitive and friendly and helpful toward one another. Ritta, as you may know, is not only a fantastic chef but a wonderfully warm and embracing human and she was so welcoming to my relatives, as was Colleen and so many others. Raven did not complain when I set up chairs for my relatives in our shared  open space that we use for ourselves and my customers. He was patient as I ran off to make the various connections I always do on Saturdays, setting my selling responsibilities aside while I check in with other artisans about the deck construction (still has to be stained when the weather improves), the wrapped pod (love the old-growth forest with dinosaurs) and other things that impact our Market experience.

One neighbor had a heart attack last week but was still at Market. One had been evacuated due to fire but still came too. One was terrified and needed reassurance from several people about a Standards issue. We were dealing with grief from the loss of loved ones. Friends wanted hugs, others had questions generated from the Annual Meeting, many had opinions and details to check in about on lots of aspects of our experience. Farmers' Market needed a plastic bag for some dog waste. People come to me, I go to them. It's a rich part of what I do in the Market community, and I want it. If and when I step away from things, it's a struggle of so many emotions. I want to make space for other people to step up, and I want things to be done well and thoroughly the way I have come to see them done. I want leaders to be supported and not criticized or drained of their enthusiasm. I want staff to be supported and freed to bring their skills to really work for us the way we deserve to be worked for and with. I want the Market to be coordinated with OCF as a structure for our survival and celebration as artisans and masters of our crafts. I want my life to work well and I want that for all of us. It's how we live and we made it so we could live that way. And we want to share it in so many ways.

I want to feel free to write in this framework about my vulnerabilities and I want to feel safe posting it publicly, exposing my insecurities and working on my strengths in an open space that I can share. It's important to me. So I will have to learn more from Brene Brown and others on how to manage that, open even more, not give in to fears. It might be what will get us through this time and all the times we have left.

Mom wants to talk. Tears are close. See you Saturday. When it's love or fear, you know that I will work through that fear to get to that love.