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A New Family

It seems like forever since I last posted. I know I have said that before, but this time it really does feel like forever. A lot has happened since I last sat down and wrote.

Yes, I am still with Him. He is not perfect. Neither am I. But somehow, somewhere along the way, he became such an important part of my life that I honestly cannot imagine my life without him. And because of him, I have something else I never expected to have again at this point in my life. A family.

His family has welcomed me in and, in many ways, adopted me as one of their own. I have slowly learned the family dynamics, the relationships, the personalities, and the sometimes complicated connections that come with being part of a family. I have even found myself thinking of them as my “sister-in-law,” “nephew,” “niece,” and so on. It still feels a little strange to write those words sometimes. Not because they don’t feel right, but because I never expected to have those relationships in my life.

I have been there for celebrations. I have been there during times of tragedy. I have watched people I care about struggle and hurt. And I will admit, I don’t always know what to do.Sometimes I struggle with how to comfort someone. I want to make the pain go away, but I can’t. I want to say the right thing, but sometimes there are no right words. Sometimes all I can do is sit nearby and watch someone I care about suffer, hoping that my presence offers some small measure of comfort.

Okay, I will admit it. I have not always been quiet. I have shared my opinions. I have offered what I believe is sound advice. Some of it has been accepted. Some of it has been considered. And some of it has probably gone in one ear and out the other.

Bot that is Okay. Because through all of this, I have been hugged. I have been told that I mean a lot to their family. Those moments mean more to me than I can probably explain.

But there is also a fear that I carry.

I worry that because my new family is Hispanic, the family we have built together could be ripped apart by ICE. I worry that the color of their skin can make them targets. And I worry about what is happening in this country to anyone who is not white. I see the reports. I hear about people being shot and killed by rogue ICE agents, followed by explanations that seem to change the circumstances of what really happened. I watch what is happening, and I worry.

I worry about my family.

But I can’t live every day consumed by that fear. So I have learned to compartmentalize it. I put it away in a box in my mind, even though I know it is still there. And for the most part, I refuse to allow fear to take away the joy of what I have found. Because today, I am not writing about fear.

Today, I am writing about my family.

My new family.

I am writing to celebrate the love they have offered me. I am celebrating the way they have welcomed me into their lives. I am celebrating the celebrations, the difficult times, the laughter, the disagreements, the advice, the hugs, and all of the ordinary moments that somehow become important when you realize you are no longer standing on the outside looking in.

I never expected to find a family like this at this point in my life.

But somehow, I did. And I am grateful.

So very grateful.

A Long Conversation

After months of uncertainty, I finally found the courage to have the conversation with him. I truly believe this is the first healthy relationship I’ve experienced. I let him know how much I appreciate everything he does for me, and that none of it has gone unnoticed.

Over the time we’ve spent together, I’ve come to understand that expressing emotions doesn’t come easily for him. I’m not sure he’ll ever say the exact words, “I love you,” but during our long, honest talk, I admitted that I love him. His response — “I do too” — was simple, but deeply meaningful.

It was such an intimate moment, one I’ll hold close to my heart. I don’t want to change the pace or shape of our relationship — only to keep growing closer as we continue walking through life together.

Hola

I

I’ve been hesitant to mention him—the special someone who entered my life . All I willing to admit is that he is very special to me. Part of me feels that even acknowledging this budding relationship might jinx it, but life is full of risks, and the worst I’d have to do is delete this post!

I really admire him. He came to this country young, barely speaking the language, if at all. After a difficult marriage and divorce, he ended up raising his two children alone. He is fiercely independent, highly responsible and he has worked tirelessly to provide and care for his children.

From what I understand, he hasn’t had many relationships and had mostly resigned himself to staying single. I reached out to him online, finding his profile intriguing—though it was an old one he might not have responded to me if not for a nudge from his coworkers. We started talking at a challenging time in my life, and met in person a few weeks later. He’s been here with me through it all, seven months strong.

He’s quiet and reserved with his thoughts and feelings. He doesn’t shower me with empty compliments or flowers, but he’ll say something simple and heartfelt that melts me. When I told him I was upset and needed a hug, he stopped everything, came over, and held me until I stopped crying. He rarely arrives empty-handed, always bringing food, drink or both. I asked to be part of his family life, and he welcomed me in. He has been always been thoughtful, considerate, patient and kind to me. I shouldn’t be so surprised but I am….

Is he perfect? Not at all—but neither am I! Am I smitten? Absolutely.

Is this what Peace feels like?

Tonight, as I was re-reading some of my previous posts, I realized something has shifted within me emotionally. Could this be peace? I find myself in a good place, feeling calm without that nagging sense of dread that used to weigh on me. But have my circumstances really changed? The truth is, they haven’t. Everything around me remains the same.

Does this newfound calm mean that I’m suddenly confident and self-assured? Not exactly. I’m still the same person with the same uncertainties. However, I’ve been spending time with someone who presents a state of calmness and self-confidence, and perhaps some of those qualities have started to rub off on me. Whatever the cause, this change feels wonderful. I feel calm, peaceful, and happy, and it’s a state I’m grateful to experience.

Moments

Life is made up of moments—bookended by birth and death, with the dash in between holding it all together. We all have childhood memories that shaped who we are, and moments in life that filled us with joy—a special birthday, Christmas, or holiday, a wedding day, perhaps the birth of a child. And there are those moments that brought deep sorrow. I remember the assassinations of President Kennedy, his brother Bobby, and Dr. Martin Luther King. I remember our national tragedy, the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center on September 11th, 2001. So many moments leave lasting impressions on our lives.

Yet, some of the most impactful moments involve births and deaths. The birth of a child transforms you completely, while the death of a loved one can bring overwhelming sadness. I was taken by surprise by the grief I felt when I lost someone. In the weeks after my mother’s death, I found myself unexpectedly in tears. I say “unexpectedly” because, for reasons I’ve discussed before, I wasn’t close with my mother. I grieve not for her, but for the relationship we never had.

At her funeral, I wondered about the person others were describing—how they spoke of her as a wonderful person, someone who had greatly influenced their lives and would be sorely missed. That was not the woman I knew. As irreverent as it may sound, she was never someone I could rely on, either as a child or an adult. Who was this stranger they mourned? She wasn’t the person I had known.

No, I don’t grieve for the person she was, but for the relationship that never existed.

Escape

It’s heart-wrenching to witness loved ones and friends facing life’s challenges, and feeling utterly helpless to assist them. Whether it’s family strife, financial troubles, or their personal battles I’ve been entrusted with, I understand the profound pain, sadness, and confusion that can leave you paralyzed, unsure of the next step. The advice I’ve received, though difficult to accept, urges me to keep moving forward, even if it is feels like only a tiny step. I need maintain a real perspective, stay present in the moment and out of my head. They tell you, care of yourself physically with rest, exercise and good food. And at times I have sought professional. And I suppose, over time, they do aid in healing. But when you feel stuck, you feel stuck, and breaking free feels insurmountable.

At times, the darkness seems all-consuming. Yet, even when the light at the end of the tunnel is imperceptible, fighting to emerge into that light is crucial. The key is to keep forging ahead, and keep telling yourself tomorrow will be a better day.

May we never go back into those dark places from which one fought so hard to escape.

Home

Have you ever encountered a location that resonated so deeply, that you know it’s where you truly belong? For me, that special place is Dublin. With Saint Patrick’s Day on the horizon, the longing to return has intensified. I refer to it as home because, to me, Dublin embodies that comforting sense of belonging. I really miss the sights, sounds, people, green grass, and history. The craving to be back is like a physical ache.

Dublin is Where My Heart is Thus Home

Suffer

“To Suffer Terribly & to Know Yourself as the Cause that is Hell“

Jorden Peterson