Without first being angry, you cannot forgive.
Without first being unsure, you cannot trust.
Without first being afraid, you cannot be brave.

If you find yourself in any of these less-than-desirable places today, you are really just on the verge of a beautiful opportunity.

A chance to forgive.  A chance to trust.  A chance to be brave.

A chance to trade up for something better.

Because after all, what’s so great about bitterness and fear?

Let’s be more interesting than that.

The other day, this was my Facebook status:

As futile as Facebook can be, I took a shot of it because I wanted to remember that moment – that realization that the darkness that I’ve been sitting in for going on a year now just isn’t really there anymore.  Perhaps this is tempting a jinx, but I will say it anyway: life feels pretty good right now.

I know that in the middle of the depression, the disappointment, the pain, no one really wants to hear, “Don’t worry, it will get better!”  Those honeyed words can feel hollow and nugatory – because when all you can see is darkness, it’s hard to imagine the light.  In my experience, when well-meaning people try to band-aid despondency, it highlights a disconnect, and makes the depressed person feel even more alone.

But now, on the other side of this most recent bout with a powerful hopelessness, I am just so grateful that it’s over – and I want to remind those who are in it that it’s not always going to feel this bad.

It’s not.

It might feel bad for a long time, and before it gets better, it might even get worse.  I know that some of you out there have experienced mammoth losses, ones that I cannot comprehend.  Some of you have broken hearts that feel beyond mending.  Some of you have faced disappointment after disappointment, or suffered a family life that you didn’t ask for, or simply fallen into this same old rut over and over again, with no idea how to change your stars.

I do not pretend to have the answers “why.”

But it’s not forever.  You have not been abandoned.  You are loved beyond all measure – and even if you know it in your head, someday, you are going to feel it again, too.

So don’t lose hope.

The weirdest thing has been happening lately.

I have been overcome with this gigantic, humongous desire to go to California.

Since when have I craved California?  And not just California – but SOUTHERN California?  This is so unlike me.  I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Other things have been changing, too.  There is the obvious (I run stupid distances by myself on the weekends) – but there are also some new transformations that I feel like mentioning.

Peas ruin everything.  I suppose that I have never been a huge proponent of peas, anyway, but last week, I made the decision that I never want to taste another pea again.

I feel kind of shy.  My introversion has never equated shyness before, but here we are.  I come into contact with a room full of people that I don’t know, and it feels so scary to say hello to anyone.

And… well, that’s all.  I wish that I had three bolded points, because 3 is the best number (um, hello, three notes create a chord, Reduce Reuse Recycle, Three Blind Mice, the Three Little Pigs, and remember a little something called the HOLY TRINITY?) – but alas, I only have two.

But then again, in Vietnam, it is bad luck to take a picture with three people in it – because the person in the middle will soon die.  Three strikes and you’re out.  You have until the count of 3 before I sock you in the jaw.

I think that this blog just became my third point.

On Sunday, while talking to my mom, one of my major insecurities fell out of my mouth.  Without the slightest hesitation, it slipped off my tongue – and landed right there on the coffee table.

“Where did you learn that?” she asked.  “Why do you feel that way about yourself?”

And for the past 36 hours, I’ve been thinking about the “reasons why.”  For an all-around self-confident girl, I’ve spent a lifetime banking reinforcements for a few stupid insecurities.

A few days ago, I got word that John Medina, a dear friend, former employer, and bona fide GENE CLONER was going to be speaking in Denver last night – so of course, I went.  I’ve heard John speak in Seattle many times about his research on the brain – how it works and what we know – but no matter how many times you hear him, he’s always engaging, entertaining, and brilliant.  It was so good to see a familiar face.

Last night, he said that research shows that it takes 3 reinforcements for the brain to learn something, and 50 to unlearn it.

For a girl like me with a lot to unlearn, those are some really bad odds.

Once again, it’s time to combat with a Hiroshima of Truth.

Tomorrow is a new year, a fresh start, a clean slate.

I like markers.  I like new beginnings.  I like boundaries that separate “this” from “that.”  It gives me a sense of control, however misperceived.

2010 is a year of starting over, in almost every way that I possibly could – even in ways that I didn’t ask for and don’t want to.  New city.  New home.  New people.  The “new people” part is the part I really don’t like – I’ll be honest, I don’t really want any new people.  I like the people that I already have, thankyouverymuch.

But I think back to 2 years ago when I moved to Nashville, and I could not believe that I had left Seattle.  I spent the first 6 months with one foot still in the Northwest, convincing myself that the relocation was temporary, and that I would be returning sooner rather than later.  I tried to freeze my long-distance friendships – like frogs under the ice, just biding time until the waters thawed and they could once again swim freely.

But that day never came.

And you know what?  I’m glad.

I exchanged something very good in Seattle for what turned out to be something very good in Nashville.  Incredible friends.  Amazing experiences.  Growth and challenges and hilarity and LIFE.  I would not trade my two years in Nashville for anything I once had in Seattle – not because it was better than what I had in Seattle, but because I have now experienced it, and it’s mine.

You can’t give back what is now yours.  I wouldn’t want to.  Not even the hard stuff.

So as I head up to Denver today to get the keys to my new apartment, and I wait for my furniture to be delivered next week, and I start working in the office on Monday, and I drive around this massive urban sprawl that seems so foreign and gigantic, I want to be present.  I will leave my heart wide open to the people in front of me – not forsaking my far-flung, beloved friends, but hopefully, gracefully, allowing those relationships to change.  This is the only way to truly live.

Even though I didn’t really ask for it, I chose it, and I CHOOSE it.  I’m excited for what Denver might hold.

But, um, friends?  Please come visit me in 2010.  I miss you already.

According to the internets, I am a Colorado resident once I meet one of the following criteria:

•    I have obtained employment in Colorado.
•    I own or operate a business in Colorado.
•    I have resided in Colorado continuously for 90 or more days.

Well, I moved here with a job.  So.  That’s that.  We’ll see if I actually switch my license plates or drivers license over; as of today, they are still from the great state of Washington – a place I haven’t lived for over two years.

For those of you keeping track, I had a trip to Seattle scheduled for this week – to ring in the New Year with some of my not-so-nearest, but definitely dearest.  But I’m sad to say that this weekend, I canceled my ticket.  I thought that the hard part would be leaving Nashville, but I was wrong; the emotional locomotive hit me once I got to Colorado – and I think it would be wise for me to have some downtime before officially moving to Denver next week (I start in the Denver office a week from today, although I’m working remotely from Colorado Springs this week).  I’m super bummed to not be seeing my beloved Seattlites this week – but I’ll be there for a wedding in February.

I drove around Denver on Saturday.  It is gigantic.  As I drove the hour south back to my parents’ house, two fat tears rolled down my cheeks from behind my sunglasses.

This might take awhile.

We are down to single digits: I am moving in 9 days.

And yes, I have Christmas parties 6 of the next 9 nights.  I might run out of outfits.

That said, posting may be light until after I get to Colorado.  I don’t want to miss out on a single moment of Nashville until I have to.  The thought of leaving these friends of mine – the ones I just tried to list by name and then had to stop because it would have been too long to read – keeps me awake at night.

I want to love on these people who have loved me for two years.  I want to write them each letters and tell them exactly why I appreciate them, exactly why I am going to miss them so much my heart might dissolve.  I want to sit face to face with them, and hear their voices.  I want to hug them while I can still touch them.  I want to take pictures with them, to capture this sliver of time that is flying by much too quickly.  I want to let them know that I believe in them, that I want good things for them – that, quite simply, I adore them.

Nashville, get ready for some lovin’.

I struggle with the question, “What am I doing with my life?”  I always have.  And with each passing day, week, year, I am no closer to finding the answer – I am learning to just take one day at a time.

However, even though I might not know what I am doing with my LIFE, I think that I will always know when it’s time to do what’s NEXT.  And once again, I’ve reached that pivotal point.  The doors have flung wide open in an undeniable way, and I am choosing to walk through them.

I am Denver-bound.

It turns out that my mom’s cancer is more serious than originally thought – and I need and want to be there throughout her treatment (another surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation).  The worst feeling in the world was getting that dreaded phone call, and being 1200 miles away.  I cannot rest in that reality.  My mom is my “person,” and I need to be close.

I am in the incredibly fortunate position to work for a company that does not see their employees as a commodity, but as humans with real lives – leading the “powers that be” to be gracious and supportive in the midst of crises.  Emma has a small Colorado office, and is willing to let me work from Denver on an open-ended basis.  I am heading west around Christmastime.

I am not calling it “moving.”  I am leaving my stuff in storage here in Nashville, and “temporarily relocating for the indefinite future.”  I don’t know what will happen, or where this will lead – it’s impossible to know what the coming months will bring.  But I just know that it feels too early – too sudden – to close the door on my Nashlife.  That may or may not wind up being relevant.  But it’s how I feel right now.

I am hoping to rent a room in Denver, or house-hop for a bit – giving me a place to sleep during the week, and leaving me free to spend my weekends in Colorado Springs with my parents.  So if you happen to live in Denver and know of any options, please let me know – because I don’t want to live under a bridge.

Obviously, there are still details to work out.  But I do know that this is “what’s next.”  Until then, you will find me crying most days, snuggling with Julie and Mel most nights, praying for my mom, and hoping that God knows what he’s doing.

Last week, while the EP listening party was happening here on the blog, and I was steadily posting a new track each day, there was a lot happening in my life.  Like, A LOT a lot.

My mom was diagnosed with cancer – soft tissue sarcoma.  The doctors removed a mass from her hip socket; when they cut her open, it “bulged out like a zit”… or something.

I hope you’re enjoying your breakfast, by the way.

I don’t really know how to write about the phone call that I got on Tuesday night – my mom telling me that she had cancer.  I know that there were instant, uncontrollable tears on my part.  I know that I was suddenly confronted with the overwhelming fear of losing a parent – something that I have never really had to deal with before.  I know that after I hung up the phone with her, I told Greta the news, and then cried some more, because I was completely terrified and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

But then, I stood up and blew my nose and made a grilled cheese for Julie who was coming home from work.  It was all very surreal.

On Wednesday afternoon, I found myself in a daze, throwing clothes in a bag, getting in my car and driving out of Nashville.  Have I mentioned that I do not do well with spontaneous decisions or chaotic situations?  About 30 miles out of town, I realized that I didn’t even pack a coat; my stress and anxiety levels were through the Honda roof.  But after driving 18 hours and 1200 miles, I was with my parents and all three of my siblings in Colorado Springs.

We arrived to the amazing news that her scans were clear, that the cancer had not spread.  There are no words to describe the relief – that even though the situation is serious, and cancer is evil embodied, the news was good.  I saw Mom’s 8-inch incision, and her Buzz Lightyear contraption around her hip.  We spent the weekend together as a family, stepping over the 4 dogs and eating a ton of food and talking about everything from life to death to the latest episode of “The Office.”

It was so good to be there.

Today, I point the wheel back toward Tennessee, and after an eternity of driving, will be in my own bed tonight.  I don’t really know what happens next – my parents will meet with the orthopedic oncologist this week to figure out the next steps.  There is still so much that is unknown.

But I know that I love my mom more than I could ever say.  And I know that this changes things.

Life is changing all around me.

The weather is changing – yellow leaves swirling around in little cyclones on the streets, the clouds hanging heavy and low, no trace of humidity. The colors are dimmer, the smell, different. Fall has chased out the summer, and taken up residence in Nashville.

My focus is changing – not my heart (definitely not my heart), but what I am accepting, and moving forward with. This shift feels equal parts defeat and relief – defeat to think that nothing I have tried has worked, and relief to finally just stop with the trying. I just am these days – and that’s okay.

People are changing – growing older and falling in love and moving on from the way things were. Some of their dreams are coming into focus, and taking them in different directions. I feel alone – which is not necessarily the same as “lonely” – but nothing could or should be done to change that. It’s just this season, and the shape of current life.

In the midst of all of this change, this past weekend, I reconnected with a “sameness” in myself – that familiar old me that has been missing for awhile.

I met some friends who were new, and yet knew me. It was so strange – hugging complete strangers and feeling totally at home. We celebrated Todd and Juliette’s wedding, and shared stories from junior high, and explored Nashville, and laughed – honest and genuine and immodest laughter.

I fell in love with these people.

Todd and Julie were gorgeous – if you just imagine me out of each of these pictures, and splice them together, you will see.

Now it is Monday, and they are gone, and the merriment is over. But I have a ticket to an Alison Krauss show tonight, and a trip to Boston on Thursday, and a new 2010 calendar to write my plans in. Thankfully, those plans now include a trip to Austin in March for Joey and Sam’s wedding.

I keep scoring the invites!