real

Writing and Littles

Writing and Littles

Samantha Gratton

It’s one of those nights where if I don’t write now I’ll probably burst into a million letters and commas—and especially em dashes.

So often I feel like a writer without a home. Not without a literal home because we live in an adorable little rental (emphasis on the “little”) in my favorite part of town (hence the reason why we might not ever leave). As a writer though, I don’t always know where I best fit.

My writing floats throughout the internet searching for meaningful pages to land on and hopefully, for eyeballs to read it and hearts to connect with. I work with publications who print articles featuring my very own byline and clients who want some ghost writing with their names at the top—both of which enable me to type away and even earn a few bucks on the side. But it doesn’t always feel like mine. Then this blog, this space, is technically my own. But I can get caught up in who my audience is or which friend, family member, or potential client might misinterpret my spilled out thoughts or carefully crafted post. My inhibitions take over, and I quarantine my words and expressive phrases to my mind or perhaps a google doc.

Almost seven years ago when I first started this blog called Moving Peaces it was to document a potential cross-country move. “Moving” was obviously for the literal move at the time. Then “Peaces” was my ever-so-clever play on words while also giving a nod to a desire to live peacefully despite my fears of the unknowns.  Now, I can’t imagine moving away from this house, let alone across state lines anytime soon. Instead my movement is small but constant as I chase around a toddler and tend to a newborn. And peace? Well sometimes it’s found in the mere moments when both kids are sleeping…before I remember I need to do more laundry or finally take a shower.

Some days I feel the thoughts rearranging into complete sentences or concepts in my head, but my hands are too full to type. Other days my mind feels so numb and tired that by the time I have the opportunity to write, nothing comes to mind. Yet if asked what I do for work or where my core creativity lies, my reply comes swiftly, “I’m a writer.”

Life is full of different seasons, and I try to live in the season I’m in at the moment. Sometimes seasons last a few months, while sometimes they last a few years. Right now I’m unmistakably in the season of littles. Little hearts, little hands, little (and big) messes. Which also means little time, little opportunity, and little energy left at the end of the day. At times, it feels like only a little bit of me as I wrestle with what I prioritize and what I let go of when facing my current limitations and obligations.

Writing is one of those things that feels so innate to me, yet in this season it also feels fleeting.  As I strive toward a better understanding of where my writing belongs, I also have a few little hearts to care for—hearts belonging to littles, who belong to me. So perhaps I’m the writer currently in between assignments, or in a different season, or caught somewhere in between the lines. Yet somehow I know—deep in my bones—that one day this writing will find its proper home.

 

 

How quickly we forget

How quickly we forget

Samantha Gratton

Where did I put my keys? When’s the library book due? Did I take my vitamins yet today? What’s the name of that person…the one I just met?

All day long, I’m reminded of my short memory. While I may be able to tell you exactly what happened the week before I graduated high school with vivid memory or spout out just when was the last time we all sat in the same room together, I also manage to forget everything.

I forget what life was like before toys were everywhere and a toddler was serving as my primary alarm clock. I forget the strength of the body of work I’ve created or what I’m capable of. I forget how brave I’ve been and the kind of incredible moments it’s caused. I forget who cares about me or what kind of impact I’ve had at some point. I forget the many goals I’ve achieved and bucket list items I’ve checked. I forget the places I’ve seen and people I’ve encountered. I forget what I’m working towards, what we’re aiming for at the end of the day, week, month, or year.

Because I’m not paying attention. 

I’m tired. I’m distracted. I’m bored. I’m lonely. I’m self-depricating. I’m jealous. I’m busy. I’m scared.

Here’s the thing, I think sometimes we’re living the lives of our dreams. We’ve forgotten that this, what we once wished for or only imagined, is what we’ve wanted all along. Instead of achievement or elation, we forget because we’ve already started dreaming and lusting after another life. We get to this point, wherever it may be and it isn’t everything we expected. So we move on and determine that this wasn’t the life we dreamed up, because it’s simply not enough (or too much). There’s still a struggle and grind toward that next hurdle to cross.

Now don’t misunderstand me when I say that sometimes we’re living our dreams because in reality, sometimes we are living our nightmares. This is not to make light of those very real and painful moments. There are seasons of grief or misery that strike, and those are most obviously not the lives we’ve dreamed of.  But those times may remind us of what we’ve forgotten, either in the moment or once we’ve gotten to the other side of the season. 

So what have I forgotten? That I spend time each day watching my son learn and grow. That I love the man I married. That we live in a space and city that suits our needs. That I am healthy and capable. That I’m working as a writer in a freelance capacity. That I have friends and a community to support me. That I have the opportunity to be creative, generous, and kind.

Junior high me is swooning right now. High school me is overjoyed. College me is amazed. Early twenties me is ecstatic. Mid-twenties me is thrilled. And late twenties me? Feeling forgetful but grateful.

Are there things in my life that aren’t ideal? Sure. Am I sometimes lonely or exhausted or bored or about to go crazy if I hear another battery-operated kid song? Yes, absolutely. But in so many ways, this moment I’ve landed on is fulfilling so many of my hopes and dreams. Therefore I want to live in celebration of what it is I have and what has been achieved. Instead of living in comparison or discontentment, I want to cherish and commemorate. Perhaps, this is as good as it’s going to get. You know what? I’ll take it, because in more ways than one, I’m living my dreams.

And that’s something I don’t want to forget.

In This Season

In This Season

Samantha Gratton

The past several weeks and months have been just a bit too much. Too much good, too much bad, too much work, and too much to think about all at once. In all of that I’ve tried to be present where I am, doing what most seems to need my time and attention.

I’ve read books and listened to podcasts about how to balance “doing it all” and at the end of the day, I think these people want to tell you the answers, but don’t actually have it figured out. As soon as you seem to strike a balance, something in life changes so your schedule and coping mechanisms all need to readjust to fit everything in once more.

I subscribe more to the notion of seasons. There’s a season for hustle and a season for rest. A season for uncertainty and a season for stability. A season for laughter and a season for tears. The length and order of these seasons may change or go against your plans, but I just don’t believe you can do it all all the time. Unfortunately, in this past season or two, blogging just didn’t take priority. While I’ve missed writing here, I don’t regret that decision.

My writing has taken on other forms lately. My days are actually filled with it, be it at the newspaper where I currently work as a writer and copy editor or with my various freelance clients who I continue to work with each week. My life has certainly not been void of writing in my absence from this blog.

I have continued to wrestle with what this blog should say and how to say it. There has been a significant amount of transition and change in our lives in the past year and as a result, I’ve wanted to keep most of these thoughts and feelings private from the likes of social media and an unknown audience. Yet, I want to continue to be here, to write in a way that inspires or relates.

So here’s my wave hello saying that I’m still here and will continue to come back. I’ll bring more of an update in time and continue to write so I can share it with you.

 

I Don’t Want Ellen to be my Best Friend

I Don’t Want Ellen to be my Best Friend

Samantha Gratton

Ellen Show

I’m also not interested in forming friendships with Liz Lemon, Leslie Knope, Tami Taylor, Mindy Lahiri, Ross and Rachel, Jimmy Fallon or anyone else on TV.

Why not?! 

They all seem like great people. They make me laugh or smile, and I get to see some of them fairly often. But guess what?

I can’t have a conversation with any of them. We’ve never taken a walk or gone out to dinner. I don’t know what happened during their week, much less know their phone number. We won’t ever go play tennis, dance around to my favorite music or walk the aisles of Target–just because.

None of those people will ever even know my name. Yet they’ve been invited into my home on a regular basis.

What makes me most sad is that these relationships with TV stars or fictional characters have sometimes taken the place of actual friendships and real relationships in our lives. Real friendships are messy and take commitment. Maybe it means leaving the house or planning ahead. Or being vulnerable and real…and you need to have a friend who will let you be that. It’s probably saying, “I care about you.” “Let’s hang out.” “How can I brighten your day?” and sometimes even, “I’m sorry.”

I most certainly watch TV. This is not one of those “throw your TVs out the window” posts declaring all television and entertainment evil. Ellen Degeneres is probably super great in real life. But I’ll never know. 

You know who I do have the chance to get to know? The people I interact with; the ones I see every week. From my neighbors to my co-workers, friends across town to friends and family across the country, those are the people in my life that I want good relationships with. I want to know their quirks and jokes, hear their stories and cheer them on as they pursue their goals.

Watch television, that’s fine, whatever. But make sure the biggest relationships in your life are with the people around you, the ones that can actually have a relationship with you, too.

Being Enough

Being Enough

Samantha Gratton

Being Enough | Moving Peaces

Not enough.

How often do we hear that phrase and don’t even realize it? Or worse, how often do we say that to someone else?

Not enough experience or not enough enthusiasm. Not enough knowledge or not enough confidence. Not enough wisdom or not enough motivation. Not enough practice or not enough raw talent. Not enough.

All day long we hear that in some form or another from society–from our job applications, from our teachers, from our bosses, from our family and even from our friends. You’re not enough…this.

When we feel like we are not enough we seek more. We try to do, be and possess MORE. A never ending chase results in us grasping for more so we can finally feel enough. Over time it leaves us feeling worn down and exhausted. We can’t keep up with the rate that more requires, which in turn leads us to feeling once again, not enough. Not enough time, not enough strength, not enough stamina.

But wait a minute. Listen.

How often are we actually told we are not enough compared to how often we reinforce it and decide to believe it? Is it truth? Further, is it even what is being said? Or do we assign ourselves this label of not enough before we hear what we’re being told? When we allow this battle of not being enough to win, we always lose. If you want to play that game, there will always be something in our lives that feels like not enough.

So stop allowing not enough to dictate who you are.

You are enough. Right now. In this very moment. You are complete. Rest in that.

__________________________________________________________

If you need to hear more truth, this is where to find it:

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.” -Psalm 139:14

“And I saw that all toil and all achievement spring from one person’s envy of another. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.” – Ecclesiastes 4:4

 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” – Matthew 11:28

 

31 Days: Finding Self | Moving Peaces

This post is a part of the Finding Self series for the 31 Days of blogging in October.
To see the all posts in this series, check out the Finding Self page.

This Week’s Three

Samantha Gratton

So, I missed Thursday by a few dozen hours. Whoops, sorry. But figured I would go ahead and blog the week anyway as it’s been full and good and a little unexpected.

1. Some days there are no words for everything you are feeling. There can be joy and sorrow, happiness and hesitation, disappointment and relief, defeat and hope all at the same time. This week has had a few things like that. They sit mostly on the “good” side but are still taking a while to get our minds wrapped around them all.

2. Nothing says “summer” like a road trip. In the past week we took two semi-impromptu trips and both included a good amount of rain. We saw friends by the beach and family near the mountains, each for a couple days. While brief, it was much needed and quite enjoyed. Trips like these are a huge part of what makes me excited and inspired. The hubby and I recently had a discussion however where he made note of the distinction between a “trip” and a “vacation” (to me they are usually the same thing. To him, a vacation includes almost no agenda and clearing of your head–preferably in a cabin in the woods. I see a vacation as going somewhere and trying new things and gaining new experiences. Honestly, when it comes down to it, I couldn’t care less what you call it, but I’m glad to understand what the difference is for him. Knowing things like this as a couple helps to better communicate expectations and goals when we take time off to go somewhere.

While in Asheville, we checked out Moog--where all sorts of electronic instruments are made
While in Asheville, we checked out Moog, which is where all sorts of electronic instruments are made

3. A season of change is upon us. I wrote a little last week about beginning again and I keep being reminded every day how much we are about to enter into something new even without knowing what it is. We have some friends moving this direction, new opportunities, new challenges and new direction in what we want in life. When life gets stuck in a stagnant stage I seem to grow impatient quickly, yet when there’s time for constant growth and change I can get overwhelmed or panic. One day at a time though, so I’ll be sure to keep you posted once more is known.

Couch Surfers Welcome

Samantha Gratton

“That’s not something I’d ever think you’d do—I put it one tier above hitchhiking.”  -someone after finding out we were hosting a couch surfer.

Before we got married, the hubby and I talked about what kind of qualities we wanted in our household. At the heart of it, we wanted a welcoming home. We wanted to be able to open it up without hesitation to those we loved, those in need and anyone else really. No matter what we had to offer, even if it was little, we wanted to be available to offer such a home. We strongly desire to love people which starts by being willing, open and transparent with others, regardless of their background or beliefs.

Sometimes though I get caught up in what the house “should” look like. My impulse reaction is to say “our house is too messy!” as soon as it’s suggested. Growing up, having someone over required hours of deep cleaning to make it adequately presentable, not because we lived in total disarray but because there was a certain image we were to uphold. As much as I try to escape that mentality, it still gets me sometimes. But the reality is, people live here. We have dirty dishes on the counter, an ongoing pile of laundry to fold and bills strewn about the kitchen table. Of course we want people to be comfortable and welcomed, but we also don’t want to be a slave to the upkeep of an image of perfection. We aren’t perfect people and don’t have an immaculate house. But that shouldn’t get in the way of sharing our homes with people, just as our personal flaws and imperfections shouldn’t stop us from sharing our lives with people.

A few weeks back, I mentioned we hosted our first official couch surfer. In all reality, we’d had couch surfing experiences before (on both sides of the couch) without an official membership. If you don’t know, it’s a website where you can post that you are either hosting or traveling in order to match people up for a free night’s stay in local homes all over the world. When we moved into this house, I knew I wanted to officially open the doors in that way and was so glad we did.

Ultimately, we learned more about someone else’s life and were able to be hospitable and give what we had. There was something awkward about not knowing what to say or do when someone you’d never met was staying in your house. But there was also something powerful about being mildly uncomfortable in order to show love and learn about someone else’s perspective and experiences.

Nitty Gritty

Samantha Gratton

Sometimes you’ve got to cut to the core. Go straight to the heart of an issue. Real relationships can’t be sustained on surface level weekend updates or meaningless buzzfeed articles passed from one to another. Those things are fine and good, but it’s not really real.

We all have life going on. Sometimes we go through seasons of pain and hardships as humans. Sometimes we have a lighter load. Either way, we need to be ready to go deeper.

Make it the right time, right place and right person, but you have to go there. You need to be willing to listen and support. Equally so, you need be ready to return the transparency. This doesn’t mean a social media unload where all of your friends can comment in panic. It’s a heart-to-heart with a friend who cares. Someone who’s willing to stand by you and help however they can. Find that friend. Be that friend. Live out that friendship. Let’s get real. Even if it’s hard.

Maybe I Panic

Samantha Gratton

Every once in a while, the doubt creeps in and I look around and think, what have we done? I second guess myself. I worry but call it “wonder” about the future. What jobs we’ll have. Where we’ll live. If we can afford a house. If we can have kids. What kind of pain or challenges we’ll face. And before I know it, I’m already anxious about things that haven’t even happened. Mourning losses and giving up hope for things that are not in the near future.

Why do I do that? What purpose does it serve?

I don’t know. I just don’t know what all of that will look like. And all I can do is take a deep breath, hope and pray.

The Really Real

Samantha Gratton

Here’s a little bit of the real. The real, the truth, is changing…always. All of the things I’ve said to this point remain and are as true as could be when they were first said. At the same time, there are days that I don’t even know what to think.

This isn’t a vacation. The weather has already proved to be so much better, the scenery is a change of pace and we get to discover new things everyday. What a dream, right? Well yes, but dreams don’t last. 

It’s good and it’s different and we’re doing alright. But we still have hard decisions, we don’t really have friends and we don’t always know where our life is going. We miss our loved ones. We have ridiculous car troubles (yes, another instance occurred last week, too insane to talk about). We get sick. We lose sleep. We wonder what is to come.

Despite all of the good, I’ve been a mess of tears the past few days. It was sad and simple and even a bit of a relief. I didn’t and don’t regret moving or the decisions we’ve made. Through the tears I just kept saying, “I don’t want to be here today.” A lot of things went into that feeling, nothing major but nothing completely petty. I miss my mom. I miss feeling completely comfortable and confident at work. I miss seeing a familiar face at church. I miss the uniquely Iowa things you just can’t get anywhere else (we went to the fair this weekend and almost immediately decided our next Iowa visit would have to be in August so we could go to a real state fair).

This is all part of the deal. We knew that going into this move. Up until now, while we’ve been stressed, we’ve pushed through because we knew everything was ultimately alright. And it still is. But some of this hard part was oozing out and needed to be acknowledged with a few sniffles (or sobs). It’s still good. It’s still hard. It’s how we know we’re alive. And that in itself is something to be thankful for.