Writing – Page 11 – Britt Skrabanek

Cabin Fever Art

Since we are nearing the end of (fingers crossed, fingers crossed, fingers crossed) this jerk of a winter, I thought I would reveal the fruits of our cabin fever labor this week.

Mr. H and I have created a couple of makeshift masterpieces.

Because I’m borderline insane with all of this lumpy sweater, three pairs of socks, scarf face business, I’m sharing these with you against all of my better judgement.

Cartoon Face Finger Art

Inappropriate Magnet Art

Anyway, Happy Cabin Fever! May your creativity be mighty and swift.

(Come on, Spring. You can do it!)

GUEST POST: Britt Skrabanek – Life Enthusiasm and Writing…Heck, Yes!

Hey, sweet friends! Check out my guest piece over at Chris Stocking’s place, covering how being a life enthusiast has influenced my writing. Chris will be my March Life Enthusiast guy, so stay tuned next week to hear what makes him stoked about life. Hope you’re all having a gorgeous week!

Christopher Stocking

It was pretty funny when Chris and I were first talking about me coming over to write a guest blog, because we were trying to pinpoint a topic together.

I didn’t have anything to pitch and he was open to anything. It’s not that we’re the wishy-washy types, we’re just excited to write about so many things.

The world is a vast playground and choosing something inspiring can be difficult for people like us who are easily romanced by our surroundings.

I started this monthly series last November called “The Life Enthusiast Chronicles” where incredible humans from all corners of the globe talk about what makes them feel alive.

I’m excited to have Chris as my guest in March, because his spirit and energy exude Life Enthusiast.

Luckily, he reeled my crazy enthusiastic self in when he said: “Maybe you can discuss how being a life enthusiast has…

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Sitting Across From You

Sitting across from you last night healed me like nothing else.

I know that’s what we normally do on Friday nights. We listen to music, talk for hours, and laugh until it hurts. We drink and dance and live, because it’s the weekend.

But, last night was even more perfect than usual.

One week I found out about my mom. The next week I flew on a plane, far away from you to be closer to her. Last week I came back to work in a daze and handled each chaotic day as best as I could.

The last few weeks have been hard. Harder because I haven’t seen you the way I’m used to.

Yesterday when you got home I said that all I wanted to do was sit across from you. To look at you. To come back home to you.

And, so I did (along with this lap cat of ours).

Damn, it was all so lovely.

The way your smile touches my insides. The way your voice soothes my mind. The way your thoughts speak to mine.

Sitting across from you was all that I needed. Thank you.

We Surpass the Tough

Life threw me a curveball a little over a week ago, so I bought a last-minute ticket and flew on a crowded plane to be where I needed to be.

I went to a land of dust, where everything looked stranger than I remember. I lived there five years ago, and not much has changed.

Yet, it all seemed drastically different. Because I have changed.

The concrete soaring throughout downtown Dallas was foreign to my eyes. The sky was reflected in the mirrored facades, decorating each building with spongy clouds.

Peculiar enhancements of the city confused me even more.

Bigger and better restaurants had popped up in a land where food reigns supreme. My skinny jeans already felt tighter just being there again.

Eating out is predominately what you do in Dallas, unless you’re into shopping. Then, you can lose your paycheck on any other number of lavish designer offerings.

Forever destined to battle brown in the harsh climate, additional green spaces are now perched here and there, sprinkled with questionable forms of art.

Like this…

When I first landed the city was foggy and grey. Stark buildings were still visible, jutting out into the horizon like perky breasts.

Everything seemed hazy to me. The spontaneity of it all, fueled by an emotional impulse to be with my mom when she received her test results.

Emotional time is an understatement.

This was our second round with breast cancer, but the familiarity of the process wasn’t comforting. Recognizing the tough times lurking in the shadows, ready to charge our lives once more, seemed so scary and unfair.

Five of us showed up at the doctor’s office with my mom and surprised the nursing staff with our sizable support group. We jokingly called ourselves her posse.

Hey, whatever it takes.

Being back here again at this point in my life is different than the time before, almost twelve years ago when I was a lost and confused college kid.

This time I thought…show her how much you love her, do everything you possibly can to give her strength. So, I wrote a tribute to her last week and I showed up on her doorstep.

That was all I could do. So I gave it my all.

There was an exquisite outpouring of kindness from many of you readers out there. Thank you.

Several of you are part of my blogging family and it seems like we go through a lot together in this thing called life. Many of you have been through similar experiences, and either supported a loved one or even lost one.

And though this is a personal time for me, I felt compelled to not only write a piece for my mom, but to share the results with you all as well.

We received the best news we possibly could have. She has Stage 1A.

There is still a long road to travel, but my mom is beautifully brave. For the time being the haze has lifted and those blue skies are a welcoming sight.

My mom will totally kick cancer’s ass once again. I just know it.

This one’s for you, Mom

I’m sitting here in my robe with puffy eyes and a heavy heart. I have to go to work soon, though I’m not sure how I’ll pull it off.

So, I pick up my laptop and unleash these words. To say all of the things I’m never good at saying aloud, those I certainly couldn’t begin to say last night.

Mom, you know more than anyone that I’m not much of a speaker. But, I’ve been known to write a thing or two.

I remember the dedication in my second book quite clearly in this moment. Between the special thanks and table of contents of Everything’s Not Bigger, it sits in bold letters:

FOR MY MOTHER

She smiled bravely and kicked cancer’s ass.

When the phone rang last night, I just knew. You never call on weeknights, you call on the weekends, always bright and early as you like to do.

I sat down slowly. I covered my face. I began to cry even though I was trying to stay strong for you.

And just like that, after all those years…it’s back again.

I couldn’t fall asleep. I stared at the dark ceiling with my eyes open, drying my stinging tears every so often with the edge of the sheet and trying not to scream.

I knew I had to turn my energy around for you. To bring some light into the darkness, because that is what we do when we have the courage to love fully.

We surpass the tough with beauty and happiness.

I thought about my favorite picture of all time. This one of beautiful you with the sassy shades and the flamingos.

I thought about the good times, Mom.

Here are just a few that came to mind right before I fell into a dreamless sleep.

The way you used to comb my hair as soon as I came out of the shower. We talked about nothing and everything and it was so very perfect.
The way you often said “to hell with cooking!” and we’d order a big pizza and watch old movies all night.
The way you’d talk me into playing hooky from college, so we could go to lunch and a museum.
The way you always had a secret stash of chocolate handy for those drama days of mine.
The way you obsessively loved your dogs. Because at the end of the day, pets will always be there for us when we need it most.
The way you lived for books. They were everywhere: the living room, the dining room, the bathroom, the bedroom, the hallway, the kitchen, the backseat of the car, the garage.
The way you taught me that it was good to be strong, but even more good to be soft.
The way you bought me a big ass stuffed animal cow (who everyone on this blog knows as Ken Follett the cow), when I was much too old for it.
The way you hugged me closely on the hospital bed the last time you were sick, comforting me for something I was going through when I should have been comforting you.
The way you were brave enough to make a joke last night when you shared the news and said: “I’ll keep you abreast of the situation.” That was beyond amazing.

Mom, there are a million more lovely things like these…I could go on forever.

You are the most magical woman I have ever known. Hands down, I would not be the person I am today without your generous love and encouragement.

Please know that you are very much loved.

You are loved, you are loved, you are loved, you are loved, you are loved, you are loved.

YOU ARE LOVED.

For those of you reading this, I kindly ask that you put some positive vibes out there for my mom. She needs them very much right now. With all of my heart, thank you.