Want to know what is hands down harder to learn than how to live alone for the first time at 40? Moving into an already established home with a new partner after embracing the single life for several years. It has been a lesson in drawing boundaries, exploring motivation, re-evalulating habits, and avoiding the ruts of the past. Oh, and don't forget to slather the whole heaping pile in cultural differences for good measure! Don't get me wrong, there is zero regret in this decision, but it has been and continues to be a work in progress. We get things wrong, we adjust, we talk, we strive to understand, and then? We build a bedroom. My cozy little corner of the living room seemed perfect at first. I bought a nice desk and chair and proceeded to personalize this space. I really didn't use it so often, but it was still nice to have a place to call my own. One reoccurring issue that I was unprepared to encounter when I moved in was the continual sense that I was a guest with minimal rights...self imposed, of course. I was struggling to take any ownership of home. I didn't want to change or move items that might inconvenience another family member. I didn't want my things to take a starring role. I wasn't sure which items in the house had sentimental value, either. Come to find out, NBF is VERY unlike me in this regard. I keep few items, therefore what I do keep is valuable to me. NBF on the other hand simply has stuff. Some is useful, some he doesn't know why he has it, some is from his mom, BUT, none of it is sentimental to him. I think that is a whole other blog post, but I digress. When I attempted to imagine how the home could be or how to make it more, well, me...I was left wandering a complex maze of feelings and experiences that I was not fully ready to navigate. However, this corner, was allllll mine. Below is a photo of the humble beginnings of my corner because I am not sure I have one after I really established the area but before construction began. This corner desk set up was perfect. I had some sentimental photos, easy access to paperwork, and a place to lay my things at the end of the day. Then, I started taking Norwegian classes. My classes fall during dinner time two to three times a week. One class period, my teacher asked if I was hosting a party. Um...no, that is just my family...having dinner. 😳 After that, I began my classes in NBF's office, but then I had to move to my desk after our class pause because NBF needed his desk for his evening school meetings. Not ideal, but workable. However, sometimes when the class pause came, dinner was not finished. I would have to go to the closet or bedroom to continue my class. Let me tell you, it's a little tough to take notes when you're balancing a computer, coffee mug, and notebook on an IKEA bed tray. Suddenly, my cozy little place just wasn't private enough, and I really started to feel like I didn't have a place in the house after all. We discussed other arrangements like a desk in the closet as NBF did while remodeling for the kids. NO. A second desk in NBF's office. Also, NO. After all, we can't do simultaneous Zoom calls. Our solution was to remodel our bedroom and closet. With a few adjustments along, we ended up with a stellar plan. Some pieces evolved along the way, such as the closet being built into the wall and closed off with doors. We also needed to replace the window in the closet. Faced with an expensive window purchase, we weighed the option of installing a door and found that to be much more acceptable. We swapped the bedroom window over to the closet window hole and made a door opening. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right? A few big tasks, some demo, and then back together. #nellie...not so fucking fast bucko. We started off strong getting NBF's things from the closet and getting the wall between knocked down. I found some great finds on finn.no including all of our flooring, the now bedroom door, and sliding glass doors that covered a three meter width for next to nothing. We splurged on lights by the bed with USB chargers. We did what work we could on the weekends, but of course life was happening as well. We had bitten off quite a chunk. We were also still sleeping in the bedroom while we worked. Slowly my things had to be moved to the living room in order to make room for us to work. This is when things really went downhill because I am such an ultra private person and yet, my life is on display in the living room. In reality, I was the only one bothered by it, but that was enough. There were challenges like the floor. I wanted it laid where the boards followed the boards of the ceiling the length of the room. This was a ton of work because each board had to be hammered into place sliding along the other pieces. I am particularly proud of this though. I measured and laid the floor pieces while NBF cut them. We learned that I still make decisions based on what I think he wants instead of clearly speaking my mind. Save your lectures...I know. Choosing paint was a task, but we ended up agreeing and it looks fantastic. My jewelry box and treasure chest fell from my dresser and broke. BK2 decided to rearrange furniture and clear out a wardrobe we were using, leaving more of my things in the living room. There was an impromptu party at the house, while my things were in the living room, and some more of my things were broken/moved. If I felt like an outsider before, it was tenfold after all of this. My anxiety was going through the roof. I was really trying hard to hold it together, but I know it was palpable. During this time, I packed away my stuff so that everything was either in my corner or in the drawers of my shelves downstairs. I threw away a lot of knick knacks and books, but mostly I was really trying to shrink my presence. I probably would have gotten rid of everything I had in the attic if NBF would have gotten in within my reach. He refused to bring it down for me, and it is probably good that he did. Then during autumn break, NBF took home office and busted his ass everyday to not only do his job but to finish the room. We knocked out all but the smaller details. Truth be told, I think he was afraid I was one more minor inconvenience away from flying over the cuckoo's nest. The picture below is before my jewelry box and extra wardrobe items arrived on scene. We really make a great team when it comes to jobs like this, but both of us had simply had enough of the remodel process. Our life and home had been disheveled long enough. There is little purpose in dusting when you have someone sanding drywall, and of course, cleaning around an obvious mess makes that feel futile as well. I haven't even mentioned how much the general untidiness contributed to my anxiety. I can't handle clutter. It makes me feel trapped and tight chested. This is of course a control issue that I am working on, but I can tell you that exposure therapy of this magnitude is counterproductive! I think I was just as happy to clean the whole house as I was to see the bedroom finished. Of course, what would a story from me be without a #nellie event to seal it up? I had ordered our blinds from Ikea online. Long story short, they measure differently than Jysk, so I didn't need to order a blind we had to trim to size. Using the blind exchange as the excuse for shopping, we took a trip to Ikea to get a closet kit, shelves, and storage boxes. We were down to finishing touches. After we arrived, NBF stayed in line at the return counter to exchange the blind for me and had a touch of #nellie as the computers were down. All returns had to be entered manually. It didn't matter that I had registered the return online for "quick service." He wound up being there long enough for me to make the whole round of Ikea, only arriving in time to load the last three items in the cart. I couldn't find the shelf brackets I wanted...Ikea had stopped making that particular design...but I found some I liked. We would have to go to a different Ikea on the way home, but NBF was willing. Last to go in the cart was my shelves. I pointed to the size I wanted and NBF loaded them up. We checked out and were on our way! Last time we came to Ikea, NBF left my shelf at the checkout, so I joked that at least he brought my shelves this time. Then I panicked because I didn't check the color. He obliged and pulled over to check the colors. I hear him say, "black, white, black," and I am just getting ready to say, "nice try fucker!" when he says, "And I'm not fucking around." Of all the....what in the name of .....sigh....goddamnit Nellie! Narrator: #nellie Before it became another battle it didn't need to be, we decided to keep the white shelf for his office and order the brackets and a black shelf to be shipped to us. Then we headed home in peace. Everything is finished now, and I have officially moved my stuff into its new home. I am in love with my space and our space. It feels great to be home.
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There is no doubt that Norway is a gorgeous country full of beautiful and largely unspoiled nature. I have been in awe since I moved here. It seems funny now, but I can remember searching the internet for a cover photo for my blog when I first started it. Now, I have an external hard drive full of postcard worthy shots. One of the first adventures I was told I simply HAD to take was to ride the train from Oslo to Bergen in the Autumn. Unfortunately, my first autumn break in Norway, I was simply trying to survive the immigration process and settle into a new job. I honestly think I slept for most of that break. Then of course, the last two years were ruined by covid. I was determined not another year would go by without this trip happening, so in early September, I ordered tickets. When you travel the Bergensbanen, there are many departure options, but it is important to time your trip to get the best visibility for the duration. Even in the beginning of October, the days are much shorter, so later trains can have you staring into the dark, cold sky. As for my trip, I decided to go full adventure mode. I had never ridden a night train and slept in a sleeping carriage, so I booked our trip for Friday on the night train. We would then spend Saturday wandering Bergen and return on an early train on Sunday morning. It is a trip that could really be done overnight, but I also wanted to use it as a treat for the autumn break from school. Another bonus from this trip is that NBF had never ridden the train to Bergen either, so it really was about exploring together instead of being shown the way. The original plan was to get on the train at Jaren at 21:30 and ride to Oslo to catch the 23:00 departure. However, we opted to board the train in Hønefoss so we would return in time for a school concert on Sunday evening. This cut about four hours from our round trip, and since I have been in the Oslo area, that leg of the journey wasn't as crucial. The map below traces the route we traveled. A couple of tidbits for those who have never seen anything but town names, I live between Hønefoss (thirty minutes to the east) and Jessheim (forty five minutes to the west), and I work in Jessheim. Oslo/Gardermoen International Airport is in Jessheim about a ten minute drive from the school. When NBF plans trips, the accommodations get little consideration beyond, "Can I shower here?" and "Will I have a bed?" For the most part, that is all you need to know in Norway. Sure there are places with better upkeep than some, and there are also places where you need to rent or bring your own bedding, but by and large, the sleeping accommodations are just that...a place to sleep. While I do not consider myself a princess, I do have just a tad higher standard than NBF. For instance, I was not impressed with the cabin that had bunk beds, and I have jokingly, with a large dash of serious, mentioned it many times when he talks about planning travel. Why do I mention this? Because I booked bunk beds this time and forever lost all rights to use the bunk bed argument. I am just grateful he didn't put up a fight when I said he would have the top and could do the climbing. Even though we could have just spent a couple of hours there and ridden the train right back, we decided to spend Saturday in Bergen and take the Sunday train home. This was actually my third trip to the city. I have been before with Brad and then one other time with Tony. I still want to explore the Troll Forest and visit the Fantoft Stave Church, so of course I already plan to return. Bergen is a busy coastal city with many sites to visit including the Fish Market and Bryggen, There are countless restaurants and shops, and nice weather guarantees packed sidewalks. That said, at 5:30 on a Saturday morning, you will have Norway to yourself. No one here is in a rush to start their Saturdays, so we were a little worried what we would do to keep ourselves occupied arriving in Bergen that early. Fortunately, patrons of the night train can stay on the train for an extra hour and fifteen minutes after arrival, and there is an agreement with two local restaurants to allow the early train arrivals to eat breakfast. We really didn't begin our exploring until about 8:30. The only thing we had planned was to take the gondola up to the top of Mt. Ulriken. On our last trip, we had gone up to Mt Floyen, but Ulriken gondola had been closed due to weather. It was a short bus ride and about a five minute walk from the city center to the Ulriken gondolas. We should have known it was too good to be true when we were the only two in our car to the top. The sites faded as we ascended into clouds so thick I joked about being in the Stephen King story, The Mist. There is a quaint cafe with western decor at the top with the most delicious smelling baked goods where we enjoyed a cup of coffee. There is also a restaurant, but it can be booked months in advance and is reservation only. We did attempt to wait for the sun, but well into the afternoon when we were walking around town, we could look to the mountaintop and see there was still a cloud cover. Both of us laughed at our luck to have the view we did, and I could barely stop giggling long enough to take his photo. The window with the hashtag made the situation even more comical. Our afternoon was spent meandering through Bryggen and enjoying a relaxing, long lunch. We picked up a few souvenirs and chuckled about all the moose and viking memorabilia. While we were strolling down the road, we ran into a friend of mine from Sarpsborg. That was certainly an unexpected and welcome treat. Even though I am only a couple of hours north, life gets busy and those friendships haven't been tended near enough. The encounter brought another feeling that is harder to put to words. I fully expect to run into people I know in Kansas. After all, the majority of us shop in the same couple of big cities. But running into someone I know in a city clear across the country in Norway was a reminder that I really am building a life here. Even though she was so excited she was speaking Norwegian, I was able to follow the greater part of what she was saying also. We stopped at a back alley bar we had found on our last trip for a beer and to check if they had live music for the weekend. Turns out we missed it by a day. After a quick detour to a grocery so I could mail a postcard, we checked into our hotel with the intention of dropping our stuff and then going for a nice dinner at the fish market. We woke up 16 hours later. Apparently, we really needed our getaway. I do have some practical advice in case you find yourself able to take this trip someday. Sit on the right side of the train, Oslo facing. While we had quite stunning views from the other side, there are more kilometers of view on the other side. Pay the extra to book a first class seat. We had a table and reclining seats. There are also fewer people in the plus cars. Keep your camera ready because there are a lot of tunnels that quickly devour the view. And finally, don't wait three years and let a Norwegian show you around Norway on a motorcycle before you hop this train. The views were postcard perfect and all you expect from Norway, but I have to admit I was spoiled by NBF and had seen so many beautiful places already including some legs of this trip. Our train departed Bergen at 8:15. This left us time to have some coffee and a chocolate bun before boarding, although the train has a cafe car, so you do not need to take food or drinks. The journey to the first station is nearly all inside tunnels. I had read there were a lot of tunnels, but I still wasn't quite prepared. All in all, we had a good weather day for the trip. The sky alternated between sunny patches where the sky is that deep, bright, and clean blue and blankets of clouds that rolled aside reluctantly to let the sun bathe the mountainsides in light. At first, I had to settle for quick glimpses of the fjords between tunnels. Occasionally, I caught sight of the track bending enough I could look back at it snaking into the tunnel. As we settled into stretches with longer views, I could see the mist pouring down the hillsides and settling in the low lying areas like a thick, soft blanket. The fjords were so calm the surfaces looked like giant mirrors reflecting the sky. The surrounding hills were held between two seasons. The trees announced the arrival of autumn while the ground clutched to the green of summer. Eventually we rose above the tree line and witnessed the trickling and roaring waterfalls that fed the rivers and fjords. Filled with emerald green glacier water, the pools glowed in the sunlight. In the distance were the brilliant white glaciers. The glaciers clung to the mountain tops cleaving their life and movement into the mountain surfaces. Large rocks slathered with lichen littered the area like bits of seafoam confetti. There were large flat fields nestled between the hills that housed small lakes and forests. I think this area should be seen in the winter as well! The descent from the mountain tops led us to more forested areas. The brilliance of the fall foliage lit the landscape with bright oranges and yellows. The reds were more rare comparatively, but no less radiant, blazing like signal flares rising from the sea of leaves. At times the sun shone so brightly, the world was awash in a bath of golden light. I began to see more animals and farm implements meaning we were getting closer to home. When we arrived in Hønefoss, we decided to stop at a restaurant called Tony's for a quick bite to eat. We also began planning our next adventure. What a way to spend a weekend. I've tried to include a wide variety of photos, but remember they were taken through the windows of a moving train, and they really do not capture all there was to see. There were plenty of places where I was simply not quick enough with my camera as well. I am sitting here really wanting to write about the train trip I took across Norway, but other things tug and pull at my concentration. It has been just over a year now since my mother died. There is very real grief and even a sense of relief in her passing. There has also been more learning, unlearning, and trauma through the process. Even now, I struggle with this post knowing that I should stay the course on the high road and be the bigger person. I am, after all, not blameless and have made my fair share of poor choices and inflicted hurt of my own. I am aware that I cannot know the depths of damage I have inflicted because some people will never feel safe enough with me to share that. It is a weight and responsibility that belongs to me reminding me to travel a better path. Some days the tide turns, though, and I crave accountability and find I can only sluggishly pull myself through the mire of bullshit barely maintaining civility. I want to stand on the bridges I have lit ablaze screaming my primal rage until I am consumed and spent. Even preparing to forge ahead in this blog, I am mindful of my audience and who the flames may lick. Goddamnit!
If you have read my blogs before, you should understand that I began to grieve the loss of my mother and the mother I should have had long ago. Much of the active grieving was done years ago, so when I found out my mother would likely die, I did not rush back to the states. She was an unhealthy woman and had had many health issues that brought her close to death's door before. In those times, I reflected on whether I would attempt to see her one more time or if I would choose, as I did in the end, to stay away. I was even sure to open the conversations with my children to push them to see beyond their gut reactions about the news of her dying. None of these decisions were reached lightly. In the end, the only reason I reached out at all was that AB and CM were struggling with AB's own death watch. I sent my mother a simple message about four or five months before she died saying the door was open. I really didn't expect a reply, and I deleted my part of the message after I sent it, so I do not even know if she ever read it. Honestly, there were people much more shocked about her lack of response than I was. I could see the disappointment in others who had built a storybook reunion in their minds. Their expectations became a part of my grief as I had to watch people who loved me realize that my own mother was incapable of it herself. I still find it peculiar that we collectively believe that death, illness, and trauma are catalysts for change and unity in the human experience. As I thumbed through my feelings, the unexpected grief surrounding her death came from my ex husband. I really shouldn't say surprise, because I know full well who he is, but I think I have always held hope that someday he would come to recognize the destruction he wreaks in others' lives, at least in mine. A part of me is also very disappointed, and quite honestly, disgusted that I spent so much of my life with a man that was so incapable of having regard for my well being. Through the events surrounding my mother's death, I learned that not only did my ex husband know first hand the trauma I endured through my family, but that he had friendships with the very relatives that inflicted that pain in my life. After our divorce, he had rebuilt his relationships with my mother and sister. In reality, it is just one more betrayal on his dragon's hoard of hurt, but I felt fresh anger at myself for ever becoming entangled in his insanity and narcissism. I already suspected he slept with and knew he was fed information from my aunts and had accepted that particular duplicity as part and parcel, but to learn this struck a raw nerve. He is still the father of my children, after all. He still has responsibilities to make wise decisions regarding who has access to and information about my boys. And quite honestly, if he were truly sorry, as he claims, for all the hurt he has pushed into my life, he has an obligation to me as well. In my rational mind, I understand these expectations are unreasonable for many reasons, but the pain in knowing I willingly subjected myself to such abuse and manipulation is mind twisting, at best. I can also tell you there is significant grief in severing ties with the other parent of your children regardless of their age. The only solace I have found in this course of action is that my own children value me enough to understand that even if this is selfish on my part, it is necessary for my own sanity and happiness. I am humbled to receive such grace and unconditional love from them. Whether they realize or not, they are beacons guiding me to be a better version of myself. I fail plenty. I have embraced the idea that while we avoid our parents' mistakes for the most part, we do find new and ingenious ways to fuck up our own children. I see the shadows of generational trauma lurking in their lives, and my heart aches. But I see a glimmer that I was not able to polish into my own life until much later. They really are amazing men especially considering all they have been made to overcome through second hand trauma. All of this makes it so much easier to simply say, "Be careful," when they tell me family has reached out to them. And reach out they do. My sister has activated her grief and loneliness to reach out to more family. She attempted with me shortly after my mother died, and to say it ended badly is like saying an amputated limb is but a minor inconvenience. My sister has always held grudges, and I was an easy target for hatred. I was her big sister. I was meant to protect and love her through everything, and I failed in those tasks. I left. Knowing now that it is impossible to swim with both hands pulling a sibling along is little comfort in the aftermath. I have forgiven myself for these failures because I do know that I deserved to survive and thrive, but there is still hurt and regret deep within. When my sister messaged me, I gave it an honest go to fix things with her while holding, clinging to my self worth. She was unwilling to discuss and own her own part in our past. I can't say I am dismayed. It is ugly and deep in our past, and we had very different experiences with it. I was the reminder of a broken heart and aborted family for my mother, and she ensured my sisters knew my place as well as I did. My sister used our last communication to inflict as much damage as possible sending me a lengthy message on my birthday, conveniently beginning the attack with "Happy Autism Day." Not only did she rehash the family claim that I kept my children from them, but she took a shovel and pickaxe to my heritage as the "half sister", the "adopted but not full blood" sister. She spewed vile about how I had no right to claim my dad, and that the hurt I inflicted on the family was unforgivable. Her letter went on to speak on behalf of the entire family in disavowing my place and value. She was certain to remind me for the fourth or fifth time that I was not wanted at the funeral and that her mom had written me out of the will. The venomous attack reiterated to me that her hatred is boundless and that there will never be a relationship there. I couldn't help but feel equal amounts of pity for her as anguish for myself. She cannot see the irony in highlighting my worthlessness via bloodlines while all three of her children have different fathers. I can't help but wonder which of her children is less than in her mind, and my soul weeps for the children that will relive the trauma I endured but at the hands of yet another generation. There is deep sorrow and grief knowing I will never get to be an aunt to her children, but that situation is so much more entangled than simply being an aunt, and I know this in the darkest and safest parts of my heart. The admission price to this family is too fucking high. And again unable to see the conundrum, while she used her grief and anger to attack me, she has reached out to my children to tell them how proud she is and how she is always there for them. I would assume emboldened by their father and in an attempt to inflict further hurt to me, but still, utterly unaware that in their youth, I encouraged both boys to have relationships with not only my mother but her. I withheld harsh truths from my boys so they could feel free to choose for themselves who in the family was going to be in their lives. Even in all my hurt, I knew that it is possible for people to rise above and that it was unfair for me to taint a relationship because of my own. After all, my own grandparents overcame alcoholism and patterns of abuse to become beloved, supportive yet still flawed family members. I am deeply saddened for my own children that they will never know the bonds of having had a life surrounded by family...grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, but I know they have learned the value of friends and holding onto the family you choose. And while the armor they wear against the family has not had to be has heavy as mine, my hope is that if I have grandchildren that the armor they need is even lighter yet. I wonder if someday I will be free of the field of landmines I have wandered the majority of my life. I am still stunned to learn there are still hidden mines to cause fresh wounds after all these years. I do know, though, that at night, I curl up in the arms of a man who whispers in my ear that he loves who I am, every piece, every scar. I tearfully and truthfully tell him that he has no idea how big of a handful he has grabbed and that I will understand when he realizes that he is in over his head. And this patient and loving man pulls me close and tells me, "When you say that, I know that you don't know what you are to me. For far too long, you have been told that you don't belong and that you are hard to love when it is simply not true. Probably you are too much for them and an inconvenience to their ego because you don't bend, but I love your intelligence and admire your strength." This is family. Love. Home. This is my happily every after. This is why I lay down my torch and the bridges still stand. |
Nellie HillJust a woman leaping outside her comfort zone and telling the tale. Archives
April 2024
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