The Weight of a Quiet Christmas
I’m not going to lie. Christmas was difficult. It’s a simple thing to write about faith, hope, and trust. Some days, it’s not so easy to maintain a happy face.
The past six months have been extremely stressful, culminating in a two-week period of feeling a sense of holiday abandonment. It began with Swedish death cleaning. I know I tossed that term around for some time now, but being forced into death cleaning, rather than deciding now is the time, seemed okay at first. My cancer has been quiet lately, and so I put off the death cleaning.
The Downward Spiral
And then, I discovered several lies about my life that threw me into a downward spiral. Decluttering the house for the realtor seemed like the one thing I could control after discovering that my spouse had moved on, and had been doing so for over a year. The news was more devastating than I thought possible. I have to start over at 70? How can that be fair?
In addition to feeling left behind, I’m having donation remorse. Some of that remorse stems from forgetting where everything is. Did I sell it? Did I donate it? Did I pack it up? Did it get moved to another area of the house? Did someone else move it?
A House in Limbo
After the gardens were cleaned out, another bedroom was created, and the house was decluttered and listed for sale. Advent began, followed by Christmas, and now a new year.
Twenty-twenty-six begins with a storage shed in Mandan that contains the contents of my beloved studio and a different, much smaller, room in my house where I have been secretly sewing and knitting to keep my mind occupied. My loom remains folded and inactive on the front porch.
Christmas remained packed away in storage, and there was no entertaining, no cookies, no turkey dinner, just quiet. A time for silent meditation with Walter the cat. Gifts coming and going from my life were meager at best — but hopefully meaningful.
From Spreadsheets to Peace
The end of the year means preparing for taxes. This will be the last year for The Root Sellers. In addition to business assets, everything I own now has a monetary value. My life has been reduced to dollars in the columns of a spreadsheet. It breaks my heart. I couldn’t bear to pen a post this week in my melancholy mood. The holidays and the year are over. It’s back to limbo. Or not.
I’m grateful we are past the holidays. Winter is still very kind to us. My granddaughter celebrated her third birthday. To gain some peace and perspective, I’m going to go spend some time with her and my daughter’s family. It will mean company, routine, and warm food for a few days.
It’s delightful watching the four of them as a family unit. I no longer have a “family” to coordinate and care for in my house. It’s lonely, but you are my greater family unit, global in nature. I am going to make a point of getting out of the house more often and spending some time with you all — my greatest support.
Today is Turnabout Day
Will it be easy to adjust my attitude? Maybe not, but I have to try. I must rebuild a life knowing there are many things that I will not be able to do anymore. At least not in the same manner as the past 28 years in a relationship.
It began with an invitation for a fabulous bowl of steamy split pea soup from someone who had not given up on me. We decided 2026 would be the year we advance our writing together—to hold each other accountable for moving our blogs, podcasts, reels, and book projects forward.
My Era of Words
To supplement my loss of income from The Root Sellers, I must now move into a new era. My era of words. It’s time to take the many stories I have written over the years and mold them into monetary posts and books. I would like to do more public speaking events.
My “cancer journey” keynote at BSC for the Sanford Women with Cancer Survivors’ Conference ended with a standing ovation. I was honored to be a part of that event. (I am officially booking speaking engagements for 2026. If your organization is looking for a story on resilience, thriving through cancer, or starting over at any age, let’s talk.)
So, I’m cleaning out my closets, writing notes, weeding out ideas, dancing around my living room to the music only I can hear in my head, and writing. I’m writing and applying the law of attraction to my life beginning today. Attracting only positive outcomes for the new year.
Join me on my banner year of turning 70, thriving with my cancer, and basically starting over again. Now, all I need is to find an apartment and wish my former college roommate, Karen, would move to this area and share it with me.
Oh, and your prayers. I need your prayers to keep on keeping on.
INDYchildrendotme 
Leave a comment