In corporate America, first quarter is the time to look back on the last 12 months and project what you hope to achieve in the coming year. Recently, I've not done a great job documenting my personal post-ball-drop reflections, but I want to be more intentional with 2017, and since the business world is still closing out the year, why not me? I'm a grown-up woman, I do what I want.
Note to self: Ship the content. Done is better than perfect. The 10-minute walk you take is better than the three miles you never run. Just do it. Etc.
See also: Unpublished drafts of "2015 in Review" and "2016 in Review."
Key milestones and insights
Women's March
For most of my life, I've shied away from politics. The landscape is so complex, and the dialogue often so polarizing, that I felt too uneducated and frankly, too intimidated, to join the conversation. To say I've progressed by leaps and bounds would be a gross understatement, but I was compelled to attend the women's rally in Indianapolis last year, and the experience touched my heart. I didn't agree with every sign that I saw or speaker I heard, but I was moved by the demonstrations of unity and vowed to do better in using my voice. For me, this has meant calling legislators for the first time, widening my news sources and simply being open to this uncomfortable process. Others are much further along, but that's OK. Baby steps.
Courage over comfort today! #WomensRallyIndy @StateofKate pic.twitter.com/8cxakBlpim
— Bree Dunscombe (@mrsfrema) January 22, 2017
Saint Joe fundraiser + closing
On Feb. 3, 2017, I along with thousands of other Puma faculty, staff, students and alumni were shocked to learn that our beloved Saint Joseph's College was closing in May due to nearly $30 million in debt. Saint Joe and the city of Rensselaer represent all kinds of home to me. I made lifelong friends there, lured my sister Samantha to attend school with me in the cornfields of northern Indiana, bought Luke, and took my first professional job after graduation. I was on staff when Saint Joe launched the branding campaign that led to our marketing refresh and "Involved for Life" tagline. I couldn't let it go without a fight. So I along with two other Indy-area alumni answered the call to host a fundraiser in March, in conjunction with events throughout the Midwest, in an effort to generate enough dollars that the college could stay open and assemble a long-term viability plan.
The chances of raising enough funds to keep the school going were slim at best, and our alumni association (now a separate entity from the college) returned all donations when we didn't meet our goal, but it felt so good to invest my time and money in a cause that was so important to me. Planning the event, working alongside other alums, soliciting prizes, sharing stories. It would have been easy to turn my eyes from the daunting task of raising so much money. It was an impossible situation, and emotions were running high. But there was so much support, even from friends without an SJC diploma (Jen, Raquel, Alyssa, thank you!). I'm so glad I said yes.
In April, I attended the last Little 500 go-kart race with one of my dearest friends. Here, Maura and I memorialize Saint Joe's signage on I-65:
And here we stand with our beloved English professor, John Groppe, who was quoted in the Indianapolis Monthly story I linked to above. John Groppe is the reason my Frema nickname exists! I left him a voicemail one day my sophomore year, to let him know I wanted to interview for the part-time secretary position he was trying to fill. I left my name, Bree Ma'Ayteh, and walked to his office. In person, John said he would be happy to interview me, but first he had to speak with someone named Frema, who was also interested. It wasn't long before we realized that Frema ("Bree Ma...") was me! I'm holding his latest poetry collection.
Auntie Donna
On July 30, my wonderful Auntie Donna passed away at 52 years old from a years-long battle with cancer -- just hours before her namesake, my youngest sister, gave birth to my sweet nephew Benny. Auntie Donna had a long, hard road for many years, but what a blessing that she wasn't alone. She lived with Samantha and her family for almost two years, and in her last months required constant care. I was so blessed to spend a few long weekends last summer in Chicago, stepping in briefly to help with hospice nurses and medication schedules.
When I was nine years old, my parents bought a two-story apartment; our family took the top floor, and Nana (my mother's mother) and Auntie Donna took the second. She wasn't on the peripherals of my life, but front and center.
She let me tag along on errands in her sweet Cavalier, and when I was 17 let me use it to take my driver's test (no coincidence that my first car purchase was a sweet Cavalier). She shared openly about her path to sobriety, hugged me while I cried over boyfriends, answered my questions frankly, and always had unshakeable faith in me. We were only in touch at family gatherings as I moved away, got married and had kids, so this time with her was truly a gift from God.
I've lost people who I loved with all my heart, but I was far removed from their actual deaths. Phone calls to Indiana when I was either in school or beginning my career, potentially months since my last trip home, with either no chance to say good-bye or a short "last" visit in the hospital. This was my first time sitting in the stillness of someone who was starting to die. To meet her eyes and rub lotion on her hands, have short conversations as she was able, or just poke my head in her room to make sure she was still breathing. It was intimate and horrifying and one of the most sacred things I've ever done.
In no way am I trying to inflate my part in this process. I was half a puzzle piece, substituting for much larger pieces, and Samantha was the frame holding everything together with such strength and grace. But our society isn't good at holding space for grief or sadness, and this was the first time I held it in a such a deep, prolonged way, and I want to express how grateful I am for it, and that it was for my Auntie Donna, who is so very special to me.
"Check the Box Sunday"
I posted the message I delivered at church in September, but what I didn't touch on was the process of writing it. One of our pastors approached me in early June, and for the first two months I didn't write anything, just let myself be excited while the idea of it marinated in my brain. I thought about the Bible stories I would talk about, fun movie clips I could show (the congregation was thisclose to watching a scene from "The Lord of the Rings"), and when I let myself get really carried away, I imagined that everything in my spiritual journey over the last two years had been leading up to this one sermon, and I really needed to knock it out of the park, to the point that everyone would hear me and think, "Wow, why isn't Bree up here talking to us every week?"
Truly the picture of holiness, I know.
And then I actually started writing, and of course none of my ideas were panning out like I wanted them to. At the end of August, I had a respectable draft that was an appropriate length and biblically sound. But it didn't feel like me because, for one thing, I wasn't trying to be like me, or even giving God a chance to work through me. I was imitating my pastors and falling short. Secondly, I was trying to give a message that was "finished" -- a story with a definite ending, like the last chapter in a book, because it felt like I should be far enough along in my faith life that I can tell those kinds of stories. It was hard to admit that I was (and remain) in the messy middle. But once I did, it got easier.
On the big day, I was ready to cry from nervousness (What? Bree never cries), but once it was over I was ready to do it again. How lucky I was, too, to have so many people cheering me on. Luke, my mother- and father-in-law, my sister Samantha, and my dear friend Jen and her family came to see me, and several loved ones watched online. And my church family was so gracious. Thank you, God.
Therapy, take two
I'm grateful for my first stint with counseling because it allowed me to catch a glimpse of its value. But I wasn't comfortable with my therapist and ended our sessions after my free six weeks were up (muchas gracias, Employee Assistance Program). The week after Thanksgiving, I tried a new therapist, and WHOA. Fit makes such a difference! We meet twice a month for an hour, and in between I am Doing The Work. Sometimes I fight The Work, or push it to the bottom of the pile, or feel like I'm above The Work. I feel like I'm missing the mark more than half the time. But this therapist can handle my sense of humor and ugly sobbing without missing a beat. She asks good questions and helps me make connections that I haven't noticed on my own.
I have a long road ahead, but now the right person is on the road with me, and that's something.
Me, practicing positive affirmations:
But also...
There were so many things to be happy about last year:
- Completing my second and third half-marathons, eight years after my first running of the Mini. Thank you, Jo Lynn and Jen, for being my race buddies!
- Finally finishing my Brene Brown online course.
- Diving into spring and fall soccer with Nathan for the first time.
- Taking Kara to see "A Christmas Carol" at Indy's local theater.
- Our baby starting kindergarten.
- Welcoming an actual baby into our family, my sweet nephew Benny.
- Finishing a "Jesus in the Gospels" study at my church -- definitely one of the bright spots of my year.
- Falling into the PBS British Telly Club rabbit hole. AND I'M NOT GOING BACK.
- Also falling into the gaming rabbit hole. Luke's and my level of intensity isn't so high that we're role-playing D&D, but it's not so low that I wouldn't consider it. It's a slippery slope, is what I'm saying.
- Our summer vacation in southeast Michigan, where we ate ice cream every day.
- Seeing Jen Hatmaker and Nichole Nordeman during the Indy leg of their Moxie Matters tour.
- Visiting Boston in the fall with my dear PR and corp comm friends to eat great food, enjoy a haunted bus tour, and oh yes, attend an industry conference.
Thank you, 2017.
2018, I'm coming for you.
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