Thursday, May 31, 2018

It is Time

I have been searching for a blog writer who speaks to me for quite some time now. I finally found her. Her blog is called "Robin Kramer Writes". When I read how she describes herself: "Writing is how I make sense of the world", I knew I had found a virtual friend.

I have gone back through the archives of her blog and started reading from the beginning. I am presently up to July 13, 2011: http://www.robinkramerwrites.com/2011/07/garage-sale.html
Once again, it was a phrase that came through the computer screen and grabbed me "I realized something about myself.  Having too much stresses me out."

Exactly! She is inside my head and is writing what I am thinking, seven years before I came to realize the exact same thing.

Having too much stresses me out.

I slowly came to realize My Time of Great Down Sizing after closing my daycare happened in order to make room for what was coming. I was thinking more along the lines of renting out the upstairs of our home or my invitation for Mom to move in. I didn't intentionally make room for Mom's belongings after she died. But that is exactly what happened.

I didn't want anything of Mom's. I didn't need anything. What I had was enough. I didn't want more. Thankfully my sister didn't listen. She brought a trailer load of stuff to fill the empty spaces of our home. I quite honestly plunked these furnishings down as she brought them in and I haven't moved them again. I had accidentally made room for them. They fit. They belonged. My sister knew.

The room which is weighing me down is the room which is filled with Mom's spirit. Her books, her memories, cards and letters I wrote to her, pictures, paperwork ... and the list goes on.

It is too much.

I walk in there and I pretty much know exactly where to locate something I am looking for. In fact, just this moment I went in and retrieved Mom's copy of the book To Kill a Mockingbird after reading Robin's quote from the book in the above mentioned post.


I have been searching for a more fulfilling purpose within my after work hours and I do believe I have stumbled onto the "what's next" portion of this life I'm living.

"Having too much stresses me out". It is time. Time to open some cupboards and start lightening my load again. I need to organize and make room for what is important within "Mom's room". That room is so laden and heavy right now. It is time to make room for "what's next"...


 "This" is where I need to begin. I've been saying it for months but I have not had the energy nor motivation to put my words into action.

Thanks, Robin. Thank you for writing what I have not yet put words to within this head full of untranslated thoughts. I have too much. I need to create some order within Mom's room. I suspect I will find a great amount of peace will come during and after the transformation.

It is time to make a plan. It is time to start moving forward and through the past year in a physical kind of way.

Wednesday, May 30, 2018

Now What?

My role as executor to Mom's will is winding down to a close. We are on the final leg of this journey and as soon as I mail the final documentation to our friendly, neighborhood taxation department, everything that happens from there will be out of my hands.

I have done the math. I have accounted for every penny which has passed through the estate. I have checked, re-checked and checked again, to ensure all interest paid has been duly reported. I have walked through every letter of taxation law with my accountant and I am satisfied that everything has been done as correctly as humanly possible.

I have documentation, facts and figures. I have come at these numbers from every conceivable angle I can think of. I fixate on these kinds of things. Numbers are tangible, provable and can be balanced to the penny.

I have done all I can do. Now we wait.

My definition of "who I am" has been wrapped around Mom for quite some time. As I let my mind relax and look back, I have few regrets. Mom and everyone around me encouraged me to focus on life beyond Mom while I was walking that walk. When everything became so very quiet after all details pertaining to Mom, her death and her estate, it was only then that I realized how very much of my identity was wrapped around defining myself as "Mom's Daughter".

I hunkered down and felt all I needed to feel. I was lost and without purpose for a while. My last real conversation with Mom cycled around in my head in a loop "What is your ten year plan?" she asked, as she leaned into the conversation and waited for my answer.

Sometimes, I still feel her waiting.

I have broken it down into segments. First of all - the present. My present day life is truly about as good as it gets. I still have all the flexibility I need within my roles and responsibilities. I am doing things that "matter", which is important to me. I feel valued. I feel like I give back. When I look too far down the road, my knees buckle and I feel weak. So I don't look that far. None of us knows what tomorrow will bring. "Prepare yourself but take it one day at a time" is my motto.

It is the time left over at the end of my day jobs that I struggle with. I have not quite yet defined who I am when I am not tending to someone else's needs. I remember the days when I would take my unspent energy and invest it in tending our home. I am trying to find that part of me again. But I want to be more than the keeper of a clean and organized house. At one point of my life, I joked that my children would most likely etch the words "She kept a clean house" on my headstone because I was not a warm and fuzzy, memory making kind of mom. But at least our house was clean. I have evolved.

I wrote these words four years ago. I was struggling but I was content. My son thought I was depressed and this was my response to a conversation we had:

"I am not perfect. I used to try to be. I wore myself out and beat myself up and kept trying and trying but I never attained the height that I had set for myself. I have evolved to the stage of my life where I am happy to simply be 'enough'.

I worry enough to get that-which-needs-to-be-done, done. I care enough to get through the day and fulfil the parts of me/life that need filling up the most. I am independent enough to know that I can lean a little bit and still be self reliant. I feel enough to empathize with you when you are feeling 'life' strongly.

Life is full of ups and downs, highs and lows, ebbs and flows. I used to expect more out of life, out of myself and out of you. I have let all of us off the hook and I am content and relaxed enough to just go with the flow and trust that it will all work out in the end."

I was content to simply be "enough" back then. Sometimes I forget how wise I used to be. I'm grateful I write these things down because I have found most of the time, I know the answers I am seeking. "It was within you all the time, Dorothy" (slightly paraphrased from "The Wizard of Oz")

I believe the part of me I am seeking right now is the part where I fulfil the parts of me/life that need filling up the most.

I'm still looking for your answer, Mom. It's coming. I can feel it a little closer every day.

Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Why I Had to Quit Daycaring

Is it just me? Or does anyone else out there shake their heads in wonder at all the video footage of "kids doing bad things"? It possibly started with America's Funniest Home Videos (?), with the possibility of winning the grand prize. Just my opinion.

Anyway ... I must apologize to parents-who-take-videos-of-kids-doing-bad-things everywhere. I wondered why there is cat hair on our kitchen counters yesterday. In the name of research, I searched the archives of our "Ray and Jet" folder and found just a little bit more evidence of (perhaps?) the reason our cats don't listen to me:



Yes, the black blurry object is indeed a cat making his escape from the "Lazy Susan"





The fax activity report proves Jet has attempted to send faxes on several occasions

This mangled roll of toilet paper was inside of a child proof bathroom cupboard

A most excellent place to rest after a hard day of being a cat
And that, my friend, is why I had to quit daycaring. If the cats are breaking all the rules, can you imagine what the kids were trying to get away with?!

And that's all I have to say about that.

Monday, May 28, 2018

The Need to Be Pushed

I need a push some times. Most of the time. Well? Truth be told, I need a "push" ALL of the time.

I have had a nice little burst of weekend company this past while which actually went better than I could have anticipated.

I truly hoped my very first guest would cancel so that my work and preparations would be rewarded with a clean home, all the "hard things" done and (another) quiet weekend at home.

Thankfully that never came to pass. My guest arrived a day later than anticipated, it was a flurry of activity, visiting and eating. It was exhausting. But that visit resulted one very good thing. It encouraged me out of the quiet and safe little cocoon I had wrapped around myself.

I just stepped away and perused my calendar to see how life transpired after that initial visit. It actually wasn't much of a "flurry" of activity. Perhaps a mild dusting would be a better way to describe it. But after the months which preceded the initiating incident, it felt like a flurry.

This one invitation to join in and live life more fully was a beginning. I am so pleased how things unfolded after that point. I didn't have to do a whole lot of inviting. I simply had to say "yes" to the offers that came my way.

Things have slowed down a little again. Without the push to do something, I tend to do nothing. Throughout the entirety of the past long weekend, I could describe all the "hard things" I did by saying I mowed the lawn, showered and colored my hair. I ate a lot. Does that count for anything? [NO!!!]

Anyway, what my point was at the beginning of this post, is that I really need to be shoved out of my complacency and prodded into action with a pokey stick.

This morning, a well overdue furnace cleaning was my initiating incident.

I was forced to tidy and sweep up the laundry room. I needed to wash my hair. The house hadn't been vacuumed in a week. And my furnace guy was scheduled to arrive at 9 a.m.

Guess what? I can do hard things before 9 o'clock in the morning. And guess what else? It feels good to do so. Will I repeat this sequence of events tomorrow? Probably not. Even though I have an early morning appointment booked with my accountant, no one is coming into my home. So all the hard things which have been done today, will most likely be enough to push me through the better part of the week.

I am presently wondering what I could arrange in the week(s) ahead to keep me moving in a productive sort of way.

House maintenance and minor renovations should be next on my to-schedule list. But I seem to have booked too many summer and fall getaways to feel like I can afford that. Maybe I'll stick to must-do items and cleaning for the moment.

One thing I have noticed as I have taken the better part of two hours or more to write these words - productivity begets more productivity. Sometimes. I believe the key lies into starting first thing in the morning.

As I sludge through the motions and keep on top of things that MUST be done around here, I marvel and wonder at the person I used to be. When my furnace inspection was done three weeks ago, I mentioned that "in the old days", knowing someone was going to be in my laundry room would have triggered a thorough cleaning. All I could think this morning as I (once again) did a bare minimum to prepare for the furnace cleaner, is that it felt much easier because I had just tidied this spot a short while ago.

Where has my ambition gone? Where can I find it? Is it hiding in the early morning hours when all I really want to do is to be still, work on my word games, write and savor my morning coffee? Perhaps that is exactly where it went.

There was a reason I used to get up so early. I do all my hard things in the morning. I just have to figure out a way to accomplish more with the time I make for myself.

It can be done. I just have to make it a priority. Therein lies the problem. I really don't care to make housework my #1 goal in life. "Good enough" has become my motto. I blame our cats. I can't keep ahead of the hair. Tell me this ... is there anyone else out there who actually vacuums their kitchen counters? I do. I have no idea why ...



This house has gone to the cats. I give up. Until I'm poked and prodded into action again.

Sunday, May 27, 2018

Layering

As I reread my entirely unnecessary and rambling post from yesterday, I spotted the message within the excessive words. The hidden message was "Everything we learn and do with our lives prepares us for the next step".

Every job I have held, no matter how small, prepared me for the next. The fact that I often seemed to have another job on the side tells me that I was always searching and open to add another layer of experience and looking ways to become more of who I was.

There is nothing I enjoy more than being on the receiving end of a service provided by someone who is well suited for and enjoys the work they do.

A brief conversation with a server at a restaurant revealed why we were so impressed. He replied that he had tried a different line of work but he was told because he was service oriented, he should work in the customer service industry . Whoever planted that seed in his mind deserves a medal. Our server deserves a medal himself, for nurturing that advice. He heard it, pursued it and even if this position is simply a stepping stone to the career he is headed towards, he has found a job that currently honors who he is.

The hospital staff we came across throughout Mom's various hospital visits are a true testament to the hard working medical team who made Mom's visits easier to bear.

We spent a lot of that time in the ER, a place where you know the demands on the staff is high, the line of people waiting to be seen is long and there are limited resources. Yet every single time Mom was admitted and she made mention of others who were worse off and needed more immediate attention than her, she was assured and reassured that she needed medical attention just as much as anyone else. They would treat her with respect, speak to the person she was and proceed to give her their full attention. These were medical professionals who, from what we experienced, were in a job they were perfectly suited for. They were shining stars.

We came across an EMT extraordinaire, who came and checked in on us each time he made a return trip to the hospital with a new patient. I cannot see his face in my mind but I'll never forget his last comment, "It's the Big Bird family!" he made when he spotted all of us gowned up in bright yellow gowns as they took precautions over the "unknown cause" of Mom's stomach troubles (that minor, but unnecessary inconvenience resulted in the necessity of a private room for Mom which, in the end, was a true blessing). I can't imagine the type of person you need to be, to become an EMT. In my opinion, they are superstars. This particular one stands out in my memory but he was last, in a long line of an emergency responders who went above and beyond the call of duty.

My mind veers off in several directions as I replay scenarios in my mind.

When we walk with the current, it often takes us where we need to go even when the path feels like it is filled with unnecessary diversions.

I recently made the comment that I did indeed marry too young and if my life became a "choose your own adventure" storybook and I could go back and change one thing, I said I would choose not to marry at age seventeen. I barely spoke the words when I realized that would mean I would never have had my second son; the chances of relocating close to my roots would have been remote; I most likely would have never made the family connections I have made while researching our family history books; nor would I have been in the time and place I was, when my third child came to be.

I backtracked my thinking and quickly realized that the connective tissue that made my life exactly as it IS would not have happened if I didn't marry who and when I did. I was a shell of who I have become and without the challenges I faced, I fear for who I may not have evolved into being.

Life layers you with experiences. One layer of knowledge, experience, misguided thinking and errors of judgement teaches you what you need to know to take on the next lesson you need. If we take these lessons and lie one on top of the other, keeping what we need to know and paying that forward, we are on our way to living our best life.

My nephew, who has found a way to make a living by making people laugh, said it all when he commented that there was no such thing as a "bad show". Those were the shows that gave him some of the best material to work with. He takes a bad show and makes it better. That, in my humble opinion, is the definition of success. Taking what you are given, turning it around and utilizing it to make the next step as best as you can.

Perfection is a futile expectation but I suppose I will never stop aiming for it, knowing that aiming high will take me where I need to go. Making mistakes along the way is to be expected and necessary. If we attained perfection immediately, we wouldn't learn what we need to know to become better.

It is the mistakes, missteps, misguided decisions and diversions that has taught me everything I need to know, to be who I am. Who I am is always in need of improvement, new hopes, dreams and goals.

There is something that changes when one reaches the final semester of life. Fear of failing becomes a little more crippling because it is accompanied by the sense that there is not as much time to recover from a fall.

Fear of falling. Fear of failing. Fear of losing. It all equals a fear of living. This is where I seem to be hovering. I know I can't remain in this phase very long so I am trying to insulate myself with the knowledge and understanding that life has taught me everything I need to know to take another tentative step.

Take what you have and carry it forward with you, knowing it will take you where you need to go. Just like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, she had the power all along; she had to learn it for herself.

"If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own backyard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right?" ~ Dorothy, "The Wizard of Oz"

Saturday, May 26, 2018

Taking a Math Break

There is a reason I never became an accountant or a full time "numbers" person. I am taking a break from math this morning. Maybe the whole day. I've had my fill for the moment.

I know why I am drawn to numbers. You are figuring out solvable problems. There are answers that are deemed right or wrong. I love balancing to zero. It is one of my favorite things.

But what I am discovering is that there are so many ways go come to the correct answer.

Appeasing all the rules of accounting, the taxation department, ensuring everything is reported correctly, consistently and adheres to all the cross checks and balances boggles my mind every now and again.

Then I rest.

The world of words and letters continues to beckon me. There are fewer rights or wrongs here. Yes, there is spelling, grammar, wording and proper decorum to guide me. But I am accountable only to myself. Perhaps this is the reason I prefer to write for pleasure rather than trying to please and appease an audience &/or editor.

I believe I have been drawn to fulfill my "calling" my whole life.

Originally, I was drawn to child care (starting out with dog care and graduating to children when I was old enough) because that was the only employment available to me before I turned sixteen. This not only provided an income but started honing my abilities to work with and for people.

Next, I worked the service industry (an ice cream kiosk, followed by Pizza Hut) where I experienced the cause and effect of good customer service.

I started working in the banking industry during my Pizza Hut years which helped me appreciate providing customer service while dealing with people's bank accounts was a far cry from dealing with someone who received the wrong pizza.

My banking career was often supplemented by weekend employment of a non-numbers nature. Eventually my full time focus turned to running a daycare, which was subsized by Saturday employment at a financial institution, which in turn was followed by working part time as a bookkeeper. In time, bookkeeping progressed to a full time commitment.

The evolution from bookkeeper to "substitute secretary" for the school board was the hardest transition of all. Rules which sounded black and white became every shade of gray, pink and blue under the sky. Not having a right/wrong; true/false; cross checked and balanced to zero answer was my undoing. A second job was a requirement. There was no regularity to my schedule and I had to make myself available seven days a week.

I felt like I was walking against the current throughout that entire year.

I literally came home again when I reopened my daycare which coincided perfectly with the offer of a weekend bookkeeping job. I was my own boss again. I was walking with the current, doing what I did best. I was back in my comfort zone child tending, self employment, writing for some papers and bookkeeping on the side.

Nothing ever stays the same.

I closed my daycare. My resignation from column writing came about during that same period. Life was shifting and changing under my feet. These were uncertain times but they have brought me today. And today, I am exactly where I am meant to be. For now.

I have two, part time jobs which equal "one". I am bookkeeper, hear me calculate! I am a care provider, feel me care. Either one of these jobs alone would be too much and not enough at the same time.

I believe we are all craving a sense of balance throughout our lives. Life is always evolving so there is always a sense of feeling the need to brace oneself for the inevitable change that is headed our way whether we plan for it or not.

As I look back, I can remember the feeling when my sense of balance was off. I made changes when and where necessary. When I was unable to change the circumstance I would endeavor to try to change my perspective and try to make the best of the situation at hand.

Of course none of this is as simple as it sounds. It is the places "in between" that are tough to figure out while you are in the trenches walking the walk. I am ever thankful for each and every time I find a safe place to land and assess the situation while I'm living it.

Today, I am simply taking a break from the accounting end of things. I am appreciating the view from the plateau I have reached. I cannot ignore the feeling that life-as-I-know-it could change in an instant. But now? Right now? I am just going to breathe deeply and inhale this moment.

Maybe I should do a little more than inhale the moment. The only calculator I am drawn to at the moment is a "calorie calculator" which has explained that my current rate of eating minus my current rate of under activity results in a 2 pound a week weight gain.

There is a mathematical explanation for almost anything. Sigh ... I knew I wanted to take a math holiday.

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Remembering ...

Seven years ago today, I was savoring the vacation of a lifetime. I was cruising up the Alaskan coast with a friend I've known ever since I have a memory, en route to meet up with the first best friend I made after our family moved to Edmonton when I was nine years old.

I just spent the past hour or so rereading the blog posts I wrote while I was livin' the dream.If you click "here", it will take you back to May, 2011 and you can reminisce with me for a while ...

Wow. My life has gone through a lot of transitions since then.

As I write those words, I am reminded of the journey my career path took after I returned home from that cruise.

I look around me and remind myself that I still live in the same home but different cats adorn it.

I think of family connections and how much stronger they feel.

As I think back on those seven years, I remember those who have passed during that time. So many of those who were an integral part of my memories, who shared their stories with me so we could assemble them onto the pages of our family history books. I am so very grateful for each and every memory I made.

My relationships within my own little family unit ebb and flow, which is to be expected as each of my children become more of who they are. I hope we will grow closer despite the distance created by our individual growth spurts.

I remember who I used to be, who I became, who I lost and as I reflect on those years, I am starting to feel the stirring of life within me again.

I kind of like the sound of the girl who wrote those posts back in May of 2011. She was a girl who was living the dream. She was looking up, making memories, appreciating the moment and dreaming big.

I remember how my sense of security about the future was shattered when Mom had a health scare in the months that preceded that Alaskan cruise. My senses were heightened after that. I was gently reminded how precious life is. Mom and I made a lot of memories between then and now. I'm so grateful for each and every one of them.

Life was full of ups, downs, in betweens, transitions, living and loss these past seven years. I am grateful for the ability to look back and reread the words I wrote when I was walking that path. I am reminded that throughout the low times, there was a sense of hopefulness and gratitude that prevailed.

I wonder where life will take me the next seven years. Wait! I really do not want to know the answer. One day at a time. Let hope and gratitude rule the day. Write, laugh and maybe dance. Let my actions be ruled by these thoughts and all things become possible.

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Breaking Free

My thoughts are all over the map so I have no idea where this post will go. Quite possibly it will end up circling around a few times before going no where and finishing up with no significant point. Oh well. Here goes nothing ...

This abbreviated work week is full of all kinds of diversions and twists from the norm. I don't know how it will end but any week that starts on a Tuesday is off to a running start.

The week started with an afternoon road trip which ended with me visiting with my sister in her park like back yard. The visit was short, sweet and a complete treat. The day wound down by heading off to "Danceland" for a little stroll down memory lane before we headed for home.

Danceland - I love the pictures that waft through my mind at the sound of that word. Yesterday I got to wander inside and take a peek at a small piece of local history which has transcended all time. As I gazed upon the dance floor, I could feel the past come up and touch me.

The desire to dance keeps coming to the forefront of my mind.
  • Dancing is more effective than counselling
  • Remembering those joy filled dance years
  • Keeping in touch with friends from the dance studio
  • An invitation to "like" my old dance studio's Facebook page
  • Mom's love of dancing and her encouragement when I danced ...
Walking into the dance hall at Danceland rekindled all of those thoughts and made me wonder. Could I? Should I? Would I dance again??

Heaven knows I need the exercise! A little side order of "joy" sounds pretty enticing too. 

It started slowly and picked up speed, but I have actually made plans, bought tickets and looked beyond "today" for the first time in a long while. Writing an upcoming commitment on the calendar no longer holds the power to paralyze me as it has done in the past. I'm spending money like there's no tomorrow. 

I panicked at the way money seems to be flowing through my carefully planned budgeting scheme and chastised myself for spending so frivolously. Then I reminded myself that I have done this in the past. I have looked ahead, booked ahead, gone away and made memories. I didn't worry about the money and reminded myself over and over and over again - it all works out in the end.

I have spent much more money than I will be spending this upcoming summer. I did it during a time when my bills were higher, my pay cheque was lower and I had less available time than I do right now. I knew there would be no regrets. I just knew it.

I look back and think back on those whimsical trips and I was right. Even at the time, I was pretty sure I would never live to regret those indulgences, the memories made and the money that fell through my hands during what were some of the leanest, but best years of my life.

The dream has to come alive again. It is coming. It is a little frightening but I am starting to break free from the cocoon I have spun around myself. 

I have to break free of these restraints myself. I have not yet found the courage to say "yes" to everything. My wings are not that strong quite yet. But what I have found is that I am regaining my strength by learning when I need to say "no". When the mere idea of saying "yes" saps me of all I have become, I know I need to say "no". 

Small steps, accepting and issuing easy invitations, choosing what I know I am capable of doing and inviting others to join me feels empowering.

My wings are fragile but they are becoming stronger with each invitation to come out and rejoin the world again.

Will I dance again? Maybe. Just not quite yet ...

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Little Things

Too much time with not enough to do does not equal great things for me. There was a day in a land long ago, when I could and would utilize a three day hiatus from the day to day grind and do amazing things. Not anymore, my friend. Not anymore.

What did I do with three long and luxurious days off?

I immersed myself in all things "royal". The royal wedding, old YouTube videos on the royals, perusing books on Princes Harry and William, a TV movie and a few television programs on Harry & Meghan, with "The Royals" on Netflix capping off the Royal Weekend.

I completed watching "How I Met Your Mother". The final episode of the series included a wedding. I watched Harry & Meghan's wedding the same day I watched Barney & Robin get married. I thought that polished off the day quite nicely.

I ate. And I ate. And I ate. Then I ate more. Oh ... my achin' stomach. 'Nough said. More on that another day.

I mowed the lawn, I colored my hair, I vacuumed and I picked up a few groceries. Whew! I almost broke a sweat there. It is unfortunate, but one thing did not lead to another. Back in the day, one small household task (like clearing off a counter top) would lead to another, then another and the next thing I knew, I had cleaned a room. No more, my friend. No more.

My new motto seems to be "You did one hard thing. Now you can rest."

I rested, I reclined, I sat outside with the cats, I read and I wasted so much time on the computer.

But after all that time I "invested" playing working on the computer, I DID find a solution for accommodations for our upcoming family reunion so my internet time was well rewarded.

I went on a cat toy hunt which was greatly appreciated by all. I have an idle mind which likes to be challenged by knowing which cat toys are missing after I have scoured the house. After my cat toy treasure hunt was complete, I knew I was missing a new blue pom pom and an old yellow pom pom, after finally finding the lost sparkly red one (an all time favorite).

In the middle of the night, my feet grazed the sheets as they tried to find a new, cool spot to rest and sure enough, what did I feel under my covers, at the foot of my bed?!? The missing blue pom pom!! We are now only missing one yellow cat toy (as far as I remember).

Maybe, just maybe I could pull the house apart and clean until I find it.

Maybe not. Those ploys used to work on the "old me". The "new me" is not easily fooled I'm afraid. But you can be sure that every time I look in, under and beside a nook I have not looked in for a while, that that little yellow ball is at the top of my "to find" list. That ... and several income tax and Microsoft Office programs that have disappeared since my Time of Great Culling.

It is really no wonder that I have lost my ambition to reorganize things around here. Something goes missing. Every time. In fact, I wrote a list of all the things I have lost so I could cross them off as I found them. Guess what? I lost the list.

I didn't accomplish great things but I did feel serene while doing so. The haze of "missing Mom" is clearing and sadness does not wash over me in the way it has.

I spotted an unfamiliar yellow bird in the neighbor's tree this morning and stood at the window watching it for as long as it remained in my line of sight. Suddenly it seemed to dive off the tree it was in ... just the way the little birds seemed to line up on the eave of Mom's garage, then jump off one at a time and land in the peony bushes below. They did it over and over and over again. It was a light and easy memory of my last summer with Mom. We sat so very many hours in her sun room.

There is a great peace that washes over me as I quietly remember Mom as little things trigger small memories. There is a lightness in my heart and a feeling that "this" is how Mom would want to be remembered. In the small things. Light and easy.

There are so many times I wish I could ask Mom to clarify something for me. It saddens me to know she cannot provide those answers for me any more. There are only a few who can. I should write a list of what I wish I knew so I could ask when I come across someone who may know the answer. Then again, would I be able to find that list when I wanted it?

The great circle of life. I work a little, then rest a lot. I clean a little, then lose a lot. I remember a little, and I'm afraid I will forget.

I continue to write down these little memories of Mom because I fear the day when I will have forgot.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Saturday, May 19, 2018

A Royal Wedding - Audience of One

My eyes popped open around 3:30 this morning and I immediately remembered there would be coverage of the royal wedding. I tuned in and inexplicably managed to stay awake for most of the pomp, circumstance and ceremony.

Before the ceremony started, I listened to the conversation between the host and co-hosts and learned a little more than I knew before I opened my eyes. I heard Oprah was in attendance, there were many shots of George Clooney and his wife (I had my eyes on George for a while and tried to superimpose myself in Amal's place. I couldn't have walked in those shoes. Good thing George didn't choose me).

My head was filled with new thoughts, images, memories of prior royal weddings as I watched the scene set out before me. The house was still and dark. I was alone, among the billions of others who tuned in to watch the ceremony along with me.

Then the wedding began.

All conversation stopped which is probably the reason I awoke (I must have dozed off there for a minute) and there she was. Meghan was ready to make her entrance (did I miss the procession before her I wondered?).

Meghan walked down the aisle with a smattering of small children behind her, reminiscent of Diana's young wedding party.

The camera panned to Harry and I soaked in his smile. His expression reminded me of my son (maybe we are related - I always told Mom I thought she had blue blood in her). The moment was serene in a very openly public way. The looks Harry & Meghan shared were simply special.

I was so pleased to see Charles openly welcome Meghan into the family by escorting and presenting her to Harry. I had heard Meghan's father wouldn't be able to go to the wedding. It felt and looked so very right to watch Charles step up.

I watched, I listened and absorbed what I could in my sleep deprived state. I must have nodded off again because when my consciousness was awoken again, it was to the impassioned words being spoken about love.

I listened intently to this talk and wondered if this was the same minister who started the ceremony. I don't pay attention to those kinds of details when I'm taking in other important matters like how Harry is looking at Meghan, the twinkle in her eyes and special glance she reciprocated in kind.

I was captivated by the sermon, the subject matter of "love" and how the message applied to not only the royal couple, but to the entire world. I immediately wondered how this sermon, the platform and timing would be received by the world.

It was then, when I appreciated my isolation. I could sit alone with my own thoughts before surveying the Internet and social media to tell me what to think. So I thought. Alone. Without input.

After this impassioned speech ended, it was followed by a gospel choir who sang "Stand By Me". Wow.

It was in and about this time when I started to notice the cultural diversity which was a huge part of the scene in front of me. Was this lady the camera kept panning Meghan's mother? Hmmm? I had a faint memory of hearing the phrase "bi-cultural wedding" being tossed around in the days before the wedding. I honestly hadn't noticed.

Once your consciousness wakes up, it sees more. Suddenly I was looking at this royal wedding in a way I had never seen a royal wedding before.

I heard the music. I thought of how deeply moved Mom was, when it came to music. I fell off the royal wedding band wagon and thought of Mom's funeral - I wish it had been more of "this". Music is a universal language. It is powerful and speaks to the soul.

I thought of Mom. I think she would have liked this wedding. I believe she had a soft spot for Harry (he reminded her of one of her great grandsons - see?? There is that royal blood connection again). I was certain Mom had a book on Harry. But not one of Harry and Meghan. That story was still developing.

My thoughts drifted from here to there to everywhere as I watched the remainder of the wedding ceremony.

I thought of the queen, who is the same age as my aunt would have been (Mom's sister - that royal blood connection again), watching on as her grandson was married. Mom attended the wedding of her oldest great grandson last summer.

So many of my thoughts pinged back and forth between the royal wedding, the history, the future of royalty and Mom as I watched Harry and Meghan's wedding before the hosts came back on and recapped the events of the hours preceding.

How often are we truly "alone" with our thoughts these days?

Checking in on social media is habit forming and impedes unique thinking. Being able to Google something without trying to force the memory of something you know you should know must slow down the brain's ability to fire those neurons which click into gear when digging up a memory from long ago.

As I quietly revelled in being alone with my interpretation of the royal wedding unfolding in front of me in real time, another part of me was curious about what "the world" would have to say about this history altering event. I had not yet turned off the TV before I tuned into the world wide web to satisfy my curiosity.

I enjoyed revelling in my own thoughts. I need to unplug myself from this eternal need to feel connected at all times.

"I might miss a text ... or invitation ... or phone call" or "What if someone needs to get ahold of me?" Do you know what? We managed very well in the days before cell phones, computers, WiFi and internet connections. Maybe we missed a few calls that could have changed our lives. Maybe now we are taking too many calls and headed down paths we were never meant to take.

I have a "completely unplugged weekend" booked next month. I have been declining this invitation for years. This year, I finally said "Yes".

It is time. Time to think my own thoughts without weighing them against the opinions of the world around me.

I enjoyed my private invitation to watch the royal wedding. Alone. Without the dialogue of the hosts slanting my view. My view where I saw little more than two hopeful people in love and promising to forge a future together.

It isn't a storybook ending. It is a storybook beginning. I wish Harry and Meghan the best. I will pull out Harry's book from Mom's library and attempt to "unplug" for the remainder of the weekend. Or at least cut back. I need to hear what I'm thinking again.

Friday, May 18, 2018

Following My Bliss

My thoughts feel light and breezy this morning. The sky is blue, the air is crisp and a long weekend is nigh.

A long weekend with no plans. I have no idea where it will (or will not) take me. As I thought that very thought this morning, a voice inside my head uttered "Follow your bliss".

I like that.

Bliss = great  joy. What brings you joy? These are a few of my most joyful things:
  • quiet mornings
  • meaningful conversations
  • spur of the moment outings
  • laughter
  • family & friendship
  • writing ...
Yes! Writing. I think the heart to fingertip to paper connection is starting to fire up again. The connection was broken for a while. Maybe it wasn't. My heart was hurting and sore so the words that escaped from my fingertips were without joy. There was sadness, hopelessness and so many thoughts of The Year of Mom continually wafting in, out and through my thoughts. I couldn't silence them.

I'm grateful I didn't. I needed to think, feel, talk, cry and write it out. As gradual as things happened with Mom, at the end it all happened fast. There was so much to do, so many tasks to tend to, so much thinking, doing and being. When all the activity came to an end, I was not expecting the crash. My feelings finally caught up with me.

I talked it out. Thankfully I have so many patient and compassionate ears to listen to my stories on repeat. They let me ramble. They weathered this storm with me. They listened and let me feel.

I remember shortly after our much loved cat Andre died, Mom and I went out to see my uncle. My uncle is the world's best listener and has the kindest, most compassionate heart I know. He is also a lover of animals. So I started telling him the Story of Andre's Last Days.

I showed signs of weakness, my voice broke and I had a lump in my throat. Mom immediately told me I didn't have to talk about this. The message I felt was "If it hurts, tamp it down, don't intentionally bring it out and don't talk about what makes you sad".

I have often thought of Mom and how disappointed she would have been with me after my emotions started catching up with me. There were some dark days. I lost my way. I was going through the paces of living but I was just putting in time.

Mom would never have shown weakness the way I did. How could she have not felt similar emotions as life dealt her the hand she was given? She was strong and feisty. She showed us the side she wanted us to see. She was a master at tamping down thoughts and wearing her brave game face. It didn't mean the feelings weren't there. She simply didn't wear them on her sleeve.

I look back and think of Mom and the way she rolled with life. I want very much to be as strong as she was. I want to weather life's storms and come out smiling. I want to laugh in the face of sadness. But sometimes? Just sometimes ... I need to shed a tear, tell a sad story and be honest with how I feel. This is what works for me.

When I am honest and open, I tend to attract honesty and openness into my life. The relationships I have with my friends and family feel "real". I'm not hiding. I live out my truth. In return, I have found so much strength and kinship with those who share their truth with me.

No, I won't tamp down the stuff that isn't pretty. I may write it out, talk it out, cry it out or (this is what I think I may need to do more often) sing and dance it out.

This weekend? I shall chase my bliss. Or maybe I will sit quietly and let it land on my shoulder. May you find your bliss and revel in it. If we believe in it, it will come.

Thursday, May 17, 2018

I Love Mornings!

I love mornings!

I wrote those words yesterday morning and my head had a half hearted idea about what I may write next. But what happened next was "The Bird" post which fell straight out of my heart, through my fingertips and onto the page.

I love when that happens.

Which brings me back to yesterday morning's thoughts. My love for "morning" has returned. I wake up, allow my thoughts to linger, then hop out of bed and into the day with a quiet anticipation of what lies in store.

My inability and lack of desire to open my eyes, let alone get out of bed and confront the day during the The Longest Winter of my life seems to be behind me. I wake up, "great ideas" come to me, I act on them, I write a little, I figure a little, I dream a little ...

Yes, my dream state has been reactivated.

I don't have a bucket list and doubt I ever will. What I have instead, are little scraps of paper where I write down ideas as they come to me:
These are the highlights of one side of a scrap of a paper in front of me at the moment. On the back of that same tiny piece of paper are dates of up and coming commitments.

I can write down a date in the future without feeling great angst overcome my being once again. This is new. This is SO new!

Life had a lot of lessons to dole out over the course of the past seven years or so. Yes, I remember the initiating incident. It was March 11, 2011 - I started writing about it here: "When Life as You Know It ... Isn't".

As I scan a few of the posts I wrote after the "initiating incident", I can clearly see my search for the lessons immediately in the aftermath. I wrote the words:

"Challenges force me to confront issues. One always has a choice in life. Do I choose to do nothing and expect nothing [should read] something to change? Do I have any control over any aspect of this situation? Is there any way that a compromise can be made? Do I have the courage to make a change?"

As I reread those words, I can replay incidents where I acted and reacted to what happened next according to the way I processed life after that point in time.

Seven years. The list of "what happened next" scrolls through my mind like the opening scene of a Star Wars movie. The list is long. There was so much loss during that time. So many life transitions. So many lessons ...

There have been ups and downs, hills and valleys, so many memorable moments and no matter how much sadness there was stirred into the mix, gratitude and acceptance sifted to the top every time. Every time.

As I started the walk of The Year After Mom, I lost my way. I lost the identity that "Being Mom's Daughter" gave me. I had no idea how much of myself was wrapped up in the way I defined myself.

The lessons just keep coming.

As I opened my eyes, cleared the fog and became open to receive the wisdom of the world around me, a few quotes seemed to be reoccuring.

Children are often asked "What do you want to DO when you grow up?" It has been suggested that the better question is "Who do you want to BE?" I  just listened to Abby Wambach's commencement address she gave for the Barnard College Class of 2018. She encompassed these questions and summarized by saying, "What you DO will never define you. Who you ARE ... will."

My identity is no longer wrapped in the word "daughter". Yes, I am still a daughter. I can label myself in any number of ways. But more importantly, "Who do I want to BE?" is the question I must ask.

If I could be described in one word, what would I want that word to be? I believe if I could simply be defined as "kind", that is who I would want to be, become and remain true to BEING. That would be enough.

If you feel like you are losing your way ... have lost part of how you identify yourself ... are wandering aimlessly without passion and drive ... ask yourself, "Who do I want to BE?"

I truly believe that once a person's energy is clearly focused on something, they unconsciously start drawing an energy toward themselves which makes that outcome possible. BE who you want to become and lets watch the results unfold together!

Wednesday, May 16, 2018

The Bird

I was sitting at the table this morning when I heard the distinctive sound of a bird who had just flown into the kitchen window. My thoughts immediately returned to the last time I heard that very sound.

Mom and I were sitting in her sunroom, enjoying a gorgeous summer day and the unintentional bird sanctuary which was Mom's yard. Suddenly out of nowhere, a little bird flew into Mom's sunroom window.

I immediately went to check on it. It had landed on the park bench which was right under the window. I watched it take its last breath. I hoped dearly that it wasn't. I desperately wanted it to just be a concussion.

Mom and I were both hopeful and sad as we knew the fate of this poor little bird had already been dealt. I lightly stroked the bird's chest as I willed it to breathe again. Nothing.

"Move it onto the grass," Mom suggested. A softer place to land. A more natural setting for this bird to lie.

I moved the bird to a soft, grassy patch below and it was an easier sight to see. Please take another breath, I quietly wished.

That little bird never took another breath.

"Did you realize you were petting the bird?" Mom asked. Yes, I did. I knew.

I knew my days with Mom were numbered and the tenderness I felt for this innocent little bird was a foreshadowing of what was to come.

With the gentle act of being there, letting that little bird know it was not alone while it took its last breath, I felt Mom watching over the scene. "I will be there for you, Mom. You will not be alone. I can accept what is coming. I will be tender with you, your memories and the moment. I promise."

Of course I didn't say a word of what I was thinking aloud but I felt Mom listening to my thoughts. I think she knew what I was thinking, just the same as I hoped she would find comfort in knowing I would be okay when she took her last breath.

That little bird was an omen of what was yet to come.

When the little bird flew into our window this morning, I wanted no such omen. I ran out to check on it. It was lying on its back. But it was breathing steadily. I watched. I waited. I made sure it wasn't just a breeze blowing the bird's feathers. No, it was breathing. Soon, I could see the bird struggling to get back on its feet. It was alive!

I went to get a pair of gloves so I could help the little bird off of its back. By the time I returned, he had flipped himself over. This was a very good sign...


Its eyes were closed. But it was breathing. It was going to be okay. I didn't want to leave the little guy alone, vulnerable to any forces of nature which would prey on it while it was down. I stayed.

I walked away for a few minutes and returned to find this strong and courageous little bird on his feet. His eyes were open and he was becoming more alert.


Still at first, but eventually reacting to the sounds around him. He started turning his head, our eyes met, he knew I was too close for comfort but he stayed. He wasn't quite ready to fly.

I sat still, I made little clicking noises I make when I think I'm speaking the language of nature. I encouraged him. I told him he was safe with me.

I could feel the moment coming. Then it arrived.


My little wounded bird flew off to join his friends. He was okay.

There are so many little triggers I feel within this "Year After Mom". The knowledge that moments are fleeting, life is precious but it is not eternal.

I needed a sign of life. A happy story.

We often speak of Mom's wish to fly like an eagle if there was such a thing as reincarnation. We have watched the sky and many family members have had out of the ordinary eagle sightings. Not me. I have not had nature speak aloud to me (though I did wonder about the rabbit who ran across the shopping mall parking lot just as I was approaching my car).

But this morning. Long after the moment ended. Just this moment in fact, I wondered ... if Mom could find a way of communicating "life" and that she is okay, would she not choose to recreate the moment we shared with that little bird whose life touched and united us in quiet thought? She might.

Life is a precious thing. You can be flying along, enjoying a perfect spring morning when "BAM!", out of nowhere, the wind is knocked right out of you. We are very fortunate when we can pick ourselves up, shake ourselves off and fly off into our future. It doesn't always happen that way. But when it does, it is reassuring to share the moment with someone who hears your thoughts.

You were not alone, Mom. You were not alone...

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

New Dilemmas

I'm stepping into new territory here. It is mostly okay but I am a little unsteady as I walk this walk. I have made future plans. Twice. Within two weeks.

My first acceptance of "future planning" started like this:

"Thank you so much for (once again!) including me in your invitation, but I think (once more) I will decline ..."

I crossed out the words and accepted the invitation instead. And it felt okay.

Then two days ago, I wrote the words, "IF I was to plan to fly out to Ontario for an extended long weekend sometime this summer, would anyone be interested in joining me? I know of a very good Bed & Breakfast close to where our uncle lives... "

My brother accepted this challenge. Last night we booked our flights.

Both invitations revolve around a weekend, so little time off from my work is required. That is good in a bad kind of way (I kind of enjoy the idea of a one or two week holiday), but it is manageable. It makes it easy to say yes.

I have slotted in the costs for both of these little adventures into my budget. I can make the financial ends meet with little sacrifice. I've been doing that for years. My motto is "it all works out in the end". I have not let my financial situation rule my decisions for years. Amazingly, this has worked out for me.

I am more than blessed to work for two people who say "yes" to almost anything I ask. I do my best not to take advantage of this but it makes asking for time off the least of my worries.

My concerns are usually more of a financial nature. I have lived on a shoestring budget most of my adult life. I have recreated that feeling within my current financial state and it is a comfort. I squeezed the numbers into my budgeting spreadsheet and had to forfeit saving up to pay next year's income taxes to make this work.

Forfeiting saving verses adding onto the amount I owe? This is a new and improved dilemma. I guess I can try to get used to it...

Monday, May 14, 2018

Invitations

I have frittered away a perfectly good Monday at home, going back in time. I have no idea what triggered my train of thought. But once I was on the track, there was no going back to the present.

For some reason, I started thinking of the potential for our high school to have a 40 year reunion this year. The one and only reunion I have attended was our 35th. It was uncomfortable and sort of icky for a while (until a glass of wine started to take hold), but the best part of that reunion was the junior high school friends I rediscovered as I perused the guest list for friends I hoped I would see.

None of those junior high friends attended the reunion but what happened instead, was a re-unioning of friendships from long ago as I discovered these people via whatever means I had at hand. Facebook messaging led to texting which eventually led to a brunch in one case. A Classmates.com connection resulted in a coffee date in another case. Private messaging conversations in a few others.

I had the idea that re-uniting these junior high school friends the night before any up and coming high school reunion would be a great idea. Each person I know from those days has kept in touch with a few more people from our school. If each friend invited their friends and so on and so forth, it could be an interesting gathering.

But I digress. There is no indication of a 40th reunion in sight. That could change (if I get an invitation in the mail any day soon, I will be convinced I am psychic) but for the moment, I simply thought "we don't need a reunion to keep in touch". So I sent out a few messages.

One friend asked me to pass along a "hello" to a mutual friend. That friend responded immediately with a reciprocating "hello" and a request to ask the first friend to send a "friend request". I felt like a matchmaker! I may have been the catalyst to reuniting some old friends.

This little mini-event made me feel like all things are possible. Maybe we can reunite some school friends after all.

And there went my morning.

My morning reignited a flame within me which has been snuffed out over the course of the past several years.

I have lost my spark, my energy, my drive, my hope and faith that all good things start with an invitation.

I lost the ability to simply say "yes" to life's invitations for a very long while. Recently, I rediscovered the ability to accept an invitation. With conditions, while maintaining boundaries and enabling myself to play it safe while starting to say "yes" to life.

More recently, I issued an invitation. People said "yes". The event came and went and the aftertaste of the day was a good one.

So I have reached out one more time.

It took time. It took courage. It took strength. But most importantly, hope and the faith that "whatever will be, will be" will come of this invitation.

It might work. It might not. There is something important in knowing I tried.

I am regaining not only courage and strength. I am starting to rekindle "faith" once again. I will not fret over what doesn't come to pass. I will celebrate the rebirth of my ability to invite people back into my life again.

Anything is possible, when you simply "ask". 

Sunday, May 13, 2018

Happy Mother's Day, Mom

I bought some yellow roses to signify the day
I am not a flower lover so I gave most of them away.

I think of you more often than you could ever know
I feel you in my heart and soul everywhere I go.

I feel your presence deeply and often speak your name
You will never be forgotten, though life is not the same.

I'm letting go, I'm looking up, I'm letting life back in
And when I think of little things, I break out in a grin.

Last Mother's Day, you made your wishes known:
"Mother's Day at our half way spot,
I'll see you there at 10!"

"Add a smiley face" you said, I look back and remember
What a gift you have given us - each of us has the other.

We didn't take a picture of our last Mother's Day together
What we have is better.

Memories of all the times we gathered, just because we could
It was not a pressing matter or feeling like we should.


As you closed your eyes one last time and saw us all together
I trust you know our bond is tight and will endure all things
We will not be alone - we always have each other.

Mother's Day will always be "your day" to me
It will never be the same
Thank you for the years we had
The memories that we made.

I cherish what we had
I am grateful for what you gave us.

Your actions spoke louder than any words
You could have ever spoken.
You may be gone 
But I feel your love, your caring and compassion.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom
Wherever you may be.
You will never be forgotten 
I carry a piece of you within me.

Friday, May 11, 2018

Make Overs All Around!

My new and improved energy and zest for life levels made it easy to say "yes" to a completely last minute and unexpected invitation to enjoy an evening out with my cousin and her daughter last night.

It was an evening of laughter and enjoying my nephew's comedic talent. Now that I write this, it is starting to sound like a bit of a family reunion.

I had a bit of an obstructed view to the stage and when I couldn't watch my nephew, I enjoyed watching his audience just as much. What a gift this man has. The sheer enjoyment and laughter transformed plain and ordinary human beings into pure joy. The smiles and laughter were from the heart and all encompassing.

Earlier the same day, my cousin's daughter transformed her grandma with a facial and mini makeover before she did a little photo shoot of her. My aunt (her grandma) is a joyful being to begin with but her smart remarks and witty comebacks transformed her before the makeup even had a chance.

The pictures turned out amazing and the essence of my aunt were captured very nicely. The makeover was a nice little bonus but the true beauty came from my aunt's spirit and smile.

No makeover was required for my nephew's audience last night. Joy, laughter and smiles lit up the room. The audience seemed ageless and the years vanished as we all appreciated the talent which united us in laughter.

Truly, the only makeover anyone needs is a sense of joy which comes from within and transforms into a smile that lights up one's soul.

To my nephew, who lit up an entire audience ...

To my cousin's daughter, who has an amazing talent of capturing the true essence of her grandma ...

To my cousin, who invited me along as a result of an extra ticket to this event ...

I simply say "thank you". I felt like I was made over from the inside, out.

Thursday, May 10, 2018

Life's Little Breakdowns

Now that my state of mind seems to have hit a nice and comfortable status quo, it seems the rest of me is falling apart. Yes, I am exaggerating. But it is the little things that seem to add up and pull us down, so I guess the small stuff is now sifting to the top.

I woke up yesterday morning with a "funny eye". I was certain that over the course of the day, a regular and routine amount of blinking would supply the amount of tears required to fix the dry, pulling sensation I was feeling.

Sure enough, living the day distracted me from the sensation but at the end of the day my eye was no better. No worse, but no better.

I went out for supper with my aunt and her sister. It was a delightful outing and a nice step out of the norm. I had taken a bite of and was chewing my hamburger when my tongue grazed over the back of my bottom, front tooth. The filling had fallen out. Again.

I continued to chew and when I hit something hard and crunchy, I simply thought "There goes my tooth..." and carried on. I would call my dentist in the morning.

I fell asleep before 8:30 last night. A combination of refusing to eat to keep myself awake, along with leading a rather full and productive life lately, added to this "funny eye" thing going on resulted in an exhaustion that made my feather pillow feel like a piece of heaven at the end of the day.

I woke up this morning with a teary eye and the "pulling" sensation remained. Of course my tooth didn't fix itself, so I picked my head up off my feathery soft pillow and started collecting phone numbers.

I doubt my eye is anything serious but after all my son has gone through with his eye infection, I thought "better safe than sorry". I have an appointment this morning.

I was hopeful my dentist could squeeze me in before I damaged my tooth any further (it feels rather frail and vulnerable, sitting there in my mouth at half its regular width). They were very accommodating and I will see them at noon.

While I was at it, I booked an appointment to get our furnace and ducts cleaned. Our furnace and air conditioning got a spring tune up a few days ago and all is well. A duct cleaning was highly recommended (air flow is EVERYTHING) and we should be all set for the next few seasons.

It's been a productive week. Tending to the furnace/air conditioning will be the start to some required house maintenance. Tending to my mind, eye and tooth will see to all of my immediate needs and I should be good to go.

As annoying as life's little breakdowns can feel at the time, I feel incredibly lucky. All of the above is small and fixable. Tending to small things nips (a lot of) the bigger things in the bud.

One small repair at a time, my body, mind, soul and even our home will be ship shape before I know it. I won't overwhelm myself by looking at the many flights of stairs ahead. I will focus on one step at a time.

Patience, grasshopper. Patience...

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

Lessons I Learned Through Counselling

Note: As I reread and started editing this piece, I must emphasize that I am writing only out of my own personal experience. In the whole realm of depression, anxiety, mental wellness and coping with life as I know it, I am not qualified to offer any advise to anyone. 

In reality, I am writing this to my "future self" so I know where to turn if I need to remind myself of where I've been, what I've learned and where to guide myself if and when I find myself in a downward spiral of coping abilities.

This is a follow up post to "Too Little, Too Late". A little rant on counselling after what felt like a lost hour speaking to a counsellor.

In reality, I did highlight the lessons I have learned while in counselling. And they are worth noting:

1. Guide your actions based on what you will be able to live with 

I walked through The Year of Mom with that lesson firmly embedded in my thoughts. One never knows what life is going to deal out. If we never saw a person again, would we be able to live with our actions?

By acting with kindness, it is a win-win for all. Simply do your best. When your best isn't enough, take the lessons learned and try again another day.

Words, once spoken, can never be taken back. Just like gluing together a broken piece of China ... something can be mended but it will never be the same again. Saying nothing is sometimes the best thing to say. That is a lesson I may keep learning until my dying day.

Learn, atone for your actions, forgive yourself and remember the lesson! You are an imperfect being. Get over it. Just do your best. Again (and again and again!).

2. Walk away while you can 

There are unfixable relationships and situations in everyone's life. The key is recognizing them. Then once identified, acknowledge what is within your power to fix.

Jobs, relationships, where you live, how you live, even dealing with health issues ... some things can be abandoned. Others, one must adapt to and work around.

When you have done all you know how to do and you are still being brought to your knees from a situation, sometimes the best choice may be to walk away IF and when you can. As Kenny Rogers would say, "You gotta know when to fold 'em".

3. Make notes, write down dates, times, incidents and all the details you may need to have so you can defend yourself

There are times you may not be able to walk away for any variety of reasons. Self preservation is key.

In situations that feel unbearable, I often find myself writing down key points. More often than not, when I get my worries out of my head and onto a piece of paper, the emotional impact is released and my concerns become more manageable. I am in a better place to discuss my side of a story and work towards a resolution.

Sometimes this has worked for me. Sometimes it hasn't. Either way, having the facts laid out helps me decide whether I have a hand worth holding onto or not.

4. See your doctor

If you have tried all you know how to do and are still in a downward spiral and unable to pull yourself up and out of where you are at, see your doctor. Do all you can to ensure there is nothing physical causing your symptoms. Be candid with your doctor. Ask for help and direction.

5. Tell them you need to speak to someone as soon as possible

It is next to impossible to know where you are in the spectrum of feeling "okay" when you are in a slow but steady decline. A doctor can only base their treatment plan based on what they see. Allow yourself to be vulnerable when you ask for help. If you go home and know you can't wait, call back and ask for more immediate assistance.

6. Book a winter holiday

This is not a reasonable solution for many of us but if it is possible, it is worth consideration. Look for ways to cope with the season of dark and coldness. If you recognize you are particularly vulnerable to this seasonal disorder, do what you can to preempt the blues.

My enemies are idleness, solitude and falling back into my "numbing" habits (eating, sleeping, scrolling and lurking on social media sites to name a few). Knowing this should help me prepare. Keeping busy, taking on an all encompassing winter project that occupies my time, thoughts and energy would most likely be longer lasting than a brief holiday.

Awareness, preparedness, reminding yourself you have walked this walk before and have come out the other side with a few more coping skills up your sleeve may or may not make "the next time" different than the last time.

Note to "future me":

Life has taught you everything you need to know. You have walked through the darkness before, you will do it again. Each time makes you stronger and more capable of enduring the next time. You CAN and you WILL see the light. I don't know when. I don't know how. But if all else fails? Book a winter holiday. It certainly couldn't hurt, could it?

Tuesday, May 8, 2018

Too Little, Too Late

I have spoke to a counsellor four times in my life. Each one of those times, I went once. Once was enough. I took one statement away from each one of those visits and life moved on.

I spoke to a counsellor when Dad moved to a care home where he lived out the remainder of his life. I have no idea what my side of the conversation was but I do remember her telling me to guide my actions based on what I would be able to live with after he was gone.

Thirty five years later, I believe I would have reacted differently. But I cannot go there. I was young and naive. I did my best.

My husband and I spoke to a counsellor after a particularly bad incident within our marriage. I remember little of the conversation. I do remember the counsellor asking why we would want to save this marriage.

Perhaps that is a blanket statement a marriage counsellor asks each couple they speak to, so the discussion focuses on the positive. The message I heard at the time was, "Walk away while you can ..." So (eventually), that is exactly what I did.

I was still young and naive, but by the time I walked away from my marriage for the third and final time, I was starting to get a little wiser.

The third counsellor I saw was while I was trying to work through a toxic work situation. The first 55 minutes of the session felt like they were straight out of Psychology 101. I was given strategies and tools that I already had and used. I graduated her elementary school of psychology with honors long before she did. I sat in her office feeling frustrated and like I wasn't being heard.

Finally, in the final five minutes of the session she heard what I was telling her. I was in a no win situation at work. I needed some tools to help me deal with my reality because I had no intention of quitting. In those final minutes she quickly told me to make notes, write down dates, times, incidents and all the details I may need to have so I could defend myself.

In the end, the job could not be saved. My boss' boss told me "I was hoping it would not come to this" when I offered this evidence to him.

I wished I had booked a dance lesson in lieu of my hour of therapy which was not enough to save my sanity AND my job. It took a very long time to recover from that blow.

Fast forward to yesterday. My fourth appointment with a counsellor.

I saw my doctor on January 16th. I knew I was slipping into something deep. I was coping but I asked for help.

I passed all cursory tests and was deemed good enough to call and ask to be put on a waiting list for counselling.

I waited almost three months before I called to ensure I was still on the list. I couldn't stop crying as I spoke to the person on the phone. She offered to fast track me through the wait list to someone who could talk to me before I made it to the regular counsellors. Except that person was on holidays.

Three more weeks of waiting ...

The snow melted during that time and the miraculous healing powers of sunshine, warmth and life beckoning at me to join in was enough to pull me up and out of where I was at. I haven't felt this normal for a very long time.

My appointment was yesterday.

Perhaps it is a little bit like taking a car to the mechanic when it is not presently making the noise you want the mechanic to fix. How do you offer to treat a person in a depressed and anxious state, when they appear to have snapped out of it? You don't.

I spoke of the cyclical nature of my moods and ability to cope. This has been a lifetime condition but I have managed to go from mountains and abysses, to hills and valleys. Except, this last time I fell longer, harder and deeper than I had been before. With one notable exception. I was comfortable there and didn't have the desire nor willpower to pull myself up and out.

I asked for a road map for the next time this may happen.

I was given a sheet of statements to read when I feel this encompass me again. Statements which I could have and may have already written myself.

I was told to see my doctor if I felt this coming. I did that.

I was told if this were to happen again, I would be put on the wait list. Again. But to tell them I needed to speak to someone before that, if I felt the need. I did that too.

I felt like I wasted my time and hers by going to talk to someone when I had already found a rope to hang onto and pull myself up and out of where I had been.

When I told her I felt that winter was a time I felt particularly vulnerable. She recommended I book a winter holiday.

Obviously, I didn't need help after all. As I told her my story, she said little. She seemed to recognize that I already had the tools she was about to offer me.

Maybe I should simply take up dancing again...

P.S. I have just realized that perhaps these "lessons I've learned through counselling" may be enough. More tomorrow...