Relief

The weight of the world on my shoulders is starting to lessen. One part of the equation is one third of my three committed weekends is behind me - the most challenging weekend (hosting guests feels hard) is checked off the list. The other part of this equation is I have allowed myself the luxury of taking Ibuprofen to provide a little physical relief.

My neck has been a thorn in my side (literally a pain-in-the-neck) for the better part of the time since I moved to my new home. I blame my couch.

A comfy couch and comfortable kitchen chairs were at the top of my wish list when I made this move. There is a small little nook for the couch and only a select few models would fit in the space. I felt like I'd won the lottery when I found a couch that checked all the boxes. It not only fit into the space, it turns into a bed and it has the chaise lounge feature which has storage to hold the bedding. Perfect!

I couldn't wait to settle in, make a cozy little spot to support my neck/head and have a Netflix weekend marathon.

Exhaustion washed over me and falling asleep in front of the TV became my new norm. I cannot actually even recall the first few months of living here. Other than I worked, ate supper and went to bed. I must have actually sat on the couch. Yes, I now remember. I did sit on it to discover it was hard and uncomfortable. I then sat on each cushion, bounced myself up and down and worked my way down the couch. No better. Next I literally stood and jumped on the couch. Slight (very) improvement.

My next vivid memory is nestling in to watch TV and the moment my body started to relax, shooting pains emanated from my neck straight into my skull. I adjusted, readjusted, added pillows, more pillows, different pillows and nothing worked except for lying on my side with a brand new, plump down filled bed pillow which held my head and shoulders at exactly the right angle so I could watch TV. Of course the moment I was lying down, comfortable and watching TV, I fell asleep.

I have gone through all the pain killers I had in the house - all of which are well over seven years old. I know this, because I had some of Mom's Tylenol and she died seven years ago. All of my own pain relief pills were older than that. At this point, I knew I had to seek other alternatives.

I have been to a doctor and prescribed some muscle relaxants. No noticeable relief. 

I went to a Physical Therapist and came home with a stretching regimen. I was determined to do my part so I started the twice-a-day routine that night. I injured my neck even more, in the process. I quit immediately but restarted very, very carefully after my neck felt as bad as it did before I began. My neck felt worse than ever. So I quit again.

I went to a massage therapist. I was relieved of the neck pain during the night, only to have it replaced with a constant nagging discomfort all day instead. I told this to her and the next time she made some adjustments that brought back the night discomfort with a side order of day discomfort. Third time back, I told her this and she readjusted things so I was only slightly better than I was before I began.

I bought a special Ecoden pillow which was advertised to be EXACTLY what I needed. I tried it the first night and the stabbing pains I feel when I relax on my couch was my neck's immediate reaction. I tossed it onto the floor but tried again. Once again, this pillow felt as hard as my comfy-looking couch so I tossed it onto the floor and jumped on it to try to break it in. 

The new pillow was introduced during the course of my massage treatments. The other side effect of my massage therapy was the down bed pillow that used to work so I could watch TV on the couch stopped working. I was trying everything, so I tried the Ecoden pillow to watch TV. I seemed to need the cardboard-like support, while lying down on the couch to support my increasingly heavy head. For the moment, this provides me enough comfort to fall asleep while watching TV.

My x-ray results say "mild multilevel disc space narrowing with marginal osteophytes are seen throughout the cervical spine, compatible with degenerative changes".

All I can say is, if this is aging, I'm done with it. 

I call what I have a "low grade discomfort". I know I'm fortunate. So many others have mid to high grade pain all or most of the time, with relief that most likely feels like low grade discomfort at best. My discomfort is focused on one small area of my entire body. It could be so much worse.

My diagnosis is - I have TV neck. Kind of like tennis elbow - TV neck is a repetitive injury caused by overuse of the same joint over an extended period of time.

For the short term, I'm going to fall back on pain killers to give my poor old neck a break. For the longer term, I will try to cut back on the TV watching and combine that with some light stretches.

The end.

P.S. My friend, who spent enough time here to actually sit back and relax on my comfy-looking-couch is about my height, and she found exactly the same "pull" I described when she sat back on the couch. See?? It IS the couch's fault!! 

Movin' on Up

I have come to a calm acceptance about aging, body image and worrying about what others think. My underlying belief is kindness, a genuine smile and pleasant demeanor go a lot further than the way a person looks.

My aunt started nudging me into this way of thinking many years ago. I was coloring my hair at the time and she knew it. "Why do people color their hair?" she would ask. Time and time again. I defended my position with the response "I want to feel okay with the reflection in my mirror"; "Once you start coloring your hair, it becomes about dealing with the roots" and several other variations of the same answer. To which she would reply, "You still look OLD, you know"; "Black hair and a wrinkled face don't fool anyone"; "Nobody else cares" and several variations of her own responses would follow.

We had this conversation on repeat for many years. Then the pandemic and self isolation recommendations gave me the courage to forge through the uncomfortable phase of dealing with my roots as they grew out. A year later, I was completely "natural" and my hair was the color God intended. My aunt complimented my hair color time and time and time again. Yes, letting go of the facade was the right way to go. 

Then came the weight gain.

I lamented that I was fine with the extra poundage but I wished my clothes would grow right along with me. Weekends became my favorite days because I could wear my black pajama bottoms all day, feel dressed and be comfortable. Wearing actual clothes was something I dreaded as much as Monday mornings. Discomfort in every form of the word. I felt awful in my skin and worse in my clothes. Thank goodness I was comfortable in my natural hair color.

Budgeting has always been a priority in my little world. While others may go on a diet, I would go on a budget. I couldn't afford a new wardrobe so I had to be able to fit into my existing clothes. This strategy worked for six decades then something changed. I want to believe it is just a tumor that has extended my waistline to great lengths but that doesn't explain the excess on my legs and rear view. Maybe it's a glandular thing ...

Enough was enough. I finally succumbed to spending some of my hard earned money on clothes that actually fit. Value Village to the rescue!

It was easy to cull through the clothes I don't wear or no longer fit, so I had a donation of clothing which rewarded me with 20% off of my purchases. I came home with two pair of capris; two tops; two pajama bottoms (yes, even my pj's are tight!!); and one pajama top for $36.29 (add my current credit card which is paying 5% cash back on all purchases for the first three months and that is a further $2.88 in savings).

I couldn't wait to get dressed the next morning. As I stepped into my proper fitting clothes, it was as comfortable as wearing my pajamas! The wave of excitement that rippled through my being was palpable. It felt good to be dressed again!

I'm not quite sure I have the same acceptance with the reflection in my mirror. My aunt no longer comments on my appearance, so I fall back to her default response "No one else cares" to appease my concerns. Mom would care ...

In the meantime, I am reveling in the fact that Tuesday is 30% off for ages 60+ at Value Village. So I topped up my new wardrobe with a few more items. For a grand total of $44.20, I have updated my wardrobe with these items:

My size has doubled since I was "in my prime" but I'm movin' on up the only way I know how. Bargains all the way, baby!

Easy Like Friday Morning

I have been meandering through the morning like it is a weekend. And that's okay.

This week has been peppered with diversion and there are no looming deadlines, payrolls or big tasks to tend. Instead, unexpected things-to-do have cropped up and I jumped right on them so they didn't have time to sit in yet another things-to-be-finished pile. 

"Like ripping off a Band-Aid", I said aloud as I stroked items off my list before the list was written. Yes. That IS the way to tackle the unending requirements of my job and life in general.

I did what had to be done, tackled some yard work and washed a few windows. It is completing the added tasks that have added a little bounce back into my step. The above and beyond.

Going above and beyond was something I felt good about within my past jobs. Making a customer service experience feel as good as one can make it and writing daycare newsletters and blog posts were the things that brought joy into my 9 - 5, Monday to Friday life. 

Going above and beyond has gone out the window lately. Maybe not. Maybe the fact that I am employed by friends and family dilute the extra little things I do (previously referred to as "above and beyond") as simply that which one expects of themselves.

The cost of working for those you know well is the personal involvement that takes a slow and gradual toll. I have been working with aging seniors and been a witness to their slow decline. 

I can feel where Mom was coming from when she spoke of not wanting to be in a community of "old people". We often laughed at our 80+ year old mom refer to others her age as old. She has the last laugh. Aging has less to do with the number of candles on one's birthday cake and everything to do with the internal dialogue and fate one has been handed that defines how one manages those senior years.

Mom saw the writing on my wall when I started working with seniors six years ago. She knew where this road would take me. I'm managing it well enough. But ... but ...

It is taking a toll. I rolled with the punches this week and reveled in the relative ease I felt without must-meet-deadlines. I was revitalized by going a little above and beyond the call of duty. But ... but ...

I'm ready for my weekend one day ahead of schedule.

Thus, I have been coasting through my morning like it is Sunday instead of Friday. I'm just going to go with it. Let us rewrite the song ... "♪ Easy like Friday morning.. ♪"

May your Friday morning feel easy on you ...

Study on Aging

I have been involved with an aging study for a very long time. I know I was young and naïve during my first interview because I remember one (slightly paraphrased) question: "Do you have people in your life who would be available, if needed, who would live with you/live with them if the need arose?"  Life was simple in those days. I thought about the question and without serious thought of what the implications to that question meant, I replied "yes". 

[Insert head slap here]

Dad lived in a long term care home the last years of his life so I did know what worst case scenarios could arise. I had little understanding of the varying degrees of dependence between Dad's need for full time care and Mom's fiercely independent life. When answering that question, I hope I added a good dose of Mom's independent nature added that I would not put someone in that position. Perhaps I did, because as soon as I typed those words, I tend to think there was a follow-up to my answer which asked if I would have the means to pay for any support I may need. I would love to read a transcript of that first interview and see how starry eyed I was in my younger years.

As I tiptoe into this age and stage of life, the learning curve of aging and its affects on our population is gaining momentum. Every story is shaded with different hues of circumstances that no one expected, wanted or were fully prepared for all implications that evolve from a serious health issue. 

My interview with this aging study was a few days ago. My inability to remember many of the long list of words they dictate was minimal, which declined to "three" after the interview progressed. Losing my thoughts on the daily, like that elusive wafting cat hair continues to be a concern. Inserting the wrong words into a conversation. Am I literally losing my mind?

Serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; wisdom to know the difference. Let us add "resilience" to that ... the ability to do what is within our own power. I can exercise this brain, take it for walks, stimulate it by doing more than I have been doing. 

Just what I need. Another goal ... 

On the Other Side

I have made it through what I anticipated would be the hardest day of the week. One hurdle met with a gusto and I was energized on the other side. Another hurdle was easier than anticipated. Hard. But done. Done is good. The third hurdle wasn't one I was anticipating. Those are the ones that can catch us. The unexpected.

As challenging as my day felt, the key players in the other side of this story are the ones who are the heros. For me, it was a day. More specifically, it was hours. For them, it is their life.

A life they didn't ask for or expect. A life that continues to evolve and the hurdles just keep coming. The landscape keeps changing and they are losing control of a life they lived fully.

To open your eyes and wake up to a brand new day feeling like you know what you may expect is a gift. Even if what you expect isn't something that excites you, there is something to be said for even a slightly unremarkable life.

Today, I shall simply appreciate what I often take for granted.

Health - a body and brain that continues to work as expected

Home - shelter from the storms of life and everything within it (even the cat hair)

Happiness - simply content with the life I have and those who play a vital part within it

Independence - the ability to work, pay the bills and live this life as I know it

Yes, life has its moments that challenge us.

When the moment is not a lifetime, we are fortunate.

When we wish a moment we are in would last forever, we are rich.

Even within the hours I found challenging yesterday, 

I found moments that evoked a smile or small chuckle I shared with those in my company.

For that moment,

all was well in the world.

Body Heal Thyself

The longer I live, the less I take this body for granted. The more often I hear of those whose body has started faltering and not working the way it used to, the more often I recognize and silently thank my body for simply doing what it has always done when it heals or recovers.

I once took an anatomy class and learned how each of our body organs has a purpose and if one organ is in jeopardy, the body automatically does what it can do to protect the major organs or take what it needs from other body functions to take care of what is in need. Hypothermia, burns, pregnancy all come to mind as I type those words. 

The more I learned about anatomy and how one organ failing could trigger a chain reaction that could either save a life or end it, I felt it was nothing short of a miracle when I awoke the next morning and everything worked as expected.

Growing older is something we all must adapt to one way or another. I find myself surrounded by people late in life (the result of finding myself later in life than I used to be) and I am accumulating a small wish list of what I hope for as the years unfold. Sometimes our state of mind can influence the state of aging but there is only so much we can control.

My sisters recall Dad commenting that with a heart attack (which he was genetically inclined to have), you go fast. Not like cancer where one could linger on. Sounds black and white. Until one has a major heart attack and is brought back from the brink of death without oxygen to the brain for longer than the brain can recover from. No one saw that coming.

Life is like that. We cannot become consumed in all of the ifs, ands and maybes. We can only deal with what we have and live our days as best as we can. When we wake up ready to face the day in manner we have become accustomed to, we are beyond fortunate. I am grateful for what I have. But I am equally sorrowful for those who are fighting to regain their equilibrium. 

Body heal thyself. It is but a small wish I wish for you. Today and all days.

The Gift of Recall

I was up to my elbows in sorting through the assortment of frozen food in our freezer when I suddenly wondered "Why am I here?"

I was immediately reminded of the moment when I was unpacking a load of groceries I took to my little home-away-from-home when I wondered "Where is the Shepherd's pie I packed?" I vividly remembered moving one frozen entree out of the way; I remembered we had two frozen Shepherd's pie meals; I remember the motion of choosing one of them. But it wasn't packed.

In both cases I was able to recall my answers the moment I revisited the scene. This reusable note we have taped inside a cupboard door (as a reminder that there is a thawed muffin inside the microwave) triggered the memory I had spotted a muffin in the freezer and had planned to take it out:

The frozen Shepherd's pie? I found it safely stashed inside the freezer door. My memory hadn't failed me. I had gone through the motions to pack it up and take it with me but simply forgot to follow through.

The gift of recall. The vivid pictures in our mind to help us back track and remember the sequence of events that brought us to the moment we are in, when we have forgot why we are there. 

It is a gift that shifts, alters and fades. Sometimes it is because we are overtired or our minds are on a million other things. We get distracted and forget. It seems to happen a little more as I age but every time I remember, I remind myself to be grateful.

The ability to recall a thought is a gift when we have it. It can be eroded slowly or gone in an instant. Brain injury comes in many different forms. Our brains are the core to our being. If we thought about it as much as we should, we may all be walking around in helments. 

Helmets and face masks. We need to protect what is important. Be careful out there.

The Gift of Independence

Our independence is something we tend to take for granted while we have it.

When we wake up each morning and know we can make our way through the day ahead of us with a laundry list of mundane tasks we can do without thinking, we are fortunate.

When we have the ability to get out of bed with ease and our bodies do what we have come to expect them to do, we are blessed.

When we can remember what happened a few minutes or hours ago, we are rich beyond our wildest dreams.

When life unfolds in a relatively expected manner day after day, we are living the good life.

Mom's fierce determination to live an independent life was hard fought and she won the battle. Mom lived in her own home until her final days.

We were so fortunate Mom's determined self sufficiency worked out the way she hoped and persevered to make happen.

I hear Mom's words within my thoughts a lot these days. She knew. She knew ...

Mom? I hear you. I hope the next roads I follow within this little life of mine lead me to become as strong and determined as you always were.

On Being Senior

They don't even ask any more ...

"Only her hairdresser knows for sure"

I should not be surprised. 

Life is in the Re-Telling

I visit my aunt on a regular basis. She has reached a stage in her life where her stories and recollections are on "repeat". A story will start with one memory which triggers her narrative in a predictable fashion. When she forgets a detail, I can nudge her memory to help her recall and she is off and running again.

The stories are comfortably repetitive. A few of the details are slipping. I can sense the fight within her to hold on tight to what she remembers. I am grateful when I can fill in the blank as needed.

Our conversations are not one way. She asks me about my life, my choices and we ponder parenting, our choice in careers, our past, lessons learned and our general take on life-as-we-know-it.

My story isn't one of a predictable nature. My on again, off again marriage triggers so many questions from my aunt. "Why did you keep going back?" "You came from such a different life - how could you have made that choice?"

My career wasn't one I sat and pondered. I got a job out of necessity. I honestly believe the job I had was the one best suited for me. "You should have become a teacher" she tells me on a regular basis.

The twists and turns in my story brought me to a point when I opted to walk away from the stability of a job with benefits and a pension and opened my daycare, so I could be a stay at home mom. "You are the same age as [my son] - why aren't you retired?" "You should have been a teacher" ...

Our mutual story telling goes back and forth. We have come to expect each other's responses. My aunt's theories on life become stronger with each telling. My conviction that the choices I made as I lived my life forward also become more convincing each time I re-tell my story.

My aunt reflects on her life and her take-away from life-as-she-lived it is you should enjoy life while you are young. Having fun, being physically active, being home for your children are the lessons I hear. There is an appreciation for her stable marriage and parenthood as she compares and contrasts her story to my own.

She recently told me "You have led an interesting life". The inner thoughts that run rampant through my mind as we retell our stories was silenced. Within the silence I heard the voice of my middle son once telling me, "Go on that holiday! When you start repeating your stories when you get old, I want them to be interesting ones."

Yes. I have led an interesting life. It is a life that has taught me what I needed to know. This particular path has built my character. I wouldn't be who I am today if life had been any other way.

When I start retelling my stories, I hope I remember the lessons. I hope I focus on the happy endings. I hope I tell the other side of my stories with compassion and empathy for the other party(s).

There is a benefit to repeating the same conversations on a regular basis. I have the opportunity to revise and refine my responses as time progresses.

When I start repeating my stories when I get old, I hope they are interesting ones.

I can almost hear the voice of my son saying (half serious, half in jest), "You aren't all that interesting now so why would you think anything will change?" 

No More Roots!

Never have I been quite this excited about coloring my hair. I wanted to not care. I wanted to ride out the dark/gray roots and let natural aging win. Vanity ruled the day.

My aunt keeps me grounded. "You aren't going to look 20 again just because you color your hair!"

My reply? "I don't want to look 20. But I would like to look 55."

I look every one of my years but in reality, I don't want to look older than I am. If coloring my hair helps me feel a little bit better about looking at the reflection in the mirror, so be it.

Vanity swoops in for the win today. Reality wins in every other way.

What little thing can you do for yourself today? Do it! You will be glad you did.

Getting Physical

I recently became aware of yet one more perk of aging. Perhaps the disclaimer here is "aging healthfully" and keeping on top of all medical screenings. My last full physical appointment did not require me to take off as much as my shoes (after I was weighed and measured). I sat fully clothed, and my doctor and I had a conversation in lieu of a hands-on physical check up.

Our conversation was less about the weather and more about encouraging me to exercise as a preventative measure to all that can go awry as one ages. I have been "highly encouraged" to work cardio and strength training into my sedentary lifestyle.

Since there is a history of heart disease in my family, exercise is highly recommended even though my cholesterol levels are within the range which is considered normal.

The day after my appointment I received a call from my doctor. That is never good news. I assumed my cholesterol level had increased from last year and I was prepared to hear her recommendation based on this new finding. I was wrong (I have been wrong an awful lot lately but that is a topic for another day). With no modifications to my lifestyle in the past year, my cholesterol level had actually decreased. But the exercise recommendations remained in place.

It sounds so easy when one is sitting and talking about it. Yes, I should exercise. I will feel better, I will think better and my pants may not feel so tight if I retain the habit. I should do this! But almost three weeks later, I haven't done a thing.

How hard would it be to go for a walk every morning? If the weather and sidewalk conditions are not conducive to safe and dry walking, why don't I just run up and down the stairs and increase the number of times each day? What is so hard about finding a yoga or strength training video on YouTube and adding that to my morning routine? I should register for a Zumba class!

Shoulda, coulda, woulda. But didn't.

I DID look into Zumba classes that would fit into my evening schedule. Easier said than done. And who wants to get home at 9 p.m. all sweaty and in need of a shower?

I DID contemplate substituting my morning rabbit watching time from indoors, to seeking out rabbits as I walk through the neighborhoods surrounding us.

I DID go for one walk.

I DID think about it ... but I have DONE nothing.

If I want to continue down the road I'm on, enjoying a life where I wake up and take my health for granted, it would be wise to follow my doctor's advise and get moving. Mornings are not long enough for all the things I want to do. I simply have to convince myself I want to get outside and get moving. Walking is the best way to enjoy nature at its finest. I simply enjoy watching it from our living room window with a fresh cup of coffee in hand.

Let's get physical! If I write it out loud, will that inspire me to make a change? The decision is mine to make.

Owning the Age We Are At

I was delighted to discover that Jamie & Paul Buchman were dusting off their TV series "Mad About You" and allowing their audience a glimpse at their lives twenty years after the series ended. I was even more excited to discover a cable channel I have is airing this comeback.

I loved this show when it was new and fresh. Jamie (Helen Hunt) is only a few years younger than me and they were living the dream I was never able to attain. They were married, mostly happily and we got to watch this brand new marriage evolve over the seven years the series aired.

I read a book Paul Reiser wrote (Couplehood) and enjoyed every word. I liked the characters these actors portrayed and enjoyed Helen Hunt's movies  in the "after Mad About You years".

I couldn't wait to sit and watch the reboot of the old series.

The story line didn't entirely captivate me so I found myself scrutinizing the appearance of Paul and Jamie.

Paul (Paul Reiser) looked his age. A distinguished bit of graying, a little heavier than my memory of his appearance from twenty years ago. I watched Paul and enjoyed his look. He simply wore his age well.

Jamie (Helen Hunt), on the other hand, appeared (only from where I sat and I do not profess to be an expert on this subject) to encompass the way I feel about aging. If I could, I would like to look the way I did twenty years ago. I liked my weight back then, I enjoyed a face that had fewer crinkles, skin that was tighter and a hair color that didn't come out of a box.

Jamie's face was taught, her body looked lithe and youthful, she has good hair ... but (in my humble opinion) she didn't wear her age as well as Paul.

I relate far too much to Jamie. She looked the way I wish I looked. But she doesn't look natural. I admire how Paul simply "owns the age he is at" and wears it so naturally.

I have looked in the mirror a little differently since this revelation.

Yes, I like the fact that I can dye my hair and maintain the illusion I am in control of some part of this aging process. But how long do I really want to continue doing this?

My sister set the bar for me when she decided to "go natural". She looks good. She looks natural. She looks right. Her youthful outlook on life, the twinkle in her eyes, a ready smile and her natural good looks (oh, how I hope that I have inherited a few of the same genes) make her beautiful.

I want to own the age I am at. Presently I am gazing at the "root situation" in my hair. I have one box of hair color in the cupboard and wondering...am I brave enough to let go and let my hair color define me?

Time Warps

I have been thinking of a conversation I had with my sisters when I had just found out I was expecting my youngest son.

I was 37 years old at the time. Ancient. Prior to this new found discovery, I thought I was in the middle stages of raising my (then) youngest son who was 10 years old. My sisters came to visit me without the entanglements of children or husbands. It was just us girls sitting together reflecting on the moment I was in.

I was somewhat envious of my sisters' ability to pick up and go without dependants in tow. Here I was, about to become a new parent at the ripe old age of 37. I remember saying (something to the effect of) "I will be 50 years old before I can go somewhere without kids ... [we laughed] ... you guys will be 59 and 61! [the tone of our laughter changed as we reflected upon this reality]"

Needless to say, those years have come and gone. I have happily packed my bags and gone to my sisters, gone with my sisters and have spent a lot of time enjoying the company of my sisters despite our advancing ages.

The year I turned 50, was the year my middle son moved back home to save up for his eventual move out to his farm. I had a reliable adult on standby and he encouraged me to go out and live my life ("So when you start repeating your stories when you are old, they would be interesting ones").

I went back to school. I went to a dance competition. I joined Zumba and Belly Fit classes. I started taking classes to become a group fitness instructor. I went on an Alaskan cruise. Those are the highlights that come to mind during those years of independence. I did this after I closed my daycare, so I could go back to school and changed my career path to one where I could actually book time off.

Then life took an unexpected turn. The career change was not ideal and I ended up reopening my daycare. With daycaring, came great responsibility. I was bookkeeping Saturdays. Spur of the moment was impossible. My life was not my own. Again. My wings were clipped and I was back to being a responsible stay-at-home adult. I finally completed Dad's families' book of memories during this time. But it all took a toll. I do not look back on those years with great fondness. I was exhausted. I endured.

Then I closed my daycare. Again. My wings regained their strength and I had room to be flexible, do and go places without dependants. But things were changing with Mom. This became the stage in my life I call: "So you THINK you can make plans, huh?!"

My second stint at being independent and carefree became a time I invested wisely. No regrets. I had employers who were incredibly supportive and gave me all the flexibility I needed to be where I wanted to be and go where I needed to go. It was a completely different version of the same phase of my life when I took my extravagant holidays.

Life has evolved once more. I am heavily invested in the work I do. Picking up and going places on the spur of the moment is not my reality. I recently took a broken up holiday to accommodate one of my jobs and upon my return, I felt like I never should have left. I have returned to the phase of life where I have great responsibilities. Not to my children but to my employers. My wings are sitting quietly at my side and I will endure.

Back to the beginning now ...

Twenty two years ago, I was looking at my life in fast forward mode. I was wishing my life and the life of my unborn child away so I could spread my wings and live an independent life. To wish for a life of independence at this stage of my life is to wish for the unthinkable. My ability to dream ... feels elusive to me.

It was only upon reflecting on this cyclical life I lead, I recognized the pattern, the yearning, the need for time to pass and the eventual reality that my independence will come. We don't know what price we must pay for our independence. There may be times we get what we wish for but long for the days we wished away.

I am trying to appreciate the moment I am in without wishing it away. I have one eye on an eventual, partial retirement while the other eye is firmly gripped in reality. Be careful what you wish for.

Sitting with all of my siblings a short while ago, we again had a moment of reflecting where we all would be twenty years from how. There was a thoughtful, reflective pause before I uttered to my oldest sister "You will be turning ninety!". We laughed. Heartily at first. Quietly in the afterglow.

My uncle just celebrated his 90th birthday. It was a time of gathering his siblings together to mark the occasion and breathe in the moments. The family had a few gatherings while he was visiting this summer and his friends and nearby family had a gathering on his actual birthday when he was settled back in at home. His brothers attended each and every one of these occasions.

As I look toward the future that is what I hope for as well. For us to gather and celebrate the moments when they are good and to walk along each other's side when the going gets tough. I don't want to wish this time away. I want to appreciate it ...

Day of Gratitude

This is a most perfect day to sit back and be grateful. I am home after a most excellent period of focusing on family, friends, gatherings and outings. I am home.

Family. Ours is a special and unique blending of personalities who support, encourage, care, share and laugh together. 

I have just returned home from my uncle's 90th birthday and spent the weekend with Dad's brothers, their wives and a few cousins. I am so very grateful I was there. Memories were made, laughter is still ringing in my ears and it was simply a gift to be present and accounted for, to celebrate and acknowledge a most incredibly special man.

My siblings and I have recently had a "Sibling Weekend" together. I don't take this sibling relationship for granted and I am grateful we nurture it by continuing to make time to get together. The easy camaraderie we share is a gift. As we parted ways to return back to our lives in progress, we tossed ideas into the air about "next time" ...

My own little family has been busy leading their own lives, doing their own thing and making their way. We haven't gathered as a family unit for a few months but a tentative un-birthday party to acknowledge all the birthdays that passed by without acknowledgement is in the works. We are still in the process of creating our own piece of family history together but we are off to a good start. I am grateful.

Friends. My uncle's 90th birthday party has me reflecting on the value of good friends. I was at the door as his guests arrived and heard a brief synopsis of how he met and how long he has known some of his friends. Alumni from his university days; people he had worked with; students he befriended; his "Little Brother"; friends through his volunteer work; friends he met through his partner. The common denominator was that all of these friends had a history. It was not uncommon to hear "I've known Harold for 40 [or more] years" or some variation of that throughout the gathering. He is 90 years old and 38 of his close friends gathered to acknowledge the day and there are those who couldn't attend but will come another time. Amazing.

I am blessed with an arsenal of good friends. Lasting relationships take time and investment. Although I don't see my friends on a regular basis I know the friendships are real because when we do get together, it is like picking up from where we last left off. My take-away from the weekend past, is to pick up a pen, send an email or even make the odd phone call. Friendship is a two way street and nurturing the friendships one already has is a very good place to begin.

Health. Mobility. Aging gracefully. These are the little things one takes for granted when you wake up and hop out of bed with ease. This is huge. I am grateful for all of the above. As it is with relationships, one must nurture what one already has. Eating better and moving more are two steps I can take to maintain what I already have.

Peace of mind. I have heard so many people's stories that involve a loved one battling with some variety of mental health. It seems to reach out and touch everyone in some way or another. So many words ... so little to say. It is a hard life out there. To wake up in the morning and feel like one can take on the day is a blessing beyond comprehension. I am grateful.

It has been a busy time and the gremlin inside my head keeps nattering negative little thoughts which has created a bit of an inner battle to fully enjoy all the gifts I've been given. I have taken that negativity, thrown it into the light of day and waged a war with it. I do believe I have tamed the negative Nellie within and I truly believe it all begins with gratitude.

I just want to say "Thank you". Thank you thank you thank you for all I have been given. My job here on earth is to appreciate and nurture everything I already have. I can do that. 

I love this day of open gratitude. What are you grateful for today?

"Happy Thanksgiving to all!!"

Where Will I Be ...

My morning thoughts evolved into a state of wondering "Where will I be in ten years?" ... then twenty ... then thirty.

Ten years is easy. I have sisters who are nine and eleven years older than me. I remember Mom at their age. Mom always seemed young for her years. My sisters seem younger. I'm not saying I will seem younger than them but the moral to this paragraph is I believe I will be a vibrant, healthy and productive human being in ten years.

Twenty years is more illusive. I can remember snippets of what was going on in Mom's life when she was twenty years older than I am right now. She may have had pneumonia by this time. It was the first time I remember coming face to face with the fact Mom was a mortal human being. She bounced back as if nothing had happened, adopted some new eating/living strategies and proved how resilient she was.

Mom was an independent, determined soul. Her advise to me was "surround yourself with younger people". She didn't mean those of the daycare age I had been tending. She was steering me towards surrounding myself with young minded adults who were not obsessed with aging, health issues, talk of death and dying. Live while you are young and as you age, surround yourself with youthful people was what I heard.

Thirty years from now, I will be on the cusp of what ended up being Mom's final year with us. Even when her health became more worrisome, she fought hard for her independence and to remain in her home.

I look at the way she lived that year. She accepted our presence when the chips were down but the moment she started feeling more like herself she sent us home and we all carried on life as we knew it.

I remember Mom bracing me to accept the news would not be good when she went to the hospital. She was giving me advance warning to prepare for the worst. It is not good. And it wasn't. But it wasn't as dire as Mom thought. She lived seven more months. She slowed down. She ate what she could. She did her very best to follow doctor's orders. She read. She had her favorite spots in the sun (her living room couch in the winter; her sun room in the summer). "I am not in any pain" was Mom's common refrain throughout the months that followed her diagnosis.

Mom died the way she lived. On her own terms. In her home until her (almost) final days. Her last chat with us had us laughing. A coin phrase we had adopted through some of my last visits with Mom was (because I tend to be a long winded soul who uses too many words to say very little), "And that's all I have to say about that". After our final family meeting with her doctors (who had been focusing far too heavily on talk about her health), when she had spoken her piece and said all that needed to be said, she looked over at me and asked, "What would Forrest Gump say?"

"That's all I have to say about that."

Very few words were spoken after that conversation and I believe that is how Mom would have wanted it. She went out on a high note. I remember that serious conversation with lightness in my heart.

Where will I be in thirty years? I hope I am in a place where I have enough of Mom's spirit within me to look up and out of myself and into the lives of others. I don't want to feel lost in my own thoughts and worries. I want to read in a sunbeam, soak up the moments and feel I have everything to live for.

Mom left me with many conversations to ponder. I hope I never forget her wisdom and adopt the feisty part of her that made her who she was.

We had our final conversation with Mom two years ago today. It is fading but I remember the feeling. We were ready. Mom was ready. She had said all she had to say. And that's all I have to say about that.

Spent

Visions of staining, washing windows and lawn mowing filled my thoughts during my restless sleep last night. So much to do. So little weekend. I got up at 5:30 in the hopes of squeezing everything into one day.

I gave myself the gift of the morning to do what I wanted to do, breathe easy and take what I needed from the morning. It was lovely. Three hours of morning time is my daily norm. I have been lacking normalcy this past week. Three hours felt lovely.

After the clock struck the end of my three hour hiatus it was only 8:30. The hardware store which stocks the miracle deck painting brush opened at 8:30. I was there.

Deck staining was to be done in the shade. Our deck isn't shaded until late afternoon so I started the day by washing windows. Scraping paint off said windows and window casings took a little added time and made me ponder the idea that professional painters should offer to wash windows after their work is done.

Window washing has been long overdue around here. It feels wonderful to have squeaky clean windows. Ahhh!

Then came the lawn. I have shirked lawn mowing duties around here for two weeks so I felt it was my turn to step up to the lawn mower. And I did.

Pulling weeds, sweeping up paint chips and scraping off plaster/crack-filler off the driveway took the last of the energy I had. Rain is in the forecast within the next 24 hour period so I was relieved to stroke "stain the deck" off today's roster of events.

I don't accomplish what I used to in a day. I feel slow and sluggish. I look at our five year old cat who moves slowly and sluggishly and I see "me". This same cat can't jump 6 ft fences in a single bound any more. He can't even jump onto the 3-1/2 ft deck railing without engaging his front claws and using his back legs to climb up. He uses the top ladder rung when jumping onto the decking of the kid's play centre we have in the back yard.

I was telling my son that our cat reminds me of myself. "Maybe he has arthritis," I added wistfully. My son just chuckled and said, "No, he's gained a lot of weight." Oh. Me too.

I share an affinity with our Junior Cat in residence. We've both slowed down prematurely. We've both packed on extra poundage. We both love leisurely cat days.

Who's to argue with that. I accomplished enough for one day. The evening is mine, to do with as I please. I do believe it pleases me to laze around with the cats. My 5 a.m. mornings are catching up with me.

"Oh, to be 82 again!"

Yesterday was the 82nd birthday of one of my Senior Friends. As I announced this birthday to my other Senior Lady at the onset of the day she simply sighed, "Oh, to be 82 again!" There could be a short novel written into that simple statement, but long story short, if she could rewind the years to six years ago she would be thrilled.

Our age doesn't necessarily reflect all that is going on in, around and outside of our own personal experience here on earth. But an aging body does carry the risk of health and physical injury impairments as we go along our merry way living our happy little lives.

Mom once told me certain age parameters where health and mortality issues seemed to peak. If you made it past certain milestones (I wish I had a memory or had written down what she told me), your likelihood of living to the next milestone was higher. It seems to me that "50" and "60" may have been two of those milestones. I think "80" was another.

I came home from my day and climbed back into my predictable, comfortable and cozy little life when I heard from a friend. She is my age and I assume those who touch her world are close to the same age bracket. In one breath, she spoke of people close to her who had pancreatic cancer, numerous mini strokes (with the instruction from her doctors to go home and get her affairs in order) and another who had a stroke affecting one side. A mother-in-law (from a different age category) is fighting throat cancer. Her adult sons are fighting anxiety and anger issues.

Wow.

Suddenly I could hear the voice of my Senior Mentor in my head again, "Oh, to be 82 again..."

We don't know what our future holds.

When it comes to matters of health and aging, it could be safe to assume that we may never feel as good as we do at this very moment. Even if we aren't feeling all that spry right now.

When it comes to matters of contentment and peace of mind, we can always hope the future may improve situations which are lacking and will bring more of what we have, that is good. But things never stay the same. Life is ever changing and evolving. The longer we live, the more likely we are to face loss of those who are a vital part of our life.

Life is truly all about perspective. We reflect what we live as we live it. No matter where you are in the spectrum of living, loving and interacting within the world around you, take a moment to appreciate what you have. Rest easy in the assurance that no matter what you are living right now, you will never relive this exact moment again. Sometimes, but not always, that is a good thing.

If I was to take that statement and reword it to "Oh, to be [my present age] again!", would I look back and be pleased that I was living my life in a way which left a trail of happy memories, personal achievement and satisfaction that I was getting the most out of the life I have been given?

This gives me reason to pause and reflect. Is it time to fine tune my life a little bit so when I look back on these years, I will know I lived the best life I could at the time?

How about you? Where are you at? What do you hope to see when you look back at your life in a rear view mirror?

Just more little things that make me sit back and go "Hmmmm...."

Life's Little Wins

You've got to take the wins where you find them in life. Big, little or anywhere in between. If it makes you smile, call it a "win" and hold onto the moment while you have it.

The back story to my little "win" a few nights ago is the fact that after living an entire lifetime with the illusion that I looked younger than my years, the tides started to turn in and around the year I turned 49.

One person assumed my child friendly yard was for my grandchildren (I still don't have grandchildren so apparently that is not necessarily a good indication of one's age but I didn't know that at the time).

Shortly thereafter, I mentioned the fact that I was 49 years old to someone I just met. Instead of the usual comment about my appearance versus my actual age, I was on the receiving end of a very subtle look that said, "And you look every year of it".

There were clerks in the stores that offered me senior discounts. Granted some stores age requirements are younger than others but NONE of them were under the age of 55, while one extremely helpful waitress explicitly told me "You qualify for our senior's menu if you are 65" AFTER she asked me if I would like the senior meal.

There have been comments made when I was with my sisters (who are 9 and 11 years older than me) on how we looked like triplets. "You are all so alike! And the same age too!!" Yep. Payback's a _itch, isn't it? I laughed because I knew I was long overdue for this day of reckoning and I was actually pleased that my sisters got to witness it first hand. Yes, I finally caught up with my sisters (and that fact actually pleases me a lot).

You get the gist. I'm no spring chicken. I look my age. And that's okay. I've come to terms with this. It is true. What else can I say?

Back to the present now.

I presented my customer reward card and told the clerk I was a senior (55 year old at this particular store). The clerk who initially told me about the 20% off day at their store for those who are 55 years or older didn't blink an eye when she suggested this offer to me. I obviously looked every year of my age and perhaps even more. I have taken full advantage of this weekly offer ever since (20% off IS a big deal!!). Not a soul has blinked an eye. It's true. I'm 58 years old. This is no surprise to me.

FINALLY! only two days ago, I recited my line "And I'm a senior ..." to the cashier ringing up my purchase. And he replied with a smile, "Well, I think I'm going to have to check your ID!" I assumed he was joking. Younger people have made the odd comment which I know is a joke when they make comments about my age. Yep. I hear them. I laugh and say thank you. But this time, he was for real. "You really want to see my ID?" I asked with a laugh. He accepted my offer and I walked out the door feeling at least four years younger.

It was a small win. But it still counts.

Take your "wins" wherever you find them. The small stuff matters. The little wins mean a lot. Any time life offers you a smile or small chuckle go with it. That is a win in my books. How many "wins" will you find hidden within your day? May you tally them up and remember the little things that matter the most.

21 Years

Twenty one years ago today, my youngest son was born. As I woke up this morning, thinking of this anniversary, I scrolled through my own personal archives and thought about my own life at the age of twenty one.

By the time I was 21, I had been married, had a baby, divorced, had worked at a bank for three years, bought a townhouse and then remarried my ex-husband. My siblings were ages 32, 30 and 16. All I remember about my actual birthday is that my brother gave me a special birthday gift to commemorate my 21st birthday. Mom was 53 years old; Dad was 56.

I lived a very sheltered and protected life until I married. I had a lot of life lessons thrown at me in a short period of time but thanks to a strong and supportive family, I weathered the storms and came out standing. I had lived a lifetime by the time I was 21.

I look at my youngest son and I see myself before the world started teaching me "all I needed to know". I look at my younger self and the words young, naive and impressionable come to mind. If someone had told me what was to come, I may have locked myself in a room and never come out. I wouldn't have thought I could handle it.

We all have different lessons to learn, new roads to travel and challenges that are unique to each one of us.

I look at my son and I am pleased. I like him. I like his style. I like his quiet demeanor which masks the deepness of his thoughts and his perspective of life. I see bits and pieces of the best of the people within his world intertwined within him, mixed with the essence that is "him" and I enjoy the person he has become and is becoming.

My biggest concern is wondering how he will weather the storms of life. He has had some tests but I know there will be more. He is a sensitive soul. He watches the world around him, listens with his whole being and his interpretation of life as he sees it opens my eyes.

None of us can predict the future that is headed our way. My biggest wish for him is that no matter where life takes him, he will have the ability to weather life's storms and come out standing. I want him to feel the strength and support of family. I hope he feels safe within his world and will always know he has a soft place to fall here within our home and family.

He is the youngest of three brothers with a twenty year age span which separates them. What I am liking best about the age he has become, is that he is starting to "catch up" with his older brothers. His brothers and him are doing things together which is starting to forge a stronger bond in their brotherhood. I didn't "catch up" with my older sisters until I became an adult and now the years that separated us don't even exist. I hope this bond grows and strengthens over the years to come.

They say that joy is doubled when it is shared and sorrow is halved. In good times and in bad, it is good to know you have a support system in place to cheer you on, cheer you up and encourage you through whatever moment you may be going through.

The wish I have for my youngest son is a wish I share with all three of my boys. I wish them a strong sense of themselves, grounded in what I hope is a strong sense of family. I wish for roots to ground them, while reaching for the stars and retaining the ability to hope for the remainder of their lifetime. I wish them a solid community of family, friends, support systems and a resilience that will carry them through the rough patches life will inevitably throw their way.

I believe one of the best gifts Mom and Dad gave me is a strong sense of family and community. Mom and her story-telling led to the gift of collecting family memories which was the best way to infiltrate myself within the family and get to know everyone a little bit better. I was 47 years old when I started collecting family stories and history. It was then, when I started to feel my roots strengthen enough to hold me solid no matter what storms came to pass after that time.

The moral to this story is: No matter what age you are presently at, you must hold onto the belief that the best is yet to come. The best comes veiled in so very many ways and it is seldom a straight path. If you didn't have the struggle, you wouldn't appreciate the outcome. The best outcomes usually came after the hardest struggles.

You've come a long way, my son. I believe in you. I see your strength and though I wish I could wish only good things for you, I know the best parts of my life were a result of the hardest of struggles. Hold onto that knowledge and let it ground you when the going gets rough. Keep looking up, my son. The best is yet to come...