Maintenance

I have come home from my third committed weekend feeling like a version of myself I remember enjoying.

I am amusing myself again. Twisting little things into a stories, connecting the dots and appreciating the impact of one small thing affecting so much more, spotting the absurdity of my thinking, the stories I make up in my mind and I find myself smiling at the smallest of things.

I spent time with my cousins. One on one time. Visits when you lose track of time and no one wants to be the first to admit "I have no idea what time it is", takes a peek at the clock to discover hours have past in the blink of an eye.

The common denominator with every single one of these reconnections was the comment, "I need to do this. I need to get out and see people more." Various versions of the same story. Even those who one would guess has a very busy social life were saying the same.

Life has taken a toll. Loss, health concerns, living within a smaller circle, life's continual ebbing and flowing - giving and taking as we walk each forward step. The pandemic started something that has weakened a lot of our social batteries. I am not alone.

A combination of too much coffee, not a lot of food and the adrenaline lift of connecting with (what feels like) long, lost friends and family had me a little giddy a lot of the time. I found myself chattering up a storm with my long, lost hair stylist. I was talking a lot, talking fast and I sputtered out, "I've had three cups of coffee and a donut today" to explain my chattiness. We laughed.

There was a lot of laughter the past few days. Lots. That is what is ringing in my ears as I listen to the quiet of the morning. 

One day, it just so happened that only one of my cousins was available to visit. Three hours passed and our visit continued on into the parking lot. My parting comment was connected to a comment she made at some point during our chat and I wound up our good-byes by turning that comment around and making some joke. As my cousin took a step away, she connected to dots to the initiating story. She turned around laughing and said, "I just got it". We parted laughing. Leave 'em laughing. It's a very good way to go.

I had enough errands to run to keep me busy throughout the afternoon. I didn't have another meaningful conversation with anyone all day. Thus, my one visit kept me company well into the evening, popping into my thoughts the way the last song you hear lingers long after the music is gone. The gift of one true connection was the magic in the way it lingered long after we went our separate ways.

Each and every connection was ended by the promise that we must do this again. And continue doing it. There is a cousin connection that goes beyond the blood ties, as two of these people were married to my cousins. There is simply a kinship. It is real and it is strong. It simply requires a little maintenance to sustain and nourish what we have.

The entire experience of the last three committed weekends which felt oh-so-hard was a strengthening of something good. Connection. Laughter. Kinship. Shared experiences and history. Compassion, caring, listening. There was a lot of listening. 

I feel recharged, energized and capable of carrying this forward. Today. Life has a way of dulling the experience. Day-to-day living takes a lot of energy. If we can find a way to infuse a little jolt of energy into the experience, it makes a difference. 

Maintenance takes a lot of work. At times we don't reap the rewards immediately but if we can persevere, there is something out there beyond one of those corners. We never know which one.

Know Thy Enemy

One day to go and April will be behind us. I am unimpressed with the way I count down the days I have at my disposal as "days to be endured". 

I would like to point my finger at Revenue Canada and be angry with them for all the deadlines they impose on me, but I know the due dates a year in advance so my self imposed procrastination is all on me. I now have a full year to work on managing myself in a manner where I will be prepared and deal with the deadlines more effectively. 

Procrastination is my enemy. "Know thy enemy", it has been said. Okay. Enemy is identified. I truly believe I am my own worst enemy. I get in the way of myself nearly 100% of the time.

After spending a good part of the morning rereading some of my writing from seven years ago, it is the same story. Over and over and over ("over" times seven, to be exact) again.

I fall into the same pattern year after year, time after time. I recognized my mind numbing activities seven years ago. 

I am almost certain the sit-in-front-of-the-TV-and-numb habit began the fall of 2011. A fatal combination of events - it was my oldest son's cast off TV ending up in our living room and a new job I had started outside our home that was my undoing. I have vivid memories of parking myself on the couch and not moving for the majority of my off-work hours.

Prior to that, I recognize the cycle of "low grade depression" at the end of winter many years prior. How did I deal with these thoughts before I started numbing them? Writing, cleaning, culling and doing something physical were some of my coping habits. Before the Internet moved into my little weekend oasis, I reverted back to my old ways. "Doing" instead of "numbing" was balm for my soul.

Perhaps my biggest enemy is the Internet and the constant connectivity to the world. Always checking, forever jumping to my phone when I hear an incoming text, the ability to stream movies, TV and almost anything you want to watch online. My psychological connection of TV to mindless eating, compounded by my inability to stay awake unless I'm eating has snowballed to where I am today (with a pair of jeans one MORE size bigger sitting in my Amazon cart).

Before I hit the "Proceed to Checkout" button, maybe I should try a few of my old tactics to see if I can get a few more years out of the size I'm presently wearing. Changing my clothing size is less about vanity and more about finding my inner contentment (again). 

There is a new month on the horizon and I'm eager to step into a fresh new calendar page without a zillion (okay, only a hundred) deadlines biting at my ankles. Maybe I can divert this energy into something better.

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.” ~ Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Shared History

It's hard to leave my weekend oasis but here I am. Monday morning with nowhere to go but home. Real life, cat hair, snow and responsibilities. Ahhh. There is no place like home.

I love the sister-time I have at my little weekend oasis. A group text among my siblings on Friday was the precursor to the weekend. A shared memory among four people. Siblings. Growing up with the same parents at different times. A shared history but not always shared memories.

My sister-time is seasoned with "remembering when". I have always loved listening to my sisters (who are nine and eleven years older than me) reminisce about their childhood on the farm, many of those memories included cousins, grandparents and a glimpse of who Mom and Dad were during that time. 

My brother and I moved off the farm to a large city a province away, after my youngest sister was married. We grew up with a dad who had a "9 to 5" (with all the overtime he could work) job that included weekends and vacation time. My sisters grew up with a dad who was a hard working farmer whose hours were long and holidays were a luxury rarely afforded. As Mom once said, "Why do you think we got married on the coldest day of the year?"

We knew two completely different sides of Dad. I believe we also knew two completely different sides of Mom. 

Sibling time is a time when we meld those memories together. It is a time when little memories tend to resurface. Even after all of time I've spent with my sister the past few years, I smile inside when I hear one or the other or both of us remark, "I didn't know that" in regards to a family memory.

I spent my childhood waiting to grow up. I assumed all children felt that way but I now wonder if my desire to grow up and move out like my sisters, was motivated by a wish to join the adult sisterhood. Mom planted many seeds that grew into the close relationship I have with my brother. Now that our ages span from 57 to 73, instead of 12 to 28 we are seeing life through a common lens of mature adult beings with shared memories and support.

The memory of Dad's massive heart attack was the common thread my brother wrote about on Friday. He was the one who was home with Mom when it happened. The rest of us were married and although I was geographically the closest, as my siblings recalled their memory of that day, I felt I was the most remote.

A tragedy united our family in a way we had never been before. There is a date in our history that marks the time, place and circumstances each of us were experiencing at the time. That day was forty years ago. Since that time, we have only grown closer.

It is a gift to share a history with those we can connect and reconnect with over the course of a lifetime. Is it a wonder why I share a very close friendship with a childhood friend I've known since I have had a memory? A sister-in-law who "adopted" me when my own sisters lived at a distance and were relatively unknown to me at the time? Many of my closest friends are friends who are "missing a sister" and we've forged a sister connection.

I believe the human condition craves and needs connection. We are fortunate when that connection is forged within family. Shared history is a good foundation to build on and we can forge those connections outside the family unit. 

We all have a story we tell. It is a gift to share our stories with each other.