Fifteen Minutes

I have completely gotten out of the habit of writing. My excuses are varied, multiple and quite lame. No time. No space. No thoughts. Nothing fresh. Nothing inspirational. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Who else feels this way in the depth of winter? The days are getting longer but have also been colder. January is speeding by but spring feels far off and illusive at the same time.

I long for what I don't have. Then I get it and squander it away.

I had holidays over the Christmas season and I let them slip through my fingers. I regretted making plans as soon as they were made and never really got past that. No one's fault but my own. I am accountable for my actions but I wasn't even finished my holiday and I was already longing for my next.

I read a book (two, actually!) this past weekend. One was a biography based on someone who survived and thrived after a stroke. As the story of this journey progressed back to a semblance of "the before", his "executive thinking" was compromised and he was completely content in this state of not planning, not doing and not caring about goals and achievements.

"That's me!!", I thought. My executive thinking powers are waning. When I am on vacation, I relax in the knowledge that it really doesn't matter. It's okay to squander the days because (here come the excuses) I have to work outside my home ten hours of every weekday. Poor me.

I console myself with the thought "whatever I accomplish will be enough". I accomplish very little. I am completely okay with that.

How many holidays would I need in order to find the energy, motivation and desire to do more than nothing?

That is an experiment I'm willing to take! In the meantime, I must (like everyone else in the world) get up, get dressed, get moving and get to work so I can come home, climb into my pajamas and turn off my brain.

This too, shall pass. The goal is to make the best of the winter days that are looming ahead.

Just keep swimming ...

P.S. See why I haven't been writing? 

You Won't Get This Time Back

My eyes popped open and I saw the time. Rather than play the game of "How long can I stay in bed and still get out the door in time?", the words "You won't get this half hour back!" spoke to me. I hopped out of bed and was grateful I hadn't frittered away that precious time.

The very next day, I couldn't sit still without falling asleep because I had been playing the game of "You won't get this half hour back!" for a bit too long and exhaustion ruled the day.

What is most important? The rest one gains by sleeping in? The extra solitude that half hour provides? What one can accomplish with that extra time? Or is sleeping simply a coping mechanism?

I have had far too many days when I didn't want to wake up to another day. The days that are challenging to walk through are days I'd rather stay in bed.

So many of my days were just like after "The Year of Mom". After Mom died and all that was pertaining to wrapping up her life, her home and estate was done, I wandered aimlessly through my days for a very (very) long time.

The first year was tough. Something clicked within that second year without Mom. Life had moved on without her. My thoughts weren't consumed with her. I felt lighter.

Even after the heaviness of the prior year started to lighten, I wasn't back to my old self. Living for the weekends became my goal. What did I do with my weekends? As little as humanly possible. "This isn't living" were the words that haunted my thoughts. These were some of the very last words Mom spoke ...

It has taken far longer than I would have predicted but I think I'm back. Back to where, I'm not certain. But I'm back to a better place.

Home renovations have been a game changer. It changed my focal point and forced me to get things done. Even though other people did 99% of the work around here, I still had to clear out spaces, clean up the work-in-progress and reorganize those spaces when the job was done. Then came that feeling of "Ahhh ... let's just sit back and appreciate at all that has been done."

Mom's home was her castle. She put a lot of her energy into putting her visions into reality. The projects became smaller as the years went on but as long as she had dreams, she had life.

One time in particular, we were concerned about Mom living on her own after a health scare. She didn't even waste her time and energy fighting us. She simply said she had some leftover paint, she was pretty sure it would be enough to paint the bathroom and she asked (suggested?) that my sister could do that for her. "She's not moving." We knew.

One of her last renovations was one she had thought about for a long time. Turning the divider in the living room into a bookcase. Mom loved her books. She had an insatiable quest for knowledge and constantly challenged her memory by reciting poems, songs and quotes from her childhood readers. She found several of those readers over the course of time. The last time I spent with her, those readers were her reading material of choice.

Mom's bookcase was one of her last and most appreciated renovations. Well, that and her sun room of course. I will forever think of Mom with a book at her side, enjoying her sun room ...

When it came time to sort through and divide Mom's belongings, she had written a list of the rooms in her home, with one of our names beside each room. The sun room had my name on it. I also ended up with her library. When I started thinking renovation thoughts, the driving force behind it all was to turn "Mom's Room" (the room she slept in when she came here) into a "Sunny Room". A room filled with natural light, which would house and display her books. My dream has yet to come to fruition.

Of all the renovating that has been done, Mom's library has been left to the last. Her books are stored in the laundry room, waiting for their new home. The room designated as "Mom's Room" has lost its identity. We call it a den. I keep the door closed so the cats don't wreck Mom's love seat and shed all over it.

I sat in Mom's room on the weekend. I was in a state of exhaustion and my thoughts were too scattered to appreciate the view. I want to create an oasis within our home in a manner that fills me the way Mom's sun room and library fulfilled and energized her. For Mom, it was books and reading. For me, it is writing. I believe the key to good writing is to fill yourself up with knowledge, different perspective and new ideas. Mom's books are a source "all of the above".

The tides are turning. I have been hopping out of bed with the words "You won't get this time back" whispering through my subconsciousness. I know I must do more than I have been doing. Living a life with purpose is key to living a good life.

It has been a purposeful time around here lately. With great purpose came great spending. I feel my primary purpose for the short term is to repay the debt I have accumulated this past month. According to my calculations, if all goes as planned (and it won't), I should be in the clear by May, 2020.

No matter where things go from here, living by the simple credo "You won't get this time back" must guide me to where I need to go. Yes, some of that time must be spent in a restorative and restful manner. What I have noticed lately is the energy I do have on hand after my most primal need for rest, solitude and restoration have been satiated. There is life after 7:00 p.m.

It is time to move on and through and into whatever comes next. I just hope whatever is next doesn't have a price tag attached. I'm just a little overextended. Perhaps that is why I prefer to just stay in bed. It's a pretty cheap hobby.

Morning Thoughts

"Decluttering your mind" - these are the words that spoke to me loudest in my morning stroll through the Interwebs in a quest to reroute my thoughts. The blog which caused me to pause is "Be More With Less"; the post that caught my attention is "One Simple Way to Declutter Your Mind". The following ideas are not my own but I like this take on putting worries to rest.

I have read time and time again, that gratitude is key to healthy, happy living. I wholeheartedly believe this to be true. Counting my blessings, especially during tough times has been my coping mechanism for forever. 

As grateful as I feel for that which I have within my life, anxiety continues to plague my thoughts. I can talk myself down from most anything but life is not perfect. As much as I can try to interject a wide view perspective of that which feels unjust and hurtful, my heart still carries the weight of some days long after the moment has passed.

What is suggested in the article I read, is to write down the thoughts that are cycling through your mind before you go to sleep at night. Write it out. Good, bad or anything in between. Then give yourself permission to let it all go and revisit this list in the morning.

I have done this unintentionally on a few occasions. The days that haunt me. The words I can't say out loud. I write them down, feel them, read them from a wide angle lens for perspective. Thoughts cycle around and around and around in my mind. Thoughts feel bigger than they are when unspoken, just as a small ball of snow rolled around in the snow long enough becomes big enough to make a snowman.

I have used writing as a tool to regain my perspective, come up with a plan of attack and simply cope for as long as I can remember. But I have never consciously written down my thoughts with the intent of emptying my mind for a good night's sleep. Then revisiting them in the light of day.

The first light of the morning often brings clarity to that which is weighing you down. My best ideas, answers and plans of attack are clearest in the dawn of a new day.

That said, my heart is heavy this morning. I don't know why. The morning sun did not work its magic for me. I have to leave the house today. I want to stay home.

This morning feels hard. This too shall pass. I know this is true. One forward step at a time. I will make my way to another weekend. A weekend without my roofer elves upon my roof (they are back this morning for their third and final day).

I do believe I'm in the midst of a long weekend hangover. A hangover that consists of a list of all I hoped to do, with little-to-nothing crossed off that list. It is time to create an action plan.

I wrote those words and immediately thought to myself "I need a holiday" and looked ahead at the calendar and dared to dream.

I don't need to go anywhere. I have no desire to run. I simply want to be home. I want to stay home and savor my mornings, knowing I can revel in those early morning moments for as long as they last. Perhaps take some day trips. Visions of an elastic band which expands and contracts, always bringing me back home wafts through my mind as I dare to dream ...

I spotted our neighborhood rabbit this morning. I haven't seen this guy for a very long time. I have been watching, waiting and hoping to spot the rabbit(s) that hop through our streets. I want to be still and watch nature unfold before my eyes.

And how is your Tuesday-after-the-long-weekend feeling? 

Life Cycles

The longer I live, the more I find myself recreating a life I thought I had left behind. I see this on so many levels.

I went to my "Positive Thinking Articles" to find an article to articulate my thoughts and found myself wading through notes I could have written yesterday and positive words I have saved which speak to me today.

I've been here. I've done this. I've pulled myself up and out of the mire time and time again.

Why do I keep finding myself "here"? At a place where I'm wondering what is next and how to handle the present.

I could have sworn that I had learned this lesson the last time. Every time life gets hard, I find myself quitting. I've quit relationships, I've quit jobs, I've walked away and abandoned the life I created so I could start all over again. Time and time again.

The lesson I most likely need to learn is that quitting is not the answer. The answer lies in staying true to the course, overcoming obstacles and gaining a new perspective from the next level one hits at that point.

It's always darkest before the dawn. That's what they say. Dawn is arriving far too soon all of a sudden. I prefer the darkness ...

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?

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...

It's All Going to Be Okay. Again.

Here I go again. Rinse and repeat. It is Friday all over again. Except it is Saturday. I have offered to work at my bookkeeping job today. I have an early Monday morning appointment, followed by a Monday filled with commitments. I have re-created the "one day weekend". Again.

I shake my head in wonder. Why do I keep doing this? Here I go again. Recreating the scarcity of down-time I am accustomed to feeling. Except ...

Except it feels different this time.

I am revelling in the fact that I have the energy to make these offers without feeling the deep, sinking feeling that I am depriving myself of oxygen at the same time. I CAN do this.

Accomplishment, commitment and issuing invitations are breathing life into me again. The very thing that has brought me to my knees all winter long is finally revitalizing me. Again.

Life has come full circle one more time. This keeps happening. The ups, the downs, the highs, the lows, the energy, the depletion, the ability to say "yes" to life and the ache of having to be sociable.

This past winter felt endless. As did my cycle downward. I thought this may be the time I just stayed "down". It felt safe and comfortable and easy down there. I've dabbled in the state of feeling depressed before but I never got this comfortable with it.

It scared me a little bit. Enough, that I have made an appointment to talk to someone about this. I was on a waiting list all winter. And now, just as I am climbing my way out and out of this little funk of mine, my name is at the top of the list.

Part of me wonders if there is any sense in going now that I feel "healed" and over the worst of this. The analytical part of me is saying, "Go anyway! You need a road map to follow for the next time. Because there is always a next time. Always."

I have gone back and reread some of what I have written throughout the years. This cycle is not new. I have always had a life which seemed to go from extreme highs to extreme lows. Then life seemed to even itself out and those "mountains and abysses" I battled in my younger years became "hills and valleys". I recognized the cycles, appreciated the fact that my highs were lower and my lows were higher and assumed this was one more benefit to aging. The emotions of life were just "hilly" and easier to navigate as I became older and wiser.

Then came last winter.

It was a tough one. I can write about it now because I've climbed upward and I'm enjoying the view from the plateau I've hit. I'm simply sitting here appreciating the view and resting. There is more of the mountain to climb but I have little desire to climb higher. The higher one climbs, the further one has to fall.

Besides, my feet are sore. I need to rest and repair my mode of transportation before I ascend any further. Then perhaps, I could even dance again ...

Yes, I have an appointment with a podiatrist on Monday, followed by an appointment with a counsellor on Tuesday. I may have a little more climbing to do.

One step at a time. I am doing just fine exactly where I am. Life has been very good at doling out exactly what I need, when I am ready to accept it. It's all going to be okay. It always is.

Welcome to My Morning - Chapter One

Here is a picture of the moment I'm in:

Jan 14, 2018

It is a good moment. 

It is eerily similar to another photo I accidentally inserted into this post and was startled to see our cats were missing:

Oct 22, 2017

What is different besides the addition of a few cats, an unfinished puzzle and some place mats for the table? The difference is in the way I feel.

In October, I was still working in a state of hyper drive. I felt focused. I had a defined purpose, things to do, ongoing obligations and a sense that when I accomplished all I had to do, I would feel completely at peace.

What has happened instead, is after I did all I had to do with dealing with Mom's estate and no reason to return to her home, I am wandering through my life aimlessly. Without purpose. Without intention. Without a driving force to propel me into action and feel the satisfaction of a job well done.

I have used up all my excuses to stay withdrawn from life as I know it. I am doing what must be done to get through the day. I am fulfilling my obligations to the world in a half hearted, lack lustre way. 

I have been in contact with a few friends this past week and as I summarized the lethargy I'm feeling, I was surprised to find I am not alone. 

Once our conversations switched from a superficial "I'm fine, thanks. And how are you?" and we started talking "real", I heard my thoughts, feelings and emotions echoed by those I call my friends.

We are of similar age and somewhat similar stages in our lives. We are hovering in our later 50's, retirement is either a reality or something we hope to attain in some way or another within a ten year time frame.

As I relaxed and let the words spew from my mouth with abandon, I heard myself saying, 

"I know I will most likely have to work until the day I die, but I have reached a point where I want what I do, to have meaning. It is less about the pay cheque and more about doing something that has purpose. I want to recreate what was good about my daycare years. I want to turn my home into my work place. I want people to come and go through our door again. I want to create a business where our home is an oasis in the Saskatchewan prairie landscape, where it nurtures and houses others, while it creates a drive within me so I want to cook, clean, maintain and enjoy our home again."

I have been through this phase many times before. This is the part of my life where the life as I knew it was upended and I had to reinvent myself and start anew. It has always been hard and uncomfortable. Each and every time. But when I came out the other side of this evolution, I was always, always grateful for all that had brought about the unwanted, unplanned but necessary metamorphosis.

This time is different. I told my friend, 

"I'm running out of story lines. I don't want to write another chapter within this little life of mine, let alone a book!"

I heard a version of "Amen, Sister" from my friend's reply. We thought we were done with the hard stuff. We are in our later 50's, gosh darn it!! We thought we had already earned our wings. We are ready to fly. We don't want to reinvent ourselves, our world, our livelihood and our sense of purpose. Again. We've been there, we've done that!

C'mon, Life. Really now? What do you have in store for us? It must be very good because this cocoon feels like one of the hardest ones I've had to break free of.

I know some reinvention is necessary. This is debilitating. I must return to that which worked for me in the past, to get me up off the couch, away from the chips and chocolate and moving towards taking a leap of faith off a new cliff.

I need an action plan. 

I will start by writing regularly. I have written my way through every hard transition I've walked through. Writing is my therapy.

I must start moving again. Exercise is nature's very own anti-depressant. It will be soooo hard. But I must. I will try. I will.

I have a doctor's appointment made. I skipped my annual physical this past year but now is as good as an excuse as any to check in with my doctor and tend to my body. 

I will tell my doctor that I feel I am fighting a depression see where that conversation takes me. As I said, this feeling is not new to me. But the hole feels broader and so much more comfortable than it has felt in the past. My children are growing independent of me. I have fewer years ahead of me, than I have behind me and I am losing the battle to fight for myself. 

I may need to find some tools to help me beyond this moment. I have a deep seated feeling that this will not be the last time life presents an "opportunity" to reinvent myself.

The worst part of all of the above is the level of comfort I am feeling within this safe little cocoon of mine. I don't know if I really want to fly any more. I just want to coast.

But I want to enjoy the view. Whether I'm flying or simply coasting effortlessly through these next years. I want to enjoy the view.

There is still much work to be done. My story is far from over. I may as well create a good one while I'm at it.

Welcome to my next new chapter. It is not my last, so I may as well call it what it is: 

"Chapter One" (again)...

Impossible Things

Getting out of bed in the morning is getting harder with each passing day. Leaving the house became so hard yesterday, I stayed home.

I went to bed last night knowing I could not play hooky another day. I had to leave the house. Early. But I had so much to do. It was going to be sooooooo hard.

Six impossible things to do before breakfast:

1. Snow to shovel
2. Hair to wash ...
3. ... resulting in a bathroom to vacuum ...
4. ... so why not vacuum the rest of the house while I'm at it
5. Lunch to make
6. Recycling and garbage to go out

I did it. I did it all. I sat down with my coffee and morning smoothie knowing the hardest part of the day was behind me.

All I have left to do is:

     7. Leave the house

Life is hard. I don't think I like December. It seems to me last December felt much the same. No wonder people go south for the winter.

But then again, I'd have to leave the house. 

Lost

Gratitude. The key is in finding what one is grateful for, even in the darker moments of living a life.

I've lost my way and I seem to be without a compass to guide me. I need to find my true north and I'm not sure where to look first. I will start with gratitude.

I know I'm lost. For this, I am grateful. I know what contentment feels like. I've had it. I actually still have it. It is simply that "contentment" is not the fuel I need to push myself beyond where I am and toward a place that is better for me.

I have lost my way before. I have always found a way back onto the path I believe I was destined to walk. I have done this before. I can do it again.

My "before's" used to be a lot darker. There were relationships I needed to leave behind or find my way through &/or heal in the best way I knew how. There were circumstances which were unhealthy. I simply needed to recognize them for what they were, revise my plan and follow the new fork in the road.

Looking back, it was obvious what I needed to do. There was a decision that had to be made. The power was within me. I had to save myself or my children or my heart or our home. I had to find a way to earn a living while living a life which felt like a good fit for me.

I simply needed to find a way in which to maintain my sense of self, while maintaining the status quo. Paying the bills, raising children, maintaining what I already had.

Part of what I have had and count as one of my biggest blessings, is the community of family, friends, encouragers, supporters and simply a soft place to land when I didn't know where to turn. I have not lost any of the above, but I have lost the energy it takes to maintain those ties.

I have become "allergic" to planning. I cringe when I have a schedule of events lined up on my calendar. It doesn't matter if it is a dentist appointment, a family reunion or simply a coffee date with a friend. What is written down and planned becomes an appointment to endure and cross off. Each and every date with destiny is "one more thing done and behind me". You know you are in trouble when you compare a root canal with a commitment to a friend or family member.

Life has become "something to be endured". This is wrong. I know I must work to pay the bills. I work with and for people who like and appreciate me. While I'm working, there is really nothing else I'd rather be doing. But it is also a little like that dental appointment. I can't wait to be done. I just want to go home, crawl into my pajamas and cocoon myself within the serenity of our home.

I am grateful for my employment and employers who are friends above all else. I am grateful for this oasis I call "home". I am grateful for the creature comforts our house provides - cupboards, fridges and freezers which are full enough to feed us for a very long time; heat in the winter/air conditioning in the summer; clean, fresh water and air to drink and breathe. The company of my Youngest Son who shares this roof and our furry little black cats who adorn our home in a way only cats can.

I have so much. But I have lost something which is almost as critical as clean water. I've lost my purpose. I don't have any dreams on the horizon. I look towards the future and I see nothing but a calendar with days to be crossed off. Endured.

I'm wasting the days I have been given. I want for little more than I already have. In the past, this void was filled with something life changing. A child. A divorce. A move. A new job. A new relationship. Focus on the relationships I already had. Writing a book ....

Hmmm. My answers lie within me. I just need to start believing in them.

One Step at a Time

Thought for the day, compliments of ProjectHappiness.com

#MondayMotivation: You don't have to take this day all at once, but rather, one step, one breath, one moment at a time... "Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step of your life. Tiptoe if you must, but take a step." ~Naeem Callaway

I cannot honestly think of a time in my life when I have been this thoroughly unmotivated. It is one thing to have a relatively short spell of time when I have felt like I have lost my way. But this has been going on far too long.

I know the action must come from me. From within. I think I must return to a mantra that has propelled me in a forward direction in the past: "Six impossible things before lunch".

Back in my daycare days, I tried to squeeze in all of my "impossible things" before my young families started walking through the door at 7:30 each morning. I had to get up at 5 or 5:30 a.m. to accomplish all I wanted to do.

It wasn't easy but I believe it was the key to successfully dealing with those hectic days. I had carved out time for what was important to me. I did more with those two hours each morning than I have accomplished this entire past weekend (or two).

My world has been becoming smaller and smaller. I am retreating within myself more and more. I am reaching out less. My energy levels are nil. My ambition levels are non-existent. I have forgotten the definition of "motivation".

I have stopped sitting in the sun. I don't even want to come upstairs. I have retreated to my little oasis in my bedroom (that has the feeling of a hotel suite) and I feel content and safe. I don't want to come out.

I tried coming up for breath one day this weekend. I got up, I got dressed, I acted like I was expecting company and was pleased that I wouldn't be embarrassed if someone dropped by. I listened to a few podcasts on the computer. I read a little. Nothing resonated with me. Nothing spurred me into a state of positivity.

Content that I had at least made the effort, I happily returned to my little oasis and continued my "Scandal" marathon. I am happy to report that I am well into the fifth season. Only 1-3/4 more seasons to go and I can consider that job complete.

I believe that television is a thief of joy. I can wrap myself up and around a TV series and lose myself in a way that an addict must feel when they succumb to that which numbs them. Add a few boxes of chips, several chocolate bars and some diet Coke (I have been craving diet Coke lately - yet one more addiction to add to the list) and you have my weekend.

I showered. I cleaned the cat litter. Twice. That is it. That is all I accomplished with two full days at my disposal.

It is time to face the week ahead of me. I will take it one small step at a time and hope to come out of it in a better frame of mind than when it all began..

I Can Do Hard Things!

I can do hard things. Unfortunately my definition of "hard" has become easier to attain but I'm going to give myself a little break here because there for a while, even "easy" was hard. So I'm lowering my standards a little in the hope of gradually reestablishing myself on some firmer ground before I reset the bar.

I slipped into a pretty good case of the doldrums over the winter. I was rewriting my life and had upended one firmly established form of income with a great deal of faith that all would work out in the end.

The middle of this story is bleak. I kept trying to talk myself into believing it was going to work out okay. I said all the right things to myself. But I couldn't quiet the incessant voice of fear that wouldn't stop whispering in my ear.

I was exactly where I was meant to be. I knew it in my heart. Life kept unfolding in unexpected ways and I was available to simply be where I most needed and wanted to be. But the moment I wasn't feeling "needed", I lost my way.

It has been a gentle climb to solid ground ever since.

As I reflected on these words and rewound "the middle of the story" in my mind, I searched for clues as to what I was feeling in the deep, dark dire moments of the most recent winter in my life.

I unearthed last year's calendar and two documents I wrote while I was in the state of nowhere. I read what I wrote at the time and I can see how I WAS actually exactly where I needed to be. Even in my most uncomfortable moments.

Sometimes, life simply hands you a "mirror". You are unhappy with yourself, the moment and the past, present and future. You are stuck and you feel the quicksand of life pulling you down. You don't know how to save yourself until you see someone you love right beside you fighting the same battle. And somehow, unknowingly you pull yourself up, shake yourself off, find your sea legs again and simply take one step in a forward direction.

The state of inertia is the worst place in the world for me to be. The state of unknowing. The state of fear and despair. The mere act of doing nothing is worse than taking a step in the wrong direction. Taking one step in any direction is better than standing still and going under.

I looked in one of the many mirrors I had within the small little world I had created for myself at the time. In the act of trying to find the answers for someone else, I found a twig which was rooted in solid ground. I pulled myself to safety. I look back to that moment in time and I look at the present. I know the single act of "saving myself" wasn't all it took to get from "there" to "here", but I look now and I see two people pulled out of that pit of despair.

I was just starting to see the light when I wrote these words:

"I think the world is laughing in my face as I deem to believe I truly have any control over the way things will unfold from this point onward. I think this is why my feeling of being "lost at sea" is driving me. Because I truly believe I will not find my answers by searching the internet, working on my financial spreadsheets, gazing at calendars looking for direction. 

When you feel lost at sea, where do you look? Upwards. Find the North star to guide you. Looking in any one direction of endless sea, any direction you choose is a gamble. Perhaps a gamble worth taking, but perhaps it would be more prudent to follow a wayward bird in the direction of dry land. You won't find a bird anywhere but in the sky. Look upwards. Stop fearing what you don't know. Keep hydrated and perhaps keep wearing that life jacket. But "look up"..."

I read the words I wrote, looked at the calendar beside me and see how every single step I have taken since that day has been a step in a  positive direction. There have been detours and obstacles. But this time, I didn't let that stop me. This time, the detours did not distract me from my destination.

Once before, a similar set of circumstances completely derailed me and I never did get back on that particular set of tracks. Life keeps presenting you with lessons. What I didn't learn the first time around, I believe I conquered the second time.

How many times this lesson has been repeated prior to the two that are most prevalent in my mind is anyone's guess. The time you succeed is the time to remember and celebrate. And now? I am fully prepared for life to present its next lesson to me. I suspect I won't enjoy it in the moment, but if I can overcome and prevail, it will be an uncomfortable lesson well learned.

Because I can do hard things. So can you!

That said, I think I'm going to tackle one of the hardest things of all. I am going to book an appointment to get my hair cut. To be continued...

A Minor Crisis of Epic Proportions

I can feel it with every fibre of my being this morning. I'm starting to rise again. This has been a long time coming. It is my hope that the harder one has to work, the longer one has to wait and the more desperate one becomes before a change, the longer the transformation will last.

I knew this. I knew I was having my "on the floor" moment, minus the crisis. There was no drama, no fanfare nor any one catalyst that drew attention to the fact that I was losing the battle. It was quiet, undramatic and invisible to the naked eye. I was undergoing a minor crisis of epic proportions and the way it presented itself to me was a low grade depression I could not kick, with a side order of annoying little pains and topped off with an optic migraine.

I have never had a migraine headache so I was completely unaware of the optical symptoms which accompany it. My eyes simply went weird on me and it scared my socks off. My over imaginative brain had all sorts of ideas going on inside of it, from something sitting on my optic nerve, to a brain aneurysm, to a tumor, to simply a detached retina. Thankfully it was none of the above. It was a migraine headache without the pain.

Pain without a cause seems to be the common denominator within several of my recent symptoms. A sore wrist turned into a sore thumb when I went for physical therapy to cure a pain that may or may not have existed in the first place (I'm certain it existed otherwise my imagination is taking over my reality and that is too frightening to consider). I told the therapist I had a sore wrist and he "ruined" my thumb on his assumption (or my miscommunication skills) that it was related. On a positive note, my thumb pain has exceeded my wrist pain so I guess that is something. I have yet to recover from one session of physical therapy. This happened the last time went to that very office. The cure was worse than the symptom. Which makes me wonder if I was really feeling physical pain to begin with, or if this was all in my head. The opposite of my painless migraine.

Last week, it was a toothache which woke me up in the middle of the night and lasted for four days. Obviously I was not imagining this because I couldn't eat or place any pressure on that side of my mouth. So I booked an early morning emergency dental appointment to fix whatever was going wrong because I didn't have time to go twice, for something I needed fixed immediately. What happened instead, was they took an X-ray and there was no physical reason for my toothache. The dentist's best guess is that I injured a ligament in  my tooth and only time would heal it. Or else the nerve was dying and a root canal would become necessary eventually. But for that day, there was physically no reason for my pain and nothing he could do to fix it.

What the heck? I came home and wondered if I have reached the age where doctors look at you and decide you aren't worth fixing any more or if I was simply imagining things. This morning, I started thinking of my invisible "rock bottom moment" without a defined crisis to warrant the event and I started to wonder if these physical symptoms without a cause was related. The pain was real in both cases (physically and mentally) but there was no excuse for it.

Hmmm.

I walked into my doctor's office for my annual physical check-up days after my "ocular migraine" feeling absolutely defeated. I felt mentally and physically spent. I didn't know what to do. I was stuck at a crossroad and it looked like a dead end. I wasn't in pain but I was (or must have been) displaying symptoms of arthritis so she offered me a perscription for "Cymbalta".  which treats depression, with the added benefit of alleviating chronic pain disorders such as arthritis. The idea of taking a pill which would fix all that ailed me sounded like the best and easiest way out. I had been trying to dig myself out of the pit I had fallen into for the better part of a year. On my own, I couldn't get a strong foothold before I fell back, with every forward step. "Sign me up!" was all I could think in that very moment. She also suggested taking some arthritic painkillers to help with the no-grade pain that was causing me to slow down.

I felt euphoric when I walked out of that office, thinking I had found my solution. Call it cosmic timing, call it what you may but within a day of that event, I went out to Mom's after she broke her wrist and was dealing with physical pain with a very real and defined cause. All I could think after I returned home from my visit was her insistence that she didn't want to become reliant or addicted to any pain medication. "You feel pain for a reason" was her logic. We countered with the argument "Why feel pain if you don't have to?"

"Why feel pain if you don't have to?" The words haunted me. I stopped taking the arthritic pain killers immediately and a few weeks later, I called my doctor and told her I want to stop taking the Cymbalta. It was after I was weaned off of that medication when my tooth started to ache (well, it was also after I ate some popcorn, so I really thought my toothache was popcorn related). It was after I was told there was no reason for my tooth to ache when I truly started to question what was going on with "me".

Then I listened to another one of Glennon Melton Doyle's podcasts this morning and she talked about "rock bottom moments" and the need to not only FEEL your pain but she has actually found herself running towards it "because that's where the good stuff is" (she writes about it here: http://momastery.com/blog/2015/04/21/pain-mistake/).

I looked back on my "rock bottom moments", the moments when life brought me to my knees and YES! I totally agree and have always said (even before I knew Glennon so well) that these were the moments that changed me, rerouted my life and took me where I needed to go. Pregnant and unmarried at the age of 17, then divorced by age 18; uprooting my life and my family with little more than the clothes on my back at age 27; single and pregnant (again) at the age of 37; alone and broken hearted (after what I KNEW was going to be the relationship which I would last for the rest of my life time) at the age of 46. THESE were all of my "fall to the floor broken, broken hearted" moments that defined me and changed my life. These were awful in the moment but took me to the very best of places.

Then came the more subtle "rock bottom moments". A stream of bad work experiences outside of my home brought me back "home again". I reopened my daycare. I was still broken and wounded. I had learned lessons but I didn't take those lessons and incorporate them into my life moving forward. I simply internalized them. I lived in an insulated world of safety and acceptance for four years. Then came this year. The year of "pain without a cause".

I had hit rock bottom and there was no evidence that I was there. There was no dramatic crash. It was quiet but just as painful. And it was lonely. Lonely because I did not invite anyone into the abyss. "Yes, I'm okay. I went through a tough spell but I learned a lot." I surrounded myself within my insulated world, worked for parents who appreciated and were (are) so very kind to me. Life was good. I had no reason to complain. Except for this low grade pain I couldn't make go away. Was this the reason my body was starting to hurt for no physical reason?

I started my holiday by listening to Glennon Doyle Melton at "The Beautiful Writers Podcast": https://soundcloud.com/user-780938996/martha-beck-glennon-melton-interview-ver-2-7-29-2016 and I knew. I just KNEW I had to close my daycare and take a chance on my future. I was willing to cash in on my pension to fund my transition but I knew it with the certainty that I had to end my marriage once and for all. I knew my life depended on it. I simply KNEW.

The decision to close my daycare has been made with grace, with four month's warning and lots of time for all of us to readjust. My daycare parents, as always, have been nothing but kind to me as I explained my need to close my doors.

In closing one door, I started talking again. By talking, another door opened. By opening up and not pretending I was okay living in discomfort, I found comfort. And the opportunity to earn an income during this transitional phase.

In order for new doors to open, we have to close other doors. Standing in the doorway with one foot in both places is not my way. I'm either "all in" or I'm "all out". I have to be out of one place before I'm ready to step into another.

I have faith in the future but I need to be honest with myself and "real" with the people who walk beside me as I take steps toward uncertainty. I don't need advise or guidance. I simply need to be honest. Every single time I have been honest, I hear honesty echoed back to me. This is the world I want and need to live in. I'm not exactly sure what it looks like right now. But I know I'm one step closer than I was yesterday.

Move!

My days of "early morning movement" seem to be a thing of the past. The question is: "Can I begin again?" My answer (thus far) has been: "But why?"

I think I was happier when I was moving. Or was I simply delirious from the exhaustion? I thought getting up at 4:52 a.m. was attainable but the early and earlier bedtimes were a hard habit to maintain. Yes, I'll just blame the early bedtimes, that's it.

Last week, I pushed myself out of my quiet little life and found myself smack dab in the middle of a family gathering. I was tried VERY hard to maintain the "confident new self" I have come to know the past decade or so but I FELT so very much like my quiet ten year old self of my childhood. 

I came home from that event feeling bruised, beaten and wishing I could "take back the day" and undo every little thing I said or did. It was a blast from my past. It was a rerun from the days when I was a child and said "the wrong thing", then came home and rewound the tape over and over and over again and "rued" my day, my existence and the very fibre of my being.

My bounce-back ability is usually better than this. I am not certain why the elasticity of that ability to regain my composure was missing. Maybe it was lack of sleep?

I had two complete and total days "off" this past weekend. I had so many little things I wanted to accomplish. What did I do? I slept. I slept and slept and then slept some more.

I talked to a few people. I confessed a little bit of what I was feeling. Was I feeling shame? Brenè Brown says shame cannot exist when it is spoken out loud. So I spoke a little. I felt a little bit better. But I still didn't feel "myself". I am starting to feel fearful. What if that girl who gained some confidence and was mostly happy is gone forever??

I woke up still feeling "tired" this morning but I think I'm bouncing back to life. My daycare crowd did not picking up on my negative vibes today so I think my bad vibrations are settling down.

Maybe I should go for a good, long walk. Maybe I should have a good, long talk. Maybe this is just one of those things I have to endure and push myself through the discomfort and through to the other side. I have read that the best way out of a bad mood is to "move". I haven't been moving much, so maybe I should heed that advise.

Compliments of "Project Happiness" ( https://www.facebook.com/projecthappiness/photos/pb.43808911636.-2207520000.1466394388./10153487041561637/?type=3&theater):

“In 2010, the APA finally caught up with Hippocrates, who recommended that all people in a bad mood should go for a walk—and if it did not improve, walk again. Sedentary behavior causes brain impairment, and we know how: by depriving your brain of the flood of neurochemistry that evolution developed in order to grow brains and keep them healthy.” ~John Ratey

Life Hurts

I'm writing over at MyKawartha.com today...

A sense of quiet reflection has carried me through and past the month of December and into the New Year. It isn't all holly and jolly out there. Life is real. Life hurts sometimes...
http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6218481-life-hurts/

It is Time to Do Something!

"I have a growing list of things-undone, decisions-unmade and commitments I don’t have the energy to commit to, going on in my head at the moment so I don’t feel like very good company and will keep this brief."

This paragraph was taken from an email I sent out at the end of "quiet time", during my daycare day yesterday.

I started the same day needing to speak to another adult. I sent out an SOS to my friend who also runs a daycare from her home: "Craving adult conversation today. I think I've been too quiet lately..."

We talked and she told me what I needed to do.

"Make a decision." "Get rid of the pile of dirt that is sitting in your back yard." And so on and so forth.

Yes, I woke up in the middle of the night and slept fitfully for the remaining hours before my alarm went off because of a pile of dirt.

I have things that need to get should be done before winter decides to pop in one day and stay. Tidy up the garage, get rid of the excess dirt from digging out a window well for our new basement window. Turn off the sprinklers.

I have paperwork to finish off and deliver for my mom. I have columns due. I want to write up a newsletter for my daycare families.

Why can't I pick up a paint brush any more? Why don't I get rid of the box of donations I have collected? Why can't I wipe down the outside of the kitchen cupboards? Or clean a window? Why is doing laundry so hard?

I can't decide what to do about so many pesky little things. Making a decision about any little thing has blown into epic proportions.

I crave solitude but I need people. I need to talk but I have nothing to say. I need to leave the house but I want to stay alone.

My brain is conflicted over every little thing lately. Deciding what is for lunch has become one of the hardest parts of my day. If one of my daycare family disrupts "quiet time", I feel like my world is going to collapse all around me.

I have started today with an empty clothes hamper and a nearly empty dishwasher. I have pulled out phone numbers so I can arrange to get my hair cut and have someone come to blow out our back yard sprinklers. I have picked out four columns to polish up and submit. Mom's paperwork is sitting on a table in the kitchen.

Today is the day I do something.

Doing nothing weighs heavy on my mind. I can't carry the weight any more so I have to dump some of the weight.

I hate fall. The shorter days are messing with my mind. I'm not sure what to do except I know I must do something.

Today is the day I recoup from "Sunday".

I took another Cat Day and wasted all of the daylight hours catching up on watching TV programs I had "PVR'd" (because our hard drive on the PVR had bad sectors and I was going to lose everything I had taped).

It was a tough job but "someone" had to do it. I can't afford to do nothing when there is so much to do.

It is payback time. Time to get up the couch, stay awake and literally "move some dirt" so I can shift my focus from "what I have to do" to "what I have done".

It is time to do something.

Wordless

I am aching for "input" this morning. I scoured the blogs I read for some new words, thoughts and ideas. It looks like I am not the only one who is without words.

I don't like the words and emotions that are swirling around my head right now. I was never one to blame hormones on my mood fluctuations, but this downswing I am presently encountering feels "bigger than me" and I am wondering if I can blame hormones for it.

Yes, I just googled it, and I believe I can blame declining estrogen levels. I have every symptom on that list. I am irritable, sad, unmotivated, anxious, angry, I have the attention span of a gnat, I am exhausted, moody and tense. Check, check, check, double check and check!

Okay. I know the cause. Perhaps it is something that is a little bit bigger than me. Thus, my inability to shake this off easily.

Google also tells me to exercise and eat better. Meditation, deep breathing &/or yoga is also recommended. I have no problem avoiding tranquilizers or alcohol - they are the least of my worries.

"Engage in a creative outlet" it says. For me, that is usually writing. I feel like I am wielding a poison pen at the moment. The last thing in the world I should do is set myself free (or maybe I should, then just delete &/or shred &/or burn my words).

"Stay connected to family and community"; "Nurture your friendships". Oh. My. Gosh. Do "they" know how hard that is to do at times like this?!?!!!! I just want to bury my head under a quilt and come out when I feel my butterfly wings starting to emerge.

I don't feel like talking or doing or being anything more than absolutely necessary to get through my days. I tried doing "all of the above" with the moments I had to spare over the weekend and it absolutely depleted me. I had nothing to give and when I was in the company of others?! It just made me feel worse.

I am toying with the idea of running out to surprise my mom with a quick visit for Mother's Day. I am torn.

I need down time. I will get that down time as I drive there and back. I enjoy travelling alone. I like being alone with my thoughts and letting them flow in and out and through me. The drive would be good.

I love waking up in my own bed. Oh, it is so hard and uncomfortable to pry myself out of my comfortable bed, routines and solitude that I savor at home. It is just one night. Just one morning. I could do this. I could.

I need to do something that makes a difference. Right now, there is very little I can do for some for those who are in my thoughts. I can make a difference for my mom. I can show up.

I know I annoyed her the last time we spoke on the phone. I know I was a little over-caffeinated, over-concerned and feeling the need to do something. For somebody. Anybody. So I tried to find her answers ("Yes Mom, I can do that!! I can order you some KFC and have it delivered. From here. Right now! It will arrive at 4:44 p.m. I can even pay for it!!" "You want to go see My Uncle? I can take care of that. I can book the tickets. I can find a place to stay. I can make the calls, the reservations! I can even join you (if it falls on a weekend or my holidays). Just say the word..."

I could feel the tension rising. But it wounded me when she said, "I thought this was just going to be a short call..."

Those few words cut me like a knife. I hurt so hard that I still feel it when I rethink that conversation.

I couldn't stop myself. I need to do something. But I am powerless. I spoke the words aloud, that I usually keep to myself. This is how I think. This is not how I should speak.

I have uttered phrases that have cut others to the quick. I hold nothing against Mom for the words she spoke. I was just "too much" and she needed very little. I was overwhelming her with words the way my daycare family overwhelms me at times.

I understand. I truly do. But at the same time, I am torn.

Do I sacrifice a quiet weekend at home, to surprise Mom with the "gift" of my company when I am not entirely sure that is the present she wants to unwrap?

I write the words and I know. Phone conversations are not the same as a one-on-one visit. I know I was trying to turn our chat into a visit. We have had them before. I was trying to recreate a time when a phone call made a difference.

Those were days when Mom was able to get out and about more. I think she has a small case of Spring Fever and just wants to get out and do all she used to enjoy doing so much. I get that. A phone call just doesn't cover it. But maybe a visit will...

"Stay connected to family and community" - that is what Dr. Google prescribes. Perhaps it is exactly the medicine I need most right now.

Life Lessons - Overwhelmed and Anxious

Small things become so big when they start to pile up on a person.

I feel like I have become a poster child for procrastination. I have honed the art quite well.

Lately, "income taxes" have been my unfinished business. Before that, it was "Christmas" looming over me. Before that, "reunion". Before that, it was our family's book project. That was a big one.

Six years of an undeclared deadline on a project that meant the world to me, changed me.

It taught me what "overwhelmed" felt like. The task became too big and too wide and too deep and too tall. It was bigger than life. And I couldn't see my way through it.

It taught me what the desire for "perfection" steals from a person. I didn't want to have any regrets when I put a cover on this project so I aimed high. I set the bar so high, I knew I could never attain my goal.

It taught me how easy it is to do "nothing", verses one small step at a time. When something feels so incredibly big, it is hard to believe that one short hour will make any difference in the whole scheme of things.

It taught me how much I need a "deadline" in order to complete the task at hand. Wishy washy ideas of whenever, however and whatever did not help. As much as I detest deadlines, I have learned to respect them.

It taught me a better way of thinking, approaching and listening to my Youngest Son when he has a larger than life assignment hanging over his head.

It taught me that "overwhelmed" can be a symptom of depression or cause a person to feel depressed.

In a nutshell, my six year struggle with the most important work I have done to date taught me "compassion".

I didn't appreciate those lessons as I trudged through the job I thought I may never complete.

Life has had many similar, yet oh so different, lessons.

It's funny how the words of my Oldest Son are coming to the tip of my consciousness these days. "I think I was depressed" are the words he uses to describe his high school years. Depressed?!? On the outside, looking in, I would have never in a million years described his behaviours as "depressed".

Back in the days of raising My Oldest, I was overwhelmed with work, responsibility, financial worries, raising a young and willful Younger Child. I came home from a long and stressful day at work and I didn't look beyond his words, moods and actions.

What was going on beneath the surface of My Oldest, as he walked the hard walk during his adolescent years?

He kept so very much to himself. I don't blame him. The foundation which was laid during his young and innocent years was so very flawed. How could I expect and hope for him to open up to me when our relationship was tenuous, at best?

He talks to me now. I am so very grateful for that. Because I see some of these very same issues coming to the surface within his youngest brother.

Life teaches you what you need to know.

I am so sorry I didn't know more when I raised my oldest child. But I am beyond grateful for the way the lessons I have learned along the way have made a profound difference in the way I parented from that day forward.

You just never stop learning.

Living in a Vacuum

You get back what you give to the world.

Lately, I have been very selfish. I have held myself in and away from the world, from life, from risks and daring to dream.

In doing so, I have created a vacuum within my heart, my soul, my home and my life.

As I walked through my quiet little world, I enjoyed it at first. No emails to return, the phone was quiet and it felt like a little bit of an oasis in the desert.

Then it became just a little too desert like. I think I became dehydrated.

A little voice in me started to tell me "Don't start keeping score now! You know better." This was not a time to think the world had forgotten me and just went on spinning. I was the one who retreated.

I could stay quiet and withdrawn and the world would definitely go on without me. There is something comforting about this, yet at the same time it makes my heart hurt a little.

If I want to feel alive and lively, I must participate in this thing called "life". I must give more of myself to feel what I need to feel to wake up in anticipation of the day before me.

Interactions with people I know at arm's length have changed. What (or who) has changed? Is it just me? When I go about my days, wishing I didn't have to get out of bed in the morning how does that affect the people I meet?

I don't think my eyes twinkle and shine. They feel hollow and withdrawn.

I don't think my spirit invites involvement and interaction. I don't want to partake in the give and take required in a conversation because I feel too needy.

I am not feeding my soul with what it needs the most. Good food, exercise, fresh air and sunshine are what I need. What I want is closed curtains, the television, a pillow and a blanket.

I know I need to push myself out and over and through this.

I know it, because I looked into the lifeless and depleted eyes of my Youngest Son last night, I saw a reflection of myself in them.

What I have is contagious.

I must grab that oxygen mask and save myself so I can breathe life back into my son. If I want to let myself down and not live my life to its potential, that is my business. But I'm not bringing anyone down with me. I am not!

"Life is an echo. 

What you send out, comes back. 

What you sow, you reap. 

What you give, you get. 

What you see in others, exists in you. 

Remember, life is an echo. 

It always gets back to you. 

So give goodness."

Unknown 

Dry as Melba Toast

I have hit a wall. My idea well has run dry. My thoughts have evaporated into thin air. I am empty. Depleted. Used up.

I wake up in the morning and wish for nothing more than the day to be done and to be climbing back under those covers.

Darkness, quiet, emptiness. It is what I crave and what I feel.

Why is it so dark in here?

I am looking at my life and wondering how many things I can "quit" and still sustain myself financially.

Has writing under pressure been to blame? I have been counting on my writing reserves to carry me through this desert storm. I read what I have written in the past and I find it dry and uninspiring to me these days.

What is missing?

Passion, dreams, sunshine. That is what I am not feeling these days.

Why?

I have holed myself up into my fortress of solitude trying to replenish myself. It isn't working.

It has been a long, cold, dark and dreary winter. I haven't been rolling with the punches very well. I glanced at some of the "cat posts" I have written lately and I'm not here to write about our cats again. I am here to say that writing about our cats is my coping mechanism. They are my "light" on a dark day. They don't demand anything from me and I get great pleasure from watching their antics and musing over their unique personalities.

It is like staring out into the ocean. I have needed a place where my mind is not busy thinking, planning and scheming. I have needed to coast through some of this endless winter.

I don't know exactly where "this" began.

I am a great lover of light. Losing daylight hours in September has been hard these past few years. It has felt like watching an impending car crash in very slow motion. I see it coming and I know there is nothing I can do about it so I seem to have created this bigger than life dread over the impending darkness.

This past fall, I thought I had the best plan of all.

I was in the end stages of a huge writing/history collecting project which was fulfilling and satisfying on every level. I was exhilarated to finally put a cover on it and call it a book. Success, hoopla and celebration filled my mind as our daylight hours started to decline.

I jumped straight from the book project, into full throttle family reunion planning mode. I was in contact with almost every one of my cousins, aunts, uncles and my immediate family. It was an intoxicating time. Planning is a little bit exhausting but the contact with my family breathed life into my soul.

One month after our nights became longer than our days, I was flying high. Our family reunion was a success on every level.

This is often when I fall flat on my face. The exhilaration levels are often followed by a crash of epic proportions. It never happened.

Christmas projects and concern over a close family member who was not doing well diverted my energy and attention. I kept doing the "next right thing" and that took me through and beyond Christmas like a pro.

I was already predicting the letdown after the holiday season, so in a pre-emptive move, my sister and I booked a purely frivolous weekend trip to Las Vegas to see "Dancing With the Stars - Live". We were to leave February 6th and my brother and his wife were going to join us.

On January 6th, I sent a "Do you realize where we will be ONE MONTH from today?" text to my siblings. I was on a roll. It was the beginning of January and I was sailing through this thing called winter like a champ.

Then my perspective on life changed on a dime.

On January 10th, my mom went to the doctor and according to the results of her ultrasound she had what appeared to be cancer.

My world became very dark.

The crash that never happened after the high of completing our family's book project and the reunion that followed? It finally arrived.

I tried writing my way through. I tried talking my way through. I tried sleeping through it. Nothing worked.

Life just had to happen in its own way and in its own time.

Mom went through surgery like a pro and we are presently waiting for her pathology results. But her doctor's words were comforting and positive. I don't feel over-the-top worried any more. I simply feel numb. This is my mom we are talking about. The ground beneath my feet starts to tremble when I think too hard about the fact that she is not entirely invincible.

Life goes on. Mom is healing well, sounding strong and encouraging. Sunshine and an increase of daylight hours are returning to our world. Blue skies and mild weather are brightening our days. But I am still lost somewhere.

I have holed myself up in a place of quiet and solitude as much as I possibly can. I've gone through this cocooning process before. I retreat from the world when it hurts too much to be a part of it. When I emerge, I feel transformed and life feels full of wonder and possibilities again.

I'm not quite there yet but the sunshine is working its magic and I think it is on its way.

My thoughts and words have been silenced. I hope they are all bottle necked someplace, somewhere in my brain. I have been fearful of letting my fingers fly across the keypad because my thoughts feel so toxic.

So, I have written about our cats instead. Or my daycare stories. Or (most recently) nothing at all.

Sunshine and rainbows aren't always visible behind the cloudy and overcast days. Both sunshine and happiness feel so elusive when you cannot see and feel it. You know it is there but it is lost in the darkness.

That is when I turn to my cats to help me see the light that shines through the endless "night". There is something about that purr in my ear that transcends all and touches me in a way that even music cannot penetrate on the darkest of days.

Here is a sampling of what makes my heart purr during the darkest days:

This is Junior Cat, our cat who is afraid of everything, working on overcoming his fear of children and has been trying to earn the title of Daycare Kitty that Senior Cat has worn proudly for the past 14-1/2 years. I think Senior is whispering little tips into Junior's ear because Junior has come a long way this past year and a half. He now approaches the kids when they are still and quiet. 

The other day, as we sat and watched "Toy Story", Junior came up to one of my "Daycare Daughters" and begged her to pet him. She was only too happy to oblige.

He is actually purring very quietly in this video. You have to turn up the volume and really listen for it. You can only hear him at the end. But he was purring the whole time.

Life is like that sometimes. You really have to watch and listen for it, but the good stuff is usually sitting there waiting for you the whole time. You just have to "turn up the volume" to hear it...