If You Ask Them ...

I'm living my Field of Dreams life once again. I extended an invitation yesterday morning. There wasn't any back and forth or wavering. It was a simple, "Sounds perfect"; "Wow that sounds awesome"; "We will do that"; "Thank you"; a few more "Thanks"; one "I'm old and wondering about bathrooms" (I'll take that as a 'yes'); 

All I had to do was ask.

It's an easy group. I'm pretty sure it will be as simple as opening up my home/yard/garage and providing the basic necessities. We are ordering in pizza. Bing! Bang! Boom! Easy peasy.

Except I have to get from here to there.

My socializing muscle is weak. My hosting abilities are rusty. This sequestered, solitary little life I lead has not been good. It's been easy but sometimes one must do hard things to live a better life.

One. Forward. Step. At. A. Time.

I asked. They are coming. This is good.

The Tipping Point

What is your tipping point? What is the point where a series of small events add up to the point of a critical change? What is that "last straw"?

I can pinpoint the sequence of events, times and events leading up to my own personal points-of-no-return. I like to think I have a pretty strong threshold of compassion, endurance and understanding. But there comes a time when that ONE last thing pushes the limit and I'm done.

My marriage was one of those tests of endurance. There were multiple infractions made by both parties. The arguments were plentiful, loud and excessive. The make-ups were equal in their emotional levels. But each negative action kept taking its toll. Each make-up session became a little less meaningful. One by one, day by day, action by action it all added up. Until that ONE last time. And I was done.

Did I plan to leave? No. But I had been mentally preparing for what I subconsciously knew was inevitable. 

It was the straw that broke the camel's back. So insignificant but just that one final blow.

There is a lot of talk about "boundaries", "toxic relationships" and a vast array of similar discussions about situations which necessitate walking away, restarting or dealing with people at arm's length in order to restore a person's mental and physical well being.

I can think of relationships, jobs and situations where I felt backed into a corner and had to take a stand. 

During my daycare days, this evolution became a positive one. My need to set firm boundaries and establish a set of expectations turned into newsletters and there was a renewed sense of appreciation after clearing the air in a firm but respectful manner. 

I became better at setting my own personal boundaries during my daycare career.

Boundaries can even spill over into what was once the highlight of my week. Ballroom dancing. While I danced, I loved every moment and everything about it. Everything. Without exception. Until I didn't. One day, I was paying good money to do something that no longer brought me joy. My feet hurt. I felt stressed during my lesson. I wanted to be home with my dying cat. I was done. I was just done. 

Boundaries shift and change and evolve. Communication is a two way street and when both parties are effective at their side of the conversation, meaningful change can take place. Sometimes the answer is not an answer. It is simply time to move on.

Life is fluid, ever changing and evolving. When I hear of marriages that endure all of the above I am in absolute awe. I have an incredible amount of respect for people who work through their ever changing relationship, stay together and still respect one another. 

I have been asked to ponder the reason why I am unable to retire on many occasions. The short answer? I'm a quitter. I reached my tipping point on too many occasions.

IF I had stayed with the first job I ever held, took out a pension, topped it up to the maximum I was allowed, kept that pension intact and added onto it throughout my working life, I would have 41 years worth of savings accumulated. I could be sitting on a comfortable little nest egg.

IF I had stayed in my marriage, I cannot even begin to imagine where I would be right now. If I had stayed married, I would not have found myself in that first job with an offer of a pension.

IF I had stayed in a bad marriage. IF I had lived for my pension. IF I had stayed in a secure job instead of striking out on my own and opening a daycare. If I had focused on making a living instead of making a life. If ... if ... if ...

I stayed in "none of the above". I am not set up to retire. All because for one reason or another, I reached the point of no return within a marriage, a job, a home, a life style or any of the other reasons I chose to walk away and restart from where I was.

I'm grateful for where I am today. I wouldn't be here if I had walked this walk any other way. My back is stronger because I have learned to honor my own personal boundaries. Honoring my calling to "just be a mom" has strengthened not only myself but all of my relationships.

I am so grateful for all of the points of no return. The "I'm done" moments. The opportunity to restart from where I was.

I am also a little afraid. My boundaries feel a little stretched at times because at this age and stage of my life, I don't like the idea of restarting from where I am. I just want to coast.

I have a feeling my inevitable retirement may take the form of my marriage:

Do I plan to quit work? No. But I have been mentally preparing for what I subconsciously know will one day be inevitable. 

It's all going to work its way out. In its own time, in its own way. In the meantime, I trust that I am exactly where I am meant to be and I am ever grateful for my employment. While I have it, I will appreciate and be grateful for it. For one day, this will all change.

Like the end of my marriage ... I just hope I'm mentally prepared for it when it happens.

The Months of "No"

Shonda Rhimes' book "Year of Yes" was an inspiration to me. Her book was a testament to her year of "Yes" and the impact accepting life's invitations had on her life. 

I have tried the "Yes" way of life. It is fine. It has led me to places I would have never been before. It is both exhilarating and exhausting. It is hard. It is expensive. It goes against my naturally inherent introvert tendencies. The word "yes" depletes me as much as it enriches my life at times.

I have come to like the "easy yeses" instead.

I tried to come up with a list of "easy yeses" and my thought well ran dry. "Yes" does not come easy to me right now. I have been reveling in the COVID months of "No".

"No thank you" is my favorite go-to-response at the moment. 

As our world is gradually reopening there is a huge part of me that is screaming, "I'M NOT READY YET!!"

When I quizzed someone of the protocol about going out of province or whether having out of province guests would interfere with the ability to enter a retirement/senior living complex, they had to consult their books and came up with the response "As long as you aren't showing symptoms of COVID-19, you would be allowed access". My response to this was "Isn't it too late by then?" We both nodded our heads in agreement that the biggest risk was in spreading the virus while not showing symptoms. 

Due to the regular contact I have with my senior friends, I continue to be vigilant in my isolated little world. I don't get sick. Thus, I fear I could unknowingly spread a contagion to those who could be at risk. I continue to find reasons to say "No" to the invitations that are ever so slowly starting to reappear.

Where does paranoia start to overlap with common sense when it comes to the Coronavirus? Is my natural tendency to want to decline invitations being enabled by being able to label an excuse on it?

The reason I believe I am falling back on common sense is when it comes to invitations from family. It doesn't matter how depleted I feel, I equate interaction with my siblings to oxygen-for-my-soul. The answer is always, always, always "Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!".

This virus has beaten me down to a point where "No" is comfortable, safe, familiar, affordable and exactly where I most want to be.

I love the comfort weekends bring even more than I did during the B.C. (before COVID) days. I love parking the car Friday night and not starting it up again until I go to my aunt's on Monday.

I love, love, love working from home. I'm still having a little bit of trouble establishing boundaries but for the most part, my office-with-a-door offers most of the separation I need to keep work from infiltrating other areas of this oasis I call home.

I love the world of ordering online, free delivery or curbside pick-up. My heart clenches just a little before I enter a store-with-a-door. 

When I sat down with the words "the months of 'no' " at the tip of my fingertips this morning, my intent was to write of the lightness of heart I feel at living safely within the rules of isolation. Instead, the gravity of truth seeped out.

COVID-19, I truly appreciate the clarity, the isolation and lessons you have brought into our world. Personally, I am fortunate to say I have gained much more than I have lost though I know that is not the case for everyone. 

These months of "no" have been a holiday from life-as-I-know-it. It has been a reprieve from expectations. I know I must dip my toe back in the water and tentatively re-instate cautious "yeses" back into my world. The words "I'm not ready yet" have not yet been silenced. Perhaps there is a reason for that. Or maybe it is just an excuse.

One step in a forward direction, one step, one day at a time. Will take us where we need to go.

What If ...

What if that which you were complaining about the most was gone in an instant? No warning. No time to prep. Simply "poof"! And it was gone ...

Discontentment on the job? What if one arrived to work one morning and you were greeted with your final pay cheque and the statement, "We no longer require your services"? The end.

A child who was causing grief, worry, anxiety and general overall frustration? What if they were in a car accident and didn't survive? Your worries would be replaced by grief (and very likely a good dose of guilt).

A marriage/relationship that you couldn't see your way out of? What if they walked out the door and never came back? No room for discussion. Over.

Never ending maintenance on your home? What if it burned to the ground, taking all your worldly possessions (and maybe a cat or two) with it. No more maintenance required.

Speaking of cats, what about the (seemingly) infinite amount of cat hair you cannot keep on top of? What if the cat(s) died? Sure, you'd have cat hair for a while but wouldn't you feel completely different about knowing it was the last of its kind? No more cat = no more cat hair.

You can't find what you are looking for in a grocery store? What if the suppliers stopped supplying their wares and there was a shortage or rations over what was available to purchase?

The price of gas is soaring? What if that gas wasn't even available?

You wake up with a crick in your neck or back? What if you woke up in the morning and couldn't get out of bed?

A bad hair day? What if your hair started falling out and never grew back?

A disrupted nights sleep because of an excessive amount of noise? What if you couldn't hear?

I sit here and think of all the minor things which have been taking up valuable real estate in my mind and I can talk myself down off of every cliff if I think of of I ask myself the question: "What if this problem was taken away from me without warning?"

I had a very restless sleep last night. I kept waking up. I kept turning on Greys Anatomy to turn off my thoughts and tune into a fictional story line. I kept waking up. I kept turning on Greys.

I didn't have the ability to stay awake more than a minute and a half before I fell back into a light slumber so I kept rewinding and replaying the same episode. It was the episode where the hospital was in danger of being sold for scrap and the entire staff would be laid off. If that deal fell through "There would be no money for payroll ..."

It was like I was hit by a truck right in my own bed. What if I walked into work and was told exactly that fact. What if I was told "Effective immediately, your services are no longer required because [insert any reason here]"?

I woke up and my thoughts immediately went to the list of exterior house maintenance I am having taken care of this year. I have fast forwarded my cash flow situation so I can look at the long term and plan how to afford this endeavor. The ability to plan relies solely on the fact that I earn not only one pay cheque, but two. If my income was slashed in half, I may have half the stress I'm currently contending with but it would be replaced by new worries.

Would I rather adapt to the conditions in which I'm presently living with? Or start from scratch and be faced with an entirely unexpected set of troubles?

It happens every day. People get laid off. Accidents happen. People walk away. Houses burn to the ground. Pets die. Good health deteriorates.

We often take what we have for granted. It is good to remind yourself (and by "yourself", I am referring to "me") that things could change in an instant. What if ...

Taming the Fear

Our house is very quiet these days. It is so quiet that I can actually hear myself think. I've discovered something. I don't really like listening to myself all day long, day after day, week after week. I am getting just a little tired of the incessant flow of words. I'm getting on my own nerves.

I'm so grateful I've been listening to Glennon Doyle Melton a lot lately. She has taught me that fear speaks in words. The deep, quiet sense of "knowing" is wordless. The deepest, most centred part of myself knows this but when life is in a state of transition I tend to panic and forget everything life has taught me.

The truest sense of knowing seems to be coming to me in my dreams lately. Again, these dreams are filled with words but when I hear them, I know what they are telling me is true.

One dream had someone critiquing my writing and pulling it all apart. "Too many words!" "You don't need this" "No one cares about that" and so on and so forth. I proudly showed them my edited version of the same piece of writing, with the excess words and paragraphs clearly marked. I knew this. I just didn't apply it. Even my dreams are telling me I am too wordy.

Another dream had me singing out loud and I sang with every ounce of who I was and what I had within me. I finished my song and the critic in this scenario was awestruck. They asked me who I was trying to emulate. My reply was "I was so nervous that I couldn't be anyone but myself. That was me." It was the right answer.

Yesterday, I awoke and remembered my nephew is living his dream out loud. On the radio. He has been an aspiring comedian most (all?) of his adult life. His aspirations started to become reality about eleven years ago and he has been working hard, following that path and has made quite a name for himself in the comedy business ever since. Yesterday he started co-hosting a morning radio show. He described it as an excellent way to hone his comedic skills. "This is only going to help my comedy out. I'll be quicker on my feet, I'll get more material," 

I'm so proud of that guy. He is doing what I want to do. He is doing what I think all of us should be doing. He recognized his passion early in his life. He pursued it. He persevered. He is still living the dream. He went on to say "As I once heard, a true artist would rather let his/her family starve before doing a job that isn't there art."

The messages from the universe seem to on the same theme. There was a third dream I can't quite remember but the message I got was "Give it my all. Do what I CAN and send it out into the world."

Give it my all. I don't think this is about babysitting or bookkeeping or getting a job just to pay the bills. I am not so deluded to think writing is going to be enough to pay the bills but what I do believe is "now" is the time to put my heart and soul and everything else I have into my "art", give it to the world and be content in knowing I did everything I could. And keep on writing regardless of the outcome. Because that is what I do.

I am feeling pulled in other directions when I simply follow where my heart leads. I started reading a book by Susan Jeffers and was curious about her previous books. My search led me to a "Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway" (based on her book of the same name) workshop which was being held in Abbotsford, B.C. in three weeks. I checked out flights, hotel and the cost of the workshop and it could easily eat up $1,000.00 in two short days. 

The old me would have thought that was a bargain. The fact this could easily be funded by my recent sales of excess daycare goods was a sign that I was destined to go. The new me, chimed in and told myself "That is a lot of money for something that only lasts a day. You could round up a group of friends who may want to join in on the journey of feeling the fear and doing it anyway" and we could meet at my place to form our own group of cheerleaders, supporters and encouragers.

I feel the role of encourager within me. These roles I'm feeling drawn to aren't necessarily money makers. They are life enhancing. 

Glennon Doyle Melton is someone I look to as an inspiration. She started her blog at a time when she needed to write honestly almost as much as she needed to breath. Her honesty built a community. This community has come together and spread love, encouragement and support (emotional as well as financial) as they unite and do the next right things. Consistently.

Glennon was just on the cusp of releasing her first book when I found her. I thought she was just a small time blog writer who turned her passion into greatness. I felt like she was "just like me" because I related to so much of what she wrote. Apparently hundreds of thousands (maybe a million or so) of others feel the same way. 

I feel my "inner Glennon" starting to find her way out of the words within my head. If she can turn her passion into a lifestyle, why can't I? It may not pay the bills but it will set me down a path where I am in a place to find my way and make decisions from a place of security and hope rather than desperation and fear. 

My time of great quiet has not officially started. It was set to begin with my Christmas holidays. I must not rake myself over the coals and feel desperate. My heart was aching for a year's leave of absence a few short months ago. I found a way to make six months a possibility. This time before Christmas was to be time spent "clearing the clutter" from our house and my mind to make the way for a place where I could be still and follow my passion, give it my all and send it out into the world when I was ready to let go.

I need to tame the fear, quiet the voices and feel the security of knowing "it will all work out in the end". 

The Universe is Very Chatty Lately

The universe is a vast, wide open, full of possibilities and suggestions. The universe has been opening up to me this weekend and I do believe the ball is now officially in my court. It is my turn to act.

I have had three complete and total days off. Off of everything. No daycare, no bookkeeping, no socializing, no leaving the house, no answering the telephone. The only contact I have had with the outside world in the two days that preceded today are three text messages and one email.

I should be changing my world as I sit here and regain my power by being quiet, still and reflective. It hasn't quite happened that way. I hope this process counts for something. Because it has been a process. It has been slow, I have allowed every little thing in the universe to distract me. But I do believe "it is all part of the plan".

Friday was a day of wondering what ideas I could turn into reality. I scanned the "Rooms for Rent" ads and tried to imagine sharing our home with a complete and total stranger. That didn't sit well with me. A friend of a friend or family member? Perhaps. A complete and total stranger? That is a whole different concept.

So I forged onward.

What happened to my Bed & Breakfast dream? That was my original plan after my daycare days ran their course. I thought of looking into the possibility of working for someone who runs a B & B so I could get a feel for what it would be like. I didn't look too hard but while I was looking, I did a little dreaming. The ideal houses to turn into a B & B are about a hundred years old. Ongoing maintenance, repairs, renovations, additions, not to mention all the nooks and crannies to clean and shine and paint took the shine off of my little dream. I can't even motivate myself to clean and maintain the little home we already have. Shake your head, girl!

As one little dream faded into dust and landed into a pile with the rest of the dirt I have yet to clean, I started to think more realistically. A job. I need a job. So I looked. And I found something I wanted to apply for. I did it. I scared myself silly. Then I lost myself to an afternoon of watching the Gilmore Guys analyze two Gilmore Girls episodes.

So ended my Friday. I sat still with my lost dreams and wasted the day away. I learned two things. Maybe three:

1. I don't want to share our home with a complete stranger. 
2. I am not in a place to open a Bed & Breakfast right now. 
3. I do not want to work at a full-time job. I already have a part-time job. I do know for sure that I want to work a maximum of five days per week. I know this much for sure. 

Then I slept.

I woke up Saturday morning and messages from the universe were pelting me from every direction.

The universe was reminding me to step fully into my decision, absolutely fully, with no looking back. No wondering "What have I done?" No running back and forth, trying to have it both ways, with one foot holding onto enough daycare belongings so I could start again if the going gets tough. I need to "sell everything" and move on.

Okay.

I took that as a cue to start decluttering a few more closets. I ended up in a closet full of books and when I sat down to rest and rethink where I was going from here, I ended up with Susan Jeffer's book "Life is Huge!" in my hands. What an awesome writer, story teller, motivator and encourager.

I got lost in the land of Google as I investigated Susan's other books and seminars. "Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway" is speaking to me right now. That is exactly where I am sitting within this life of mine and there is both a book AND a workshop entitled "Discover Your Inner Power - Fear Busting 101". Yes, I checked into flights, accommodations and the cost of the seminar. It exceeded my current total monthly income. There are cheaper ways of doing this. I'll find them.

I felt empowered.

So I picked up a much needed meal from McDonald's because "I deserved a break yesterday" and we have been sacrificing a lot little lately. Then I rested.

I woke up this morning and the incoming messages from the universe just keep coming. "A little progress each day adds up to big results"; "How to Stay Motivated":

S.M.A.R.T Goals are defined as Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic, Timely

I cannot sit back and waste this time of great quiet. It is mine to use and use wisely. I was unexpectedly gifted three consecutive days off this weekend and I think it was a test. "How are you going to utilize that which you have been given?"

Have I wasted my time? In a word? Yes. There is so very much more I could have done with the two days that preceded today. Yes, I have cleared out two more closets. Yes, I have started dealing with the excesses within our deep freeze, pantry and kitchen cupboards [more on that another day "What happens to decaffeinated coffee six years after its 'best before' date anyway??].

I still believe clearing out the old is significant of making room for that which is coming. Taking care of what I already have is the sincerest form of gratitude.

I have so much. Everything I need is already within me, our home and what I have learned so far. As I listened to Oprah talk with Caroline Myss yesterday, it was as if they were speaking directly to me. I need to do everything I can do, do it to the best of my ability, with a full and grateful heart, then set it out into the world, knowing I have done everything I can do.

I haven't been giving life my "all" for a very long while. It is time. The universe is knocking me over the head with a 2 by 4 with all of these messages.

Everywhere I look, I find inspiration, encouragement and the wisdom I was not ready to hear until now. I'm listening, world. Now let's see where this takes us....

Staircase to Destiny

I have noticed a shifting of the tides as extreme budgeting is my focus and rules my decisions. The less I have, the richer I feel. That sounds like a contradiction but to me it makes perfect sense.

When money isn't an object, I spend freely and there always seems to be a quiet ache for that which is just barely out of reach. While I am in a spending mode, I never have quite enough because I'm always wanting for just a little bit more than I have.

What I have found during this Time of Great Restraint is that there is very little (other than the ongoing need to buy groceries, gas, pay the bills and maintain that which we already have) that I actually want for. We have so much, that we are selling, giving and throwing away much of what we already have.

We have moved so much "stuff" out of this house and I am still feeling slightly overwhelmed at the fact that there are so many untouched rooms, closets and drawers yet to go. Not to mention the garage and playhouse. I can't even think about my memory boxes and paperwork.

As I have waded through the excess, I have often found myself wondering "How sparsely can we live?"

At one point this past year I made the offer to pack up and move out to Mom's if she would have felt more comfortable with another adult living under her roof. I woke up with the idea one morning and it made perfect sense.

I am at a stage of my life where I'm ready to make a change, I'm flexible, my children are adults and almost fully independent. Almost. The word that changed everything. Almost independent.

Yes, my youngest son is "almost" there. So close, but yet so far.

As I've been wading through the belongings within our home I keep mentioning my idea of living downstairs and renting out the main floor. Or variations of that idea. Conversations with my youngest son aren't what they used to be. But I keep chattering and I am always just a little bit surprised that he is still listening after all of these years.

I got talking about retirement living and Mom's take on the concept. I told my son how Mom felt about it and how much she wants to keep living independently in her home. And because that is so important to her, I told my son "that" is part of the reason I want to change what I'm doing. If it ever comes to the point where Mom cannot live alone, I want to be able to be flexible enough to move out to help.

We had this conversation while I was assisting him in putting his items up for sale this week. My actions are starting to rub off on him and he has joined me on this mission to lighten the load around here. He cleared out a tremendous amount of his belongings. One garbage bag full of garbage, several giveaway items and he listed more items for sale. His total proceeds after two weeks is $103.50 so he is accumulating a little spending money for his efforts. He ended up with an entire storage container emptied out, an empty drawer and a few empty shelves. He utilized one empty shelf to display some of his creative works and yesterday he said he wanted to get rid of this project from his theatre arts class:

I listed it on Kijiji under "Free Stuff" and it has been re-homed as of 7:00 this morning.

Change is in the air within our little world. I am actively reshuffling my life and in the process, my son has joined me.

I'm not too good at this "adult parenting" thing. There is a fine line between "when to push", "when to back off", "when to but in", "when to quietly suggest" and know "what to say".

Perhaps this was a very good time for me to upend my world. I hope I'm modelling the fact that "change" is terrifying but necessary. Sometimes we have no idea where things are going to go but we know they cannot stay as they are and have been.

I'm wandering through my days in survival mode. Cut backs in spending have been almost imperceptible. In fact, I am thinking maybe I haven't cut back at all because life feels very, very comfortable at the moment.

I have accidentally stumbled into a place where I needed to be. Now that my conversations with my son are not about strategies, tools, ideas and coping mechanisms about how to survive in my role as a daycare provider, we have started talking about new and different things. Our conversations made it easier to recognize what to say, when to say it and where to gently push.

It's going to be okay. We are building wings here under this roof of ours. It's hard work. We need room to fly, so we are making it. I was lost in how to parent this almost independent child of mine and I accidentally stumbled onto a way to make room for conversations to happen, brainstorming to take place and open up a whole wide world of possibilities.

The quiet place of "knowing" has not yet occurred but each and every day, waking up and simply doing "the next right thing" is helping us find our way. One step in a forward direction will start to take us where we need to go.

My deep rooted quest to simplify, live small and create a world where I could pack myself up and move exactly where I need to be seems to be at the root of every move I make.  Part of what I need to move forward, is to help my son find his wings. We are lightening our loads and we will soon be able to fly.

There is a richness that has seeped into our living that money can't buy. It comes from letting go of what doesn't matter, holding onto what is important, building and rebuilding and maintaining the foundation of our home (which is less about repairing windows, weather stripping and teeth and more about family) and taking one small step in a forward direction. One step at a time. We are doing this. We don't know where our staircase is leading but there is a sense of "knowing" that we are headed in the right direction.

"Trade your expectation for appreciation and the world changes instantly." ~ Tony Robbins

The Only Thing to Fear is Fear Itself

I knew I should not be afraid. I honestly knew better. But the one and only and last time I had a tooth pulled, there were four of them, there was anesthetic involved and when I woke up there was bruising, swelling and at least one black eye. I vaguely remember being told the roots were hard to remove, thus the bruising. All I knew for sure is that I was grateful I had been asleep throughout the ordeal that had me looking like I was the loser of a barroom brawl. So yes, I admit it. I was a little fearful of the idea of getting a tooth pulled while I was fully conscious and aware of everything going on around me.

I shouldn't have been.

My tooth saga has come to an end. The mysterious tooth ache for no visible reason, the temporary filling that actually did NOT fall out (it was the filling beside it), the cracked tooth, the specialist appointment and all the drama and concern about needing a bridge or implant. It was as simple as pulling a tooth. The end (I know right now my son would be nodding his head and telling me "That's what I would have done from the start").

May I also add that the dental profession has come a very, very long way since those original fillings were done. I remember the scariest dentist of my life waving the big needle that was going to freeze up my mouth right in front of my eyes. I think he even had a mean cackle like Frankenstein's doctor. It was scary stuff in those days. So scary that the one and only time Dad took me to the dentist (I have NO idea why he took me to a dentist because that was not the role he played in our family), he came home and told Mom to change dentists. And we did.

Our next dentist had a reputation of being "the painless dentist". I think I even remember there being a write up about him with that exact description. He was good. I was never afraid of dentists again. The dental hygienists? Perhaps. They always had a lecture at the end of my cleanings which made me tremble in the chair. But the dentist? He was good.

I have long since gotten over my fear of dentists, the freezing procedure became easier with each passing visit. Yesterday, even the part that he warned me was going to be uncomfortable was nothing awful. Any time I thought of something that hurt just a little more than I was comfortable with, I thought of my mom and sister, who have each recently broke a wrist (what a team!). This minor, quick little fleeting bit of discomfort was NOTHING compared to what they went through.

I did ask what to expect. I told my dentist the last time I had a tooth (teeth) pulled, I was unconscious and woke with black eyes (yes, I exaggerated a little bit). He said there would be a pulling sensation, I would hear some grinding kind of noise and I forget the rest.

So I took a deep breath (maybe three) and settled in, preparing for the ordeal ahead. There was that pulling sensation. There was a noise in my head I didn't love (if only the freezing could mute the sounds of dentistry, without deafening the world around me, it would be perfect). I thought of my mom and my sister and the pain they have gone through with their broken wrists. I braced myself for what was yet to come. And that was it. He was done. It was THAT easy!

I could have taken my tooth home to put under my pillow to see what the Tooth Fairy would bring for me but I declined. Instead she showed me the cracks on both sides of my tooth and as she placed her instrument along the crack line so I could see, my tooth fell into two pieces. It was "that" close to falling apart in my mouth. I was glad to be rid of it.

The Tooth Fairy actually did make her appearance in the dentist's office. I did express my frustration over having to pay $170 our of my pocket (my insurance covered $25) for a specialist appointment which I highly questioned and felt was unnecessary. So my dentist asked me how much my insurance covered and that is all he charged me. I walked out of the office without my tooth but I saved the cost of that final act of dentistry. The Tooth Fairy is alive and well!

And so am I. There was little to no pain, I didn't bleed to death, there was next to no discomfort and the only fear I had was reading the after-care instructions. I had to limit my liquid intake for 12 hours, eat only soft foods and not drink from a straw until my healing is well underway.

There I go again. I made a big deal in my head over nothing. I have been told this before and will probably be told again, "You should write fiction because you sure know how to make up a story!"

Well, Glennon and Brené (my two best friends who don't know me - Glennon Doyle Melton and Brené Brown, for those of you who can't read my mind) tell me "The brain is wired for story". When we don't know all the details, how everything works and how it is going to work out, we create our own story. The power lies in creating our own endings and becoming more of a participant in the act of participating in the act of our own story (and its ending).

Well, I'm not exactly sure if that is what they said or not but it is something along that line. I took what I knew (my last tooth pulling experience), added two good doses of fear (I don't know this dentist nor his reputation so I highly questioned why he referred me to a specialist so I created my own little story, which I now believe to be truly false. I take it all back), add this "age factor" into the mix (I am starting to feel like I'm hitting the age where we don't "fix" things any more - we either accept it as our reality, or in the case of teeth we "extract" them and just do without) and I was a little afraid.

All's well that ends well. I have a mouth full of pretty healthy teeth now. I believe this was the only molar that didn't have a crown on it, so I expect my tooth stories to be non-existent from this point onward. Or at least until my crowns need to be replaced.

I'm just grateful my tooth story had a happy ending. I believe in the Tooth Fairy once again.

The end.

Things That Make You Go "Hmmm"

My horoscope for the week:

"You may succeed in making a living from your art. Some major changes allow you to take a new path in life ..."

Well, I'll be. 

I have been sitting here pelting off an inner dialogue which has been filled with words and doubt and fear. Yesterday I listened to Glennon Doyle Melton's interview with Maria Schriver and Glennon said that when you are thinking in "words", that is fear. The deep, wise "knowing" is something that comes to you in the quiet. It is wordless. It is like gravity.

I felt that sense of "knowing" when I knew I had to change what I was doing. It was weighted down with inner truth and it was wordless. I was scared to follow through on it but I knew it was the right thing to do. Because it was the "knowing".

This inner dialogue within my head, the words, the fears, the calculating, the Googling to see what I can do next. That is "fear". It is full of words. It is incessant. It isn't the truth. It is fear. It is negative. It isn't helpful when it tells me all I can NOT do.

So I walked away from listening to my guru, "Glennon" and told myself to "fear not", you will know when your truth sits down with you. You will know. You have time. You are okay. 

Then I went and double checked my financial status, back up plans and plans to back up the back up plans and trusted Glennon was right. I will not be afraid. Not today (or yesterday).

I woke up this morning knowing (See? It is happening already) the very next thing I had to do was to submit my columns to my newspaper editors. It was a small thing but it was the next right thing (Glennon also says we may not know everything at the same time but we always know the "next right thing"). 

It was small but it was something (else) weighing me down. Submit my articles and then take the next logical step.

I have been toying with the idea and waiting to feel courageous before I take the next step. I know I need to try to "sell myself" to more papers and publications. One of my editors gave me a contact name and number so I could make one call and she would be able to spread the word to all of the Saskatchewan weekly publications. I have held onto that name and number for the better part of a year. I have been feeling too inadequate, too overwhelmed and too fearful to make that call. My word well was drying up and I was ready to quit writing. That was not the time to be looking for "more".

I have many things I want to accomplish during my Time of Great Quiet. Ridding the house of its excesses is one major item on my agenda. Repairs and maintenance is another. Once the house is clean and taken care of (and yes, I do believe I recognize the fact that I "need" to have a clean and organized house as just another excuse), I want to sit still within my days and focus on writing.

I want to "sell myself" to more publications. I want to see what writing I can organize and compile into something one may call a "book". I don't want the noise and chaos of children, stuff, house maintenance and the fear monger which lives within my head to bother me while I'm doing this sacred work. I want to be still and quiet and know. 

This is what I want to do "next". After my column submissions are complete, edited, polished up and sent off. I want to sit still with this idea and see where it takes me.

"This" is what has been in the back of my mind and I was unable to hear it because the voice of "fear" has taken over my thoughts. "This" is what I've been striving towards ever since I started emptying closets, selling our belongings and lightening the load I'm carrying. "This" is part of where it is at for me. "This" and renting out a room. That is taking up a very big space within my thought processes as well.

I have been thinking these thoughts but pushing them down and aside and chastising myself for being a dreamer. Then I read this horoscope. Yes, I know. It is just a horoscope. It is a general comment meant to mean something to almost anyone who reads it. But it was directed to "Scorpios", this week and I read it today. Timing is everything sometimes.

You may succeed in making a living from your art. It did not state you "will" succeed. It said you "may" succeed. I will "never" succeed if I don't try. If I try, I will know I did my best and I "may" succeed on some level. My barometer for success is pretty low. Completing something I set out to do is a win in my books. 

Now is the time to try. My world is becoming quiet, the weight of excess is lightening, my responsibilities are manageable. Writing does not cost a penny. Above all else, this is the most affordable pastimes I could ever hope to stumble upon. It is a win, win, win situation.

Some major changes allow you to take a new path in life ...

It is just one of those things that makes me sit back and go "Hmmmm".

A Tooth Story

I woke up feeling "ickky" this morning. Not sick, not sad, not overwhelmed, not angry, frightened or paralyzed. Just plain old "ickky".

My dominant thoughts are revolving around my Tooth Saga. I need to find a metaphor for what this tooth has done to me, my thinking and my reality. Maybe if I write it out, I will find a string within this story of mine. Maybe I'll just vent and release. I have no idea where these fingers are going to take me this morning but let's just say we'll find out together.

It all started with a tooth ache. A very real, painful, tangible tooth ache. Where there is pain, there must be a "fix", right? This was my theory at the beginning of my tale. Simple! Make an appointment with the dentist, fix the tooth and life goes on.

Except it didn't quite go that way.

Imagine my surprise when the dentist told me he could not see any reason for my pain. He had a few hypotheses and he didn't accuse me of faking my pain but I walked out of the office wondering if I just made it up or if I was entering the phase of not being worthy of being repaired.

The toothache diminished on its own and I felt like a fraud. Life went on. Until it didn't.

When (a few weeks later) part of a filling fell out of the tooth that had been aching, I felt victorious and validated. There WAS a reason for my pain after all. Now, my dentist could fix me up and I would be on my way. The end.

Except it wasn't.

The dentist found a crack in my tooth when he went to fill it. He referred me to an endodontist and threw around terms like "bridge" and "implant" and sent me on my merry way. His only advise to me was "Be careful with your tooth", which I interpreted to mean "Don't chew on that side of my mouth". He did NOT say don't floss and everything under the sun was getting caught up on that rough filling. So I flossed. I flossed that filling right out of my mouth.

One would assume that would be when the tooth ache would return. Except it didn't.

I called to make an appointment to get my filling repaired. Then I started questioning every little thing. WHY was I getting referred to a specialist? What insurance coverage did I have? What was I signing when I signed the release forms saying "There is no guarantee that a root canal would work"? Who was talking about a root canal anyway??

My instincts told me, "Just go get the tooth pulled and be done with it". The professionals told me, "You will NOT regret knowing for sure, whether or not your root can be saved". I surveyed the audience around me (everyone I talked to between that time and my specialist appointment) and the survey said, "PULL THE TOOTH!"

I ignored my instincts, I ignored the survey results and yesterday morning I left the house bright and early to go to see the specialist. And the specialist said, "A tooth like that cannot be saved". The tooth is ready to break off. He could see that with his bare eye (though two X-rays were taken to ensure my bill was adequately large, I'm sure ... no, I'm not. I'm certain it is just their procedure to X-ray first, examine second so the doctor has everything he needs at his fingertips without having to back track).

My question was, "Why in the world did I need to go to a specialist and pay specialist prices which my insurance does NOT cover, in order to tell me what this doctor could see with his bare eyes??"

I walked out of that office angry. Anger is better than pain I suppose. I felt used and abused. I don't know what I fear most. A dentist who is too inexperienced to make the call to pull my tooth so he referred me to a professional. Or a dentist who is in the business for the sake of making money off of referrals.

In either case, I woke up this morning feeling (for the first time since I was a child) fearful about "what comes next".

What if I have an inexperienced dentist, the tooth crumbles as it is being removed and he can't pull the roots because they detached from the tooth and he has to go digging for them? AAARGH!!

What do I do? Do I call the dentist's office and confess my fears? Or my anger? This specialist appointment will cost me about $150 AFTER my insurance pays me what is covered. $150.00 I cannot afford to spend right now. I want a full refund. But do I ask for that refund and voice my frustration before they pull the tooth? Or after? Because I am also very afraid I have a new dentist who will need to consult a specialist when the tooth shatters and he is scrambling to pull roots which are not attached to anything.

Am I overthinking this? Possibly so. What if this "broken tooth" results in a hemorrhage and this is the end of my story? The end. I hope my estate fights for the $150.00 I could not and did not want to and highly questioned paying in the first place.

Okay, there has to be a moral to this story, right? That is why I sit down and write here. Because I usually make write myself into circles and find a happy little ending or lesson to take away from all of this.

This is what I know for sure:

When your body is in pain, it is telling you something is wrong. LISTEN.
When the experts tell you there is no reason for your pain, ask them to LOOK FURTHER.
When your instincts and "the survey says", "DON'T DO IT!!", heed that call.

But those very same instincts woke me up in fear this morning. I don't like where this path is leading. Not one bit.

In the olden days, I had a cavity and the dentist filled it. As I aged, those cavities and teeth began to fall out or break, so I got crowns. My wonder-dentist (I wrote about him here) crowned every molar in my head except this one. Why? I really hate to think about what this whole "tooth saga" is headed. 

Have I reached the age and stage of my life where I lose all of my teeth? 
Will my recurring dreams of spitting out my teeth start occurring again? 
Will I get compensated for throwing away $150.00 in specialist fees, that I could ill afford to spend in the first place?
Will I die in the dentist's chair? Or will he just refer me to another specialist when the going gets tough?

These are the questions I do not have answers for this morning. It's no wonder I woke up feeling "ickky". I guess that is all I learned here this morning. 

Thanks for listening...

To be continued. I hope.

Messages From the World

I think the world is always speaking to us. Sometimes we are open to hear the messages and other times, the wisdom of the world around us passes us by. When we are too busy focusing on the moment we are in and in survival mode, we aren't as open to receive the messages we that are all around us.

After a quiet Sunday of trying to regain my perspective and turning it into a day of wondering "What in the world are you going to do next?!!" and trying my best not to panic, I woke up to a Monday full of words, wisdom and connections to shift my focus.

The first words that found their way to me was my daily dose of "Project Happiness.com":

I was reminded that I AM doing the right thing. I needed to change my "career path" because all I could think of before I gave notice that I was closing my daycare doors was "How much longer do I have to do this?" "I can't do this for the rest of my life" and the only relief I could see was a shortened life expectancy. You KNOW you are in the wrong job when you think you would rather die young, than carry on as you have been. DANGER! DANGER!! DANGER!!! 

No matter where things go from here, I do know that where I am is better than where I was. I am living life in the moment and it is a much better place than looking too far ahead or focused on where I have been. One step in a forward direction will take me closer to where I am going. I just don't know where I am going quite yet ...

Then this message from COURAGEworks.com found its way to me:

After spending too much time focusing on the jobs I didn't feel qualified for, I continued to dream of finding a way to continue working for myself. I have ideas. I am not certain if they are marketable or if I can sustain myself financially on them but I have ideas. Where there is a spark, there is hope. If I do the right things for the right reasons, I will have the passion behind my actions to ignite that spark. I think...

Then I made a phone call to the student loan office to talk to them about my debt, my future, my ability to repay and wanting to ensure I made the right moves so my actions of today don't negatively affect my future.

The person on the other end of the phone wore angel's wings. Of that, I am quite certain. These are a few of the things she told me. "NOW is the time to return to school!" "Find out what grants your province offers for women entrepreneurs." "Follow what you feel passionate about and you will be great at it!"

Here I was, talking to a person who could just as easily have said, "Get a job. Get ANY job! You must repay this student loan or your future could be jeopardized!!" Instead, she reiterated what has been resonating deep within me. "Don't go where you feel you HAVE to go. Follow your passion. It will take you where you NEED to go."

When you are open to new thoughts and ideas, they find their way to you. The positive messages of the world are always there and trying to find their way into your world, your thinking and your subconscious mind. I love when the world around me makes me feel safe enough to open myself and my thinking to allow what I need to hear into my world.

If you listen, it will come ...

Panic Stricken

Breathe deeply. One forward step at a time. Don't panic. There is little you can change right now. Just keep doing the next right thing.

Sitting down with the reality of my budget is a little bit sobering at the moment. I was doing just fine until "real life" stepped in and now I must contend with a broken tooth, a broken window and hoping the "third" (you know how bad things supposedly happen in three's?) item on that list was replacing the weather stripping our cat chewed up.

I felt like I was being proactive when I started selling off my daycare excesses. I felt like I was in control when I stopped all extra-curricular spending immediately. I was certain the quiet would come and I would find my answers. But I haven't stopped long enough to hear and feel the quiet. So just a little bit of panic is setting in.

I felt a little bit paralyzed yesterday. I should have been digging into closets and reorganizing "my life" a little bit. Yesterday was the day I could have cleared out a room to make room for whatever is heading my way. Instead, I peeked into my son's room as he gave up a handful of items he is willing to put up for sale and thought "Man, we have a very long way to go!"

I've come so far. I can't stop now. Why did I freeze up yesterday? Was it the fact that it was just a one day weekend? Was it because my crazy-busy week caught up with me and my head was spinning with all the activity, people and words which were tossed into six short days?

Maybe I wasn't ready to be with people yet because the question of the hour was, "So what are you going to do next?" I didn't have an answer. I felt foolish for admitting that I honestly didn't know. My pipe dreams of "If I build it, they will come" felt very "Field of Dreamish" when I started speaking the words. Writing the words is another thing.

Writing empowers me. Speaking depletes me. I think I need to hunker down and isolate myself so I can hear my own thoughts again. Last week was amazing. I loved every moment of it. But at the end of it all, I was empty. I wasn't ready to admit my plan relied on faith and faith alone quite yet.

I know I need to take one step in a forward direction. I just don't want to backtrack and wish I hadn't stepped out before I was ready. I will do the quiet work by myself first. Then I will take one step outside my box, with one foot planted safely on stable ground.

It has only been two weeks. I have only missed one pay cheque so far. I'm still in the black. I'm still okay. This is going to be an expensive week as the dentist tells me "where we go from here" and the window guys bill me for the cost of one act of vandalism which I shouldn't have to absorb. When I was making the "big bucks", these things didn't bother me. I just rolled with the expenses and carried on. I will do the same this week. In fact, I have these expenses fully covered simply by selling off my daycare assets.

I'm okay. I will continue to be okay. This I know for sure. I'm just a little bit afraid of flying rocks and biting down too hard right now. It will all work out in the end. And if it hasn't, it is not yet the end ...

Brainstorming

My present day reality is seeping into my every thought these days. This isn't what I wanted. I wanted to breathe deeply, get very quiet, move about my life in a fashion that opened my mind, doors and opportunities I had never thought of before started coming to the surface. Sitting still with a laptop on my knee typing the words "56 years old looking for a job" unveiled truths I don't want to focus on, so I reworded my Google search to "56 year old success stories self employed work".

I can't stop considering the idea that I want our house to "pay its way" so the idea of renting out a room or two keeps creeping into my thoughts. I have considered everything to renting out the main floor of our home, to having someone else run a daycare out of our house (not a good idea), to renting a room to a student or an international home stay program. I keep falling back to the idea of renting a room and sharing space to a fully independent adult who cooks, cleans and fends for themselves.

I am not used to sharing our home with anyone who isn't related to me or under the age of 4, so there could would be a very, very steep adjustment curve. But I think I must find a way to adapt, otherwise "panic" will soon start to seep into every crevice of my state of semi-retirement planning.

Yes, I prefer to think of this as a semi-retirement. I definitely do not want to work six days a week but I would love to find a way to work four days. Monday to Thursday one week; Tuesday to Friday the next would be somewhat ideal. Alternating between a two day and four day weekend every other week could be something I think I could get used to.

The ability to be flexible sounds best of all worlds. I am not quite sure how I'm going to manage it but thankfully I don't have to decide today. Maybe I should get back to emptying out closets, creating wide open spaces and seeing what I have to market this week. I feel like I'm stuck in limbo so sitting still in this state of mind is not a good thing.

I have two black cats trying to convince me to hang out and have a "cat day" with them. This is so very tempting but I think I'd better start moving. I'm not loving the paralysis I start to feel when I sit still too long.

Moving is the best way to keep the thoughts flowing. Forward is the only direction to go. Onward! Let the ideas flow ...

Change is in the Air

I woke up at 4:30 this morning. I was wide eyed, ready to hop out of bed and start my day. I smiled to myself when I realized the cats hadn't had time to rush back onto their spots on my bed to give me the illusion that they had been sleeping soundly with me all night. Yes, they were still prowling and doing heaven only knows what. It sounded like they were working on pulling up some carpeting upstairs. They were doing their cat things and I was alone and awake. It was a glorious 4.79434 seconds.

Cats have an innate sense of knowing when there is a fly or a spider or a human stirring within a 10 ft radius. Yesterday they tracked down a spider and a maple bug (?) and saved the day. This morning, they both raced down the stairs to ensure they didn't miss our making-the-bed-with-a-cat-on-it morning tradition we have.

It is light, fun and easy to wake up when you wake with a smile. It is the littlest things that bring light into my days. I must remember that. There for a very long while, I was looking for the big stuff, but the truest of joy comes from the smallest of things.

I wandered through my morning revelling in the fact that I had three full hours before my day walked in the door. My day. My second last day of an almost full daycare load. This time last week, I was pulling my hair out. Heavens, this time yesterday morning I was feeling great angst about the three days left in my daycare reign. Then we had "yesterday". And I find myself wishing I could find a way to keep doing what I am doing.

I purged my frustrations right here on this very blog platform. As it so very often  happens, when I allow my fingers to tell my story there is a release that is life affirming. When I see my words written out before me, I find affirmation, patterns and possible solutions. There is so much power gained by setting the words that are haunting me free. Words are dangerous things when confined to my brain, within my small, isolated universe. The truth shall set you free ...

I woke up with thoughts of relationships of the courting kind. Those of us who have them. Those of us who don't. I'm sitting on the side of "I don't have that in my life but I think I want to explore it", so my awareness is being drawn to those who seem to be of a similar circumstance or age and drawing new love into their lives. I look at those people like an outsider and wonder "What do they have that I don't? What are they doing that I am not? What do they have that attracts love, romance and partnership into their world?"

In the quietness of my morning, as I made my bed around our cats, the answer came to me. They have a willingness to do the work which is required to make a relationship not only come to life, but to keep resuscitating it time and time again. Relationships are a full on commitment. I know without a doubt that I am kind of lazy that way. Or at least I have been for the last very long while.

I have been on my own for over nine years now. Nine. Nine has been a number which shows up a lot in the cycles within my life. It has been nine years. It is no wonder I am feeling restless and starting to wonder again.

I spent the initial part of my mourning period regrouping. I did it in a rather productive fashion that I wouldn't mind recreating one day. I fixed up the house, the yard and myself in the process. There is much to be gained by painting a fence that doesn't end. I still remember what part of the process I was living as I glance at different sections of our fence. It was a lot of work. Finding "me" after I had started identifying myself as part of a couple was life affirming. I survived. Again.

Then I found my friends again. I reached out and became available as a friend. It started with me feeling the need to be surrounded by friendship. Then as I told my story, others started telling me theirs. It was groundbreaking work. There was a strong foundation being rebuilt. Strength in numbers. We are not alone.

I found myself searching for my roots. I collected family memories, organized them and put together a few family history/memory books. I started reconnecting to family and discovering myself in January of 2008. I amassed and bound my last set of family memories into a book by October of 2014. I spent over six years immersed in the process of feeling like I belong to this thing I call family. My root system is strong, stable and I believe I can now weather any storm.

I feel like I've been wandering aimlessly over the course of the past few years. The honeymoon period of finishing my last book project lasted well into the following year. That was followed by a crash of a subtle and not so subtle kind. I was exhausted. Physically, mentally and emotionally.

Then came the identity crisis. If I was not part of a couple or a survivor of a broken heart or the collector of family members or the mother of dependent children or good at the job I was doing ... who WAS I??

Life happened and placed me right back into the heart of my family and family home over my summer holidays. I wasn't standing on firm ground before I found myself there but once I was in the thick of family, I became strong again. I knew what I could do and I did it. I found a vital piece of myself within a crisis of minor proportions. I was finding strength within my weakness. I was still a little broken and fractured but I had my root system. I was still standing and I had weathered a long lasting winter.

I didn't know where I was going (I still don't) but my strength is within my roots and my future will come from allowing spring to come into my life.

This must be where this feeling of adding "new life" into my world is coming from. After my last long term relationship ended, I felt so broken I wanted to leap right back into love and heal my heart that way. The longing was real. I was so lonely. I'm glad I took the long road back into finding my way back "home". I am longing for a deepness within my world these days. It very well may not be within the confines of a relationship. I believe it will come from the deepness in my soul, when I become still and quiet and content in the life I am living.

I feel it coming. I don't know what it is. But change is in the air.

Trusting the Moment

"The world knows. Don't rush the moment. Trust in the moment you are in." These are the words I typed at 7:23 yesterday morning. Five minutes later, my world as I know it started to change dramatically. By the end of the day I discovered life as I know it is going to be completely upended within three weeks.

I gave my daycare families four months notice that I was closing my daycare at the end of the year. I knew this could happen. I just didn't think it would happen so suddenly. By the end of this month, only fourteen daycare days away, I will be down to taking care of one child. One. 

One mouth to feed, one child to watch over, one nap time, one child, no other friends. One income. I have three weeks of income at my regularly budgeted amount. Then I'm down to "one" - 20% of the income I was anticipating for the remainder of the year. Yikes.

"The world knows. Don't rush the moment. Trust in the moment you are in."

Deep breath. Okay. I knew this could happen. I didn't think it would happen. I needed it to happen. It's okay. I'm okay. This is happening for a reason. 

I was somewhat concerned that after my mini breakdown during my summer holiday, that I would end up running my daycare until Christmas, the Christmas holiday would be a blur and I would be starting a full time bookkeeping job immediately thereafter. I wouldn't end up with a break. I knew I needed a break. I am now getting a break. A pretty big one in fact.

The last daycare child standing is going to become a big sister in December. I may only have her until the end of November. I may end up with close to a month off. 

This is scary. This is exciting. This is big. Change is happening and I'm actually going to have the time to embrace it, move with it and I will be forced not to take any flying leaps into the unknown. Because I will still have one child to tend. I will still need to be available nine hours a day, five days a week. I can't jump because I still have a responsibility here.

I'm grateful I simply cannot leap right now. This precipice is a little bit scary but it is exactly where I want to be. I didn't want to jump directly into another full time job when I closed up my daycare. This is exactly what I wanted. The reality is a little more nerve wracking than I expected. But I am leaning into it and trusting this is exactly where I need to be.

Baby, It's Dark Outside

I haven't been doing a very good job of maintaining a regular wake up time, so the shift to early morning darkness has taken me by surprise. The first time I woke up to full fledged darkness at 5 a.m., I wondered who turned out the lights. Man, it's dark out there in the morning.

Our spring felt like summer and summer sped by in a blur. Summer is gone and I have not yet managed to get out (and stay out) of last year's winter blues. I feel better than I did, but I never did get completely sunshiny and happy within and hold onto it this year.

I have a feeling fall may be the season where I realign my inner self with the seasons of the year. I will shed my leaves of the past and start the process of coming back to life. Perhaps after a slightly dormant spell.

Shedding the excess within our home has been a very good place to start. It doesn't show quite yet but that will come. I can already feel the shifting of the tides.

I look forward to dormancy. Stillness. Quiet. Time to sit still and see the wonders of small things again.

It feels natural to follow the flow of the seasons right now. I will have wound down my daycare by the time the winter season officially begins. The days will be starting to get longer by the time I enter the next phase of my "new growth". It will be winter outside but the sun will be starting to regain its foothold on darkness.

I don't know what winter has in store but I do know that I do not want to push the envelope right now. I have an opportunity for temporary full time employment but I will lose the very tentative hold I had on my financial state of affairs. I refuse to panic over the fact my finances may also be undergoing a sense of dormancy throughout the winter ahead because I have been craving a year's leave of absence from the world of work. I need this right now.

I will try to squirrel away what I need to weather the winter ahead. I started a little late in the season but it is better than not having started at all. It will be okay. It always is.

I don't know what spring holds in store but I have faith that it will all work out. If I don't let fear rule me, the sun will overtake the darkness and I will find what I need in the light of day.

I can't look too far ahead right now. I will follow the ebbs and flows of the seasons and know that spring always follows winter. But do you know what? I'm anticipating the season of dormancy I feel coming. I'm not afraid of the dark.

It's going to be okay. It always is. It is always darkest before dawn and baby, it's dark out there.

A Safe Place to Land

Our devious little black cats have convinced me to sit outside with my coffee this morning, so I'm balancing my laptop on my lap and trying to sip on the last quiet cup of coffee I will have today as I try to keep my eye on our cats' whereabouts.

Ray is our timid cat. He could not even be convinced to come into the back yard the first few years he lived with us. Then gradually my youngest weaned him into the idea that our back yard was a safe place to play and his other black partners in cat-hood made the idea look incredibly intriguing. So he is now the cagiest little guy. He dashes out the door with a determination unrivalled by his predecessors. Andre was determined and sneaky. Ray is just like a bulldozer. If he wants outside he goes for it full throttle. He blasts past and beyond you before you even know he was there.

Jet is more of a thinker. He plays mind games with me. First, he started clawing at the weather stripping at the bottom of our brand new door so I opened up the inside door thinking there was nothing he could wreck on it. I was wrong. He has chewed up the weather stripping along the door casing. BRAND NEW weather stripping. Chewed up by our cat!

I shooed Jet into the kitchen with me and closed the sliding door so he did not have access to the back door at all. He then proceeded to sit in front of and on my computer. When I ignored that, he knocked the Kleenex box beside me, onto the floor. Then the box of eye glass wipes which was under that. Anything to get my attention.

I could have just moved my computer and walked away from his antics but it is absolutely gorgeous outside this morning so here I am.

Jet is contently sitting in a spot of shade he found beside me and Ray is here, there and everywhere. He has recently discovered there is life outside of the confines of our yard and he is bound and determined to check it out. I have had to shoo him back into our yard three times in the brief time we've been sitting out here.

Ray reminds me so much of myself. I too, am very content and happy within the confines of our home. When I do go out and explore new territory, my eyes feel like they are filled with terror in the same way that Ray's eyes look when he is on high alert.

I watch Ray watching Jet and copying what he does in the same way I eye up other people's bravery and outgoing ways. "I want to be more like them" Ray and I think to ourselves as we watch people more adventuresome than ourselves live the good life.

Both Ray and I need to know the door to our home is open and ready for us to dart back into when our fears overcome us. But do you know what? Even our adventuresome Jet-Cat needs to know the same thing.

Even the bravest soul needs a safe place to land when taking on the world. Maybe Ray and I are not so unique after all.

A Few Cat Adventures in our Very Own Back Yard:

The roof on top of our playground structure has provided the perfect cat hammock for bird watching all the birds who play in our neighbor's tree. The only trouble with that vantage point is that they have a "bird's eye view" of our neighbor's yard and they can't help themselves. They must jump in and explore the "cat nesting areas" under their shaded and overgrown trees. It is a cat haven over there. 

Checking out the playground

Rain? Who cares?! They just had to go out and watch and experience it first hand.

The boys hanging out on the "cat walk"

What Writing is For Me

I received an early Monday morning email from the digital news editor at MyKawartha.com, titled "Unfortunate news". It started by saying, "I'm sorry to have to send this email, but unfortunately we are going to be discontinuing our blogs." It ended by telling me I could quit blogging immediately or I could continue until the end of the month.

You have no idea how relieved I was to get this notice. Writing on demand is not my cup of tea. I have considered handing in my notice for the papers I presently write for and make way for someone who has new, fresh thoughts and ideas.

I like to write for the fun of it. Sometimes, to release a little pressure. Other times, to be whimsical and just write for the pleasure I get from writing. There are times when my brain to hand connection helps me untangle my thoughts and see things from a different perspective. The odd time I really have something to say.

I'm uncomfortable with where I am at in my life right now. I'm fighting to regain my footing and find the "me" I was five years ago. I know I can't be "that" person again but I do want to feel good about the person I'm evolving into. I haven't quite found that spot yet and I honestly don't believe my struggle out of the quicksand of life is something people want to "pay" to read.

I like writing in my own little corner of the world where readership doesn't matter. I can just be "me" and it is enough. I can write or not. I can be happy or sad or anything in between. I can be "nothing" and let the words fall out of my nothingness onto the page and it is enough.

Writing under pressure makes me feel like I am not enough. Every single month, when I rummage through the archives of what I have written, I try to find something that is good enough to send out into the world. I feel like I have been submitting scraps of who I used to be and who I'm trying to evolve into becoming, but I'm a little bit lost as I go through this phase of evolution.

I see glimmers of where I want myself to go, how I want to retrain my thoughts and I think I see a way of getting there. Then I lose my train of thought. That's "life".

As we go from day to day, we are sometimes forging our own path. Other times we are following an old path that has become overgrown and it's hard to find our way. When things feel clearer, it's like driving down an old familiar country road. Other times, we are exploring new roads others have built.

I don't like new roads. I like well travelled, double lane highways where I know the route without having to think. I stop at the same places along the way. My destination rarely changes. I love my ruts. I always have and probably always will.

I scared myself this past weekend. I love my ruts so very much, that packing up and leaving this rutty, familiar life of mine was harder than it has ever been before. The anxiety levels I felt as I tried to make my way out the door were alarming to me. It shouldn't feel this hard to pack up and leave the house for a few days.

I know I need to shake things up in my life. Get up and do different things each morning. Travel unfamiliar routes and reroute some of my brain's wiring. Taking a different route should feel like an adventure, not the opening sequence of a horror film.

See? This is the stuff that no one wants to read. Not even me. I think I need to pack up my pen and write in private again. Or is there a market for writing that is going in circles and terrified that it may hold clues as to what it feels like as one walks the walk into the years leading to dementia? Yes. That's it. I'm feeling just a little bit shell shocked at the revelation of what this "brain fog" may actually signify.

I haven't had time to dig deeper into what I can do to prevent this. Life carries on no matter what else is going on. That is a good thing.

I walked into this week feeling worn down and beat up. My daycare family walked in the door and the week could not be going better. We managed to walk through our exposure to "Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease" relatively unscathed. One of my daycare family came down with it but, to our knowledge, no one else has (we realize now, that everyone was exposed to this all last week). Yee haw!! That means my obsessive compulsive lessons about "not putting anything in our mouths" and our current hand washing routines are enough. This brush with a contagious childhood/daycare disease opened up a dialogue between my daycare parents and me which has reassured me that "I am enough". It has been reiterated enough times for me to start believing it.

At one point, this past weekend my mom asked me, "Do your [daycare] kids like you?" My immediate response was "I don't think so". I confessed this revelation to my daycare parents and was reassured on many levels that I was wrong. I know there are definitely moments when my daycare family aren't very fond of me but when they walk in the door, they are happy to be here. They are content most of the time. We have many more positive moments than the drama of the moments I describe when I'm frustrated at behaviours which feel out of my control. But the soundtrack of most of our days is that of contented white noise. I actually stopped to listen for it this week. Contentment is in the air.

My predictable little life is a busy (enough) one. I have cocooned myself from anything extra-curricular since my return home Sunday night. I'm saving my strength for the next hard thing I must do. I am meeting up with a friend on the upcoming long weekend. We are meeting at a mid-way point between where we both live. This means I must take a new road. It is only a single lane highway. I have only travelled it once before so I know it will take me where I need to go but our destination is brand new to me. Am I excited? No. Am I terrified? Not yet. Will I become paralyzed in fear in the hours before I blaze this (almost) new trail? Quite possibly.

I am fifty five years old and life still scares me. I think this thought and I think I am all alone. I write this thought aloud and often I hear the echo of "Me too!" when I go out into the big scary world and speak my truths out loud. "This" is why I write. It takes the fear out of living when you hear the words "Me too" come back to you.

To feel like I was alone in this journey called life would be the most terrifying thing of all. By speaking our truth out loud we often hear the answers we wouldn't hear if we kept silent. This is why I am such an open book. This openness has saved me from myself. Time and time again. Do I fear the day when the echo I hope to hear becomes a statement: "I don't feel this way. You are alone. Maybe you should call an expert in the field ..." That is my greatest fear of all.

Living Safe

I need to get myself out of this perpetual downward spiral and I think I'm onto something.

I can do this. It is time to start a new chapter. I'm tired of living in my safety net. It's time to step back onto the high wire of life and take a chance. I don't have to start at the top. I'll work my way up there. Would you like to join me?? Click here to go to Christine Kane's "66 Ways to Build Courage" post. Print it off. Circle at least five suggestions. You can do five. I'll bet you could tackle eight! Come and join me on my adventure. I promise to write all about it and I would love to hear your stories as we make our way in this Brave New World together.

I wrote a little blog about it over at MyKawartha.com (http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6505101-living-safe/)

Lost in the Future, Savoring Today

I am writing over at MyKawartha today. This post comes to you from a dream, which I believe was my subconscious mind reminding me to get my thoughts back into "the present" and appreciate that which I already have.

I have been berating myself for allowing myself to stop dreaming, but I don't think my dreams have ever really died. I have simply not been "planning". Planning depletes me. Dreaming invigorates me. I think I'll focus on the dreams and let the planning take care of itself. Of course, I wrote a little blog about it: http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6454996-lost-in-the-future-savoring-today/