Regaining Equilibrium

Jumping back into life-at-home wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. Offering to work the afternoon of my first day home threw me off my groove a little but it jump-started me in a way that was necessary.

Now that I have 2-1/2 workdays under my belt (one to go until the weekend), I'm feeling a little more human. Then again, is that because I went and booked a restorative weekend away?

What?? That's crazy. After all the "holidaying" I did last week, why did I go and do this? 

A myriad of reasons but the best of all the reasons is because I found an above-ground AirBnB two blocks from Mom's previous home. Home. The place I always returned to regain my equilibrium.

I'm going "home" again. A quiet weekend with family/friends and no commitments. No appointments, no errands, no cats and in a rooftop suite with LOTS of windows.

They say you can't go home again but I'm going anyway. Everything has changed. I've changed. Relationships have evolved. But "home", back in my old neighborhood, is the closest I can get to the feeling I had when I visited Mom.

I've been missing her a little bit lately. I want to go home.

Unrest

The news channels are pouring out 24/7 news on the state of unrest that has upset the status quo within the world around us. I am not well versed enough to speak to the topic. I watched one half hour broadcast of our national news so I am not completely in the dark. As messages from world leaders punctuated the wind up of the day's events, the one message that spoke most loudly came from South Africa. Simple and powerful in its message "Pray for America".

Meanwhile, within the safe, quiet, bubble wrapped little world I exist in, I tossed and turned most of the night wrestling my own state of unrest. The contentment of my Christmas vacation bubble has burst and I'm counting the minutes to retirement ...

When work issues wake me up at night, I know there has been too much unfinished business at the end of the day. I do my best to confront those middle-of-the-night thoughts the following day and I succeed at my mission more often than not. But it is more than the work load. 

My subconscious mind took my thoughts and spun them into a dream. I used to "run away" and spend a weekend with Mom when I felt like this in the past. So in my dream, I did just that:

I was visiting Mom in her new home. She was well, content and making her way through her new life with ease. 

She lived in a brand new home, sparsely furnished only with what she needed. She had a walk in closet large enough to be a spare bedroom, with only a few clothes on the hangers. Her bedroom was sun lit and huge, with only a bed in the middle of it. 

She had a young boarder living with her [I'm pretty sure it was Mark Sloan's daughter from Grey's Anatomy - I had finally fallen asleep to one of those episodes]. Mom was completely at ease with the comings and goings of this young girl. The girl offered to show me her living space. She lived downstairs and had taken over the space in an over-the-top kind of way. Stuff. Clutter. Belongings everywhere. And did Mom mind? Not a bit.

Mom talked on her cordless phone as she wandered through her expansive living area. I commented on it [Mom despised talking on a cordless phone in real life] and she replied, "There is really no other way here ..."

The dream was comforting. Mom was there for me when I went to visit. She was calming. She was so content. Her attitude was that of "That's okay" [I rewind my memory reel to the video my brother created, called "A Day in the Life of Mom and Tramp", as our family pet was recorded on video, doing all the things he was never allowed to do in Mom's presence. Then when my brother interviewed Mom for this home movie, when he asked what she thought of this she simply stated, "That's okay"].

I woke up from my dream not wanting to leave the safe harbor of visiting Mom in her new home. The essence of "Mom" was exactly what I needed.

I want to run away. My Christmas vacation was heavenly. I didn't leave the house, I didn't answer to anyone, everything we needed was right here under our roof. 

During my holiday, I worked at my bookkeeping job several days. I could honestly say I loved my job when the day wasn't punctuated with various interruptions, phone calls, urgent needs to meet and losing control of the day. I started work when I was ready to start. I quit when I was finished with what I hoped to accomplish with the day, without having to be somewhere else by a certain time. It was heavenly.

I have organized my little world so I rarely have to enter a store or be in contact with people in any more than a minimal way. My first day back was "can you go here" then "deliver this there", followed by "can you pick this up" then go "do this" then "work outside of home" ...

All of this extra-curricular contact after spending eleven days isolating at home were uncomfortable. The tipping point? The expectation of working outside my home. I wrestled with anxiety throughout yesterday and into the night. I woke up this morning feeling all angsty. 

There is a state of unrest in the world. My troubles are nothing in the whole scheme of things. I know this. Oh, what I would give to be able to run off to Mom's for the weekend ...

I miss you, Mom. That is all.

She is Within Me ...

"I miss missing you ..." These were the words I was feeling as I walked into the weekend. Feeling the acuteness of emotion after my sister's most recent visit, I thought of Mom which resulted in a fleeting "I miss missing you" moment.

The connection our family shares is a gift like no other. It is a gift I hope to pass along to my family. It is a gift I see within my sibling's families. It is so poignant at times, it leaves me breathless.

I felt myself stop and think to myself, "Mom, are you here?"

The day gained momentum and moved on but the feeling remained. I woke up Saturday morning and simply thought to myself "I miss missing Mom ...". Then I spotted two rabbits in our neighbor's "rabbit garden". An overgrown area in my neighbor's yard seems to attract rabbits - I would like to grow a garden such as this. Rabbits make me think of time spent with Mom.

I felt a feeling of missing Mom wash over and through me, then went to my library of Mom's books. I felt the strong urge to simply lose myself in a book I didn't want to put down. A lot of Mom's books are biographies, non-fiction, historical and basically educational. I wanted something to grab my interest and hold me still. I found the book "Half Broke Horses" by Jeannette Walls. She had me at "Those old cows knew trouble was coming before we did ..." - the very first sentence of her book.

A piece of paper wafted to the ground when I opened the book. Mom's writing. Simply the words "certificate" and "diploma". I created a story in my mind behind the words she wrote. Mom questioned everything she didn't understand. She was wondering ...

I kept Mom's scrap of paper as my bookmark. It was comforting to think she had read the pages I was about to read. There is something about opening a book and feeling her presence that is akin to the breathlessness poignancy I have felt after separating myself from my siblings. I just breathed in the moment, was grateful for the sensation of Mom's presence and savored the story within the pages of the book.

The next morning, I was eager to reread "The Glass Castle", also by Jeannette Walls. I had bought this book myself and offered to give it to Mom but she said she already had it. "Half Broke Horses" was the story before the story which was told in "The Glass Castle". I sat down with a renewed appreciation of the book, knowing the history which preceded it.

I turned a page and found crumbs within the book. Pretty good chance they were crumbs from something Mom was eating as she read the book. A fair chance that they may have been cookie crumbs. Mom enjoyed her cookies once upon a lifetime ago ...

Another heart swelling moment as I replayed the thought of Mom reading the exact pages at a different time and place. There was a slight time warp sensation as I envisioned Mom within me, me within Mom and the connection of the book I was holding.

I have noticed myself feeling this way when I butter toast. I have a crystal clear memory of the way Mom buttered toast. Her goal was to take enough margarine the first time, so she didn't end up with toast crumbs in her margarine container. She meticulously buttered her toast to the crust. I feel me in her/her in me when I watch myself do exactly the same motion. Suddenly, I am standing at her kitchen island, reliving the many times I watched her care and precision as she buttered her toast.

In these moments, I feel like I'm in a space-time continuum. I'm on this plane over here; Mom is on her plane sometime in the past; and neither one of us are here nor there at the same time anymore. But we are still connected.

She is within me, I was within her. I miss missing her ... but I'm grateful to still feel her so strongly at times.

Hello, Anxiety

Hello Anxiety, I've come to talk with you again ...

I have frittered away the morning seeking ways to escape my thoughts. How can I best utilize the upcoming weekend to refill my resources?

One forward step at a time.

If Mom was here, I would head out to see her. She would have straight shooting advice for me. I would tell her all the reasons I will keep following the course I'm on. She would tell me otherwise.

She was one wise woman.

She saw this day coming. I knew she was right. I just didn't think it would happen so soon.

Oh, Mom. I miss you today....

Craving Solitude, Creating Scarcity

There has been a scarcity of thoughts within. Not for lack of thinking. Perhaps due to the fact that I am thinking too much, while at the same time while I feel I am doing too much. Let me stress the word "feel". This is not a truth. It is only a feeling.

There is a heaviness of spirit I seem to take with me wherever I go. I am not the friend, sibling, mother or employee I used to be.

I don't feel the spark of enthusiasm and joy I used to carry along with me. I feel like people can see the cloud of doom and gloom over my head.

Conversations become stiff. I don't see the reflection I used to see in people's eyes. Something or someone has changed. I know that "someone" is me.

I am seeking joyfulness but I am not finding it in the company of others. I am finding it when I am sitting in a quiet spot at home, surrounded by all that comforts me. Leaving home, conversing, being social is hard.

I have to leave my home to go to work five days of the week. This should not be so hard. But it is. I loved working from home, from a place of security and solitude. Taking my work out on the road isn't as hard as it has been. But it has made leaving home on the weekends uncomfortable.

"I can do this," I prompted myself all weekend. "I can do hard things"; "I can do this".

By the end of my Monday, I finally felt like I was ready for the weekend. I had done all the hard things but accomplished not a thing.

*************************************************************************

I walked away from this and then the thoughts came ...

I believe the root of this feeling is the unspoken desire to run out to Mom's. Mom is gone. Her house is gone. I will never be able to run home again.

But by sitting here, within my home that is sprinkled with some of Mom's belongings, I feel her here the most. I can be still and feel her presence. 

I want to be home, alone and fill myself up with Mom's presence. That is all ...

Moving On (but I miss missing you)

I've said it before and I'll say it again (and quite likely again and again and again), I feel like I'm getting a grasp on life as I now know it.

Our extended winter mirrored my mood. I wanted to do nothing more than hunker down in survival mode throughout those dark, cold and windy days. The weather obliged.

The state of being alone is nourishing on one hand but it depletes a person on the other.

I have come out the other side of winter realizing I am grateful I had my regularly scheduled life (work outside of my home) pulling and tugging at me, even when it felt like it brought me to my knees at times.

I have listened to my inner chatter evolve from "You can do this"; "You can do hard things"; and "Only twelve hours to endure before I can crawl back into my pajamas"... to a far less desperate cry for help from within, as I lock the door behind me each morning.

The inner chatter within my head is becoming healthier. I still want to be home but my heart doesn't ache at the idea of walking out the door. I still live to sleep but I feel more wakeful within the hours my eyes are open. I still want to numb myself with food, surfing the Internet and sleep but I have tempered all of the above a little.

Baby steps. One day at a time. Quiet moments within busy days. Contact with people. It is all coming together. It's going to be okay.

I write this after going to bed at 8:30 last night. Exhaustion still settles in and overtakes me. But it is getting easier to crawl out of bed in the morning. The ache in my heart is subsiding ...

I remember the stage of starting to move past the extreme grief of losing our cat (Andre). I wrote this thirteen days after he died:

"I walked around "the week after" with a quiet emptiness. It was a sad place but at the same time, it was such an honor to hold onto that ache because it kept my memories and feelings close to my heart.

Life has taken over this week and carried on.

I still miss our little black cat but I know his time on earth was so uncomfortable it was time to let him go.

I miss mourning him. That sad, soulful feeling and the quiet ache in my heart filled the void he left.

We will forever remember you, Andre. I miss missing you so much."

It has been 33 weeks since Mom died. I could replace "the week after" with "the months after"; substitute Mom's name with Andre's ... and the words I wrote describing the process of moving out of the more acute side of grief and into the phase of a quiet acceptance, life moving on and the stage of "I miss missing you so much" describes a little of how I feel in this moment.

The mathematician in me is trying to calculate a formula for grief. Andre was 15 years old when he died. The state of acute grief lasted 2 weeks. 2 weeks divided by 780 weeks equals .... and my mind goes off into a silent wondering if there is any way of calculating the severity of grief for someone I've known and literally been a part of their being since before I was born.

There is no math in the world which can calculate the answers I seek. The honest truth is that I do not want to ever completely "get over" the loss of either Mom or Dad. Dad's death has taught me that one year melts into the next and emotions can overwhelm a person when you least expect them in a completely out of the blue moment in time.

There are times when I have felt Dad close to me. Those times seemed to happen as I was driving to work on a Saturday morning. Other times, on the highway between our home and Mom's. Or shovelling Mom's snow. Another time, while driving home on an old, familiar gravel road I only travelled with Dad or his brother behind the wheel. It is odd how keenly I can remember those moments. How they stayed with me. How emotion came up and enveloped me.

I think of those who no longer walk this earth and I wonder about the "energy" they leave behind.

When two people find a meeting of the heart, mind and soul and each of them has lost a parent, husband or loved one, could it be possible all of those heavenly presences are looking down upon the moments and smiling on what they see?

When lost humanly souls find a connection of friendship, support and understanding, is it possible their angels above have pulled some strings to help co-ordinate that meeting of the minds? Could they be hoping we find peace and acceptance within the life we have yet to live, just as much as we send them on their way wishing them nothing but a peaceful and pain free exit from our world?

The past week has involved some minor miracles in regards to the dynamics within my own little family. Incidents which have brought us together make me look upward and wonder if some invisible force has been pulling some strings to unite and reunite us in ways Mom has done in the past.

Two weekends ago, my Oldest Son called on me for some assistance. I walked by his side through a non-critical health issue but a serious one, none-the-less. He wasn't alone. I was there with him. And it was good.

Last weekend, my sister-in-law came for a visit and united our little family in her own unique way, yet parallel to the way we used to come together and meet when Mom would stay here. Dare I say it was even better?

My sister-in-law is the aunt to my two oldest and she is the common thread between them. They are planning a joint hiking adventure together this summer which has come with the added benefit of some joint weekend "training sessions". The dynamics of this grouping was nothing short of a gift. My youngest son was immediately taken with my sister-in-law's easy conversational ways and simply said, "I like her! She is so easy to talk with ..."

The last time I walked away from a weekend with my own siblings, my emotions took a nose dive I wasn't prepared for or expecting. "I'm on my own now" was basically the feeling I was left with, as I counted down the months until our next family gathering.

Then the next few weekends unfolded. I am not on my own. I have my own family. They don't need very much of me but we manage to come together in times of need. From the outside, looking in, it would appear that my oldest son needed me. When in truth, I believe it was the other way around. I needed the connection and I looked skyward wondering if Mom could have possibly have had a hand in the way things unfolded.

On one hand, I love this phase of being a parent to my adult children. On the other, there are some isolated patches along the way, because each one of them is building a life independent of me, our home and our family unit. That is the way it should be. And it is good.

My new reality is, that I have a little rebuilding to do on my own. My focus was "Mom" for the past long while. That was good too.

I don't have a burning desire to focus that attention on anything or anyone else at the moment. So I am simply grateful for life unfolding in a way which seems to present me with exactly what I need, when I don't even realize I need it the most.

The acute emptiness of missing Mom is subsiding. Life is moving forward without her in it. It is the only way and it is exactly what Mom would want.

We will forever remember you, Mom. I miss missing you so much.

Not the Post I Expected to Write...

I was sitting in the middle of a glorious Sunday when I had a flash of the feeling of waking up to "today". STOP!!, I shouted to myself without saying a word. DON'T GO THERE!! I stopped that train of thought before it left the station and was left paralyzed with the knowledge that my weekend hours were numbered.

I woke up this morning and this Goalcast video awaited me: (https://www.facebook.com/goalcast/videos/1780159512061231/)  It was that of a young man who was told he had mere weeks to live without treatment. His message was one of: "be grateful for the people in your life"; "there is no excuse not to live life fully"; "you owe it to your people to go out and do your best". And he ends with "what a fantastic way to start each day".

I am living the dream. I wake up in my warm, comfy bed each morning. I have the ability to:

• spring out of bed
• throw in a load of laundry
• prepare my breakfast/lunch/supper meals for the day ahead 
• sit leisurely in front of my computer and connect to the world all around me...
• ... as I mentally prepare myself for the work day/week ahead of me
• then DRIVE off in my car - to go wherever I need or want to go
• and so much more. So very much more

I am fortunate to have good health, work that not only sustains our way of living but I work for people who nourish my need to learn/make a difference/feel respected. 

I live in a world without fear, I have all I need right here under our own roof. I have not only a house, but a home to return to each and every day.

I am gifted beyond words with my family. The past year put us all in the same arena together and we made a formidable team. We faced life, illness, death and dying as one cohesive unit. I was a useful part of that team. 

I'm feeling a tad lost out here in the world alone again. The "alone" part is that of my own doing. I could be (should be? probably will be one day sometime soon?) inviting people into my days and finding my way again. 

I AM part of a few teams ... I am making a difference in the work I do. I am a vital part of what makes things work. But there is one difference. I don't have the back up unit of "family" to walk through this. Yes, I am supported and supportive. But I am weak when I am on my own doing the things I do. 

I am part of two independent units/families. I know and feel their gratitude and support. But it isn't the same. I'm not part of the family unit. There is a subtle difference when you are on the outside. It is almost unperceptive. But it's there. 

I knew (and still know) my family had my back not only last year but all the years that preceded it. I am in a similar but different set of arenas at the moment. I am where I am, because I am needed. 

I don't know if I have all the tools I need to take me where I need to go. In fact last week, I was reminded of how much I have yet to learn. It just about brought me to my knees.

I see where things are going. There are no happy endings here. 

I knew where things were headed this time last year. There wasn't a happy ending. I knew there wouldn't be. 

Last year, my siblings had my back each and every step of the way. I knew no more about what to do next last year, than I do this year. I just kept showing up. Doing the next right thing. Forgiving myself at the end of each day for the mistakes I made along the way and all that I didn't know. I woke up each morning and simply did my best. Forgave myself regularly. Showed up. Rinse and repeat.

This year, I feel like an island. I have people to turn to for support, guidance and to talk with. But I'm on the outside. It is not my role to lean in and take what I need from my support systems. My role is to relieve their pressure. This is different ...

And I can't run home to Mom's and find some relief. I'm afraid I leaned on Mom during her final year. She heard more than she needed to hear about some of the load I was carrying. 

I have two mother figures in my life but they are not Mom. Man! I miss her today ....

This is not at all what I had in mind when I sat down here with my cup of coffee this morning. I need to get back to the beginning of this post and take what I need from what I learned over at Goalcast:

"Be grateful for the people in your life"

"There is no excuse not to live life fully"

"You owe it to your people to go out and do your best"

"What a fantastic way to start each day"

I am.

I know this.

I do.

It is.

So begins another new day. I'm grateful for this. I will show up. I will do my best. I will forgive myself for any errors of my ways along the way. Rinse and repeat. 

Then I'll do it all over again.