I See Life

La-lah-bah-de-dah .... for the first time in a while ... I see life.

A part deep inside me writes those words and thinks I need to write really fast. Write while the iron is hot. Write before this feeling goes away.

But there is a deeper sense of "knowing" that is reassuring me. It is telling me to relax with this thought. Feel it deeply. Hold onto it. Let it settle deep into my soul. Because ...

I am entering a brand new chapter within this little life of mine.

Winter was hard. It was so hard. The shortest days were my longest ones. The lack of sun in the world around me paralleled the lack of sunshine within my thoughts.

The timing of tying up the loose ends of Mom's estate coincided perfectly with the longest, shortest and coldest days of winter. It was the perfect storm.

After a year of simply "doing the next right thing" without thinking too hard about where things were going, I suddenly stopped knowing what to do.

I had to stop and simply feel all I had been warrioring through, throughout the year past. Emotions caught up with me. And I felt them. Hard.

I felt sad. I felt lost. I felt lonely. I missed Mom. I replayed "The Year of Mom" over and over and over again in my mind.

Our last real conversation continues to haunt me. "What is your ten year plan?", she asked me. "You do know that your "bread and butter" [income sources] are both over the age of 80, don't you?"

Yes, Mom's words echoed throughout this relentless, hard, cold winter.

Then I wrote.

I sat down and wrote here just a few days ago. I reminisced about a year when I worked from home. I remembered how empowered I felt, knowing my work was right here under my own roof. I was my own boss in many ways. As long as the work got done, it didn't matter WHEN it got done.

Be careful what you wish for.

I wrote those words. I remembered that year. I was at peace in knowing "there will be a way ... some day".

Within hours of me picturing a reality I could feel at peace with, I was asked the question, "Would you [one day] move the office into your home?" I simply said, "Yes". I had thought it out before I knew the question would be asked.

This will happen. One day. There is a quiet knowing within me that says, "Don't wish for this to happen any time soon", but a deeper sense tells me "Be prepared".

Last year was preparing me for this year. I'm not ready for another year like the one I just put behind me. I will leave our home, go to work and be grateful for each and every day I must do so.

A new chapter is unfolding. It's not all good. It's not all bad. I know I will be ready for whatever unfolds. I just hope I have the tools to guide me in the best way possible.

I choose "life". Despite the harsh realities of life and dying. I choose "life".

For the first time in a while ... I see life. [Sung to the tune of "I See Love" ~ Mike and Molly's theme song]

Snow

I awoke bright and early this morning, with the knowledge there would be snow to contend with before I could tackle the rest of "Monday".

We have been on the receiving end of a lot of snow this past weekend. Probably more snow than we have had, this winter-to-date.

I tried, but I could not be angry with the snow, the weather nor the fact that I was out dealing with it on my own.

No. I was good with this. Outside. On a mild winter day. Alone. Tackling a task that felt enormous but it was measurable. One very (very) long driveway; a city sidewalk in front of our yard; a cat walk between our yard and our neighbor's; a side walk in front of our home and a deck in the back yard.

I shovelled. And shovelled. And shovelled some more. 

I could have quit at several different points and called it good enough. But I didn't. I had done "this much". I could do more. I wanted to do more.

It felt cathartic to be outside, waking up with nature. I started shovelling in the dark and it was light outside before I was done (an hour and a half later). 

A quick little trill of excitement went through me when I realized I could watch for new rabbit tracks once again. 

I spotted our elusive neighborhood rabbit when I came home from work one evening a few weeks ago. I smiled when I saw some deep tracks through the pile of snow beside the driveway several days later. I doubt he/she intended on landing in deep snow. He must have been on the run ...

I thought wistfully of my old daycare days. The kids would have been so excited to have a snow day. This pristine, untouched snow is beautiful. But it is also a little bit sad. I miss the days when my little daycare family helped me marvel over the every day miracles this world generously doles out to us.

I thought of those hard working souls who deal with clearing the excess snow from our streets, parking lots and others who must trudge through the snow as a regular part of their job. 

I was grateful I could make a small difference in the world around me by shovelling all the public walks around us.

I came inside and went about my regular morning routines (can I tell you right now, that drinking a large, frozen smoothie while you are just starting to thaw out yourself is a little bit crazy?). 

I poured myself a first, second and finally a third cup of coffee. I would give myself the gift of "time". Just because I could.

I stumbled across a blog writer who speaks to me. She sounds like the "me" I used to aspire to be. Her writing made me feel hopeful, grateful and just plain good. So I wrote her a quick email to tell her so.

What I was most grateful for at the end of this snow-filled morning, was the fact that my day job is very flexible. I could have made it to work relatively at the same time as usual but I was revelling in the moments I had found along my way this morning. 

I am not a big fan of Mondays. 

The first goal within my work life is to cut my bookkeeping work down to a three day work week. But this morning? I simply asked for a "Snow Morning". She would have given me an entire "Snow Day" if I had asked. But I was good with a morning.

A bonus morning off. 

Snow is dealt with. I could leave home in a moment's notice. But I found a way to carve out a little piece of time to read, write and take in the moment.

"This" is very likely what retirement will look like for me. A work slow-down. Jobs with enough give and take to provide some flexibility within my quiet and contented little world.

As I scanned through the archives of my blog, I was reminded of one of my most favorite years. It was a year I worked from home. There was work to be done but I had the flexibility to work it in between the cracks of the life I wanted to live. 

Mom came out to visit that summer and I was fully available to do/go/be who I needed and wanted to be. I fit my work in where I found/made time. I lived in the moment and those moments were pretty good.

I feel a sense of contentment starting to seep in between the cracks of this little life of mine. It's small. It's a beginning. It's fragile. But it is good. It is so very good.

Thanks to a little excess snow, I found a peace of contentment which has been eluding me. Winter is still wielding its power but it won't get the best of us. Spring is on its way. I can feel it in my bones.

Welcome, March!! You are a long lost friend. I am mostly grateful you are followed by April. I've been waiting for April ever since winter arrived.

Finding Solid Ground Again

My head has no idea what my fingers have to say this morning. I'm writing without a map. I've written several letters with this same mindset. Sometimes it is good, other times it is very strange and then there are the times my eyes are surprised to read what oozes out of my finger tips. I have no idea what the next few paragraphs have to bring.

The weekend past, was filled with company, conversation, friendship, family and laughter. And it was good.

After my weekend guest left, I simply soaked up the solitude. I have become such an "island" within this little life of mine. As much as I know I need to push myself out and beyond my comfort zone, returning to this quiet little oasis I call home is where I most want to be.

Conversations got deep. Very deep. It was good. But it was exhausting. I was so overwhelmed, I actually retreated to the world of numbers shortly after I found myself alone within our home.

I believe I am waiting for one last tax slip and I will be ready to take the year "2017" to my accountant and wrap up the year in a once and for all and final way. As much as I will be relieved to wrap up my duties as executor of Mom's will, the whole idea of completing this process and dividing assets doesn't sit well with me.

I sit within our home which is lightly sprinkled with Mom's belongings and it warms my heart and fills my soul.

I have finally started to feel a little of the financial relief that comes by working a full month and not heading out to Mom's on a regular basis. It is amazing how affordable life has become now that I am bringing in a full month's wage, saving on vehicle expenses and sticking close to home.

I have been struggling financially ever since I lost my "equivalent to married" tax status. I have managed on an income far less that what I earned last year but not having a dependent to ease the tax burden has made a tremendous difference.

My financial troubles feel like they could be behind me. Not due to an inheritance. But due to the fact I have a steady income, a little money left at the end of the month, the reinstatement of an "annual expense" savings allotment which is easily included in my monthly budget and the forecast of rather predictable expenditures for the foreseeable future.

I am grateful for this feeling of regaining financial stability before "assets are divided". I need this time. I need to know I am capable of making my own way, without using Mom's money.

The ground beneath my feet feels pretty solid. As good as that sounds, it actually feels a little bit like when I first walked on solid ground after a one week cruise. A person feels a little bit wobbly and disorientated for a while.

Wikipedia describes sea legs as: "Illusion of motion felt on dry land after spending time at sea". This description is very fitting. I have been feeling a little lost at sea. In actual fact, I do feel like I've stopped drifting. I'm standing still and still wavering a little. But I do believe I'm on my way.

Back on solid ground, looking up and feeling the possibilities of life opening up is a little bit like finding a deserted island in the middle of the ocean.

The reinstatement of hope, fear of the unknown is mixed with the anxiety of knowing danger could be lurking around the next corner. This pretty much describes the gamut of thoughts I am thinking and emotions I am feeling at the moment.

I may just linger on the beach for a while...

Breaking the Silence

"If you haven't got anything good to say, don't say anything at all."

You're welcome.

My head has been all over the place. My thoughts have been more places than that. I've been ruminating, reflecting, remembering and trying to make sense of what comes to the surface. Honestly? I think it's growing pains. Again.

I'm tired of "growing".

Presently, I seem to be going through the phase where everything speaks to me. I can be watching the most inane television comedy and there is a nugget of information I am ready to hear. I can watch almost any video that "Goalcast" publishes on Facebook and I hear something that resonates with me. I can pick up a book and put my hands on the information I knew I had read before but forgot where it was.

I am enjoying this phase of enlightenment after some rather dark days.

I spent my four day long weekend at home. Alone. Alone with Mom's books, Netflix and my Goalcast feed on Facebook.

I "saw" our cats again. I was still enough to appreciate their sense of humor, their sense of catness and I fully appreciated enjoying watching where the term "copy cat" originated.

Most would say I wasted an entire weekend. Normally, I would tend to agree. But not this time.

I wanted to run. I wanted to find "quiet". I wanted to be still and distance myself from life. I considered running away to some kind of retreat. But there was no need to run. My oasis is located very conveniently under our very own roof.

I wasn't brave enough to face winter driving conditions. I had no desire to leave our home. I didn't want to run. I wanted to stay home and find comfort in all that surrounds me here.

I started my weekend journey at home by scanning the titles of Mom's books. She had been rereading Margaret Trudeau's books and had commented on how she enjoyed them. So that is exactly where I began.

I could have started and stopped there and it would have been enough. "The" book I was meant to read was in my hands. I found my road map.

I wasn't ready to absorb words before this. I could take in a few but I felt like a saturated sponge. I could take in only little bits at a time. Words, tears and emotions kept finding their way out of me, with little room to take in anything of value.

I have been unable to remove or relocate the papers and places where Mom has left indications of where she "last left off" that I have found within Mom's books. I made my way to her book about Mother Teresa, to find the order packing slip marking her spot. Mom had ordered the book from her local bookstore and Feb 26th, 2008 was the date it was packed up and sent. Almost exactly ten years ago...

Whispers of Mom's presence are everywhere within her books. The words I have found within them are like finding salve for a wound.

I feel more grounded. I am less fearful. I am stronger. I am wading through the mire and I believe I see a dry shore ahead.

I am missing a piece to the puzzle which is my life. I want to fill the void but not at the expense of altering the overall picture.

I'm searching. I'm filling myself up. I am not eager to push my way out of this cocoon but nature is stronger than I. I am destined to emerge. When I do, I will be stronger than I was before all of this began.

I'm redefining myself. I will always be my mother's daughter. But I will not always have Mom to urge me forward. My new definition of myself has changed.

It's happened before. It will happen again. I just hope I enjoy my new wings once I break free of all that is holding me, keeping me safe and cocooning me away from the year past.

"...behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begins."
- Mitch Albom, For One More Day

I've listened to Mom's stories my entire life. This is where mine begins...

Just Write

My thoughts are swimming all over the place this morning and I don't know if I can pin down a topic. So I will just write ...

First off, "Winter, I am so over you!" While I say that with gratitude for a year where being home bound and off the highways makes cold and snow and blowing and unpredictability simply one more cross to bear as we await the coming of Spring ... I am NOT looking forward to the hour ahead of me where I must shovel yesterday's snow in -43 (with the wind) conditions. Blech!

Secondly, "YAY!! For extra long weekends!" I saw an opportunity to create a four day weekend from both of my employers. I asked for the extra day off and it was granted. Then the day inched closer and I thought why waste a day off when I have no concrete plan on how to spend it wisely.

Thirdly, "Thank you!! To the wonderful, wonderful people I work for (and with)". I messaged them last night and told them to cancel my request and I would be there Friday. They both responded with the answer of (basically) "No, you need a 4 day weekend once in a while!" Life is good.

Fourthly, "I feel my dream function WANTING to come back to life". I have no idea how to fulfil this dream quest, but I FEEL like doing something completely spontaneous, fun and without thinking of the ramifications (I guess I'd better not get a dog then, huh?).

Fifthly, "I think I'm ready to pitch my cell phone into a snowbank while I shovel". While I thoroughly appreciate the convenience, the necessity and the fact that they are great gadgets to have in case of emergency or a need to communicate quickly ... I am quietly resenting the lack of face-to-face, voice-to-voice conversations at times. My son chided me on my overuse of emoticons and I explained I feel they are necessary because it is so easy to misinterpret a text message when it doesn't come with voice, facial and body expressions to aid communication.

Text messages should come with a limited number of characters (says the person who uses far too many words to communicate). There should be default phrases which say "Let's talk" when a person has the inclination to start a new paragraph via text (guilty as charged!).

So here I sit. There is snow to be shovelled, a work day to put in ...

I am back. Snow is shovelled; text messages have been tended to and I am off to start the short day ahead of me. I only have my "day job" to attend today, so I will probably be home before the sun sets.

Ahhh... life is good.

P.S. If it were not for the fresh arrival of newly fallen snow, I would not see the evidence of the rabbit that hops in and out and through our front yard. This rabbit eludes me, yet I know it has been here. The mere idea of knowing there is a rabbit close by makes me think of Mom and her rabbits.

As it is with Mom's "presence" ... I feel it, but I can't put my hands on it, see it or prove it. It simply leaves its mark in my heart.

Better Days

Last week was an emotional one. I broke a few times, shed a few tears and I was weary with the reality of facing the day.

One morning, I wrote a little, cried a little, wiped my tears and forged onward. I hopped in the car to go to work. As I backed out of the garage and headed towards my destination, these were the words my radio sang to me:

"I've been down, I've been down
Burning up like fever
Better days, better days
Are not so far away..."

These lyrics were followed by another song that spoke to my heart. I felt better, I looked up and ahead, then carried on.

I lived a few unremarkable days which were followed by speaking my heart out loud a few times. Speaking my thoughts unleashed another round of tears or two.

My eyes were weary, my heart was tired and I was invited out of my head (and our home) to join a friend for coffee. I wanted to wrap myself up with a warm blanket and peek my head out when spring arrived.

But I persevered. I hopped in the car to meet up with my friend. The radio sang out to me once again:

"I've been down, I've been down
Burning up like fever
Better days, better days
Are not so far away
I've been lost, I've been found
Now I believe in
Better days, better days
Are not so far away"
Hedley - Better Days

This was followed by:

"This is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I'm alright song"
Rachel Platten - Fight Song

Yes! I sat up taller, felt a little stronger and my heart felt lighter.

I love when the car radio speaks to me. It doesn't always happen. Sometimes I find myself surfing the channels to find the music my heart needs to hear.

I know it is coincidence. I know it is not a mystical force of other worldly communication. But oh, how it soothes my soul to think that it could be...

I know I need to pull up my socks, stand up tall, look up and appreciate that "all is as it is meant to be".

I am impatient with this state of hovering in a state of limbo. Not knowing, not doing, simply existing but starting to feel.

Feeling is good. If I stifle the sad, the bad and the hard stuff, I may not be able to feel the good, the happy and easygoing as much as I could.

The only way through, is to keep taking one forward step at a time. Slow and steady. One step at a time. Look forward. Look up.

There always seems to be that one final blast of "winter" before spring comes to stay. I do believe I am simply feeling the seasons. Spring is coming...

Better days are not so far away.

My Life According to My Blog Archive

"How am I doing with my promise to write daily?" was (one of) my early morning thoughts:

Well? All things considered, it looks like 2018 will outrank 2017 when it comes to the frequency of posts. But I'm still off to a slow start.

I started writing out loud in January of 2008. It was the winter of "Building Courage" after my last and final break up with the man I thought I would marry. 

Thoughts of "forever" were dashed and after the initial stages of grieving that loss, I picked myself up and built a pretty incredible little life.

As my eyes scan the years, I see the highlight reel run past me:

2008

The year of Mom's family's book of memories

The year of inviting family and friends into my life and our home

The year of my hernia surgery, which led up to:

2009

The year I returned to school

The year I started to dance like people were watching because ...

I started to prepare to compete in a dance competition, which was in:

2010

The year I danced 

The year I started doing bookkeeping out of my home

The year of great flexibility

Family and leisure first 

I worked in my day job in between the cracks

All good things must come to an end, which led to:

2011

The year my job lost its flexibility

I stuck it out until I returned from my great Alaskan holiday adventure

I quit my job and...

I was hired by the school system

I thought my work challenges were over

Little did I know they had just begun.

2012

The year of working to regain my reputation within my job at the school

The year of regaining my sense of self

The year I broke

What in the world was I going to do to support myself if I couldn't hold down a job in the "real world"?

It was the year I reopened my daycare.

2013, 2014, 2015

These were years of coasting a little

They were years of "showing up" and being there for others

They were years with shadows of ill health, loss and grief.

I finally completed the book of memories for Dad's family

It was a time of family bonding, in good times and in sad

These were years of starting to become more concerned about Mom's health.

2016

The year my daycare died

The year Mom fell and I started seeing the world in a whole new light

The year I restarted my "career". Again.

2017

The year of Mom

2018

The year after Mom has brought me back to where I started 

I am back at the beginning of 2008 all over again. 

I need to find ways to (re)build my courage. 

I feel like I'm recovering after a break up.

I crave, need and live for my weekends

When the weekend arrives, I feel like a broken hearted survivor of a relationship that has ended

A weekend without purpose, is a weekend lost.

I am no longer revolving my life around my desire to head back out to Mom's

I have been sleep walking through the weekends

They serve little purpose, other than giving me the strength to endure another work week.

When I first started writing within this little space of mine, my focus was on finding a positive spin about any little thing.

Mom marvelled at the fact that I could come up with a story about nothing

I liked my writing back in those days.

I have discovered so many inspirational writers and speakers throughout these years

Glennon Doyle is the most all-encompassing truth teller and motivator I know

I love everything I have read by Glennon.

Glennon speaks of "writing from a scar and not from an open wound"...

I'm writing from an open wound right now.

I keep picking the scab and it won't heal

I may never write again if I wait to write from the scar that will eventually form.

So I'm writing from a wound which starts to heal

Then breaks open when I least expect it.

I felt so courageous as I lived "The Year of Mom"

I feel weak and vulnerable now.

I mostly speak of the lessons learned,

Memories made,

Conversations had.

I am grateful for a year with so few regrets.

I guess the year took its toll on me after all

I created a world where I focused on Mom.

Mom is gone.

I have weekends at my disposal and I have grown accustomed to being selfish with my time

I saved my energy for those trips to Mom's

I gathered up all my optimism and packed it up with me each and every time

I did not want to be a Gloomy Gus while in Mom's presence.

Mom is gone

And I am sad

I have time

But I don't have the energy to share what I have

I'm used to saving it up for a rainy day.

It's raining now

You can't save energy

You have to generate it from action

Doing

Becoming

Being courageous.

The most courageous thing I do these days, is go to work

My work days deplete me

I feel like a wet dish rag at the end of my days away from home

I long for weekends.

I need to find a renewed purpose

I need to push myself out and beyond these moments.

Building courage becomes harder with age

Becoming comfortable with the quiet feels easier

But (as Mom said at the very end of her life), "This ... is not living".

Mom is right again.

She always was.

I will persevere

I will rebuild and restart life as I know it from where I am

I've done it before

I'll do it again

I will create a year worth remembering.

And this too, shall pass...