Sleep Cycles, Metamorphosis and Other Little Thoughts

Sleep is not something I take for granted. I know far too many people who struggle with the ability to sleep at night (something that comes as easily as sitting still does for me).

Then I had my Sleep Injury. Basically, I (think) I hurt myself by sleeping too much. The mathematical precision in which I laid out my pillows each night after my 'injury' was ridiculous. Rolling over was a feat unto itself because it entailed rearranging all of my pillow support before I could settle back into a state of slumber.

The cure arrived each morning, when I simply woke up and started moving. My symptoms only presented themselves when I was sleeping.

Eventually I went in search of my Dream Pillow. And I found it. Quite literally, because vivid dreams started the moment I started sleeping more soundly.

I woke up this morning and realized just how much the quality of my sleep has evolved since the acquisition of my new pillow. I used to wake up (what felt like) a bazillion times, as I tossed and turned and kept moving out of uncomfortable sleeping positions. These days? I may consciously remember waking up to roll over only a few times during the night.

Is it just the pillow or is there more at play here?

At long last, I have become actively involved in my own life. I do not turn on the TV (nor an episode of the Gilmore Girls) the moment my evening becomes my own. Sometimes, I do. But it is becoming a rare event. I have been grabbing a book instead. Or engaging in 'life' in some form.

I am whittling away at long term goals. I am living life (a little more) outside of my own head and home. I have been pushing myself out of the safe and comfortable rut that I worked oh-so-hard to find again and I feel like a butterfly that is finally strong enough to break out of its cocoon.

I can actually visualize the 'end goal'. I see where I plan to be four months from today. I know where I will be, how I will get there and I can already feel the sensation of gratitude and relief to have finally overcome the hurdle that has been challenging and taunting me for far-too-long.

Which came first? The ability to sleep and therefore function better during my waking hours? Or making the most of my waking hours which resulted in a deep and restful night's sleep? The chicken or the egg?

I am not going to ponder that little conundrum any longer than it took for me to write that sentence. The ability to sleep soundly and live loudly are a very good combo. It is harder to attain than one may believe. But it is another example of the yin and the yang of this thing called living.

Teetering back and forth, between the balance of all that life has to offer, is a very delicate and precarious act. You know when it is right. It is like something clicked and locked into place. The harder part is knowing how to get from 'A' to 'Be'. My fingers subconsciously typed the word 'be' instead of the letter 'B'. I do believe that is an answer unto itself. All we can do is 'be' present within the life that we are living. Just show up, do your best, let yourself off the hook and give yourself credit for 'being' there. In whatever form you are presently in.

Does a caterpillar know what life has in store for it when it spins its cocoon before its metamorphosis? Or does it simply feel like it is succumbing to the pressures of the world and hunkering down for a good, long rest? When it wakes up and feels life stirring within, does it find itself  suddenly flying around its brand new world or does it have to work hard to break out of its cocoon? It is the act of breaking out of its cocoon that strengthens the butterfly's wings so it is strong enough to fly once he breaks free of all that is restraining him.

If you are struggling right now, put yourself in the place of that little caterpillar of life. Where are you in this cycle of life?

Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over,

it became a butterfly. 

~ English Proverb

One Day

Our July 1st holiday lands on a Tuesday this year. Which means that many people may have taken today off of work, in order to get an extended long weekend. Others may have opted to work on the holiday and take today off, so that they could get a long weekend. Yet the majority (I would imagine) quite likely are working whatever is required by our place-of-employment and are either enjoying the holiday tomorrow (or a day in lieu or overtime).

A day is what you make it. I choose to make the most of this midweek holiday.

This means that I must work today. One day, before I get a bonus day off. One day of work is a small bite off of the week. I can handle (almost) anything for one day.

I have my regular Monday Daycare Crowd coming today. It is raining. It looks like it could rain for the rest of the week (at least the day). It is dreary. It looks like an 'inside day' (unless we decide to go out and play in puddles which is definitely an option).

It is only a day. No matter how bad or how good the day is, it will start and it will end. We will segue into the next day of the week ... and that will be a day off! It will be like they cloned a Sunday and they sandwiched a Monday in between two Sundays. Now that, is my kind of Oreo!

I am so looking forward to my bonus Sunday. I know exactly what I hope to do. I will wake up like it is a regular work day. I will go through the paces of my morning. I will celebrate quietly to myself when 7:30 arrives and the day is still mine. And I will write.

Our family book project has hit a manageable level. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I have some clean-up to do on some chapters. I have to finish up some research on a few more chapters. I can foresee this taking me through most of the month. Then ... I will be close to the Final Edit stage.

This mid-week holiday is just what I want right now. A lone day, without a weekend attached to either end of it turns it into a day where there are no added expectations tossed into the mix. It is a day that I (selfishly) wish to call My Own.

As if this is not good enough in and of itself, I will wake up the following morning. It will feel like a Monday. But it will be Wednesday already!! The week will be halfway to another weekend (not that I live for weekends or anything....) and I will be faced with an uncommitted weekend at the end of this broken up week.

My bookkeeping hours have hit a very manageable level and I am not working all weekend, every (or even every other) weekend. I am in heaven.

I am headed towards a state of bliss that I call the Goldilocks Zone. That juuuuuust right feeling of the 'right' amount of weekend at the end of a week. My work load has hit just the right balance of Daycare Responsiblities verses Numbers (bookkeeping) verses Creativity (writing). Just enough time for 'me' at the end (and beginning) of each day. Just the right amount of time left over for friends, family and extra-curricular fun. Just the right ratio of income verses expenses. Just a healthy amount of stress to push me where I need to be - not too much (where your heart races and you feel like you are drowning), not too little (where you sit and stare at the television set and lose yourself in nothingness for extended periods of time).

I am happy, but not giddy over-the-top happy. I am simply content in my heart. I can sit still and still be awake to enjoy the sensation (at least for longer than I used to be able to stay awake).

I am giving myself what I need to sustain this level of contentment. By doing so, I have more left over at the end of the day. There is more of me to give.

I have grabbed my oxygen mask and I am receiving life sustaining air. It sounds so greedy, but it is necessary. You can't 'save lives' if you aren't breathing on your own.

Long story short? No matter what holiday you may or may not be celebrating this first week of July, make the most of today. No matter what day of the week it is, within your world. It is just one day. You can do it. Even the hard days are just a small bit more manageable when you take it only one day at a time...

The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.

~ Abraham Lincoln

All Things Family

I immersed myself in all-things-family for the entirety of yesterday and it was the best gift I could have ever given myself.

Our family Book Project is going to be complete one day. My uncle went through my pages with a fine tooth comb and added much needed clarification, perspective and edits. I cannot begin to imagine how many hours he devoted to this, but it was exactly what was needed to help me take this to another level (have you ever had the feeling that you are in over your head and you can't remember exactly how you got there?!).

His edits took me from one end of our book to the other. He helped me see that the completed project is not an insurmountable task. His thoughtful comments along the way were a great reminder of why I started this in the first place and they gently urged me to complete what I have started so that it is out of my hands and into the hands of those who can enjoy it.

My uncle is a master of not saying a word, definitely not pushing (in fact his exact words were "Don't let all this spoil your summer") but still quietly nudging me towards the end goal.

I started this project as a way to honor and remember Dad. I had only waded into it ankle-deep when I thought of Dad's oldest brother and I wanted to give the same 'gift' to his children that I was looking for, myself. I read the memories that another uncle's children wrote about their dad and their words, memories and compliments could speak for almost all of us.

As I have collected bits and bites of historic family information and memories, I have heard so many comments from so many people that I know that this 'book' is for everyone.

What surprises me the most, is that my dad's brothers - all of them quiet, unassuming and very humble men - are eager to tell their story. Above all else, it honors their own parents & brothers and it is a way to remember and reminisce out loud, so their own children and grandchildren can have and hold onto a piece of their life forever more.

Each and every time I find myself fully immersed in this project I know that I am walking on sacred ground. I am enveloped in the arms of family members who no longer walk this earth and I can feel them with me as I assemble all of these memories (in fact, a few paragraphs ago, I felt that same feeling ... then my laptop flickered and a battery operated Elmo toy, tucked inside of the toy cupboard in the living room started to talk with absolutely no movement or outside interference to spur on his conversation).

My uncle is and has been my cheerleader throughout this project. He was the only one that I was brave enough to approach (nearly six years ago now) to see if I should start this 'little' project. He was on board before I asked the question. He is our original family historian and has a real interest in family genealogy so he was quite intrigued with the idea of attaching added interest by way of family memories, stories, quotes and little-known-facts to the family tree.

When I see how painstakingly he proofread, edited, revised and added onto my original draft I do believe that this 'sacred work' is (another) one of his greatest gifts. As he remembers and writes about his family, there is a humble pride within his phrasing. As a child, he was known for being a 'peace keeper' among his siblings but what I am witnessing is a gentle, guiding force, emanating the quiet pleasure that his parents and grandparents would feel 'if they could see him now'.

This particular uncle is the only bachelor within a family of seven boys. Yet he is one uncle that stands out in my mind. He is a gentle overseer of all-things-family. When he speaks of his nieces or nephews, it is like he knows each of us in a personal and up close kind of way. When he speaks of his brothers, it is with an air of quiet pride "... in having a family with so many good characteristics, in their accomplishments and their contributions to society as a whole."

I started this project because of my own dad. I immersed myself (and almost drowned) as I became aware just how much I wanted my cousins to know and feel the same things that I was gaining as I collected our memories. I will finish, with great thanks to My Uncle - the quiet, guiding force behind all that I have managed to assemble.

"Dad? Can you hear my thoughts? Can you believe what you got me into?? Thank you! Assembling this little family history project will go down as one of my all-time greatest memories. It wouldn't have happened without you.."

I have been given the gift of Family. Sitting down and collecting memories with both Mom & Dad's siblings has helped me rediscover my roots, where I come from and where I belong. In sharing these memories with my own siblings and cousins, I hope that they find the same (self) discovery.

If I write it ... they will come. I am back in my Field of Dreams. Again.

My Grandpa, in his own Field of Dreams.
The seeds he planted were part of the destiny that became our family.

Bliss

Bliss is ...

• waking up in the wee hours of the morning, subconsciously going through the busy Friday that awaits you upon waking. Then you remember that you already lived that day! And ...
• it is Saturday! And ...
• you don't have to work! And ...
• the house is clean, laundry is done, groceries are bought. And ...
• all that is on your agenda for the day is tackling your goals head on!

That is the morning that I woke up to today. Today is a day to be devoted to my family Book Project. And I am off!!

Happy Bliss Day to you!!

The Long Reaching Effects of Bullying

A former employer of mine is taking an active stance on bullying and I applaud their actions. Except I am skeptical. I am so very wary of believing this can change within an institution where I (as an adult) was a victim of bullying in that particular workplace.

In all of the years I have lived, I have never felt so helpless. Me! One who has lived through an abusive marriage. Yet this workplace situation was my undoing.

What happened? Why couldn't I fight back? Why does it still haunt me (almost) three years after the fact? Did the events which preceded my 'incident' set me up to be in a position where I felt belittled to the point of tears most days?

The day prior to my interview for the job-that-I-wanted-the-most, I had been publicly berated and humiliated by my boss (at a job I had taken so I would have a part-time job to help me afford to accept this job if it was offered to me). I was beyond devastated. I was still shaking from the anger and embarrassment from the day prior, while I was being interviewed. My confidence was shattered. During my interview, I came clean and mentioned the incident from the day prior and I was still a little rattled. This revelation may have set the stage for what was to follow. I will never know for sure.

Prior to this, I had another negative experience in the workplace. It wasn't public humiliation but it was a slow and gradual deterioration of my self esteem over the course of a much longer term.

This was preceded by 50 years of life where I lived in a bubble-wrapped world. I didn't struggle with school and had the ability to do well in my studies if that was where I chose to focus my energy. I found work within the financial services industry and succeeded with whatever was put before me. I earned a reputation of being a conscientious and hard worker. It followed me wherever I went. From there, I opened my daycare where I worked for/with parents who liked and respected me. I was becoming confident. Then, I took a chance and decided to try out a new career path.

At the age of 51 years old, I walked into a brand new place of employment (yes, they did hire me after my most-awful-interview-known-to-man) with the confidence of a sixteen year old. Or less.

That is the scenario which preceded the events to follow.

It is a long and tedious tale but it didn't take long for me to figure out my supervisor did not like me. This terrified me just a little bit (a lot) and I continued to become less-of-who-I-was and more of who-she-thought-I-was. It was not a place I would ever choose to be. But I was there.

I knew things were bad so I approached her and invited her to talk with me and let me know how I could improve. I did not expect it to be on the spot, in front of all of the other office staff and for it to be a public humiliation of epic proportions.

At this point, I knew I was most definitely not imagining all that was going on (quite literally) behind my back. I talked to the administrative person who hired me. I talked to my supervisor's superior. I explained what was going on and though I didn't have words to ask, I needed help. I just didn't know how desperate I was. Until things got worse.

And they did.

I unravelled slowly but surely. I had 50 years of success which preceded these events so I used every strategy that had worked for me in the past to succeed, despite the odds.

When my questions were not being answered, I researched my own answers. When I found myself unable to be quick enough to perform my duties, I took work home with me and devised a spreadsheet where I could come up with my own answers easily. I asked questions of anyone and everyone who was happy to supply them. By this time, I was under the impression my supervisor had instructed my co-workers not to answer any of my questions, so she was the one I would have to go to for answers. And then she may or may not choose to answer them.

I focused on the positive I found within those tortured days. There are morsels of goodness in every situation. And I found them. It was a struggle but I was gasping for air so I thought this just might work.

I went to a counselling session which I paid for out of my own pocket. I needed a strategy to get through this. This was the job I most wanted. All I had to do was overcome this one obstacle and I would be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I needed answers. I needed help.

I did not want to approach my supervisor's boss and turn this into a "She said/she said" situation that reminded me of teenage girls. I thought if I just kept doing the next right thing, I would get to where I needed to be to work through and past this challenge.

For days and weeks on end, I came home from work and cried. Time after time after time. All of my strategies were wearing me down and wearing me out. I had the feeling it wasn't working but I was terrified to approach my supervisor by this point because I knew she was not my ally. I was working to succeed despite her best efforts to keep me down.

Two months is all it took for this situation to come to a peak and have to be dealt with. I was given an ultimatum. I could stay in my position, not pass my probation and be without a job. Or I could resign my position and accept whatever fate would hand out to me (a part-time floating position within the organization).

At this point, I knew I had information that my superiors needed to know. I finally opened up to the people within my world and they put a name to what I was experiencing. "You are being bullied".

I was 51 years old and I did not have the vocabulary to describe this situation until someone gave it to me. Fifty one years old! How in the world do children and young teens take control of a subtle, manipulative bullying situation when it doesn't fit the mold that has been provided for them? Bullying takes on so very many forms and (from my experience) the bullying you cannot see is just as damaging than that which is blatant and recognizable.

My supervisor's boss was my boss. He was the one who gave me my final ultimatum. When I described my half of all of the events which had preceded the moment when he invited me into his office, he admitted  he did not know (nor investigate) my side of the story. The verdict was written without a defence.

I was two months into a brand new position in a brand new work place. I was working at a place of employment that I could see taking me through to my retirement. I wanted (and needed) this job. I said the hard words, "I have documentation and I can provide it to you if you need for this to go in (my supervisor's) file". And do you know what his answer was? "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this ..."

This, from a person who was holding a position-of-authority within the very institution that is in a position of trust for preventing bullying to happen to children. And this was his answer?!?

I could have fought this. The moment I mentioned this to the person who was in the administrative position of hiring me, she immediately responded, "We take these situations very seriously. Let me find out more information." By the time she got back to me, I was terrified of the ramifications pursuing this would bring. I was a brand new employee. I was in jeopardy of losing my job. I was vulnerable and felt ill equipped to handle this on my own. So I bowed down and pretended it didn't really happen. For the sake of my future.

This sequence of events unfolded (almost) three years ago. And an announcement in the paper that this very same employer is going to implement a new strategy for the children in their care hit me hard.

If an adult, with all of the tools, resources, coping strategies, vocabulary and willingness to talk openly can't confront a bully when they are in their own 'front yard', what hope does a child have?

I am beyond grateful to see more accessible tools are becoming available and bullying is something that is discussed openly at all ages. But please, please, please give these children the tools to recognize the very subtle forms of bullying. Bullying in any form is dangerous but when it comes in the form even an adult cannot recognize while they are living it ... it is the most treacherous of all forms.

It has taken me over two and a half years to write this out loud. I am an adult, with all of the resources I could possibly hope for, right at my fingertips. I can still feel the whisper of those sequence of events, which haunt me to this day. Let's do whatever we possibly can, to help our children. They need it. More than we will ever know.

Rest, Recharge, Reboot and Restart

The life I am leading is giving me the answers that I need. Each and every day. Rinse and repeat. Life keeps showing me little things. And sometimes ... just sometimes, I hear the message.

My little 1-1/2 year old daycare charges are nearing the point where they probably don't need their morning rest. I call it a 'rest' because more often than not, one of them never does fall asleep. But that rest period seems to be essential to carry on for the remainder of the day (until afternoon nap time, anyway).

It must be confusing to be little and living between two homes and two different sets of normal. They are happy in their comfortable world at home, surrounded by everything they know and love. Then they must be plucked up out of that world and placed in a new world of different people, places and things that they must reacquaint themselves with, five days of the week. Daycare is an introduction to life-outside-of-home that is easier some days, than others.

Things can go one of two ways during that first hour of Life at Daycare. Either they are happy or they are not. If they are not (as a rule), it takes little more than a few distractions and they are off and ready to play.

Once they take off into the direction of their new day, things can go one of two ways. Good or not-so-good.

It seems there is a transition period between Life at Home and Life at Daycare that is easier some days than others. The magical cure that has been working around here for the past several months, is that morning rest period.

I lay my two, little 1-year-olds down for a rest and encourage my 2-1/2 (now, almost 3) year olds to enjoy a quiet activity (basically anything that doesn't involve running up and down the hallway) during that time.

There is something about that physical separation that eases us into the day ahead of us. Our day formally begins after everyone has had a chance to recharge and reboot.

Yesterday was a rare day. The clock was ticking closer and closer to our rest period and everyone was happy. Everybody was getting along without whining, grabbing, crying or fighting over the toy-of-the-moment. It was a little bit awesome.

I wondered if I should chance it, and let yesterday be an experiment in living the day in full, without that morning rest period.

I resisted the change.

I know from experience that contentment is a fickle thing. 'Happy' one moment becomes 'crying' the next. So I just kept doing what we have been doing since this particular batch of kids fell into this routine. I laid two happy children down for a rest.

Neither one of them slept, but both of them came out happy and refreshed. That hour gave me time to organize myself and my two, 2-1/2 year olds for the next segment of the day. That hour gave the older kids a mini-break from the little ones.

Each and every one of us gains something from that hour of separation.

We segue into our day much more successfully after that hour. It is as if our day officially begins once everyone has had a chance to unplug and reboot.

Who hasn't rebooted their computer when all else fails? Who hasn't had (near) success most of the time you unplug &/or reboot their system? It is a strategy that works well for me.

When things don't go quite according to plan, try and take a step out of your reality for a short period. Walk away and come back to the same problem after a short break and (most) things become just a little more manageable.

And if that doesn't work, do what our cat does ...

... lay down, have a good stretch and catch a short cat nap while you are already there.

I've Been Tweeted (and I think I like it!)

One of the hardest parts about this 'writing gig' that I (sort of) have going on (in the sidelines of my life), is promoting my work.

How can you take something as personal as writing and shout out to the world "Read what I think - I think you will like it!"?

I presently write for seven publications. One of them is an on-line blog format within a publication, and I get remunerated according to how many 'hits' that I have. I have been writing for them for over a year now and I haven't developed a strong readership, so I have promoted that writing on my Facebook page.

This may work just a little bit better if I had more than thirty Facebook friends. Perhaps it would work just a tiny bit better if I out and out flaunted myself and asked people to please 'Like' and 'Share' and promote my work.

But that is not the way that I roll.

What I have discovered is that I can 'link up' someone that I have written about when I make my Facebook status post. How that works from the other end, I have no idea. But I thought that it was a quiet, unobtrusive way to spread my writing around. So I tried it.

When I step out of my own quiet little world and try something new, it seems that newer and fresher words roll off of my fingertips. So when I saw Cher the other night I had a fresh batch of insight and stories to share. And I wrote a little bit about that and shared my piece on Cher, with 'the world'.

I was just puttering my way through the morning when I thought that I would have a look at how my article looked and reread it.

Something new and different on the side of my blog caught my eye. It was an 'in your face' look at how many 'Likes' and 'Tweets' that my article had. I was 'Tweeted' seven times. Seven!

'My' editor and I have corresponded back and forth a handful of times about ways to increase my readers. One of things that he noticed was that one of my articles was 'tweeted' several (three) times and it generated the most hits. I wasn't quite sure how to recreate that interest but he planted a seed. I must find ways to create interest ...

I have followed the lead that my leader-in-writing gave me and came up with the idea of 'linking' up with those that I write about.

Not only did I get retweeted, some (two) of these people wrote nice little comments that made my morning.

I dipped my toes into the public arena and seven people took the time to read what I wrote and pass it along! And two of those people even commented!

The scariest part of all, is that this also puts me in the vulnerable position of having people with opposing views to put down my work in a very public fashion. I suppose that is also something that could generate a lot of readers but it is not the way that I would knowingly choose to go.

I suppose that I should check into this 'Twitter' thing and see if I can make it work for me. I do not relish the idea of developing any more on-line addictions so I have shied away from the idea.

In the meantime, I shall bask in the glory of my moment of fame on Twitter. Seven times! Yes. I have been Tweeted (and I think I like it!).