Regrets? I Have a Few ...

I must write fast. I wrote slowly yesterday and did not have time to post. My words took a turn I wasn't expecting and I had to walk away and go to work. I will try to write what I intended to write yesterday:

Regrets. I have a few...

Yesterday, I focused on the regrets I have. Today, I will steer the same ship in a different direction. I will write of the year I will never regret. The year? 2017.

I had been concerned about Mom for some time. My eyes were opened when we went to her after she broke her wrist. It was the first time in my life I had witnessed Mom in a weakened state, while insisting she was fine on her own. She told us there was no need for concern. My eyes and my heart heard otherwise...

I made one subtle change and it changed my world. I simply showed up.

My life was at a turning point where I could create the flexibility I wanted, needed and craved. I worked for two incredible people who took me on, knowing Mom was my priority. I wanted to be able to go to Edmonton on a moment's notice. And I did.

I went when my heart needed reassurance. I went when I felt Mom could use some company or to have someone with her to go to an appointment. Yes, my brother could have, would have and was prepared to be there for all of that. I went for him too.

Any time I felt the need to go, I went. I went for the good, the bad and the everything in between. I simply showed up.

Did I make mistakes along the way? You bet I did. Almost every night, I had to talk myself down off the cliff and forgive myself for the errors of my ways. "You tried" "You did your best" "You didn't know better at the time" "You know better now" "It's okay" "You tried"...

So many silly mistakes I made along the way which, in the end, did not make a big difference. The end result would not have changed. Could Mom have had a few more comfortable moments? Perhaps. But to make assumptions that she may not be up to certain things would not have been what she wanted. She simply wanted me to "know" without asking. When you don't ask, you make mistakes. When you make mistakes, you learn.

It was a year I will never regret. Do I have memories of regrets along the way? More than I can count. But I kept forgiving myself and doing the best I could do, with what I knew at the time. Which led to a year I know I simply did all I knew how to do. I showed up. Not only for Mom, but for and with and beside my family.

Regrets? I have a few. I would have far less if I never tried. I don't want to be afraid to try. So I will live on to regret another day.

Time is up. I've got to stop writing and live the day. I don't want to regret showing up later than I should have.

Fail!

All it took was one day. One day of deciding to just go with the flow of the day. And I lost what I had gained the past two weeks.

One day without exercise. "I'll shovel the snow and call it good," I used as my excuse.

One day without writing. I told myself, "I'll do it later."

One day without doing anything productive around the house. I didn't even try to talk myself into feeling better about that one.

One weekend at home. By myself. With myself. And I fell right back into the comfort of doing nothing. In fact, I believe I revelled in it a little bit.

I forced myself out the door to buy groceries yesterday. I had hoped that would start the ball rolling and I would accomplish something after I got home. I didn't.

It felt so good at the time. "I need this down time," I consoled myself.

I was so very wrong. Doing hard things is the key to maintaining my status quo. Maintaining my contentment. Maintaining my "happy".

It's never too late to start over. I believe I will try to salvage the morning by finding a "Slim in 6" YouTube video so I can pump some oxygen into my malnourished brain.

I will try to write better tomorrow. This morning? It was simply an exercise of discipline. To put me where I need to be to nourish what I found.

Don't forget what works for you. When you abandon ship and take the easy route, remember how much better you felt when you did hard things. 

P.S. The entire weekend wasn't a wash. I found laughter within my solitude. An auto-correct during a text exchange with my brother lightened the moment and I laughed all over again the next day, when I reread our conversation.

Then I watched snippets of Mom's 80th birthday program. It was a most excellent day filled with family, friends, laughter. Though Mom was not on camera, you could make out her answers when my brother quizzed her on some little known facts. Lastly, her thank you. Hearing her voice saying these words found a special place within my weekend of solitude:

"I have to thank you all. You've just been great. And you are a wonderful family and to think I'm kinda responsible for it, is the sad part. Apart from that, thank you for coming and the wonderful singing. And that's it."

"Is the sad part" ... did Mom have a hard time taking credit for the qualities she liked about her family? I wonder about the meaning of that little self deprecating comment. Mom did not give praise freely and wouldn't want anyone to think she was taking credit for the way her family turned out. But it slipped out anyway. She was so appreciative of who we were to her, to each other and I think she thinks we turned out okay. I think...

The Post I Didn't Have Time to Write

I organized my morning just right. I was out of bed by 5:30 a.m.; done exercising by 6:30; showered/hair washed and dressed by about 7:00; lunch made and even a side order of toast by 7:15; and by 7:30, I was savoring my morning smoothie & coffee while doing my puzzles while my son readied himself for his day in the half hour that followed...

I was sitting there thinking, "Ahhh! I will have an entire hour to myself to write, email and do one household task before I walk out the door ..."

That was about when the morning took a twist I didn't expect but was fully prepared for. My son told me, "I think my ride has slept in again. You may need to be on stand-by."

They were words I didn't really want to hear but I was ready. I brushed my teeth, poured the rest of my coffee in a travel coffee mug, grabbed my lunch and we were out the door.

I've driven my son to school on a few other occasions. But I wasn't ready to start my day, so that drive to school and back home to finish readying myself for the day added 45 minutes of travel time to my morning which did not bring me joy. I am living a life where I can be on standby, so I continue to be grateful for this lucky lot in life I seem to be living.

That one "bonus hour" I spent going directly to work instead of returning home and then slowly making my way out the door was nothing short of a gift.

I was completely and totally prepared and ready to go on a moment's (well, actually ten minutes because it takes me ten minutes to walk out the door no matter how prepared I think I am).

I saved gas by going directly to work and not turning it into a trip that was completely out of my way.

AND, I got to work an hour earlier than I anticipated. And get this: I actually get paid to go to work. So I earned some extra cash due to this unplanned detour.

Before my morning got derailed, I had intended to write a post about counting all the small blessings I found as I lived the prior day. I had forgotten to make notes along the way and that particular day simply felt "hard". I wasn't entirely certain what I was going to write but I was creating a rough first draft in my head as I was drinking that cup of coffee that ended up in a "to go" cup.

The blessing turned out to be an unexpected twist in the morning prior. A twist, which would have completely side tracked my morning only a few short weeks ago, turned into a gift.

The previous day, I walked out the door with lead in my shoes. Everything felt hard.

I didn't feel the euphoria that sometimes hits me when I complete a hard task at work. I planned to count "moving ahead throughout the day, despite the fact it still felt hard" as one of my small blessings that particular day.

I was going to write about the detour I took when I picked up some McDonald's for my son and I, on my way home from work. It cost less than the amount I had left on a gift card. So it felt "free". It felt like a blessing.

I had cleaned cat litter in the morning, so I didn't have to do it after enduring a hard day. I love remembering I have already done some of the hard things in the morning, so I don't have to do them at night.

I received not only one, but two personal emails that day. Ask for what you want in life and life has a way of making things come true. Especially when you meet "life" half way and create a space for those small blessings to find their way to you.

The weight of the upcoming week was pulling me down. I thought I would be working at my bookkeeping job close to full time, after my boss returned home from the hospital. So in lieu of carrying the weight, I asked her if she minded if I took off Monday and Tuesday, so I could be there for the balance of the week, when she got home from the hospital. She thought that was an excellent plan, so I ended up with an extra, extra long weekend away from my bookkeeping job.

"Ask for what you want" in life. Sometimes it is just that easy. Other times, a compromise may be met. There are times when the answer is simply "no". But there is peace of mind in knowing that you stated your case, presented your solution and simply asked.

My thoughts have taken a complete "180" over the course of the past few weeks.

Exercise? I believe any type of activity which pumps extra blood and oxygen into your brain is a most excellent place to start.

A good substitute may be simply getting outside, breathing fresh air, looking upwards and let what is weighing you down waft upwards into the universe. Set it free. Let it go. Let what happens, happen.

Writing? I knew it was a huge part of my answer. By the time words hit the page, there is a brain to fingertip connection which starts translating the angst, the sadness, the worry and the helplessness. As I continue to write, I seem to find my road map.

The brain to fingertip connection (for me) is mystical in the way it works. I always, always find my way through when I let my fingers fly. They often tell me things I didn't expect to write. The subconscious mind is all knowing. Try to find "your way" to hear yourself think, reason and come to terms with life as you know it.

This is my morning email from https://www.projecthappiness.org/

May you seek and find your "better connection" today. 

Possession Day

Today is the day the keys to Mom's home are handed over to its new owners.

When this thought first crossed my mind this morning, it was due to the fact that a snowfall warning showed up as an alert on my phone. "Trev won't have to worry about the snow at Mom's any more", was the passing thought I had.

This is it. The end of an era.

We moved into that house on November 1st, 1976. The only thing I really remember about the move is the fact that the previous owners had rarely cleaned the top of the kitchen cupboards and there was years grime and grease built up on them. Mom wistfully said, "I'll give you a dollar if you clean them!" I'd do pretty much anything for a dollar, so clean them? I did.

The last time I was at Mom's, I checked out the tops of those cupboards to ensure they were clean for their new owners. Granted, most of those cupboard tops are now covered since a sunshine ceiling was built, but what remained was clean. You're welcome.

My room was yellow. I made a quilt for my room and tried my hand at decorating. I even entered a redecorating contest a youth magazine was holding at the time. I didn't win, but at the time, I thought I had a good chance. I have no idea what happened to that quilt. I'm certain I must have taken it with me when I moved out, but it never made it to our Saskatoon home.

Little things.

I only lived in that house from November 1st, 1976 until February 24, 1978, yet it felt like a lifetime.

I got my first job while I lived there. I saved up and bought a bedroom suite, a 10" color TV and a none-too-fancy stereo. I was very proud of what I had accumulated on my own, to bring into my brand new marriage.

My wedding pictures were taken in the living room, with some somewhat gaudy looking velvet wallpaper as a backdrop to those photos...

Dad and me

Me and my mom

That was almost 40 years ago ...

I moved back home for about ten months after my marriage ended. All tolled, I lived in that home a mere 26 months. It was not about the time it was my home, it was about all of the years it was our family home and how it always felt like "home" to me. Always.

That house saw so very much. A highlight reel of occasions waft through my mind as I type those words.

"It's a good house for entertaining", my brother said to me during one of our last walk-throughs of Mom's home. Oh, the stories those walls would have to tell, if only those walls could talk.

That house saw us through so very much.

As I sit here and think of letting it go, I tend to think of Mom and Dad's lives ending during the years they owned that home.

Dad was far too young. His story scrolls through my mind ...

Mom's touch was in every nook and cranny of that house. As we went through the process of emptying, sorting and getting the house ready to leave our family, I wandered through each and every room and breathed in the essence of Mom.

The day she died, I could feel her presence when we came back to her house. She was still so close. Each time I returned, I felt her essence a little bit less and less. The last time I was there, I did little more than simply breathe in the moments. I could almost hear tell me to stay another day when the cold weather didn't break. I heard her. And I stayed. At the time, I felt I could have lingered in that existence between "then" and "now" forever.

Almost a month has passed since that day.

The only real reason I would have gone back, would have been to return her ironing board that doesn't fold. It belongs in Mom's laundry room. An ironing board that doesn't fold NEEDS to be in a laundry room like Mom's. It was not in the way. It served a purpose. Mom was always quite proud of her ironing skills and she had a room which made ironing easy.

Yes, that house was tailor made by and for Mom. And her family. Yes, it was a great house for entertaining. So many memories. So very, very many of them are light and easy and family filled. I hear the laughter, the voices and stories that were told under that roof. I hope the echoes of those days remain part of my memories forever.

 It was a good house. I hope it goes on to become part of another family's story...

The Hardest Part of the Day (is waking up)

As I gear myself up for another long day out of the house, I am sitting here reminding myself that the hardest part of the day is where I am sitting still (or lying in bed) and not doing anything about it (or convincing myself to put my feet on the floor and start the process of living a day).

Being idle and in a state of inertia is one of the worst places to be.

As I sit here and stew about this place in my day, I have decided to focus on the little things which bring the greatest joy to my day:

My morning coffee. It is less about the taste and more about the sensation that I am still, in the moment and treating myself to my morning ritual.

Arriving at work and completing the first hard task of the day. The first task is the hardest, so once it is overcome the rest of the day feels like a bit of a celebration.

Finding joy in the smallest of things. Running into someone in the hallway and exchanging a few words which result in their eyes lighting up and twinkling a little bit.

Making memories and getting to know someone I already know, a little bit better. I love the moment when I find out something new about someone I know well.

An email of a personal nature. I've all but given up on snail mail (but will never stop hoping for some). Text messages are okay but nothing (but an actual, physical card or letter) beats opening up and finding a personal email of a conversational nature.

Sitting in a car wash and knowing I can sit behind the wheel of my car, hands free, eyes off the road and those two and a half minutes are mine. All mine! The freedom I feel when locked in that momentary cone of solitude? There is nothing quite like it.

Sitting down on the couch at the end of my day, teeth brushed and everything is cleared away so the next item on my agenda is going to bed. My hand goes to my mouth and I throw away a kiss. Mwah!!😘 Le piece de resistance! THE ultimate best part of my day...

Hmmm...

The hardest part of my day is getting out of bed. The best part of my day is savoring the moments before I crawl back into it. With sitting alone in a car wash, free to move my eyes and hands away from the steering wheel of my car a close second.

Something is wrong with this picture. Or else I am simply very easy to please. It's one or the other. Or maybe a little of both.

I must step away from the computer and do all the hard things that must be done before I leave my oasis for the day.

I will count the small blessings I find within this day and report back. I have found a mini-notepad to place within my mini-purse. I will focus on all the goodness that comes from my stressful day away from home.

In Search of a Blog

The blog writers I have followed for years have either switched their focus to social media, abandoned the idea of regular posts (look who's talking 😔) or I have outgrown their blog for one reason or another.

So I have set out on a quest to find a "50 something" blogger who writes of life as they see it. I don't want to read exclusively of health, fitness, fashion, travel, etc. I simply want to read of their spin on "life".

I want to feel like I have sat down with a friend and had a conversation of substance. I want to read  how others navigate this phase of living:

• This feeling of drifting through one's days without a defined purpose after children are grown and parents are gone...
• Living with the process and reality of loss of a loved one
• The loss of "purpose" and having to dig deep to find something that truly matters, to help rekindle the spark.
• An aging body and what to do with it in order to keep it in good running condition until it is no longer required.
• Looking after one's health now and in the future. Ill health is simply not part of the plan, so preventative measures are probably a very good idea.
• Thoughts of finances and how one is going to manage them, while hoping and planning for a work slow-down and eventual stoppage of work and retiring.
• And what of this thing called "retirement"? What does one do to redefine themselves when the necessity of going to work each day stops defining life as they knew it?
• The emotional changes as one thinks ahead, reflects and plans for a future you know nothing about. 
• Moods that drift from fear to depression to anxiety and resignation. 
• The need to remain involved, positive, vibrant and alive. 
• A feeling of drifting through the days aimlessly until you figure out "all of the above".
• The need for solid and sustaining relationships as one walks this walk. 

I have found my greatest resources come from that which I already have. Maintaining and nurturing friendships when I have not had the time, energy or desire to do so is the spice of life.

Mom's advise to "surround yourself with youth" (and she didn't mean of a daycare aged population) is essential. Conversations which focus on a healthy, youthful take on living is life affirming.

Mom appreciated the relationships she developed with her adult grandchildren. I can only guess why this may have been the case ... when it comes to your children, there is always a part of you which is a parent and always will be of a parenting nature. Grandchildren (I assume), are a step outside the parent/child relationship which alters the dynamic.

These are the things I want to read about. I want to hear how others navigate these waters. I long for these conversations to be light, humorous but pack a punch with the meaning behind the lessons learned as we make our way through these "post 50" years.

If I cannot find it, maybe I can create a piece of what I want within this space here. Life as I Know It is changing...

The Ticker Tape of My Mind...

Thoughts are scrolling through my mind like a ticker tape at the bottom of the screen on a news channel. The highlight reel of the past few days would read something like this:

A perfectly fine Friday was spent meeting up with My Sister for lunch, at the halfway point between our two homes. We were accompanied by our aunt and her sister and a wonderful time was had by all. Roads were spring-like, the sky was clear and it was a great day for a road trip.

An unexpected invitation on Saturday took me out of the house and meeting up with my Middle Son, who then proceeded to take us on a country drive so we could go and check out the four, 1/4 sections of land Dad once farmed; passed along to Mom and is presently owned by all four of their children. 

It was another perfect day for a drive, the clouds parted and the sun shone through and smiled down on us as we walked on the soil that was handed down from Dad's dad, to Dad and his brother. The land has been sold to two great grandsons of Grandpa's. I could almost feel Dad smiling down upon us as we walked through all four fields. "I'll never wash these shoes again", was my acclamation after my son asked me how it felt to walk on the land my dad had once farmed.

Sunday was another day which was touched with perfection. Meeting up with a childhood friend for brunch (my son and I drove past her old farm yard, just down the road from where we lived) set the scene for a visit which lasted for hours. There is nothing quite like a friendship that transcends time. We've quite literally known each other "forever" and our conversation was that of someone you share a lifetime of history with.

It was a let down to come home at the end of that day and have the last few "plans of the weekend" be aborted without notice. Normally, I would relish in the unexpected gift of savoring the last few hours of such a memorable weekend by myself. But my contentment came to an unexpected halt after a brief conversation which took a turn I wasn't expecting.

Digging up the remnants of a life I once lived put a cloud over an otherwise perfect weekend. This is why I don't like digging up the skeletons of the past. I thought I had dealt with, resolved and come to terms with life as I knew it. The unfortunate truth is the "ripple" of a pebble cast decades ago still has the power to overturn my life raft without warning. 

Onto a fresh, new week. I don't have quite as many "hard things" to conquer this week. Simply opening my eyes each morning and trying to recreate what worked for me last week will be challenge enough.

Exercise, write, eat well, socialize and looking forward are on today's menu of events. Onward. It is the only right direction to take.