I Can't Hear Myself Think

I have become everything I never wanted to be. 

Unmotivated, uninspired ... put the prefix "un" in front of all the things I ever aspired to become and that is the gist of my overall feeling of unrest.

Writing has saved me from myself time and time again. Yet I cannot seem to find the words to put to page the way I used to. It doesn't matter if I write uncensored thoughts just for myself, words here on my blog to force myself to be accountable, reply to an email or respond to a text. Words do not come easily.

TOO MANY WORDS are a requirement for living these days.

I woke up feeling my feelings very deeply one recent morning. They were so deep and so heavy. I did one right thing. I did NOT turn on the TV or computer to numb myself out of what I was feeling. I simply allowed myself to feel my feelings and let myself sink into the abyss.

I did cheat. I sent off a few messages which resulted in hearing the words I most needed to hear which was followed up with a conversation with someone who has known me long enough to know who I truly am and likes me anyway, which allowed me to say the words I was feeling out loud .

Days have unfolded since then and as I look at what brought me to my knees that particular morning, it feels like a non-event. I have resumed life-as-I-know-it and the heaviness I felt in that moment has lifted. 

If I hadn't let myself succumb to those emotions at the time, I would have forgotten the entire incident. Enter the addiction of the new world. Numbing. Tuning out one's thoughts and losing them to one's addiction of choice. Food, alcohol, scrolling, drugs, Netflix and any number of mind numbing activities you can think of.

Back in the "old days", I would take a morning such as the one I just described and I would have done one of a number of things. I would have cleaned, gone outside or wrote. Whatever activity I may have chose, I would have sunk into my thoughts and listened to myself. In a reflective, healing and cathartic way.

Whether I walked, worked, sat in a sun beam or toiled at some menial household task, I would have let myself THINK.

I have stopped thinking. 

I miss my thoughts. I miss my old self. I miss the light that follows the darkness.

I just read that a person needs three things be happy. Someone to love. Something to do. Something to hope for.

As the thought of my children moving out and on with their lives in distant locations; followed by the "knowing" I have that my employment relies heavily on people who are well into their 80's; and the loss of a dream on the horizon ... I am not looking too far into the future right now.

Something to hope for.

Seems like a small step in a positive direction. Hope. Faith. Trust that "we are exactly where we are meant to be" ...

Everything is going to be okay. Things always works out. I have faith in what I don't yet know. It will all be okay.

It will all work out in the end. If it hasn't worked out, it is not yet the end. 

Almost There

Our days are now officially longer than our nights.

The sun feels warmer.

The snow is melting even on days when it feels too chilly to make a difference.

I feel like a child who is continually asking "Are we there yet?",

on a seemingly endless drive.

Wishing, hoping, waiting for more sunlight and warmer days.

Waiting for the snow to melt.

Waiting 

Hoping

Dreaming of spring

We are almost there.

Memories of my daycaring days waft through my mind when I take in this view

Days when being in the presence of children forced me to be still and savor the moment

I feel like I'm wishing my life away,

continually wondering "Am I there yet?".

As if some elusive destination awaits.

How about if the destination is "today"?

What if today is the day we have been hoping and waiting for?

And tomorrow is the same?

And so on and so forth.

Living in the present tense sounds like the best plan I know.

What do you find yourself hoping for?

Could it be wrapped up in "today" if you look for it?

I know nothing. 

I simply feel tired of waiting.

The time has arrived to enjoy the longer days and the warmer sun.

I believe there is a sunbeam out there calling my name.

Is it calling you too?

Other People's Stories

I feel like my thoughts are on mute a lot lately. I am on the outside, looking in. Remaining quiet. Holding onto confidentiality. Protecting the privacy of others. Silent.

Every once in a while, I feel the need to talk to someone who doesn't know any of the characters in my story. I just need to hear my words outside my own head so they stop churning around and around. So many words but in reality, very few lucid "thoughts".

I remember feeling this way throughout Mom's last year. "This is not my story" I would tell myself again and again. I was playing a supporting role and thankfully I shared the part with others. We would talk among ourselves, each knowing the part well. We supported, we listened, we had an opportunity to "be real" with each other. We could lean in and be vulnerable, knowing someone had our back. We weren't alone.

Once again, I am cast in a supporting role. This time is different. I don't share the part. I have no other cast mates walking the walk with me. I have strong support systems but I walk this particular walk alone.

I write these words and my thoughts go back to Mom, as they often do.

Throughout Mom's last year, she still played the role of "mom" very well. Strong, as strong as she could be. Fiercely independent, as much as possible. She was still very much a mother. She cast our worries aside, as (I believe) the last thing she wanted was pity. She didn't enjoy conversations that revolved around anyone's ill health, let alone her own. Yet she was dying. She knew this. She spoke of it in a manner of fact way. She didn't like words that veiled the truth. Palliative care. Passing away. Just say what it is. "I'm dying".

She said the words, yet I never felt her falter. She was my mom until the end. 

Though we were there at her side as much as we could be and she would allow, she walked that walk alone. No one knew what it felt like to be her. As much as we tried, we didn't know.

I well remember the look she shot me when I tried to guess what she may be feeling. If she didn't say the words, her eyes certainly did. "Don't tell me what I'm feeling..."

We didn't know. 

We don't know what others are dealing with. Ever. We can try and put ourselves in their shoes. But no on really knows.

As we walk through our days, if we spread kindness, extend grace to those who may be fighting a battle we are unaware of, do what we can, when we can ... if we do our best (and our "best" may change by the minute, hour or day), take the lessons learned along the way and simply keep waking up to the next day and doing it all over again ... it is enough.

The Gift of Independence

Our independence is something we tend to take for granted while we have it.

When we wake up each morning and know we can make our way through the day ahead of us with a laundry list of mundane tasks we can do without thinking, we are fortunate.

When we have the ability to get out of bed with ease and our bodies do what we have come to expect them to do, we are blessed.

When we can remember what happened a few minutes or hours ago, we are rich beyond our wildest dreams.

When life unfolds in a relatively expected manner day after day, we are living the good life.

Mom's fierce determination to live an independent life was hard fought and she won the battle. Mom lived in her own home until her final days.

We were so fortunate Mom's determined self sufficiency worked out the way she hoped and persevered to make happen.

I hear Mom's words within my thoughts a lot these days. She knew. She knew ...

Mom? I hear you. I hope the next roads I follow within this little life of mine lead me to become as strong and determined as you always were.

Baby Steps

I set a goal for myself on Sunday:

To have an "Intentional Day".

A day without TV, computer or cell phone. 

Unplug and set my intentions on "something".

My goal? 

To make these boxes disappear from the living room:

So what did I do?

I took out the pot I use to boil potatoes.

I replied to a few emails.

I picked up a book and read. 

All day.

Until 4:00

I sprung into action when my adult child stepped into the shower

 and forewarned me it would be a long one.

Aha! A goal at last:

See how much I can do for the time it took to shower.

Step 1 - Peel and boil potatoes; start supper preparations

Step 2 - Empty the living room of the wall-full-of-boxes

Step 3 - Vacuum

Step 4 - Assemble supper

Step 5 - Relax and enjoy the meal

I succeeded in my mission:

Next weekend's goal? 

Find a home for and empty a box.

One box at a time.

Baby steps are better than no steps at all.

Grateful For Deadlines

As the number of piles continue to grow and multiply within my work-at-home space, instead of feeling overwhelmed, I feel grateful. Grateful for deadlines.

I have a large work table with several works-in-progress; work completed but yet to be submitted; papers-to-go; almost done; calls-to-be-made; information to have at-the-ready when calls come in; and my perennial to-do-list [note-to-self: make a new to-do-list. The old one is almost all crossed off!!].

As I mentally review these piles, there is great satisfaction in knowing most of them MUST be dealt with before the month's end. I'm so very grateful for deadlines!

A busy spring season is in store and I will need to be on my A-Game to keep on top of the day-to-day, monthly work that will arise from the busyness of our business. Having dates that cannot wait will keep me on task.

One set of deadlines rolls right into the next. All I can do is look into the horizon and wonder when there will be a lull in the action. Every reprieve will be consumed by a new set of must-do-items for as far as I can see.

As I sit here and blur my eyes over this little life of mine, I find myself wishing for this, that or the other thing that would help relieve some of the pressure I see in the forecast. Be careful what you wish for ... 

Everything that would help create extra space to create the illusion of making things better comes at a cost. Everything.

So this morning, I shall simply be grateful for the deadlines that will empty my work table one task at a time. 

This too, shall pass. The good, the bad and the ugly. Nothing lasts forever. Except perhaps (?) the ongoing deadlines in the world of bookkeeping and accounting. 

Thank goodness for deadlines!

Meeting at the Watering Hole

Our water outage saga continues. It has been almost two weeks since it all began.

Our water has been off, then back on, then off again. Then on again. Off again. On again. Again and again and again. 

I found the green tag deeming our water to be safe to drink three days ago. All our spare water jugs were replenished with safe drinking water and our back up water reserves were full.

Then the water went out last night. And stayed off. 

I have discovered one thing during our water shortage. It takes 8 litres of water to flush our toilet. I emptied two, 4 litre water jugs this morning to do just that. Emptying that much water at one time made me feel a little vulnerable so I decided to take a stroll down the block and utilize the safe water supply (up to this point, I had been refilling our jugs at my aunt's but had no plans to go there today).

As I made my way to the water trailer and back, I spoke with three (yes!!! three!!!) different people. 

First was a City employee (who is working today fighting with this water dilemma), who had no idea our water was off. He said the other end of the block had no water but ours was supposed to be working.

Second, was someone from the area who is also dealing with water outages on (what sounds like) the opposite times of our on again/off again water outage. 

Then came a third from (who knows how far) down the street. They had just about given up on finding the water trailer when they spotted me coming home with my full jugs. When I pointed out where the trailer was located they decided to go home and drive.

I just looked out the window to spot a small group of other neighbors visiting on the street. 

After almost a year of relative isolation and staying-at-home, I cannot tell you how happy my heart feels to be meeting up with neighbors at the local watering hole.

The best things in life are free (and unexpected).