Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day tomorrow so I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be a good mamma and about women in general. There seems to be a simmering movement of women supporting women right now and it's a beautiful thing. I can't imagine where I would be without the incredible women who have been in my world.

Life is messy and busy and beautiful and heartbreaking. It rarely goes as planned. Mothering is no different; it's so important and rewarding but is not always easy. There is enough intrinsic guilt built into it by design so when external opinions and judgements creep in, it's horrible because you just want so badly to do it right.

Breast fed or bottle? 

Babies need food. Did you feed them? Milk in some form? A vegetable or piece of fruit every now and then? Good for you. (FYI, fruit roll ups ARE fruit.....)

Stay at home parent or working parent?

Babies need routine and security. Did they have a safe place to play and learn? Awesome. Mine ended up with broken bones and stitches and snuck out at night as teenagers. Yours did/will too.

Navigating the space between keeping them safe while also giving them the freedom to grow outside of your shadow is a very delicate balance. I was not always good at this but kids have a way of taking what they need when you're unreasonable.

I stayed home with my darling brats until they were in school and breastfed a long time. It was the right choice for me. My sister-in-law (Hi Shonna!) went back to work when my nieces were a year old and that was the right choice for her family. My Mom worked when my brothers were small and stayed home with my sister and me. She chose to breastfeed in the 60's when people thought it was disgusting. See where I'm going with this?

Shonna was my birth coach with Jack. Did our different mothering styles matter in that moment? Not even slightly. Having a woman support me through childbirth was a primal and beautiful experience and I'm so grateful for it. 

My point? Everybody turned out just fine. My nieces are A M A Z I N G  young women and my nubbins appear to have survived  as well. We're all doing our best and have the same goal - happy, healthy kids. 

Happy Mother's Day to all the Mammas out there. Well done. 

It Takes A Village

"It takes a village to raise a child is an African proverb which means 

that it takes an entire community of different people interacting with children in order for a child to experience and grow in a safe environment. 

The villages would look out for the children."

I'm sure everyone has heard the adage that it takes a village to raise a child. I raised my brats for the most part in a small village in the Interior of BC and I can tell you this is true. The people of that village who knew my kids really loved them - they celebrated victories and provided support during difficult times. They also handed out discipline when required, likely more than I know. I remember when one of the RCMP officers who knew our family saw them on rooftop downtown, he didn't call me, he didn't give them a lecture.... he said... well, I won't say what he said but he dealt with it. 'Nuff said. (It involved the words "stupid" and "fucking" and "kids")

The Fire Hall was a big part of our world when we were raising our kids. Their Dad was a volunteer with the department and the kids played there, helped out and it was a part of the fabric of our life. They learned about service to community, dedication of friends and how love, respect and loyalty matter. My Jacky attended the Nova Scotia Firefighters School and I have no doubt the experience from home helped to guide that decision and his absolute passion for the work. He has been fighting forest fires here in BC this week. Let me tell you how that unfolded....

Barb saw an ad for a company hiring firefighters and sent it to me for him.

Tracey helped find him a place to stay where the company is based because it's her home town.

Louis gave him A CAR.... because he needs one right now.

Here's the most beautiful part - our entire province is on fire and where was Jack deployed? To the hometown where he grew up, to the village that helped to raise him. This is the place that helped him to develop the qualities required to do this job that he loves so much. 

He wears a necklace everyday with the GPS coordinate from this community, because it's where his roots are. Honest-t0-god it just about makes my heart explode. Thank you Nakusp.

Kintsugi and Gratitude

Kintsugi is the centuries-old Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with a special lacquer dusted with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. This repair method celebrates each artifact's unique history by emphasizing its fractures and breaks instead of hiding or disguising them. Kintsugi often makes the repaired piece even more beautiful than the original, revitalizing it with new life.

The past few weeks have been full of unfolding insight, jarring recognition and soul filling gratitude. I feel myself tentatively peeking around the corner and it's a little exciting. Nothing big or life changing has happened, but a corner has been turned. Indifference is in the rear view mirror and I'm finally for the first time in a long time excited about life. Is it the amazing Okanagan sunshine? Could it change drastically with the first snowfall in a few months? Maybe. Feel free to rub it in my face if that's the case, but for now I'm gonna be happy.

7 years ago (thank you Facebook memories) I left my home of 20 years for an exciting life change that was a devastating failure in one sense and the launching of incredible, unexpected things in another. It was a beautiful disaster and, while it broke me more than I thought was possible, I feel the cracks filling with gold and I don't think I'd change a thing.

4 years ago I began training for a job that has become one of the most meaningful experiences of my life - only motherhood beats it. I have the privilege of serving my community and society in general and was born to do this work. I feel it in my bones and I don't take it for granted for a minute.

My adult kids are squished in with me for the summer and it's amazing. It's almost certainly the last time the 4 of us will live together under the same roof and I never imagined I would have the opportunity to experience that again in this lifetime. We are surrounded by the love of friends and family (SO MUCH LOVE) and I'm incredibly grateful because that love is the gold that has helped us to all be OK through some difficult times.

I'm learning that gratitude is a choice. It's a lens to view your world through and it's a balm for the soul. It just feels better when you open your eyes in the morning and take a moment to think about what's good. Being grateful doesn't mean everything is awesome. I worry about a million things and am bitter about others. Some people have it much better than me.... others have it far worse. It doesn't matter. It's about the lens you view it all through. My mother taught me how to use that lens and my father carries on her legacy in that regard.

I have felt broken and unworthy for far too long and I feel that shifting in a powerful way.
Kintsugi.

Barb.... again.

I've posted about Barb before but when I saw these words today,  I was reminded of her and I knew that I needed to write about her again. 

Like most people, I have a tendency to  beat myself up. A lot. When something goes wrong in my world I immediately look to see what I've done wrong in the situation (which is healthy) then proceed to crucify myself for it (which is decidedly unhealthy). 

Barb is my 'go to' person. I know that if I deserve the flogging, she will tell me straight up what a dumb ass I am. But 99% of the time, instead of beating me up she gently shines a light on a different way to view the situation and helps me to re-frame the story in a way that encourages me to be gentler with myself and move forward in a constructive way. I know she does this for her children and for many other friends in her life as well.

This is pretty incredible in itself, but there's more. Barb has been through hell for over two years now. Hell with extra sprinkles of hell-ish-ness trickled on her hell. She's a warrior and has a quiet strength that is inspirational. Even in the midst of everything on her plate, she still finds a way to be my cheerleader on a regular basis when I need her. 

Barb has driven hours to be by my side when I've been broken. She's made me laugh when I couldn't stop crying. She's taken me to Vegas. She's helped me to see the best version of myself. She's my biggest fan. 

She is always 100% in my corner and the world would be such a better place if everyone had a Barb (but you can't have mine). 

Walking For Lily

Today was the Kelowna MS Walk, a fundraiser for the MS Society. People have been so generous - we raised $350 which is amazing. Thank you so much to the people who donated and thanks also to the ones who sent encouraging messages of love on Facebook when I posted about the walk. A description of the photos above:

Top left: The bibs we wore (so we could FEEL like marathon runners while only walking 5k). On it we wrote who we were walking for

Top Right: Me with my Mamma, many years ago

Bottom Left: My goofy Mom on the left with her sister, the ever-amazing Aunt Gay

Bottom Right: My girls. Jennifer and Tracy (also known as my Taco Sisters) and my feisty wee daughter who is a Taco In Training (almost used an acronym for that - it didn't go well)

MS has been a devastating force in my world so it felt good today to do something positive around it instead of just being cranky and feeling robbed. Jen and Tracy were there because that's who they are....amazing women who have supported me in a million ways, this just being one of them. Gigi was there because she's my ferocious sidekick, always.

We did the full 5k (yay us!) and only got lost once. We went for brunch afterwards (who knew that Eggs Benedict Poutine was a THING, people???) and I may have had a mimosa. It was a beautiful day with beautiful women honouring the life of my Mom who was the most important woman in my world - what a wonderful world.

*Today's large font brought to you by Barb 

for 2 reasons* 

1) She has developed old-lady-can't-see-without-my-glasses vision.

2) She loves being named in my blogs because she's a diva and I adore her.

The Payoff

Soooooo..... the payoff. Before we talk about 'the payoff', I'll have to do a quick summary of the past two-ish years. (Spoiler alert and summary for those who don't like reading - happy, tortured, excited, devastated, hopeful, happy, etc).

2014: Kids, work, life, laundry. Groceries....more groceries, then laundry again. Laughter, anxiety, love, life-out-of-control. 

2015: New beginning, dream job, David (oh, David). New city, empty-ish nest (bigger ouch than I understood at the time). Heart break. Shell shocked. Zombie Suze.

2016: Workaholic. *Sob* Blur.  "Barb, I need your couch AND POTATO CHIPS! Carbohydrates will make it all better, I KNOW IT."  Magnifying glass on my soul, owning my shit. *more sobbing* Owning it for real.

2017: Realization that carbohydrates aren't the answer (but oh, so fucking tasty). Substitute treadmill for carbohydrates and crying. *Tiny Sob* Healthier both emotionally and physically, and oh, is that a light at the end of the tunnel??

The payoff is that I've worked my ASS off (literally and figuratively) to be happy and healthy and guess what y'all? I am happy *Smiley face instead of sob*. I saw a photo of myself from the weekend and thought to myself "Holy cats - I look genuinely happy."

I've learned so much and I'm a better person for it. I feel whole and content. I've figured out what I want and I'm learning how to get it. I've created space in my life for the beautiful people who I love. I have amazing friends who have endured and loved me through my gross sob-ish-ness, happy children, the best family ever, a good job and a stable life. 

I am so incredibly grateful for it all, even the awful stuff because it's what has brought me to this point. 

This is the payoff.

This Guy

(Susan, Randy and Al)

I've blogged about Randy before - he's been one of my best friends for almost a decade and has been a rock for me during that entire time. He's been there for my kids too in a huge way, no matter what. NO MATTER WHAT. Do you know how rare that is in this life?

Today is his birthday so I'm taking a moment to celebrate him because he's one of the most remarkable men I know. He's strong and determined and generous and funny as fuck. He calls me on my shit which I value more than I can say.

Last night Gigi and I were invited to a dinner party in his honour with his wife Deanne and two of his best friends from childhood, Al and Andy. I asked what I could bring and he jokingly said "An ice cream cake with 'Happy Birthday Dick' on it". Who am I to get in the way of a birthday wish? The ice cream cake store did not disappoint when I made it clear that the birthday boy was not named Dick.

(Susan, Handsome Randy and Al-the-photo-bomber)

So....Happy Birthday Randy. I'm so glad you're in my life (and the life of my brats). Love you to bits, brother. 

Playing It Safe

Ok. This is the second blog in a row that opens with an internet meme/quote. I'll try not to make it a habit. If I do, please feel free to gather my loved ones and stage an intervention. Please. PLEASE.

In all seriousness, internet memes saved my life over the past two years. Well, perhaps not *literally* saved my life but pretty damn close. I stored them on my laptop, tucked them away at work, in my phone, between pages in books and pretty much anywhere I could have them at my fingertips. They were my go-to whenever I needed to feel grounded or less crazy or laugh or just not hurt for 10 fucking minutes, thank-you-very-much. 

The one at the top of this page is my all time favourite quote. I've had it on my office wall at various jobs for over a decade now, but in truth it applies far more to my personal life than my career. Yes. A ship in port IS safe but that is absolutely not what ships are built for. It would actually be a tragedy to see a majestic, beautiful ship sit stagnant in port rather than be sailed and tested to it's limits.

I'm a bit of a fraidy-cat. I tend to play it safe in life (I can hear Barb in my head right now saying "How's that workin' for ya?") In college, Barb was the first person who really taught me to take risks in life and we had so much fun learning together. Lucky for us, the consequences weren't terribly big at that time. Life saved them for much later, when we were stronger, I suppose. 

I should probably feel grateful but I'm not quite there yet. I do feel snippets of gratitude for those lessons but they still sting. Less than before but they do. I think that as it ebbs, it will create more room for gratitude. Or perhaps the gratitude chases away the sting and I have it totally backwards? I just might be onto something there - I bet there's an internet meme somewhere that will bring me complete and utter clarity on the topic.....

Although it terrifies me, I'm learning that there is strength in vulnerability. It's really the ultimate form of strength, no? When you are strong enough to allow yourself to be vulnerable, that's the sweet spot. When you trust yourself, you know you're going to be just fine no matter what life throws your way.

I vowed that 2017 was going to be better and it has been. I'm stronger, I'm healthier, I'm happier, I'm living. The ship is pulling out of port - batten down the hatches, bitches!

Purpose

I remember my parents asking me when I was small if I wanted to be a teacher or a nurse. I didn't want to be either. I told them that perhaps I would like to be a doctor and they looked at me like I had a horn growing out of my head. Finally I said "I want to be a wife and mom", not by default but because this is truly all I wanted. They agreed this was a good goal to have but that I would need a back up plan, "in case". I naively told them I had no plans to ever be divorced so did not require a back up plan. They cautioned me that life does not always go as planned.

Those words have perhaps been the most impressive understatement I've ever encountered.

I've given a lot of thought to this recently. All I ever really wanted in this life was to have a family of my own and I've always believed that if you work hard enough, you can make anything happen. With love relationships, that theory didn't pan out and it kind of broke my heart..... but in the midst of my pondering, it occurred to me that with motherhood, the love and effort absolutely equalled the 'result'. When I saw the meme at the top of this page, I smiled. I love my career and have worked really hard for it and I believe that I make a difference in the lives of the families I work with, but it's not my reason for being. 

Raising my kids and being a piece in the lives of my step kids, faux kids, nieces and nephews - that is my reason for being. My siblings and friends are the cherry on that awesome sundae. 

I'm not sure I'm meant to be part of a pair. (Bridget disagrees with this statement strongly and insisted that I add this sentence. She's bossy. No idea where she gets that from) I think my purpose in this life has been loving and schmooshing and yelling at all the nubbins I've raised or have impacted in some way. As far as legacies go, for me it doesn't get much better than that. 

NUBBINS EVERYWHERE!!!!!

Female Barthy-ness

International Women's Day; I can be dramatic and intense, I KNOW.... but - when it comes to things like this I tend to be a bit reserved. All I really want to say is this. I come from a long line of remarkable women and I'm beyond grateful for it. Let me tell you a bit about them.

My maternal grandmother travelled across the prairies with the love of her life and 9 children (she ONLY had 9 at the time....) to start from nothing, building a sod hut as the foundation for the farm and the life they were carving together. How brave is that?
When I was 19 I took a leap of faith and left Alberta for British Columbia to a wee town in the middle of nowhere.... 

My paternal grandmother was a piece-of-work and made me feel more loved than I can even describe. She taught me the joy that comes from cooking and the even bigger joy of feeding a houseful of family and friends. I would ask her "How much flour goes in this, Grandma?" and she would cup her hand and say "This much." It took me a lot of years to figure out exactly how much that was.
When my family gathers, I am the lucky one who cooks traditional food for them and carries the recipes in my head.....

My Aunt Gay was a career woman before the phrase existed. She was educated and strong and feisty and independent. She has introduced me to amazing books and amazing drinks (scotch with ginger beer and fresh squeezed lemon....try it, you'll love it) and I'm in awe of her. 
I've worked my ass off to have my amazing career and watching her work her way to the top of her field made me believe it was possible....

My Mamma. Oh, people. If you knew her, you loved her. If you weren't lucky enough to have known her, trust me - you would have loved her. She was gentle and wise and playful and nurturing. She was funny. She taught me how to be a Mamma which is the greatest gift I've been given in this life.
I've raised three remarkable, kind, funny, smart children. Thank you, Mom. You would have loved them....

Today I promise to honour their legacy by striving to provide the beautiful young women in my family the same example that I've been given.

Bridget, Amalea, Raelee, Morgan, Megan - I've got your back, always. 💕

Smiling Again

Look at these faces!!!! Seriously. 

These lovelies are my bookends. They are my beautiful, supportive, funny, smart friends who have been instrumental in my world for the past year. This picture was taken at brunch on the weekend.... we hadn't seen one another for weeks and there were tears and enormous hugs and squealing and I felt so damn happy. 

I love these broads so much.

When I moved to Kelowna I knew I needed girlfriends and these two appeared through an absolute stroke of luck. We happened to be at a luncheon organized by a mutual acquaintance and SHAZAM, the three of us bonded immediately and the rest is history. 

The night before I met with my girls for brunch, I received an email from a very wise, strong woman who is a mentor and mother figure for me. I reached out to her because I was just so fucking tired of being sad and I knew that she would have nuggets of wisdom for me and I was right. She replied to my message with words that changed everything and were the catalyst that I needed. It was powerful and instantaneous.

The next day I walked into The Grateful Fed (our usual meeting place) and saw my girls and my heart exploded. It was the best day I've had in a long, long time and when I saw the photo of us I realized that I don't remember the last time I've seen a smile on my face this pure and real.

I'm ready to move forward - no, not just ready. I'm excited about moving forward and I'm so grateful to have these two little sassies to share it with.  Here's to more smiles like this in 2017.

Love you Jen and Tracy!!! 

Quicksand

I saw this meme on Facebook today and it made me laugh. Do you remember this? Do you remember being a little kid and feeling very wary of being caught in quicksand? Completely believing that if you weren't careful, you might turn a corner and suddenly find yourself knee deep in quicksand that would suck you down into it FOREVER?!!!

Then, of course, I started overthinking it. (My close friends will not be shocked by this sentence). Lately I've been feeling 'stuck', experiencing a subtle but ongoing sadness and unease about my life in general. 

Being 49 does not remotely resemble what I thought it would look like.

I've been reading a bit about 'sitting with sadness' and it makes sense; feel it fully then let it move through. It's a bit like quicksand, I think. The more you struggle (and try to avoid feeling it), the deeper it will suck you down. My default position when I feel something unpleasant is to rationalize it and logically think through why the unpleasant thing is not actually unpleasant. Being in my head feels much safer and more familiar than being in my heart.

So, I'm going to sit with my sadness for a bit, damn it. Feel it. Grieve it. Allow it. 

BUT - instead of hoping that a vine will suddenly appear, saving me from the quicksand, I'm going to create my own rescue mission for 2017. I'm going to Vegas with some amazing women in February. Once the snow melts, I'm going to visit my Dad with a stop along the way to spend time in Cranbrook with my awesome friend Deanna who shares my penchant for wine and another stop in Lethbridge to see my son who will show me the work he's been doing with the Canadian Centre for Behavioural Neuroscience. In June, I'm going to Nova Scotia to see my other son and his beautiful girlfriend to love them and schmoosh them and experience the amazing life they've created on the other side of the country. I'm going to savour my time with my daughter because I know that having her with me on a daily basis is coming to an end and I want to create memories with her, not look back with regret at what I should have been doing.

I'm also going to let my career be something I'm grateful for and take pride in rather than being the sole focus of my world. Barb has given me strict instructions to make this a priority for 2017 and I've learned it's best not to fuck with Barb.....

Onward.

Little Wonders

I tend to blog more when my heart is heavy which is my version of meditation I suppose. I want to learn the lessons that life presents, so I don't mind sitting with my sadness because I know it serves a purpose. It's part of what's required for growth and moving forward and JESUS H CHRIST, I want to move forward.

I was at work today when "Little Wonders" by Rob Thomas came on. First of all, Rob Thomas = Rawr.... but I digress. Second, he is the KING of reaching into my soul with his music. His lyrics have often resonated with me during difficult times in my life. There were three parts of the song that really struck me.

The First:

"Let it go, let it roll right off your shoulder

Don't you know.....the hardest part is over

Let it in, let your clarity define you

In the end, we will only just remember how it feels."

(Let it go - yes. Easier said then done, but yes. The hardest part really is over which leaves room for clarity. I don't ever want to forget how I feel about things, good or bad.)

The Second:

"Let it slide, let your troubles fall behind you
Let it shine, till you feel it all around you
And I don't mind, if it's me you need to turn to
We'll get by, it's the heart that really matters in the end."

(Time to shine and to feel it....and, yes. I will always be there for anyone to turn to, because I'm a turtle and that's ok.)

The Third:

"All of my regret, will wash away somehow
But I cannot forget the way I feel right now."

(Regret? Some, I suppose. More for what I didn't do than what I did do. I'd like to believe there are no mistakes, only lessons. I don't ever want to forget the way I feel feel right now.)

So after I sat listening to this with my wee chin quivering while sitting at my desk, the song ended and "The Girl From Ipanema" started. If you know me, you'll know that I LOVE that song. It has some sad memories attached to it so I almost turned it off....but then I realized that it has even more good memories attached to it and I love it so fuck-a-bunch-of-that, I listened to it. 

And I smiled.

The Scorpion and the Turtle

There is a fable that a former mentor of mine shared with me years ago about a scorpion and a turtle. He was teaching me a lesson about dealing with the media; it goes something like this:

A scorpion and a turtle stood at the edge of a river. As the turtle prepared to swim across, the scorpion asked, "Will you give me a ride to the other side?"

"Absolutely not," the turtle responded. "You are a scorpion, and you will sting me before we get to the other side."

"No I won't," the scorpion answered. "That wouldn't make any sense, because if I sting you while we cross, we'll both drown. I want to get to the other side as much as you do. So let's work together, what do you say?"

It took a while, but the scorpion finally convinced the turtle to let him ride on his back as he swam across the river. Once they arrived on the opposite shore, the scorpion raised his tail and stung the turtle.

"What did you do that for?" the turtle cried, feeling sad and betrayed. The scorpion just shrugged his shoulders and said, "What did you expect? I'm a scorpion."

I was thinking about this story today. I am this turtle (even my kids call me 'Turtle'!) ..... and if the scorpion told me the next day that he needed a ride across the river again and assured me that this time, he wouldn't sting me, I would believe him. I'd believe him again the next day, even after being stung again....and again.....and again. 

It's hard not to think that I'm a bit stupid, but I know that I'm not. I am, however, really trusting. Like, REALLY trusting. I believe what people tell me, even in the face of overwhelming evidence proving that I shouldn't. I ferociously believe in redemption. I believe in change and growth and potential and I don't ever want to lose that. I like trusting people and believing the best in them. It feels better than the alternative. 

I realized today (and felt compelled to write it down so I would remember) that this topic is like everything else in life; it's all about choice and I want to own my choices. This post is not about being a victim because I don't view myself that way, ever. I can choose to find peace with being stung repeatedly, hoping that the scorpion will one day choose otherwise, or I can walk away from the scorpion. I can still love the scorpion unconditionally. I can believe in and wish the best for the scorpion but I can also choose to not be hurt - these are not mutually exclusive concepts. Choice is the only thing that is entirely within my power.   

I like my trusting nature and I'd rather be stung than become a person who is jaded. 
2015 was hard and full of lessons. 
2016 was about examining those lessons. 
2017 is going to be about putting those lessons, and the learning from them, into practice. 

Happy New Year Peeps. 💗

Important point: the scorpion isn't 'bad' and the turtle isn't 'good'. They just are, experiencing life, moving on from their individual pasts, learning and living the best way they know how to. ("....be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.")     

I Heart America

I don't know where to start with this. I have a million thoughts and a million emotions right now and I'm trying to sort through it all to express it in an articulate manner.  So I'll just start by rambling....

I offended a friend on Facebook the other day with a post. An American friend. It wasn't my intention.....at all. I disagree with almost everything he thinks and says but I like him and respect him and I get a kick out of him. Agreeing with him isn't required to be his friend.

I post things about gun control (which I believe in) and equality for gender and sexuality (which I believe in) and OH-MY-GOD-TRUMP-IS-A-FUCKING-DANGEROUS-ORANGE-PSYCHO (which I also believe). I have relatives in Texas who own handguns and while that makes me feel twitchy it doesn't make me love or respect them any less. They are truly some of the finest people I know.

People talk about how friendly Canadians are. We aren't. Polite? Absolutely. Friendly? Not so much. Americans are friendly.... incredibly friendly. They chat you up at the gas station and on public transit and on the street. They are curious and open and direct. I like that about them. I really love Americans and I enjoy spending time in the US.

American friends and family - here is what I want you to know. I get why you feel like the world is critical of you. I get why you feel like we don't understand. I get why you feel defensive. Here's what I don't think you get....

We love you. We worry about you and we worry about your children. From the outside looking in, it's terrifying. We want your gay nephew to be able to walk down the street without fear of violence. We want your children to go to school without having to worry about a lunatic gunning them down. We want your peaceful Muslim neighbour to feel safe (and for you to feel safe around them too). We want this because we care about you, not because we're being critical.

There have been 70 people killed in the US due to mass shootings so far in June 2016. We are only half way through the month. It hurts to watch. It's unnecessary and heartbreaking and we worry about you.

This blog post isn't about gun control. It's not about Donald Trump. It's not about a political stance. It's not about fear or anger or violence or judgement. It's about love. When I went to look for an image to post with this blog I didn't choose the one of the American flag tattered and torn and burned (it was one of the first that came up when I did a google image search).

I chose the one in the shape of a heart because the world loves you and we just want you to be safe.

Turtle

My kids (and nephew/faux son Adam) call me 'Turtle'. They have other even less flattering names for me but I'll save those for another blog post. They've done this for years... it started when we lived in a large house with hardwood floors; my sons discovered that they were taller and stronger than me. They decided to tackle me to the floor one day when they realized that with very little effort, they could keep me there, completely helpless - like a turtle on it's back.  

Pinning me down completely stranded on my back of course wasn't enough. They escalated it - Connor would grab one foot and Jack the other. They would drag me around the house, completely helpless to stop them.  By this point I was usually laughing so hard that I couldn't stop them if I tried. This led to me squealing that I was going to pee my pants which terrified them enough to let me up.

Bridget found the cartoon that I posted at the top of the page. She laughed when she showed it to me. "Mom! It's you!! It's a turtle that always looks at the positive in a shitty situation."  I have been such a pissy pants for the past month and her words inspired me to be that person again. If I want 2016 to be better, it's time to start viewing it that way. It's always a choice.

No more of this 2015 turtle! Kicking that cranky pants to the curb......

Growth Schmowth

*sigh*

I have a great job. I'm living in a city where many people would give their left arm to live. I have healthy, happy, thriving children (who are moving on with their own lives, HOW DARE THEY??) I'm healthy. I have a roof over my head and a car that gets me from A to B daily. I have the best siblings ever and friends who love me and have my back ferociously.

I feel lost. I feel like I'm swimming in quicksand.

Everything external points towards living the dream and please don't get me wrong; I'm beyond grateful for everything mentioned in paragraph one. When the external is solid there is only one other place to look for why the lost feeling exists.  It's clearly internal.

I've been busy for the past 23 years. Busy with babies and chaos and teenagers and groceries and cooking and bill paying and career building. Suddenly I'm not busy and the lack of distraction is deafening. All the things I've defined myself with for so, so long are no longer tugging at me.

What. The. Fuck?

It happened in the blink of an eye which is, I suppose, part of why I'm standing here looking around thinking "What the hell just happened?" I always assumed this would be a gradual process and that I would be allowed to ease into it bit by bit, like walking into a cold lake on a hot summer day. That's not how it went. I was catapulted into the lake from the shore and holy-jesus-it's-cold-in-here.

It's tempting to just find ways to make myself busy again, to gather distraction the way I used to gather loads and loads of never ending laundry. But that would be a band aid and inevitably band aids fall off, leaving the unresolved issue still very much alive and well.

I want to be 4 again and have my Mom kiss it better. Pretty sure that's not an option.

So. Time to put on my big girl panties, roll up my sleeves and dig in. The seeds of that recognition have already been planted and are starting to grow.  A little. I think.

Step 1: own my shit. This has been humbling, painful and liberating. I don't like it, really....but I like the weight that is lifted because of it. I have been such an asshole in many ways and I want to do better.

Step 2: listening to my intuition. It's powerful. Shockingly powerful. I have been burying it for so long in the name of survival, or what I thought was what I needed to survive that I almost forgot it existed. It feels good to embrace it again.

Step 3: trust. Oy. Trusting people has not been my strong suit and (big recognition) when you don't trust people, you inadvertently create situations where the impending betrayal that you fear becomes a reality. Trusting requires being vulnerable which is terrifying. Here's the kicker - if I trust myself, truly trust that I will be ok no matter what happens, suddenly there is no need to control anything external. Suddenly I am free to let everything unfold and for people around me to have their own experiences, knowing that I will be ok.  Always. So, I'm working on all of it but I'm impatient. I want it to happen quicker.

As the meme says:

L O V E

I've been reflecting a lot lately about love.

I have a lot of love in my life - there are many people in my world who I love and who love me. I'm lucky that way. My kids. My siblings. My friends. What I'm learning is that in order to love them they way they deserve to be loved, I have a long way to go, but I'm learning.

I'm recognizing my shortcomings. I'm recognizing what moulded my perception of love and the conditions surrounding it. I'm learning how I've carried those unhealthy perceptions through relationships in my life. I'm learning that conditional love is completely fear based and how that is entirely about me and my flaws; it has nothing to do with the people who I love.

I've had to dig deep to have these recognitions and it's humbling. Being humbled is necessary and freeing at the same time. It's also really painful. I've had the gift of being unconditionally loved in my life. I know how that feels and the safe space it creates to be open and vulnerable. I'm not good at vulnerable. More fear based shit. I want to work hard to get to the place where I'm healthy enough, brave enough and wise enough to love unconditionally. I think the key is to believe in yourself and trust yourself enough to know that no matter what happens, it's going to be ok. In that space, there is nothing to fear.  I think. I don't know. I'm new at this.

Control. I literally had to grit my teeth to type that word. I despise controlling behaviour in people. Yeah - guess what? It's probably my worst quality. It's a recognition I had about myself several years ago (pointed out lovingly and bluntly by people who love me.... because that's part of love too - calling people on their shit). I'm not nearly as controlling as I used to be but I still have a long way to go. Guess what? Being controlling = MORE fear based shit.

Are we seeing a pattern here?

I have always had a strong aversion to the concept of 'need' where love is concerned. I've never wanted to be needed.  Wanted? Yes. Needed? No. I've also been very reluctant to put myself in a position of needing anyone. I had a big recognition around that this week; not wanting to 'need' is about not trusting the person I love but even more so it's really about not trusting myself.

I've always believed that we are 'here' to learn from the lessons that are put in front of us.... and to love. Sometimes it takes a cosmic baseball bat across the head to shake things up. Life will keep walloping you until you get it and my thick German skull doesn't always make that easy.

But I'm trying and I will keep trying.

Hate

Addiction: "Addiction is characterized by inability to consistently abstain, impairment in behavioural control, craving, diminished recognition of significant problems with one's behaviours and interpersonal relationships, and a dysfunctional emotional response."  

I am not a hater. I don't hate. Not people, not things, usually not even ideas as a rule. I may dislike them but 'hate' isn't my thing.

That being said, I hate addiction. I hate it.

Hate: "Intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger or a sense of injury."

You know what I hate even more than addiction? I hate the horrible things that happen to hurt people. I hate that these horrible things cause beautiful people so much pain that they will do anything to escape that pain. It breaks my fucking heart.

I hate feeling helpless. I hate that there is not a single thing I can do to help people who I care about with that pain. I hate being the misdirected target of their anguish, an ambush that was never intended for me.

I'm not an addict so I don't understand; but just because I don't suffer from addiction, it doesn't mean that I'm not impacted by it's carnage. I am. I have been, more than once. My children have been as well and I hate that too. Hate with a capital H.

My intention was to go into 2016 with a happy and peaceful heart and at some point soon I hope that happens. But right now I'm broken from the loss of a technicolour world that has been reduced to black and white.

Because of addiction.