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.

Sanctuary

There is a lot of anger swirling around Facebook right now regarding Syrian refugees. People are deleting friends over it and even their own Facebook accounts. This is my take for what it's worth....

I did delete a person who referred to refugees as 'sand niggers'. Pure disgusting racism. However, I also have friend who is American and he has a genuine concern for safety around terrorism - whether his concern is based in reality or not, it is a genuine concern. If I lived in a country that was impacted by 9-11, I may be far more apprehensive in this situation. I don't know and I'm grateful that I don't have to know how that must feel.

I personally support accepting refugees wholeheartedly. Full stop. But I want to come from a place of understanding for my friend who is acting out of concern for the safety of himself and his loved ones. Do I think that welcoming refugees impacts my safety? No, I don't. But for him, that feels real and I know that if I thought something was a threat to myself, or especially to my children, I would stop at nothing to fight it. Nothing. N-O-T-H-I-N-G, even if that threat was perceived and not real. So I need to have compassion or at least attempt a level of understanding for what he is experiencing. Anything less would be disloyal and closed minded.

The topics of Christianity, gun control, school shootings, Nazis and fear-based ruling of nations could be invoked at this time but I don't think it's helpful to the people who are in need of our focus. It only encourages more strife and that is not what is needed right now.

Do I have compassion for radical Islam extremists who commit acts of terror? Hell no, but they too are doing what they believe is right which just makes me sad. So where do we begin? We begin with doing the right thing. With taking all of the bullshit out of the equation and reducing it down to the Golden Rule. We help the innocents who are in this situation through no fault of their own. We help the babies and their parents who are fighting for their lives. 

Why? Because it's the right thing to do and that needs to start somewhere. 

I titled this post 'sanctuary'. I always go with my gut when I pull a title for my blog posts and that was the first thing that came to mind. Then I remembered using that title, or at least the word, in previous posts when talking about where I escape to when I need to lick my wounds (I'm talking about you, Barb Thurston and Linda Coffin). Perspective. I have a safe place to go when I'm hurt or sad or angry or feeling hopeless. I also have a comfortable safe home. These refugees, these PEOPLE have nothing. No home, no safety, nothing. My god. 

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."

-Edmund Burke

The Empty Nest

The Empty Nest

It's looming. It's not going to resemble any preconceived idea I had about it. When I envisioned my empty nest, it was WAY off in the future; not 11 months away.  They are all three still babies. I don't understand how this happened, and now I have become one of THOSE women who has pictures of their kids from when they were small, everywhere. I'm serious. Bridget calls it my 'shrine'. She says "You need to do something about that shrine, Ma. It's embarrassing." She's right.

The other thing I didn't envision was facing it alone, but life happens and it's messy and it gives us what we need sometimes, rather than what we want. At least my alone-ish-ness in facing this was my decision. This year I have seen up close the tragedy of having that decision made for you, and it's a reminder to be grateful. It's a reminder to always see life through the lens where you have it 'less awful' than someone else. Compassion. Appreciation. I know mothers who would love to have my problem. I'm launching three healthy, happy, strong, smart, adventurous people into the world. What a ride it's been. What a gift. 

I was pouring my heart out to a friend a bit ago about my dread surrounding the impending empty nest. Here's what she had to say to me:

"Ah, the empty nest. Let's try an imagining. You wave off the last fledgling, rearrange the nest nice and comfortably, and wait with dignity as The Matriarch. You are not left behind, but rather you become the centre of their safety. They know. You may feel alone, but think what they are thinking. Mom is our centre and she waits, never changing in her love for us. She is our stable point in all the adventures and changes, good and bad, that are whirling about us. I can see it!"

How amazing are those words? I needed to blog them so I would have them forever but I also needed to blog them because they are beautiful and eloquent and important. Thank you for the gift of these words, Frances. You're an incredible friend and I'm so grateful to have you in my world.

(My blog. My shrine. No mocking me Bridget!)

ICE CREAM!!!!

So I was at the mall the other day (have I mentioned how much I hate going to the mall?). I was sitting down and a fellow in his 60's or so in a wheelchair with pretty clear cognitive deficits scooted by. I gave him a warm smile, just because he seemed to be a happy soul.  About 20 minutes later I saw him eating an ice cream cone. It was soft ice cream and he was really enjoying it. He even had a wee bit on the tip of his nose.

Fast forward another 20 minutes.  I'm back sitting in my original spot and he wheels up to me and says "I HAD AN ICE CREAM CONE!!!!!" I smiled and said "I saw that! I walked past when you were eating it and you looked like you were lovin' that ice cream cone."

"I WAS!!!" said he. "I LOVE ICE CREAM!!!!"  Now I was laughing.  His enthusiasm was completely contagious. I'm actually smiling as I type this, just remembering the encounter.  I said "Life is too short not to eat ice cream, isn't it?"

"YEAH!!!! I'm coming back tomorrow for MORE ice cream" he said.  

I've thought about him often since I saw him that day. There was just something really special about the complete joy he had in something as simple and wonderful as an ice cream cone.

I've been trying to be more 'mindful' as of late. I hate the buzz word but I like the concept. That moment with the Ice Cream Dude was a mindful moment. But it was also a lesson in trying to be happy about the little victories in this life.... like loving an ice cream cone SO MUCH that you don't even give a shit that there is a plop of it on the end of your nose.  

David

This guy.

David Yule. Husband of my best friend on this planet, my best friend of 30 years, Barb. I've blogged about her here before.

David Yule was a fucking force of nature. Most of the time he scared the hell out of me. He knew who he was. He had opinions and wasn't afraid to share them, often loudly. When he laughed, he had the most fabulous crinkles on his cheekbones and he laughed often.

He was larger than life. He worked hard, played hard and loved his family ferociously. He married Barb when she was 21 and OHMYGOD they look like babies in their wedding photo. He said things like "Ok. You were right... and I was that other thing."

This isn't the most articulate blog I've ever written, but I don't care. I'm rusty and getting back into it again and this one hurts so I'm just throwing words onto the page.

Barb and Dave were (are? I hate this) the best team I have ever seen. Was it perfect? God no. I remember one time when he made her mad and she drove to see me in Nakusp (a 3 hour drive) just to vent. She tells the story of when he tried to throw out the Disney videos she used to watch with their kids and she threw her wedding dress at him, saying "Here! Why don't you throw this away too?!!!"

But together they were magic. The were a team. They worked hard to move forward in the same direction, overcoming adversity and balancing one another. They loved each other like no other and created a life that was a solid foundation for their amazing kids and a safe and wonderful place for friends - their many, many friends from all over the world.

David worked in Russia and he loved it. Barb kept the home fires burning while he was away, working, driving kids to hockey and once again, they found a beautiful balance. He couldn't do what he did without her and he was her anchor. When he was home, they always found a way to squeeze everything out of their time together.

And now he's gone and it's left a hole that I can't describe. Barb without Dave? How is it even possible? But it is. It's real and it's stupid and it makes me want to scream because if there was ever a man who deserved a long life it was him.

But life goes on. The sun continues to rise and set, as unthinkable as that is after a tragic loss like this one. Barb has found a way to move forward because he would expect her to and he still finds ways to nudge her along as only he could.

Barb will be ok. Jacob and Sara will be ok. But the world is a bit dimmer and less interesting without him in it.

Ruby a.k.a. Stitch a.k.a. Satan

Readers, meet Ruby.  Ruby is the newest addition to the Barth/Conley/Gustafson tribe and she is adorable but very, very evil.  She is five months old and has lived at the Cranbrook SPCA since her birth which I think goes a long way to explaining her satanic ways.  When I met her for the first time, she scratched me and ran away.  She does that on a daily basis and also growls which led me to the conclusion that she wasn't actually a cat, she was an alien like on the cartoon "Lilo and Stitch".  Do you see the similarity?  Do you?  DO YOU?!!!!

Ruby is half manx which is a h-u-g-e part of her charm and I'm sure one of the few reasons that she hasn't been strangled yet.  Not quite manx but certainly not 'normal' (in oh, so many ways).  She has half a tail.  Half.  Have you ever seen anything quite like that before?  Ever?

Ruby was named after one of the characters in the television show 'Supernatural'.... a beautiful demon.  Appropriate somehow, no?  'Stitch' CERTAINLY would have worked well too but for now, she's our Ruby and we love her.

Now if only I can get her to stop taking her evil demon poops in my plants.... maybe I'll smite her.

Suze-isms

Yes, I've been away a long time.  Blah, blah, blah.... I apologize.  Yadda, yadda, yadda.... so sorry.

Now that we have that out of the way, let me tell you all about the 'Custom Dictionary' on my BlackBerry.  I was looking through it the other night and had so much fun that I simply have to share it with y'all.  Now for those of you who are even less technologically inclined than I am (a rare beast you must be if you exist), a custom dictionary keeps a list of words that you use frequently that the existing dictionary on the BlackBerry doesn't recognize.  Here we go.

Abbotsford: Where Jim's parents live, folks who I absolutely ADORE.  Their home has become a refuge for me and I love them so much.

Absolution: Since when is that not a word???  Sheesh.  Apparently I must require it on a regular basis.

Advil:  Thank fuck for Advil.  You know those people who always say "Oh, I just HATE taking painkillers".  Yeah.  I'm not one of them.  I buy it in bulk at Costco.

Apologize:  Whatever.  My BlackBerry is set to UK English where they want me to use 'apologise' instead.  Looks dumb and reminds me of a former co-worker who really needed a head-squishing.

Asshat:  Bwah ha ha ha ha ha!!!!  Love that word.  Reminds me of Shannon, a former co-worker who I love and who is funny as fuck.  She introduced me to it.

Bitches:  Yay, Bitches!  Especially the Blind Bay variety.

Blech: Really, what other word can you use?  "Susan, would you like olives on your pizza?"  Blech.

Bwah:  As in "Bwah ha ha ha ha"!

Carmella:  Short for 'Carmella Soprano'.  My darling offspring believe that I have mafia-wife hair.  Hence the nickname.

Citran:  Apparently the dictionary recognized 'neo' which is best paired with 'citran'.  Please see 'Advil' above for opinions re: voluntary pain.

Clusterfuck: A word describing my life at least 3 times per week.  Plus, I just like any word I can pair with 'fuck'.  Yes, I'm a potty mouth.  So was Elizabeth Taylor.  What of it?

C*nt:  I really, really, REALLY want to type the entire word but I don't want to offend anyone although the mere suggestion of the word has likely already done the job.  People who know me well know that I love that word.  I refuse to let anyone make a word that describes a part of my body into something derogatory.  Reclaim that word, ladies.  Seriously.  It's ours.

Ding-ding:  A term of endearment, really.  If I haven't called you 'Ding-ding' at least once, I probably don't really like you all that much.  Just sayin'.

Donde:  As in "Donde Esta", Spanish for "Where is".  I use it all the time.  "Donde esta keys?!!!"  or even "Donde Esta Love?!!" if I feel that I'm not getting enough attention at any given time.  Hijacked this one from Seeso.

Fiestaware:  I heart Fiestaware.  I have no words.

Fishercat:  Dear God.  This is whole blogpost of it's own.  I'll be sure to make it my next one.... in another 7 or 8 months.  Thought I better say it because all of you were thinking it.  Haters.

Fuck:  Also - fucked, fucker, fuckers, fuckin', fucking, fuckity (as in 'what the fucikty fuck?!), motherfucker, motherfucking and last but not least, fucktard.  I'm seriously sorry if I've offended anyone here.  I was raised Catholic and was unable to use that word for the first 16 years of my life.  I have a lot of making up to do.

Helga:  Another nickname for my hair.  From my children.  They think I'm actually powerless and the only reason I have any ferocious-ness at all is because of the independent entity that resides atop my head.  Is my hair really that bad???

Hijinx:  Seriously!!!  Is there a better word in the English language?  Love getting up to all sorts o' hijinx on a regular basis.

Nyquil: Please see above definitions for 'Advil' and 'Neo Citran'.  If I had a triplicate prescription pad I'd be dangerous.

Ohmygod:  Much more effictive with no spacing.  Also, "omg" and "omgomgomgomg". 

Pooter:  Cutest word in the world for my downstairs girlie-bits.  'Pooterville' is also there for which I have no reasonable explanation.

Roundy: I like to put a 'y' on the end of many, many words.  It's cute when I do it, I swear to god.

Schmoosh:  Also, 'Schmooshy' and 'Schmooshing'.  A lovely way to describe cuddles.  I really do love schmooshing.

Wowza:  a way I express being speechless.  I am incapable of being speechless, therefore I needed to create a word that replaced speech-less-ish-ness.

Zilla:  Something I put on the end of a word to accentuate it.  How tired am I?  It's 2:58am.  Tired-zilla.