Time To Retire

I have a countdown on my computer. Currently, it says 414 days until I retire. And I remember a time when that number was over double that ... not all that long ago. 

As the weeks and months wind down toward that magical date, I am working hard at keeping my stress in check, because that day also marks for me a day when I can devote more time toward my second career. From the looks of the way things are going right now, that second career may be starting only eight short months after that.  

Free Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay

And then I might have more say over when I take days off, or how much (or little) I work. I will be able to schedule time for things that - until then - will have been on hold for a very long time. Too long, actually. Horseback riding, golfing, traveling for fun, reading for pleasure, and (best of all) spending time with family and friends will all be possible again. That's the dream, at least. I've missed all of those things, and those who know love me have been very patient with me. VERY. PATIENT. Sometimes I am not sure how they put up with me always looking to dive into my next assignment for school, or with me having to work when their schedule frees up time for them, or with me nodding off when we do occasionally have a visit. What amazing people I have in my life!

It's getting within sight now, this finish line. But it's not really a finish line ... it's more of a starting line where I can walk (or ride, haha) and not run. That will be nice!! 

In the meantime, I need to remind myself frequently that it is time to retire: that is, it is time to schedule regular rest stops on my journey. I have been going at such a break-neck pace, especially since 2013, that burnout is never very far off, and perhaps I need to slow down a bit more. Sometimes, it takes the harsh reality of circumstance to bring me to that place of rest and re-creation.  I hope that I can learn to take the hint sooner rather than later that I need to make time for me and for the things (and people) that/who are important to me. I'm not thirty anymore. Nearly twice that now!!  I need to cut myself some slack!! 

I am so grateful for the ones who know me best and who love me anyway, who take the time to gently suggest that I take the time to look after myself and not run myself ragged. Such friends are hard to come by; I am very blessed to have more than one. 

So - in this time between semesters, I may be looking to reconnect with a few people, and take the time to do things that I like doing. After all, I am the only me that I have. :) 

Musings from Above the Clouds

(*I initially wrote this post on the plane on July 16, 2019.*) 

So here I am at 34,000 feet somewhere over Manitoba, on my way to Calgary to participate in a 5-day intensive, face-to-face training in Solution Focused Brief Therapy. My classmates are all gathering there, as is my professor, and my first order of business will be to get from the airport to the place where I will be staying – a fifty-dollar taxi ride. Friends have advised me to download UBER to my phone so I have done that. That turns the $50 into something like $30. Not bad! Plus, you pre-pay so there’s no meter running in rush hour traffic, a bonus for me!

I also choose not to avail myself of the Internet on the flight because it costs. So, I am doing this blog off-line, and because I am using a new laptop, I will have to wait until I get back home to upload it. 

Oh well. At least it gives me something to do.

My university is virtual, so it contracts with other places to provide space for their students’ face-to-face requirements. My destination in Calgary is one I’ve stayed at twice before; it is a lovely place with rolling gentle hills, and a garden with a man-made waterfall next to a gazebo. The last time I was there, two years ago, I thought I would not be visiting it again. However, as it turns out, this special studies course became available with a summer institute at the same campus and … here I am, sitting on an ever-increasingly numb bottom and trying to keep my mind active! 

The challenges of traveling to a university campus, three thousand miles away and three thousand feet higher than I’m used to, were daunting at first. But this is something I have done twice before, and I am getting to know how to navigate the airports, taxis, and so forth. I am even thinking of trying out the transit system to shop for groceries! In the meantime, I am saving airplane food to tide me over until I get to a store. As Crocodile Dundee said, “Well, you can live on it, but it tastes like s#*t.”

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My mind is flitting all over the place as the plane speeds at 550 miles per hour. I wonder what I will learn and whether I will do well at this type of therapy I’m studying in this course, I wonder whether I will like my fellow-students (probably), and I cannot help thinking about my youngest daughter, who passed away almost 6 years ago now. Today, July 16, 2019, would have been her 27^th birthday. She is proud of me for getting my degree, I am sure of it. And I’m only a little over a year away from getting my parchment! But today, my thoughts keep returning to how much I would love to feel her arms around me in one of her big bear hugs, when she’d lift me off the floor – no small feat – in her go-big-or-go-home way. She is my inspiration for continuing this journey.

It’s been a journey for sure, these last few years working toward a career in counselling while finishing up my current career in the federal public service. Working for Canadians behind the scenes has enhanced my desire to help people and to see the good that I do, so I look forward to being able to do that in person after I graduate! Moreover, it’s been a journey in the sense of personal growth. I have learned so much about myself, good and not so good, and I’m working on the not so good parts. I have found an amazing therapist and she and I are working through some family-of-origin issues together. I am so thankful for her kindness and her faith in me. 

I would have given up in discouragement long ago, if not for the support and love my husband and daughter have shown me. They take up the slack, run errands, share in the cooking and cleaning, and tell me on a regular basis that I will nail this and be a great counselor! What a great blessing they both are! 

My friends and colleagues also have been nothing but supportive. Aside from one close friend who told me I would have to grow a thick skin (haha, he knows me well!) everyone has been amazing. My sensitivity to people’s feelings has stood me in good stead so far, and I have learned how to take constructive criticism and also to recognize when someone is being domineering. I’m learning how to stand up for myself without getting angry and flustered. I have learned simple tasks I never learned as a child: how to apologize, how to make conversation with people, and how to accept people who are different from me and who hold different views than I do. Those are important lessons, learned (as usual) the hard way. The road has been steep at times. However, I think I am beginning to come into my own, as they say. Confidence is starting to grow again, and I trust that it will do so even more as I get closer to graduation! 

As I look past the next hurdle (passing this course!) and to September, I realize that my first day of my 8-month practicum is only a little over seven weeks away, and I am both eager and nervous to start it! I think, though, that the nervousness is only natural, given that there is a great big “unknown” out there in practicum-land. I’ll be working three days a week (unpaid of course) as a counseling intern at a local church. That in itself does not seem strange, but I must chuckle at the irony of me having a practicum at a church, when I left the formalized church five years ago and have been pursuing fellowship with other believers on an individual basis (not in a church building) ever since, no looking back. So, part of the situation feels a little weird. The other thing is that my supervisor is an external supervisor to meet the requirements of the university (a Master’s degree in a counseling-related field with at least four years of post-Master’s experience in counseling) as there is no one at the church who meets those requirements. And to top it all off, she self-identifies as an agnostic … and the majority of my clients will be church people! (Oh yeah, the Almighty has a really cute sense of humor!) That said, neither she nor the pastor have expressed any hesitation about working with each other (or with me) for my benefit. Bonus! 

At the same time, starting in September, I will also be working two days a week at my job. It will be … interesting juggling the two.  It will definitely be a charged schedule, as I also take a practicum course (with readings and homework and all that) during the same time frame. So, I can foresee needing to spend lots of time doing self-care! I might even blog once in a while… aren’t you lucky! 

Feeling ==> showing

Ever noticed how in some relationships, if you ask each individual, they feel lots of love for the other person but each person feels unloved? Parents and children, spouses, friends, brothers and sisters often fall prey to this seeming roadblock. We love the other person but we are not sure they love us.

The problem is not loving. The problem is SHOWING love. Let me explain.

A teenager loves his parents but they don't really talk much (no common interests, perhaps), and he doesn't know if they really love him because all they seem to do is tell him no. The parents love the teen but they wonder if the teen loves them back because all the teen seems to do is break the rules. Each of them silently asks the question, "Do you still love me?" What a tragedy. 

So on it goes. The problem is not that they don't love each other; they DO! The problem is that they have no idea how to SHOW that love. 

In his book, "How to Really Love Your Teenager", Dr. Ross Campbell, a child psychiatrist, describes this phenomenon and also gives the solution. The answer is in learning to communicate love in a way that the other person will understand. In our Western culture, his advice is sound. He gives three cornerstones to communicating love:

1. Eye contact
2. Physical contact
3. Focused attention

It sounds simple, doesn't it? Yet it can be hard to learn to do. I have learned, however, that it does work. Making the time to talk, and not being distracted by other things, can do a lot to bridge the gaps and repair relationships. Each person needs to know that they matter to the other. You can say it, and yes, please do, but showing it backs up those words. Establishing this kind of relationship early is the best way to ensure that the other person is secure in the relationship, but it is never too late to start.

I'd like to say a few things about each of these cornerstones I mentioned above. Perhaps by giving some examples, I can spark your imagination to try something that would be specific and meaningful to you. You can do them with family members (spouse, kids, parents, siblings) or close friends. They don't just apply to teens. (Everyone needs to feel worthy of love and belonging, as Brené Brown says.)

Eye contact - In our family, the 'wink' - even from across a room - can convey a special meaning. It can mean, "I notice what you're doing, way to go!" Similarly, it can mean, "I'm proud of you." And in certain situations where the person may be nervous, the 'wink' can mean, "I believe in you! You got this!" 

Okay, I know that these days, a lot of teens don't make eye contact well. But they will know that you are looking at them when they talk to you. And in some cases, it's a good bridge-builder to have talks while driving in the car. They don't feel threatened by your gaze, but you can talk about pretty important stuff when you have to be 20 minutes (or longer) in a car going somewhere together. 

But adults? Yeah, we were brought up to pay attention. In our generation, it shows respect when you look at someone who is talking to you.  So show respect. Please. It could save your relationships.

Physical contact - I get it that some folks are not touchy-feely. That's okay. But sometimes a hand on someone's shoulder when they are having a rough day can express in a non-verbal way that you care about their feelings. And nowhere is this more true than in families: with your spouse and with your child(ren). 

In our family, a hug goes a long way. Not just that sterile, pat-pat-pat type of hug but one of those fierce, heart-felt, "I'm with you" hugs. Life is tough sometimes! Hugs can help. They can communicate a feeling of solidarity, support, and caring. I've experienced hugs from one of my family members that lifted me off my feet - and aside from throwing me a little off-balance, those hugs told me that, as a teary Samwise Gamgee said in Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, when the burden of carrying the One Ring got too much for Frodo to bear, "I may not be able to carry it for you, Mister Frodo, but I can carry you." And Sam picked Frodo up, Ring and all, and carried him the rest of the way to the top of the mountain. Such expression of love and support is hard to show with just a few Hallmark cards a year. 

Focused attention - In our fast-paced, information-highway world, giving someone focused attention takes something we don't think we have: time. Off with the TV, the cell phone, and/or the video game. Make a date. Go somewhere; it doesn't have to cost a dime. Our kids and I used to go to the local public pool; they would play in the water while I watched. Sometimes I would even go in the pool and splash around a bit. But I was always watching them, drinking in their enjoyment, knowing that at any moment they would look back to see if I was looking. And I was. "Watch me, Mommy!" means something to a child. It's important to him or her. I could have sat there with a book but it would not have meant as much as being WITH them, being PRESENT. 

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I lost track of the times we would go to the animal shelter and just visit with the critters. Our one family rule was that we were there to look and visit the animals, not whine and plead to take one (or all) of them home (unless previously decided.) I remember the folks at the shelter got to recognize us. We obeyed all the shelter rules (no running; ask permission; wash your hands after you handle the animals, etc.) and we had a whole lot of fun. And it never cost us a nickel (or in those days, a penny. We don't have pennies in Canada anymore.) 

I also can't count the number of times I have heard someone say to me about their spouse, "He (or she) never listens to me!" as they described a spouse totally absorbed in the TV or the newspaper, or a computer game. Or some sort of sport or hobby. It's a relationship. You can't have a relationship without relating!! Focused attention means that you give the person your undivided attention. And that needs to happen on a regular basis. I'm not saying not to read the paper, watch TV, or have a hobby or interest. Just make time for the people you love doing something you will both / all enjoy.

One more side-note about spending time together while giving focused attention. You know when you tell your friend, "Yeah, we really should get together sometime," and it doesn't happen for weeks? or even months? Ummm, "sometime" usually doesn't work, especially if you (or your friend) has mental wellness issues. Instead of "sometime," how about "WHEN can we spend time together (or have coffee, or lunch, or an evening)?" Nail down a time and a place. Put it on your appointment calendar. I'm just saying. And I'm talking to me as much as to anyone else.

As 2019 dawns, we might do well to invest our time in strengthening the relationships we have and making connections with the people who mean the most to us. It will be worth it. Trust me.

Transition

The last several weeks has been a time of transition, of moving from one way of doing things to something completely different. The next seven weeks will be so as well, a continuation of the changes that have slowly been happening as I get ready for my first time living alone in my 57 years. 

No, my husband and I are not separating; there is no problem in our relationship. In fact, were it not for his support and encouragement, I would not be even considering what I am about to do. 

After months of trying to secure a practicum in my province of residence, and doors slammed in my face at every turn, I found a placement - but this one is in a neighbouring province, and with a counseling agency that wants me to stay on with them after I graduate with my Masters degree. That means that I have to move - temporarily - to an apartment in a city that is two hours' drive (and an expensive toll bridge ride) away from the house I have lived in for the last nearly 29 years. My practicum begins on September 5, 2018.  That is less than seven weeks away!

Anyway, since my family needs to stay here, for a lot of reasons, I must live alone in what amounts to a strange city, on a reduced salary, and live like that for almost a year. Then, the agency will start to pay me, and for another year, I will be working two jobs part-time, until I retire from my current job in the fall of 2020. After that, I can go to full-time with the agency, which will speed up the process of me getting enough experience to launch out on my own. Once I can do that, I can move back in with my family. 

Which brings me to the meantime, this period of transition, this intense, can't-wait-but-no-it's-too-fast time where I have been picking away at things that need doing. Like finding an apartment (cha-ching $$), getting it ready to be lived in (MORE $$), being sure to maintain my quality of homework and assignments (the time requirements this term are SO much higher than ever before!), and trying to find time in there to sleep and eat and MAYBE fit in some self-care and activity. 

Social life?  What's that?

About a month ago, I had to go on stress leave from work because all the stress of all of that PLUS having to be at work for eight hours a day was just too much for me to take and I was approaching burnout. I am feeling a bit more like myself these days, but I still have to deal with that transition period that I am going through, from this place to that place, from here to there, from together to alone. The changes are happening more and more quickly; I have started to get a feel for where things are located in my new place, and I have familiarized myself with my newest friend, Siri (that's the electronic assistant on the i-Phone that can look up directions on Google Maps and talk you through traffic. What a great feature that is for reducing stress!) 

And yesterday, I even got some groceries so they would be there when I moved in - all stuff that won't spoil (canned goods, rice, cereal, boxed meals, and some cleaning supplies.) It makes the reality seem more real... that, and all those trips up and down those stairs to my 2nd floor apartment lugging heavy bags and boxes. 

Transition from "our place" to "my place" - transition from "our" to "my." Fears that I won't be able to handle the winter alone. Excitement at starting the final year of my graduate school journey. Sadness at leaving my loved ones behind and knowing that I will have to get used to sleeping alone. Anger at the system in my own province that cannot accommodate my educational needs. Determination to do my best. Nervousness (and a sort of joy) about working with real clients and making a difference - hoping that it is a positive one. Trepidation at driving in the city and possibly getting lost or stranded. And more, so much more. 

I am so very grateful. My family has been so supportive and helpful during this transition. It feels like they have worked harder than I have to make all this work for me, knowing my physical limitations. They have trudged up and down those stairs to my apartment more times than I have (so far), and worked together to put furniture together (mostly my daughter who seems to have inherited my father's ability to see with his fingers and thread a screw without even looking!). They have popped up and down my step-stool to put up brackets for curtains, change light bulbs, and so much more, WITHOUT the benefit of air conditioning, fans going full blast. 

I am truly blessed. And as I ponder this, the clock is silently ticking away, bringing me ever closer to the reality that will be upon me soon enough. Soon I will be poised on the beginning of a new and different journey, one that will change my future. 

Am I ready? I guess I will have to be. I'm just ever so glad that the future only comes one day at a time.

The Empty Cup

It happened so slowly. By millimeters. Over time, the responsibilities piled on, and the stress mounted. Little by little, I would pour myself out into first one project, then the other, and then ... the toll started to get heavier and heavier. 

My body noticed it first; however, my mind had other things to attend to, and I missed those warning signs. Lost sleep, inability to stay asleep. I would wake up tired, sometimes two hours before my usual waking time, sometimes three. More and more often this would happen. My back and legs felt heavy, achy, tired. My feet hurt. I had headaches more frequently. My chemical sensitivities started acting up more. 

As the stress increased, my ability to maintain my weight - or to lose weight - vanished. Oh, not all at once, to be sure, but it became more and more difficult to lose. And incrementally, I started to gain. It was discouraging. But I didn't make the connection. I took on more and more. Life got way more stressful and I couldn't figure out how stuff just piled on.

As it progressed, I became less and less tolerant, more and more impatient. My filter - that little internal monitor that keeps me from saying or doing things to offend people - started to erode, to slip away from me. I couldn't concentrate. My motivation was shrinking. I procrastinated on crucial tasks. I isolated from other people and convinced myself I was too busy to spend time with them. Things got worse. 

And then the work doubled, tripled, overnight. Something I thought I could do, suddenly became a lot harder. I started feeling my age - and beyond. 

I started dreading going to work because it took time away from doing things I no longer had enough time to do. Like homework. The course I am taking in University is the hardest I have ever taken by far - and I feel unequal to the task.

And this morning, I finally broke. On the way to work, I started crying. I was overwhelmed. And I reached out to the only person around my age that I absolutely KNEW had my back: my husband. As I described my symptoms, he became alarmed. He knew - as I had begun to suspect - that I was well on my way to burnout. 

He was right.

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 The saying goes, "You can't pour from an empty cup." My cup had been evaporating so slowly that I didn't even see it was getting low. And now I was looking at the dregs. 

So again, I reached out. I see a doctor tomorrow, and will see a psychologist before the end of next week, hopefully. I approached my boss, who was awesome by the way, and asked for some time off to regroup. I was able to free up some time to look after myself, and to concentrate on my studies for a little while. How long, I'm not sure - but at least now I have options. When I started the day, I didn't think I had any.

Now I can turn my attention to my cup - to start to clean out the sticky crud at the bottom and to fill it with cool, clear water instead.

Now I can get some rest ... and focus on what matters most. To my surprise, I found out that it was ... me.

BE that person!

For many years, I have dreaded Mothers Day. MANY years. I have viewed it as a quintessential guilt trip, an excuse for members of the previous generation to lord it over the younger one and for others to jump on board and make a person feel five times guiltier because she doesn't gush platitudes about her own mother. 

And really, with the kind of upbringing I had - which can only be described as violent - who can blame me? Yet - since having children of my own, I have 'allowed' the celebration of the second Sunday of May ... for their sake. I always felt like a hypocrite about it though, knowing how much I detest the approach of that day and having to wade through all the gushy, mushy stuff on store shelves, social media, and even store flyers.

But my view is changing a little lately.  Maybe it's happened partly as a result of losing one of my children (October 2013). Or maybe it's because I realize that I have been punishing my present self for having had a rotten past.  And guess what? That's not fair.

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I saw a little sign posted in one of the bathroom stalls at work, and its message has been haunting me the last little while, especially with the approach of Mothers Day.  It says, "A great future does not require a great past." 

And as I ponder the approach of yet another Mothers Day ... perhaps my focus is starting to change. As a result, the dread I normally feel is slowly being replaced by ... something else I cannot quite identify yet. What I do know is that I cannot change what happened in my past. I cannot change the fact that I cannot feel what many women my age feel about their mothers, because I did not have that kind of close, trusting relationship with her that my friends had with theirs. 

But I can BE that mother. I can BE that person who engenders trust, love, and loyalty in people, especially in my only remaining offspring. I can BE her because I HAD to BE her for MYSELF. In the last nine years or so, I have had to literally re-parent myself and tell myself all the things she would never have dreamed of saying: that I was worthy, that I was good at things, that I was appreciated, that I was loved simply for being myself.  And I can tell those things to my own daughter - because they're true, and because in the telling of them, I am not diminished, but rather, I grow.

So this year, I am saying this - Happy Mothers Day to my daughter. Happy Mothers Day even if you are NEVER a mother yourself; I hope I have given you the best present I could give you: my love, and my self, in a way that you could understand and take into yourself.

Because I want to BE that person, my dear. Because YOU are WORTH IT.

2017 in review - Gratitude month by month

Every December 31, I take the calendar out and transfer birthdays, anniversaries, and appointments onto the next year's calendar before storing the current year's calendar away (I have calendars going back several years, which would come in handy were I ever to write my memoirs, haha!)

If I could choose a word to describe what 2017 has been for me and mine, it would have to be 'miraculous'.  Rather than theme by theme, I thought I'd take it month by month to show you how that has played out in my / our life.

January

January 4 - My brother had surgery to remove about five inches of bowel due to having stage 1 colon cancer. The surgery was successful; they got it all, and he did not have to have chemo. While he was in the hospital, he had a gall bladder attack and because of the recent surgery, they only put in a drainage tube instead of removing the gall bladder. He still has the tube... but more about him later.

January 9 - I had surgery to remove my reproductive organs due to some pre-cancerous cells inside my uterus (discovered the previous October via a biopsy done under anesthetic). I was off work for about 5 weeks. After the initial recovery period, I discovered that I had more energy and slept better at night than I had been. 

February

February 16 - I returned to work after my surgery January 9. I had been team leading since October so was returning to that - what a wonderful experience! 

February 27 - My post-surgery consultation / followup - my OB/GYN told me that everything was fine and that I had far less chance of getting other kinds of cancer (e.g., breast) now that my uterus was gone. :) 

February 28 - I celebrated eight years in recovery from codependency (see my "What is Codependency" tab). It might seem like a small thing, but my life is so much better now that I am living a more free lifestyle.

March

March 14 - my husband had an MRI on his right shoulder to determine the cause of his shoulder pain and weakness that he'd had ever since a shoveling accident last winter.

March 25 - my husband celebrated 8 years in recovery from alcoholism. Every day is a celebration really, but this is one of those landmarks we remember every year. 

March is a hard month usually; we have had our fill of winter by the time New Year's rolls around, so in March, with winter showing no sign of abating, things can get pretty exhausting and discouraging. A couple of well-timed vacation days near the end of March tides us over until the next long weekend - Easter (which was in April this year.)

In mid-March, my brother had to go into the hospital to stabilize his sugars (he is an insulin-dependent diabetic and the sugars, due to stress, were around six times what they should have been). He was home again in a few days, but while he was gone, we had to rely on extended family members to take up the slack of caring for my mother. Some of these family members got tired of doing that. It was the beginning of the end of a lot of things - though we didn't know it at the time.

April

April 14 - Good Friday - A day-visit to see my mom and brother showed us how badly Mom's dementia had deteriorated since our last visit a few months previous. I was seriously starting to worry that she might burn the house down by leaving a burner on or something.

April 17 - Easter Monday - My brother again had to go to hospital to deal with a cardiac incident. He was only in the hospital for about a week, but while he was gone, those extended family members, who I mentioned earlier, put their sinister plan into motion.

April 19 - Due to lies told to a Social Worker, Mom was taken to hospital "for her own safety" since my brother was still in the hospital and the extended family members didn't want to care for her. As a result, she became a "court-ordered" patient and wheels were put in motion to keep her in the hospital until she could be placed into a nursing home.  

May

May 26 - My husband had his appointment with an orthopedic surgeon regarding the MRI he had undergone in March. The surgeon told him that his bicep muscle had mostly torn away from his rotator cuff in one spot and that he would need surgery to repair it. The wait times for this would be about a year or so. They finally settled on August 2018.

May 29 - My brother received a writeup of the allegations that put Mom into the custody of the province.  He showed me a photo of each of the pages. Everything they said was either a bald-faced lie or a gross exaggeration and misinterpretation of the facts. He had no money to fight it in court. We advised against fighting since it was the province (not the extended family members) who would gain financial control over Mom's affairs.

June

June 9 - After two years of talking about it, we finally got our tub "replaced" - we used Bathfitters and we were very pleased with the results! This was a big deal because the old tub (a purple one from the 1970s) was such an eyesore and so was the badly done tile job around it. Now we have a sleek, easy-to-clean tub and shower surround. 

June 16 - I started seeing a counsellor to help me deal with the stress of the situation with Mom and my brother. The therapist and I immediately clicked!

June 20 - My husband and I celebrated 36 years as husband and wife. 

July

July 10 - I headed out to Calgary for a 2-week intensive finale to my Group Counselling course. A good friend of my daughter's picked me up at the airport and drove me to campus. My room-mates were pretty good and even took me to the grocery store that afternoon so that I could have food for the coming week. Such a contrast to the last year I was there!

July 13 - That friend and her partner had me over to their house for the BEST steak dinner I have EVER tasted - and the partner even helped me with a computer problem I had been having. :)  They offered to take me out to breakfast on the 16th - Arielle's birthday (she would have been 25). 

July 15 - A classmate contacted me and drove me out to Canmore - close to the Rockies - and I saw the mountains up close and in person for the first time ever. NO comparison to only seeing pictures!! it was a spiritual experience for me mostly because Arielle had seen a similar sight when she and a friend drove to Calgary from Edmonton about a month before she died. 

July 16 - Breakfast at Denny's - what more needs to be said?  It was busy because it was a Sunday morning, but the food was great and my daughter's friends put themselves out to make the day a little more bearable for me.

July 21 - The flight home. My daughter's friend's partner drove me early to the Calgary airport, so I spent a LOT of time waiting at one airport or another. I was supposed to arrive at 11:10 pm, but due to the absolute worst thunderstorm of the year on the Eastern seaboard (affecting flights leaving LaGuardia in NY), my connector was delayed.  It arrived two and a half hours late in Toronto, and then when it finally took us to the Maritimes, the same storm was affecting our ability to land in PEI (five inches of rain on the runway). We diverted to Moncton, spent an hour inside the plane while the pilot was on the horn with officials in both places, and then finally took off to land in PEI around 3:15 am. I could have kissed the tarmac when we landed here! 

August

I spent more time than usual in the sun. After my time in Calgary and the intensity of Summer Institute, I welcomed the chance to relax whenever I could. Aside from a dental filling and a couple of birthdays, there's nothing written on the calendar for this particular month. 

However, my daughter did decide to take a course through Athabasca University online, a precursor to eventually transferring the credit to UPEI. It was a big move for her psychologically, and although she was anxious, we were confident that this was a good move for her.

My brother was diagnosed with cataracts.

September

I began a four-month hiatus from school. No courses that I needed were being offered in that term, so I paid my program fee (to hold my place in the program) and then prepared to fill the time with something else. I must admit that I didn't know WHAT I would fill the time with, so September I spent a lot of time lurking on Facebook, playing computer games, and watching television: luxuries I only sipped in moderation when I was taking classes.

I took to calling Mom about 3 times a week, and my brother at least once a week. During this time, he was learning how to manage a household on his own for the first time in his life, so I was giving him tips and tricks to getting things done and bills paid on time. I also helped him stick-handle through the process of trying to get quotes to put in an oil-fired furnace to replace the wood furnace he could no longer tend (he had qualified for a grant for this).

October

Photo "Young Plant" by amenic181 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I rediscovered crochet in October, and began one birthday project for my brother, and started my Christmas projects. Finally there was something productive to do with my evenings and weekends!

October 9 - Thanksgiving - We had friends over and I cooked a turkey with all the trimmings, including some deep-dish pumpkin pie I made myself. The food was good, but the company was better!

October 26 - What was to be a trip to NB to take my brother to an ophthalmologist's appointment (pre-surgery) ended up with me going to the Moncton hospital after learning he'd had a heart attack the day before. Fortunately the damage was minimal. Yet he was still having chest pain.

I remember having a great visit with him, including telling his kidneys to return to function, and telling his pancreas to behave themselves, in preparation for an upcoming cardiac procedure. 

While I was there, I visited my mom, who was still in the hospital awaiting placement, and who thought she'd only gotten there about a week ago (it had been over six months.) It was a good visit, not at all like I might have feared.

October 30 - My brother had his cardiac procedure and it went perfectly! They put in two stents in the vessels on his upper heart muscle because there was a 90% blockage in one and a 70% blockage in the other. His kidneys didn't fail and his sugars actually improved with the decrease in stress.  Within hours, all the pain was gone - just gone!! - and he was able to get a full breath and even was able to walk for more than 50 feet by the end of the following day!

He was still waiting for the furnace project to get going, however, after he got back home. He was keeping the electric thermostat on 58 degrees and using the blanket I had crocheted for him to keep warm when the temperatures started dipping. The hospital stay gave him a reprieve from that, but the weather wasn't getting any warmer and with a badly insulated house, things were pretty chilly.

November

After involving the NB Ombudsman as well as some creative plans to get the furnace work done, the grant people finalized the agreement with an installer to put in the furnace. They started the work on my brother's birthday, near the end of November. 

Interestingly, the nights didn't get as cold as they usually did that time of year. 

He also made arrangements through Social Services to get transportation to and from medical appointments. This was a big relief for everyone!

My daughter decided to attend UPEI as an "unclassified student" while she was taking some upgrading to qualify for a program there: the Kinesiology degree. This was a huge deal for her.

December

December 3 - My brother's first delivery of furnace oil happened early that Sunday morning and he texted me, "Sis, it's 68 degrees and so warm." 

December 8 - Mom was moved into the nursing home. At last count she seemed to be settling in, but the staff was discouraging visitors that she would associate with her going back home. As yet, we have not yet seen her.

December 11 - Many discussions with UPEI Registrar and Student services later, we had the joy of seeing our daughter register for a Kinesiology course at UPEI to start January 3, 2018. 

December 13 - My brother had an appointment with his surgeon (the one who did the cancer operation). She's been monitoring his creatinine levels to give her an indication of how well his kidneys are doing. Before the cardiac procedure they were at 600 (the high end of normal is 113). He told me on the 13th that even though the doctors could not explain how, his creatinine was now at 225, and that he was in the best shape he has been in for several years! What a great Christmas gift!

December 23 - A good day-visit to see brother - we gave him his Christmas gifts. He cooked a scrumptuous meal and enjoyed our company to the full!  He still has his drainage tube but now has a target date for the surgery to remove it (and the gall-bladder): March 2018. That is quite the relief. We are still waiting for word from the ophthalmologist on the date for the cataract surgery. They want to talk to his cardiologist first. Hopefully it will be sooner rather than later.

December 25 - This was the first Christmas we have spent alone (with just the 3 of us) since Arielle passed away. It appears we were ready for it - a quiet one with just us - and a good turkey dinner to share and lots of leftovers!

December 26 - Shepherd's pie with friends who came over for supper and the evening. A good time was had by all! Precious memories built and exchanged, and nobody left the table hungry, haha.

December 31 - Today. We are planning a quiet evening at home with a dear friend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2018

The year ahead looks bright with many significant changes coming up and lots of bends in the road ahead. Yet all we have seen, as R. W. Emerson said, leads us to trust our Creator for all we have not seen.

I wish my readers all the absolute best of all things for 2018.

The Road Not Taken

Today I found myself thinking about Robert Frost's poem, The Road Not Taken (published in 1920).  I looked it up and read it again and found myself moved once more by his description of a choice he made that had a great impact on the rest of his life.  And so it speaks to all of us at one point or another.  

I have noticed that in the last few months, I have been approaching closer and closer to those divergent paths, all the while "sorry I could not travel both and be one traveller..." (lines 2, 3) ... and I find myself wishing, as I read about Frost's experience of choosing the 'road less travelled by' ... that the same will be true of my life, that I will find that 'that has made all the difference (lines 19, 20).  

When I mentioned this to my husband, he smiled. "But you've been taking the road less travelled all of your life!" he exclaimed.  Then he started listing all of the choices I made that were firsts in my family, the community where I grew up, the various spiritual journeys of growth and healing that I have been on, and on and on the examples came.... everything from getting my Bachelor's degree in the 1980s, to child-rearing choices I made, to applying for a management position when I was still a clerk (and being in the top three candidates to be assessed - 14 years ago - a lifetime for some), ... and now this.  

Image "Arrows Choice Shows Options Alternatives
Or Choosing" courtesy of Stuart Miles at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

This - this career path I've chosen (and for which I am going for my Master's degree) - this feels somehow more ... pivotal than most of the other times. As I get closer to where the paths REALLY diverge, when I am going to have to make that decision, clear away the brush and follow that second path, I notice more and more how different the paths seem from each other, and how much more that second path is in keeping with the series of choices I've made all of my life. Like my husband told me, I've never been one to follow or to join ... and I can lead when I have to ... but this is more like walking alongside individuals on their various journeys. And getting to that place is not going to be easy. It's going to be a lot of hard work, and I don't know what lies ahead.  I have an inkling perhaps, but I don't KNOW.

It's scary.  It's really scary.  But in their own way, all of those previous decisions have been scary too.  And if I never follow through with this choice, I'll always wonder what might have happened if I had.

So as the crossroads loom closer and closer, I take the next step. And the next one.  One at a time, bit by little bit.  Yes, I know where the road will take me, but if I worry about stumbling, I will end up pacing back and forth in the middle of the road - and that will get me nowhere.

Deep breath. 

Direction ... Not Destination

“It becomes easier for me to accept myself as a decidedly imperfect person, who by no means functions at all times in the way in which I would like to function. This must seem to some like a very strange direction in which to move. It seems to me to have value because the curious paradox is that when I accept myself as I am, then I change.”
- - Carl Rogers, On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy

About a month ago, I sat across from someone who really listened to me and heard my concerns. He wasn't a therapist, and quite frankly, to listen to his career accomplishments, I would have considered him to be unapproachable under normal circumstances (at least, what normal was for most of my life). However, I had heard him open his heart and share his passion with people... and I knew instinctively that he could be trusted.  So I poured out my heart to him. And he listened. And he cared. 

In doing what I did, I admitted to myself that I was not happy with the current state of affairs and that I wanted something to change. I also admitted to myself that I didn't have the power to change anything about my circumstances, but I could talk to someone who did. 

And you know, it happened. When I heard what had been done to fix things, it was like someone removed a 70-pound pack from my back, one that I'd been carrying around for a year. The relief was so great and so tangible that I welled up and spilled over in tears for a few minutes. And then I contacted the man who had listened - and I thanked him. It was all I could think to do. And it was as natural to do that as to take my next breath. 

I write all that because ... because seven years ago, I never would have been able to reach out like that and ask for help. I would have suffered - perhaps not in silence, but in helplessness and misery - and today I realize that the person I was then was me, and the person I am now is still me ... only better, healthier. And the catalyst for change was nothing other than accepting the me that I was then the WAY I was then - and learning to like that person. (By the way,  I had help.)

Photo "Woman Relaxing With Her Eyes Closed"
courtesy of photostock at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Without realizing it, my behavior and my attitudes about things (not necessarily in that order) began to change. The change was automatic. I didn't have to work at it, except to realize and be aware of my behavior patterns. There were a lot of uncompleted sentences and one-eighties in the beginning as I learned a new way to be. I was becoming a better me. And I still am.

As you can tell from the above quote, I love to read things that Carl Rogers (father of modern psychotherapy) said or wrote. (I even listened to part of one of his taped sessions once. It was amazing.) He also said something else about personal growth. He said that it wasn't a destination ... that it was a direction. A process, not a product. That is my experience. Some of that experience was pretty intense - it involved doing things that were hard - but I tackled them when and as I was ready for them, and not before ... and I still do. 

But the weird thing about it all is that without that core of acceptance of who and what I am at the moment, none of the changes I've experienced (and am experiencing) would have been possible or would be possible. It is, as Rogers said, a "curious paradox." 

I can't explain how it works. It just does. Slow but sure, millimeter by millimeter.
And I'm okay with that.

Fresh pages

September rises on the scene almost unannounced ... whispering, 'Oh, by the way, school starts soon.' And soon ... is now. 

Yes, I'm back in school again, this time taking an undergraduate course from my alma mater to beef up my qualifications to take a grad program from a school in Calgary, Alberta. It's on learning and motivation (maybe I'll learn something, haha!) and it will take me about three months or so. 

Attending the first class made me feel really good; I understood the prof and had some hope that I could actually get a leg up on my educational quest. That is, perhaps she (if I do well, which I think I will) would be willing to write a letter of reference on my behalf when I apply to Athabasca University in another five months or so. 

There's something oddly satisfying about opening a new book that has not been used, or turning a fresh page in a notebook, especially the first one. There is so much that has yet to be learned, written, experienced. It's so hopeful. 

Photo "Notebook And Pen" courtesy
of jiggola at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

It's been a month of fresh pages and new beginnings for our family. 

Specifically for me, this new course has represented a new start, an opening of the door to new possibilities and the promise of a future as a counsellor ... eventually. 

At home, there are fresh pages turning as well. We discovered that our deck - which was here when we moved in 25 years ago, was rotted and being eaten by carpenter ants. So, we paid a couple of guys to build a new one! (I've already flooded Facebook with those photos, so I won't put more here...) 

It's been good though, to be able to feel secure about going out on the deck without fear of falling through, or getting splinters in our feet, or slipping and falling. The guys did a great job - thanks Mike and Dalton W!

And then there's new life as well. We got a call from the shelter about three weeks ago, asking us to take our newly adopted kitten before she got to be big enough to spay. (Usually they like to keep them until after the procedure is over.) They said that she was losing weight, and that that she needed to be away from the shelter atmosphere to thrive (this happens sometimes). They asked us if we could foster her until she was old (and heavy) enough; they have to be at least two pounds! (We didn't hesitate to say yes!) So she is here as a foster-kitty (which means that all vet bills are the shelter's, a bonus!) Once she is spayed, we can finalize the adoption (that is, pay the adoption fees and take ownership.) Her operation is scheduled for September 17.

So, in the meantime, we've been getting her used to her "big brother" Loki. The size difference (he's five times her weight) means we have to supervise their play rather closely, and limit their interaction, but we find that they really look forward to that time together. Surprisingly, sometimes Eris even gets the upper hand!

It's so interesting having a small (but VERY active) kitten in the house again. Eris moves so quickly that we've joked about getting whiplash watching her!! Her zest for life and her honest expression of how she feels is contagious and encouraging. It helps us to concentrate on life and happiness again. There's been too much death, too much sadness. 

We need hope. 
And laughter. 
I like laughter. It's good. 
And do-overs. 
And a never-ending supply of fresh pages.

The Next Right Thing

"What went wrong?" she asked me.

I paused. "I guess the main reason it failed was that everyone who heard about this initiative felt it was a great idea, agreed that it was needed, even thought about participating, but when they realized how much work it would take to get better, and how long it would take, they just ... lost interest." 

The conversation had begun when I dropped by the community centre where for a year and a half, Codependents Anonymous had been meeting twice a month, and where, after much soul-searching and lack of attendance, we had decided to disband. I was returning the key the administrator had given me.

Our talk then ranged into a wide range of topics, sharing experiences in recovering from codependency, thought patterns we each battled in isolation, and we agreed that perhaps in a larger population base, we might find enough people who would be interested in doing whatever it took to be free from old, destructive patterns of thinking. 

Perhaps. 

How to build a ramp (or make a major lifestyle change):
Start where you are, do what you can TODAY, and
carry on from where you left off, tomorrow.

I got to thinking - after we had talked and parted company - about the tendency there is in human nature to quail when faced with a daunting task. One looks at the enormity of it all, and it's easy to get discouraged. That's part and parcel of the very kind of thinking that keeps people (like me) in dysfunction; it took a great deal of desperation for me to bite that bullet and start challenging my long-held beliefs about relationships, people, myself, God, and what I had considered important.

What I discovered after I started the process was that even though it was going to take a while, I'd start where I was: no apologies and no excuses, and then do what I could TODAY. I forced myself to NOT think about how far there was yet to go, how much there was yet to do - which was a big deal for me. Over and over I reminded myself that I was only responsible for doing the "next right thing." Of course, my definition (once I got into the process) of what was "right" started to undergo a transformation. 

I was surprised to discover that "doing the next right thing" and "being right about things" are mutually exclusive. The former is about humility and honesty; the latter is about self-aggrandizement and control. 

I learned - by making a lot of mistakes - to be kind to myself when I made mistakes or slipped back in my recovery; often I felt like I was making a step forward only to feel as though I was taking three steps backward. What was really happening was that I was blazing a new trail and making sure I knew where the path was by tamping it down, over and over again. I was practicing. I remember stopping myself when I started doing things the "old way" - even in mid-sentence - and forcing myself to do things the "new way." It felt uncomfortable at first because it was so new. I was terrified of where it might take me. I was afraid of the unknown, nervous that I wouldn't like the finished product, that I would lose more than I would gain.

Yet ... the results spoke for themselves, little by little, one day at a time. It wasn't long before my kids actually wanted to talk to me again. They weren't afraid of my reactions (or should I say, my OVER-reactions). My husband was visibly more relaxed around me. And ... I was happier. Freer. More peaceful. Even though I was still doing (with a great deal of help from above) what amounted to a total reconstruction of my attitudes and my beliefs about myself and my relationships, it wasn't like I was working in a vacuum with no hope of results until I was done. That was the beauty of it. The changes were small, sometimes frustratingly so, but they happened, and they kept happening. 

They keep happening even now. New doors, new challenges open up to me and all the while, I am learning more and more about boundaries, about self-care, about acceptance, about courage, and about really living life instead of just surviving it - even giving back once in a while. 

Dr. Bill Cosby (yes, he earned a Ph.D in Urban Education in 1977!) once said, "Decide that you want it more than you are afraid of it." 

For me, that decision was key. And ... it still is.

I matter

Over the last few days, I've been trying to convince my husband and best friend of something that is really hard for him to accept. 

The lawn tractor our youngest daughter gave him last summer (she gave him the money and he got one second-hand) has been having more and more problems, and he came to the conclusion that it needed replacing.  


The fact that she gave it to him, and the experience of using it, made him realize how much he enjoyed and preferred using a ride-on as opposed to a push mower. He saw the need to replace it, but....

But he started looking for another second-hand one!  So, I've been suggesting to him the last few days that he needs to get a NEW tractor, one that hasn't deteriorated with use, one with a warranty.  He looked at the price of the new ones and quailed at the thought of spending that much money - even for the low-end tractors, the cost is anywhere between $1,000 and $1,300.  He thought it was too much.  He still does. Since his birthday is in a couple of months, I offered to pay a good bit of the cost so that he could get a new one -- but only if he got a brand new one, not used.  

He still hesitated.  

Got this pic of the NEW tractor we are
getting soon, at this site

During our discussions, I put my finger on the real reason why he hesitates to spend that much money on a new machine.  "It's because you don't think you deserve to have anything nice.   Isn't it."  

It was more a statement than a question.  Reluctantly, he agreed that this was true.  "Well, you DO deserve it. You'd say that I deserved it if I wanted something nice.  Why is it so hard for you to grant yourself the same courtesy?"  

Tonight we went to a nearby store and purchased a new Poulan 17.5 HP, six-speed (42" cutting deck) lawn tractor.  It will be delivered within a few days.  

And he feels guilty. 

We talked a little about that feeling.  It is very hard, after spending your whole life believing that you are worth nothing and that you deserve nothing, to begin to say to yourself, "I matter.  What I want matters.  My dreams, my wishes, ... they matter.  I am worth spending time with; I am worth spending money on."  

But it is essential to say these things to ourselves if we are to have a balanced view of our place in the world, of our importance - neither lording it over others nor cow-towing to them.  We owe it to ourselves to take care of ourselves, to celebrate life, to savour the small pleasures and accept them as from God's hand. We need to give ourselves permission to enjoy life.

Try it. Say it to yourself.  "I matter."  Say it until you start to believe it.  And keep saying it.