funhouse life

Time

2026-05-30T08:44:10.232-04:00

Whoa, some schools impact you for life.

Home base in childhood; for me at least. Unlike a lot of my friends. I had the safety and comfort of elementary school usually for a few months at a time. I believe I spent one and half or two years at Simcoe Street school and a whole year at Greendale. I know my parents managed to have me enrolled for a whole 3 days at Helix...before deciding to pass me back to Centennial in Hamilton.

Just a few of the many, many moves with new teachers, friends and rules. Yet, I loved school. It was the best place I could be from age 4-17. It didn't matter to me if I was in French school like I was in pre-K, Catholic school where I spent half those years, or the various public schools of the Golden Horseshoe: each one welcomed me, brought me structure, hope and oh yes, education too.

Saint Annes though was a different sort of bird. I landed there sometime in grade five due to a move with Mum and the sister she was living with: for a few winter months in the middle of the school year of 1979-1980.

Just a few months, but wow, unforgettable. A whole different world even to all the other catholic schools I had breezed in and out of over the past 7 years. Mandatory 1/4 rosary in the morning, quick and instant detention, even the schoolyard (huge as it seemed to be) had a subdued and reverent feel. Mandatory Mass on the weekend where attendance was taken by an Altar Boy: if he wasn’t busy bragging about peeing in the Holy Water font or sneaking sips of Communion Wine in the vestry.

My tentative friends admonished me for the slightest infraction: don't say a cross word, keep the volleyball on this side of the door, wear your hat or Look out, you will end up writing Time!

Ah, writing time! The ultimate punishment, save the strap, that filled us with fear. Now, don’t be alarmed if you have no idea what I am on about: writing Time was about as alien to me at ten as it likely is to you. I soon found out though.

At St. Anne’s if your teacher thought you wasted her time: you were handed several sheets of foolscap and the Dictionary . You were instructed to turn to the word Time. Depending on the severity of your infraction you were instructed to copy by hand the dictionary definition of the word time onto those endless blank reams of paper.

Did you ask a dumb question? Write the definition once.

Were you whispering to your friends in class? Five times.

Were you truly being disrespectful or disruptive? 10 times.

No one dared step out of line really. Your hand would cramp instantly at the thought of being naughty. Also, naughty as defined by the Nuns is a very different gauge of what is and isn’t acceptable.

I have never experienced a group of children so completely cowed and cowering before or since.

I didn’t have the confidence then to express how badly I would have liked to return to my former Public School, Centennial. Situated in a grubby area of Hamilton just across town next to another school called Bennetto lay a beautiful oasis for child development. Mr Russ’s classroom felt like a slice of pie, with whipped cream served daily in your favourite flavour.

He brought in parachutes for us, held contests where the winner got McDonald’s,and specially ordered science kits that arrived in giant wooden crates. Excitement at the sight of a wooden crate was instant- something great is happening today! My core memory was the develop-your -own -film science kit.

A bunch of cheap cameras. A trip to the park by my house. A gorgeous fall day where it still feels like summer. I’d been there lots but this day was special. “Take pictures of whatever you want guys! The bay, the birds, your friends or a blade of grass. It’s up to you.”

Cut to our classroom the next day- weird black plastic bags that fit over our arms: the cameras placed into them from the other side and zipped in along with a circular container. We were instructed to carefully remove the film from our camera, place it in the container and close the lid.

The containers, which were similar to a short soup thermos, were then removed. They had a small spout with a cap. Our next step as ten year old scientists was to add some foul smelling chemicals to that spout. Thermoses lined up on the back counter by the class Guinea pig and it was time for lunch and tetherball.

We returned a truly noisy bunch to a classroom with a new blue clothesline. At some point, after the required time elapsed we were allowed to carefully open those film canisters and hang up our precious strip of negatives.

On day three we were given a few sheets of photo paper. Told to place our negative on a paper, given a strange contraption with a light bulb. We sat our masterpieces under our individual lights and waited hopefully.

Like magic, images of our friends, the water, the sky appeared in lovely sepia colour. I had those 3 little photos for years until one move or another disappeared them.

Yes, it was an awful neighbourhood. Yes I was confronted at that tender age with fistfights and threats and a random dude at that same park on another day who was bigger, stronger and sucker punched me because he felt like it. It was 1979.

However, that was a tiny price to pay to be part of Mr. Russ’s world. 🌎. I wonder often what happened to him? I hope that his career and life were fantastic. He deserved to win the lottery and be given a Harley and a kitten just for the half year that I spent in his class. I cannot imagine how many others feel exactly the same.

It’s been over 45 years. I can’t forget how valued I felt in that classroom and how free.

In my weird and varied educational experience I have known some amazing teachers: Mr Russ, Mr. Dodson, Mr Mavor Mz Vukobratic Mr Schoenfeld: that’s just five of many! I have known quite awful ones who’s names are lost on me now and who’s memory I have probably blocked for good reason.

In my adult life I know so many teachers: really super good ones. Some retired, but with stellar histories of caring for kids. Teaching, encouraging and inspiring.

For those who are still out there fighting the good fight everyday- I see you. I thank you. I hope someday that 45 years from now a sentimental grown child remembers you.

Six Minute Breakfast

2026-05-15T19:09:09.214-04:00

'In the name of Bacon will you chicken me up that egg. Shall I swallow cave-phantoms?' Samuel Beckett. Collected Poems in English and French. 1961.

Here's a surprising admission: I am a breakfast aficionado. Reputation precedes me as a coffee nut: and no one is shocked with that breaking news.

Nothing can get between blurry eyed morning me and my brewer. The smell of fresh dark roast instantly makes me feel calm, capable and even taller. Much much taller...and as they say, bulletproof. A good nosh though is a close second in my affections.

A perfect day designed by me would involve a lot of breakfast. Starting with pre breakfast coffee of course ideally accompanied by a nice morning pastry: a buttery croissant or a lovely cherry cheese danish.

Breakfast itself could last two or three hours. It might be cultural; the ideal morning meal for me would involve a fry up. Eggs. Definitely. Poached soft boiled or over easy. Bacon, certainly, hickory smoked if possible and spicy sausage. Sweet potato medallions fried in butter with cayenne pepper. Rye toast to dip in all that gooey goodness. Some waffles or crepes or in a pinch french toast because I have never been much of a pancake girl. Fruit salad too:because we must remain mindful of the need to be healthy. It is breakfast after all.

After breakfast, a lovely walk with a little post breakfast breakfast snack. Orange or cranberry juice and maybe a muffin. A very well made muffin crammed with fruit and nuts and spices. Oh and more coffee, but that goes without saying.

Or a big fat beaver tail. I have lived in Canada for 47 years so.....

Great start to my dream day as alas, it is just a dream because health, time, and energy have a way of interfering with nonstop gluttony . In fact, for some odd reason the people I hang out with want to do other things. Yes, I can hear you mumbling- well that is just wrong, as you read this. I know, my friends and family are weirdos. So for them, and others like them who suffer daily with a lack of proper petite mangé appreciation I have come up with a list of tips and tricks for a quick breakfast.

1. Prepare.

Bleary eyed and up at the crack of what time is it anyway....even the dietary diligent will not want to only start thinking of breakfast. This is why we have drive thru lineups that go forever in the mornings. If you want to skip the wait- take a saturday morning or a couple hours away from gaming and make a pan of muffins. Freeze individually and thaw the night before. (Pro tip: Make a double batch and gift a neighbour.) If you are feeling fancy add some peanut butter or my mom's fav...a slice of cheddar.

2. Treat yourself.

Early morning food can turn a lot of you off. My suggestion on this is simple. Eat what you like. Stock your fridge and pantry with at least five foods that make you insanely happy. You are a full grown adult....you do not need a multi national cereal conglomerate or Canada food guide to tell you what is okay for breakfast. What matters is that you eat. So if guacamole makes you drool....have at it. Chocolate twinkies....all good. Leftover take out? Why would you not. My nutritionist friends might have me spanked over this advice but I believe in a world where we will not be judged for the path we take to get where we need to be.

3. Hydrate.

Or how I survive despite really loving coffee. Water. First thing. Drink it. It will wake that tired body up.

4. Cheat.

I know loads of people who cannot bake.or cook because they do not have time, or room, or never learned. That is what all those new snacks at the grocery store can help you with. Grab a pack or two of english muffins. Freeze and use as needed. Coddle an egg in the microwave. So easy. Whip an egg with a fork in a small bowl. Micro for a minute. Check it. Stir again. Add 30 seconds. One english muffin, thawed, throw on the coddled egg....and whatever you like....i love tomato but that is me...some prefer cheese. You can add onion, avocado, mayonaisse or even hot sauce and that is a tasty cheater breakfast without breathing exhaust fumes for five minutes.

Samesies on oatmeal: One and a half minutes in the microwave: stir in fruit or brown sugar....amazing.

Or my latest make ahead cheater breakfast: egg bites. So good they aren’t just breakfast anymore: they are in my lunch and a quick late night pick me up. So easy, infinitely changeable- and all those proteins and omegas.

Quick recipe here: Visit https://www.everydayhealthyrecipes.com/cottage-cheese-egg-muffins/#recipe

5. Be brave.

Try something new. My life changed when my nutritionist suggested adding a slice of avocado to my morning

I discovered recently that while milkshakes are out of bounds for me I can have a mango lassi from Sabitri's Global Cuisine....and it is incredible.

There is a whole world of food out there beyond those that have you bored and skipping meals. My new finds might be your...wow, so boring! Look online, ask friends, or throw together ingredients you never thought of putting together. You might discover your new epic thing.

6.Support your local brekkie place.

Where I live they were mostly closed in 2020 when I started this post originally! Now breakfast is everywhere: but I really like the local homegrown spots over the Corporations.

In my area three of my favourites are Country Sisters restaurant on highway 86, The Right Spot in Alma, Ontario and Highland Grounds in Flesherton Ontario.

If your town is anything like mine though there are several great places that will feed you and make you smile. . I would love to list every one in my town, but fortunately....there are so many! I would be afraid to leave anyone out. Local owner/ operators do an amazing job with local food and generally, give back to their community- I know the three examples above do!They do a great job.

Having someone happily make my first meal of the day (or sometimes my second breakfast, as I enjoy my own cooking, too ) creates nothing but sunshine for me.

I leave you with a link to my favourite muffins

https://sallysbakingaddiction.com/master-muffin-mix/

Eat up, my friends!

Be The Brightness

2020-09-12T13:23:00.001-04:00

“If you’re not making someone else’s life better, then you’re wasting your time. Your life will become better by making other lives better.” – Will Smith

We Canadians live in a giving, sharing culture. In the last Census in 2010 84% of us self reported Charitable Giving. That added up to 23.8 million for worthy organizations in that year. That is commendable and valuable and I am sure that those groups are very grateful. They also appreciate something we sometimes find harder to give: our time.

We are living in strange times. Many of you are fed up, frustrated and trying your very best to adjust as we all face a daily onslaught of new rules, strange attitudes and reactions and problems we could not of even dreamed up several months ago. A lot of my friends are struggling with the rapid changes and trying to maintain their center- searching for some meaning in the chaos to brighten and perhaps create happiness despite it all.

Stepping outside your own experience is a powerful tool for many. Somehow, when life is looking somewhat down taking a moment to reach out to a friend in need, an elderly neighbour, a youth in need of guidance or even a charity in need of a hand gives us clarity and perspective. It can be easy to get lost in ones own dramas and troubles, worries, finances, stress and slights. Taking a break from that spiral to reach for another's hand and pull them up is like a mini vacation. A temporary trip away from our own endless drama, from feeling superfluous and working hard with little or no appreciation.

This year with all its restrictions did not stop everyone from spreading cheer. I saw many local women lifting one another up. Dropping surprize gifts on doorsteps. Loads of them. I had a friend who made stuffed animals for children and posted on Facebook that if they were needed they were available in Ziplocs on the porch. Another friend laundered and sealed unused Webkinz and dropped them to neighbourhood children who were missing friends and teachers. Even my daughter's school board made a difference: sending grocery gift cards to help parents throughout the early months of the pandemic. The amount of goodwill and kindness made me, the non cryer, nearly weep.

So this is a different kind of Labour Day post. Not so much about having a day off but about finding ways to add a little more work to your day. I promise though, that this kind of work wont leave you feeling exhausted and slightly used.

The pandemic has opened many doors for virtual volunteering. I was excited to find websites in Canada that offer everything from writing notes of encouragement to people who could use a kind word to running programs: the website offers opportunities to aid programs across the country in various areas of interest. It is a perfect way to find the place where you can share your particular skill in an area you feel is important.

Traditional volunteering options are listed as well and broken down by province and organization. It is a great website to find some meaning for your downtime. You decide your level of involvement, area of interest and the amount of time and energy you can give.

You can view online volunteering openings here:

https://www.volunteer.ca

This is so exciting! I have to say I was pumped up when I found this site and its easy access to ways I could help: even from home.

I promise you from experience that opening yourself up to making life a bit better for others will add meaning and fun to your world. You will help some of your other fellow beings on the planet and in doing so find it benefits yourself.

Charities and organizations also need fundraising support and there are many ways to manage financial gifts too. Some prefer to donate directly to their favourites and that is a good way to support your causes. Here are a few other options:

www.onlinegivingfoundation.ca

www.canadahelps.org

https://www.paypal.com/ca/webapps/mpp/givingfund/home

Broadening your focus beyond your own needs and wants can only make your experience bigger and better. Seeing beyond the front door and the egocentric work culture reminds us that there is a wide world out there and it sometimes needs a boost. We spend up to six hours in leisure a day on average and at least half that time is passive: watching television or on the internet. With so many opportunities online it is so easy to take a portion of that time and do a good thing.

Happy volunteering! Happy Labour Day.

Dont Lose Your Mind

2020-07-07T15:03:00.019-04:00

I feel like Gumby: pulled in every direction.

I have children who need me. They are lovely and fun and nearly all adults now. They need a bit of time though. Attention. Ears to listen and hands to help. I don't begrudge that. I just recognize it is tougher right now to do it right.

I have medical me. Pretty sure my good friend Berny would be calling me Medical Molly by now. Medical me has to go to every appointment that the Doctors need, when they say, and has been showing up on time and happy to wait for over two years. Medical me has had to smile as I get needles and ports and crazy concoctions poured into my body and make small talk. She is expected to be grateful even after being disfigured and whilst she deals with every indignity of being ill. She is grateful to be alive and thankful for all the expertise the hospitals, plural, have to offer. The real me knows this was supposed to be done with by now and is less than pleased to be throwing me back on the mercy of the medical machine.

I have a relationship to hold together. It is a tricky thing with long distance and Covid rules. Thank goodness he is kind and patient and loves me however hard it becomes to give him the attention he needs. I worry: that he is being shortchanged. Heck, between my schedule and a global pandemic I reckon he deserves more of my time: gotta fix that sometime soon.

Work needs me: I think. I would love to be there. It takes me out of my head. I feel guilty for being sick and injured and on the bench at a critical time in history. I miss my work buds too.

Friends I would love to have time for: a bonfire invite: coffee clatches: lunch dates stacked up for after the Plague. Taking a break from life, venting and a change of scenery are pretty tough for people at this minute. Pandemic monkey wrench!

I want to: Go running. Play Tennis. Finish sewing the dang thing I have been attempting to sew for three months. It is not that I am lazy. The body just cannot right now so I am working hard with a great team: a wonderful physiotherapist, an nurse practitioner, an incredibly smart Doctor and a very proactive and caring social worker to fix that.

Also: all the paperwork! Bane of human existence. Let's not get me started about the hoops you have to jump through when you are already down. I forget; did anyone pin a Kick Me sign on me?Hmmm. There are just 24 hours in a day.

At times, like right in this minute, I feel like I am losing my mind. Nope that is not "just a saying". There have been a few struggles. Someone close said: oh queen of the understatement, about that. My closest friends and family seem to have a bit of compassion fatigue. Yes, that is a real thing. I feel for them I do. I know it can be intense listening to me drone on in the midst of my troubles even though I edit most of it out and throw in as many jokes about it as I can find.

I do not expect greatness or someone to solve my troubles: Heck, I once visited a grief counselor at the behest of a well meaning boss: After I told her my story she said: " Wow, that was hard: Even to listen to" That was All she said. End of session. Dangling participle and all. She was a professional- so I get it when my confidantes throw up their hands.

So I find myself: now, trying to deal with my emotions and trying not to bother anyone. I am grumpy, crying a bit, full to the brim with what I can only describe as rage. I am allowing myself to feel what I am feeling. The weight of it this week has just been too big: teeth are seriously on edge. I have wanted to go running, go bounce balls off a wall, even bounce myself off something- just anything to deal with my frustration, grief and anger. The body still says no. I take it out in physiotherapy a little...but cannot get intense enough yet to really get my ya-yas out if you know what I mean.

So I find myself in this dilemma. It's pretty much all on me to not lose my mind completely. I thought about calling a 24/7 counselling line....but last time it was a six hour cue....I guess I am not the only one trying to hold on my the grit of my teeth. Don't lose your mind people if you can help it. I also do not want to have to explain Everything that has happened to someone new. I cannot take another “wow, bummer" from a therapist.

I am hanging in, trying to adjust and trying to still do at least some of what I should. Pushing myself too hard right now has already proven itself to be the dumbest thing I can do. What I want to do is scream. Just go to the top of a mountain somewhere and let it all out. There are no mountains here. If I do that here or at the top of the tallest hill the neighborhood will not be pleased. I will find my self having to explain myself to the boys in blue: besides; nearest hill is beyond the current mobility.

I did call a therapist. An actual licensed social worker who knows me through my having a critical illness. I have an appointment set up. I mention this because mental health is important. If you sound like me : reach out.

It is easier to talk to someone you know and I certainly can attest to that. However, sometimes a neutral person who has training is the better bet . Some of them are pretty darn good: not all. Some. It is tough to be vulnerable and reach out. I certainly waffled on adding another thing to do to my life. Jiminy cricket. I think Benjamin Mee said it best in We Bought a Zoo (2009) "You know, sometimes all you need is 20 seconds of insane courage, just literally 20 seconds of embarrassing bravery, and I promise you something great will come of it.”

I would say 20 seconds of bravery and a whole lot of work. Sometimes it is work to share. Human adults have a tendency to want to hide the hurts, the aggravations. Some of us would rather not look weak even when we find ourselves a little helpless. We introverts get that. I am a little foolish to even share these moments but I am working on being an open book. To be transparent and real is everything. To share and be able to appreciate what it is like to just have far far too much on your plate: while dealing maybe some times with people who lack empathy and who would like to add to your pain; all the while wearing out the ears you bend in the process.

In my life in general I was sold this superwoman, multi tasker vision. Slick ads saying you could have it all: some super put together woman in an early power suit and briefcase kissing her clean and well behaved children good bye as Dad... looking suave packed their lunches. She had it together, she had it all....usually because of her access to the latest in feminine hygiene or make up.

So, all this business and fun was supposed to make me feel fulfilled. I should be grateful to have all these people in my life depending on me: the required one. I am Grateful. Glad to have people to love. Like a lot of people I did not count on life. That is the kicker, the great leveler as it were. How frail we truly are as humans: subject to accident injury illness and and, yes, even death at moments notice.

So like I do when I feel stressed I went to the source: Nope, not Freud! Shocker. My original source: Dale Carnegie. He is the man who first got me thinking about life improvement. The one who, though I had never met him taught me that my life could be chosen: that life was not something that just happened to you.

In his book: How to Stop Worrying and start living he said: Then one day I read an article that lifted me out of my despondence and gave me the courage to go on living. I shall never cease to be grateful for one inspiring sentence in that article. It said: ‘Every day is a new life to a wise man.’ I typed that sentence out and pasted it on the windshield of my car, where I saw it every minute I was driving. I found it wasn’t so hard to live only one day at a time. I learned to forget the yesterdays and to not think of the tomorrows. Each morning I said to myself, ‘Today is a new life.”

― Dale Carnegie, How to Stop Worrying and Start Living (1948)

I understand this: This is what I practiced diligently for six months after my husband died. I knew that no matter what I had to keep going : for the kids. To be honest I did not want to take another step. I had all his pills hidden and at the ready. Every night I said to myself: "The worst has already happened and you are okay. You can get through one more day. If anything really awful happens you always have these here and can give up. You are strong enough for one more day."

Only one of my friends knew that was my daily struggle and not right away - I told her about six months later after living became a habit again. Oh, surely my tone and my jokes sometimes gave me away. Thank goodness she knew the art of listening. She is not one of those people who will panic and try to fix me. She just let me talk. Changing my thoughts would not interest her. She just let me get it out. By that time, the "getting through it day by day" was a reflex. I had stopped having to do the pep talk daily. I had begun to embrace the new reality that was my life: still an epic amount of work. The work and responsibility that had been divided neatly in two for years was suddenly just on me.

Now, I am not struggling like that. In truth it is more at the other end of the spectrum. Not depressed, not suicidal. Just super stressed. Afraid a little: that some poor unsuspecting schlub will do some small nasty thing: one of those little slights that we just deal with as adults everyday....and I will go all Mount Vesuvius. Pity the fool that starts any lip with me just now.

I know I need an outlet for all this angst. It would usually be a physical outlet for me....walking, running,moving,even dancing . Yep, sometimes I used to do that. Picture Elaine on Seinfeld. Ouch, maybe just take a minute and etch a sketch that from your brain.

Having my usual outlets out of reach is tougher than I ever imagined. There is only so much Camomile Tea in the world to take the edge off. My calming Scentsy pods are doing more overtime than I ever did. I am seeking strategies to deal with it. Visualizing and Compartmentalizing are two coping methods that have worked well in the past but they are not serving me well with this.

Of course, I feel lucky. Lucky I have the wear -with -all to seek answers. The drive to find ways to deal. That I live in a place that has options for people going through large amounts of stress and illness and injury. Lots of places do not. Many people have trouble reaching out until it is too late. They reach for a bottle or a needle or punch someone in the face. I am grateful that life, though unfair, has given me loads of experience in getting by.

A sweet girl once said to me: Everyone has a breaking point. I know I am dangerously close to it. People around me are oblivious: caught up in their own lives, as they should be. Yep, each of us can only handle so much.

I can see that I am getting close a little too close to that straw. You know the straw that I mean.

Just trying to paddle back before I go over the rapids.

A Message to My Younger Self

2020-06-11T02:49:00.002-04:00

I'm taking a good look at this girl right here. My sweet friend Mary found this picture today and sent it to me. What a strange feeling it is to look at my sixteen year old self, smiling and chubby looking back at me from my computer..

I almost do not recognize this girl even though I know that blue dress and the silly shell necklace. I remember trying to get those bangs to sit straight. Brushing that hair forever and being frustrated when this picture came home on seeing that it did not look brushed enough at all. That happy smile.

I know it was practised over and over until the mouth was in just the right position. A practice session complete with a hand mirror. A trick I had learned in drama class.

Yes, in my un-wild youth,I did homework for everything including picture day. This girl in the photo is just that serious. She wants to get it all right. She gets mad at herself if it is not right the first time. Criticism from anywhere can send her out to do research. A harsh word from a teacher, friend or sibling sent her to the library self improvement section way too often.

I look at her and have an awful lot to say:

Girl! You look 40. What is up with the plain dress matching tights and wanna be pearls? Your friends are currently rocking Duran Duran hair, Madonna bows and petticoats, or jeans and unmatched socks. You are here channeling Maime Eisenhower. You do not have to be grown and professional yet. Middle age will be here quickly enough.

Hun-ney, it is okay not to know. You will realize there are things you will never know. I get that others sometimes lead you to believe that you should know more now; that you should have known some of what you do not. It is not a race. You will get it when you get there. Some lessons you just have not had yet. It does not mean you are less than.

Sweetheart, you are enough. Right here halfway through your teens. You have been enough your whole life and will continue to be. There would be no tragedy if you dropped half of the things you doing right now only for the approval you so desperately seek. Do not believe anyone who makes you feel otherwise.

My Darling Girl, slow down. It is not necessary to read Mein Kampf, Of Human Bondage and Jane Eyre in the same week. The classics will be there tomorrow. Now is the time to learn to play or I am afraid you never will. Stop worrying about the B's. Real life successful happy adults are out here and some of them even disappointed their parents and teachers once in awhile.

Baby the future will still be there. Take note of that breathless rush you are feeling. Stop listening to that mentor that warned that others would run ahead of you. Let them. It does not matter at all. That constant worry of what shall I do about school, career, relationships.... Stop. Take a deep breath. Learn to relax. Teach yourself to relax until you can let this go for an hour, then an afternoon, and then a day. They might forget to tell you that all those things will still be out there waiting.

Now seriously, Cutie, go have fun.

#tbh

2019-04-20T23:31:00.001-04:00

I wonder why no one talks about loneliness. Surely, I am not the only lonely person in the world. Yet, I haven't heard anyone or seen someone write about loneliness.

Except the Beatles, of course.

I have developed a new appreciation for the Beatles lately. It seems to me that Eleanor Rigby was actually a groundbreaking song. So brave. We do not talk about loneliness. Its just so not cool.

We live in a world that pretends we are connected. We have 645 friends on Facebook after all. We post a photo on Instagram and get 100 likes in the first five minutes. Everyone loves you on Snapchat with your virtual ears. Loneliness is thing of the past right?

In my experience, not so much.

Loneliness is real. Very real. It defines me.

Feels embarrassing just to type the word. Perhaps that is why we never speak of it.

There must be people out there who can relate but honestly, I often feel like the most isolated person in all the world. My husband, who was my person, who understood me completely, has been gone for over two years. It feels like a million years. My friends, some of whom are quite nice people, have shied away from my bad luck. I almost never hear from any of them. Sure, if I reach out with a message I will get a quick message back. Even a promise to make plans......and that's about it. A lick and a promise.

So why is it so hard to admit that I am lonely? Somehow, it just seems daunting to say, " Hey, here I am all alone and I am handling life...but I need someone." Almost seems like I am admitting that I have failed as a person. That somehow I am defective. Otherwise, there would be countless people flocking to my company, right? Certainly, saying that no one wants to be around me means there is something wrong with me, doesn't it?

It's horrible to admit how often I have thought....jeez, if someone would just message me. Or to put myself out there way, way beyond my comfort zone..... How I have yearned for one of my friends just to want to spend time with me, or to hold me, or to let me into their real life.

Oh, it's ridiculous, I know, how many times I have reached out, to be met with silence or a prefunctory Hello. Nothing else. Just, a brief hello.

So I am sucking it up and being brave. I am owning the reality that I am not just alone, but lonely. That if I was to take the facts as they stand: that my cat is only entity who seems to feel I am a vital part of their life.( and I feed him). That that fact makes me feel pathetic. That even though I am sure I am enough, that this all makes me feel that I am not even close to being enough. That despite all I have to offer....I will most likely take that to my grave as some strange secret.

Seems that is my truth. And it's ugly.

Scream Therapy

2018-05-01T20:00:00.001-04:00

I wish you comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, Faith so you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth and Love to complete your life.

In a world of hurt, I wrote out some scream therapy today. Love scream therapy. Pour the pain onto the page. No sharing. No arguments. Nobody sending virtual internet hugs. Just raw pain, pen to paper, out of my body, and gone.

No one to justify it to; just what is.

At one time, this would have been translated into true scream therapy. Thoughts privately screamed to the wind. Very cathartic. Circumstances though find me not so rural and not so mobile. A scream session in even the most private place I could reach right now would likely end with strangers calling 911. So here I am.

So today in my stream of consciousness free write I found myself writing a list of People I Do Not Trust. Wow, who knew?
This list, for various reasons, seems rather long and it doesn't even include the obvious-rabid exes and randoms who are hateful from day one.

The people on this list go from my run of the mill generic selfish manipulative acquaintances to others I genuinely believed were friends who cut me so deep it feels like internal bleeding. Constant emotional gushers.

Some, just lie so regularly it is impossible to give them the benefit of the doubt.

A few, who despite a bright facade, continue to prove themselves downright, junkyard dog, mean. I would hate to live in their heads.

This list started getting out of hand when I decided to add anyone who had said "If there's anything I can do..."and then disappeared when asked. I didn't even include the ones with excuses, just the ones who when asked, appeared to have been suddenly beamed up to the Starship Enterprise by Captain Kirk and taken to a galaxy far, far away.

Even with those parameters that list grew: Thanks guys. Really. Feel real chuffed at those empty offers of assistance you put out there.

A few I threw on there because they hang with some sketchy cruel people. Guilty by association. Maybe not fair. At this point, I was feeling a little self protective.

So to be balanced, I needed to throw in ten or so people who have made plans with me this year, at their insistence, then canceled, then ghosted me. For reals, invisibility suddenly has become my SuperPower. My number mysteriously disappears from cells citywide when my SuperFriends cancel plans. One big 'Poof' and the we've got to get together gang is gone! Kinda pathological. Although I am sure someone out there is scratching their head saying, But I made the 'effort' do I have to take away my gold star?

It got serious writing about two friends specifically. Who this year stood eye to eye with me. Made promises. Nearly immediately turned around and did the exact opposite. (Aside: you can pick up your ninja knives anytime if you wanna grab 'em from my back).

Just tell me, what was your endgame here? Break me down? Hurt me? Spirit crushing a cool new sport?

Fail. Epically proportioned.

Way too easy to take someone who has had stress after stress and find a way to exploit it. Kind of like winning chess with a toddler so be proud. Maybe you two just find this shit funny? Well, Bless your Hearts!

I will never understand how easy this was for you. I will be angry with myself forever for believing even for a minute that you were forthright, transparent basically good people and somehow miraculously by my side.

Bad Jayne! *smacks self in nose with newspaper*
Should have known and run.

Yepp. It turned into a reckoning. Shocking even to me. This pile of jokes is decidedly unfunny. Time to get real. Time to cherish the real.

So to the real; and you know who you are- Thank You. You Amazing Fun Positive Truthful Buttkicking Hellions who have let me have your back and steadfastly stood with me.

Its time for us who deserve some light and each other.

Time to resolve not to waste another moment on ridiculous ignorance, bad intentions, users, pot stirrers and hollow promises.

Time is precious.

Thank you to my peeps who do not fritter it away.

cue the jazz hands

2018-03-13T23:07:00.001-04:00

I recently read an interesting blog about people who experience cancer personally. It was something I hadn't really thought about. The basic premise of the article is that cancer has a secret that we don't talk about- people leave you.

The author, Kerri K. Morris, states in her blog titled "Cancer's dirty little secret: people turn their backs on you" that "As I get to know more and more people in the cancer community, one of the most common stories I hear from them is abandonment. It;s our dirty little secret, the one we keep from you."(March 18,2016)

It transcends cancer....catastrophe in all it's forms sends people running from you. Whether its "oh this makes me sad" or this person may be needy or an indignant "well, I'm busy and I have problems, too" there is a nearly universal flee to the closest exit from grief, illness, flood, fire, mental or financial difficulties.

Theres the if there's anything I can do friends....followed by nothing. Ever. Except maybe a followup...Let me know if there's...Cue the jazz hands! These ones make me smile. Its a wry smile because in my heart, I know they have no intention. They are done in the saying or they would be there, doing. Most have never spent a second near you that they didn't have to and don't plan on starting now.

The veiled eyes friends...Just. Don't. Make. Eye. Contact. Stares at phone!!! Such interesting wallpaper. When my husband died, I had a friend who crossed the street the first time she saw me again. The comedian in me, momentarily thought about running after, fully expecting to see the keystone cop fastwalk start until she found her car. But I refrained. Besides, I had no energy for that. Haven't talked to her since and that's her call.

There's also the Imma- make- this- about- me- friends."Oh, you are stressing me...your horrible thing has touched my life now! Oh how can this world foist this on me yet again? Cue the facebook post on how sad and stressed They are and a gossipy post about how sad your life is to them. On behalf of everyone who has had a third party social media diatribe about how sad someone is for them without their consent: I truly would like to thank the Internets. And please my friends, it is Rest In Peace. Not RIP. No one ever got carpal tunnel from 8 extra letters showing a little respect.

I get very quickly annoyed with the' Can I send you cash instead of you talking, Please?' friends. Yeah I get it. Sometimes, the stressed need to talk. It is so very, very difficult for you the listener. I know. How do you live? I mean, yep, we are stressed but we feel your displeasure and desperation to get away. Laughably, usually the very sick or the very sad person in front of you is editing out 95% of the gory truth. Ending the talk long before they say what's on their mind because you are so dang clear how incredibly difficult this problem they own and deal with daily is for you to merely hear about.

Which is also what you get from a lot of people who beg you to talk. Simply plead and argue about how you need to get it out until....you realize you have got a Chernobyl friend. Suddenly ready to melt down if you say anything they don't want to hear. "Please talk to me...please, I know you need to!!! Wait! What? Too much,too much, too much, suck it up! Gawd, just deal with it already, go away!"

I was raised by people in my teen years who did not fall into any of these categories. Somebody hurt? Visit. Grieving? Visit. Accident? visit. Troubles of any and all kinds were met with hours of time, casseroles and pies in hand and with open ears-not mouths.

I never once heard Mabel say," Oh, we'll get together sometime. You have my number?" or " So sorry, Let me know if there's anything I can do." It just wasn't in her to take a person, in the middle of the worst stress and make them come begging for help or worse leave them hanging with an empty promise.

She didn't worry about overstepping or being judged for doing. She just went. Stayed. Went back again. If the house was a disaster she quietly fixed it. If the kids needed attention too; well she brought me or her husband or another sibling. She didn't shout to others about it. Although, I was often met after the school bus with "Go get dressed nice, W's wife died- you are carrying this pie plate, and I want you to sing that nice song he likes while were there."

Not just for friends, but for anyone in her wide circle, she was there, she cared, a true Earth Angel of a person. School was hard? Homework? Tired?" So what! Get in the car! So and so is in the nursing home with no visitors! Hurry, wash your hands, be pleasant." It was a lesson I'll always appreciate. A living example of how to care.

She's 99 now, still doing all she can. Despite raising her own children and many other's, multiple heart attacks, skin cancer, breast cancer, the loss of her husband and falls. My excuse is invalid. So is yours.

Right now, I am pretty lucky to have two listeners. Real solid, hey, I'm here for you night and day ones: more earth angels. Rare as unicorn farts in this world. I hope I can someday stand in the breach between stressed and overwhelmed for them as well as they do for me. They talk me off ledges and they don't even really know it. It seems to me, that the true Earth Angels I find are just as busy and stressed and face as much life as anyone-they just have actual empathy. A heart.

When I had my daughter, I met another Earth Angel. She was someone I had hardly ever noticed in my neighbourhood. Now having a beautiful baby is hardly a tragedy. But my neighbor, seeing me come home from hospital timidly knocked on my door- with a fully cooked meal. She said,"Hey, I only know you to see you, but, here's a list of 6 other neighbors. Don't worry about dinner this week between myself and these other neighbours you will be meeting, we have it covered." What a gift. A gift I've never forgotten almost 30 years later.

There are tangible ways to help in all situations. It might surprise some to know that with their very own eyes they can see them and just do it. We don't need to add layers of hurt to people with gossip, false concern, platitudes and ignorance. A simple card, a shared meal and an ear. Our time. A real body sitting with real body instead of Hugs! from somewhere online. A couple hours of babysitting. A walk with someone. Taking care of a pet. Laundry. 12 cookies.Yes, some will never get the joy it is to actually, for reals, care. To get the heck off the couch and just do for someone else.

It might just be the reason we are here. There really is a greater satisfaction in live human interaction than spending our precious years holed up with popcorn, netfix and a tablet. What a lonely world it would be without Earth Angels.

How Hairy is the Love of your Life?

2018-01-02T22:14:00.000-05:00

Ah, the fur babies.....squeegee!

I'm no crazy cat lady. I do love my cat.

I'm not posting signs that say " If my dog doesn't like you I won't either." But I'd still die to share my life with a Bernese, a Newfoundland or an old English sheepdog.

Yes, even my guinea pigs bring me joy and hilarity.

Still the amount of time and money we spend on pets is pretty astounding. In Canada, while only 57% of us own pets it is predicted that we will spend between 6.6 and 8.3 billion on them in 2018. Billions, geez. I should be investing in Hartz and Purina. That doesn't even include our sweat equity. The amount of time we spend cleaning up after them, exercising them, worrying about their happiness and well being. Just hanging out and playing. Mourning them, too.

We adore our pets. I am sure everyone can think of someone who lives for their cat, a friend who's nuts over a ferret, who had to comfort a friend when their lizard died, who knows a least one person who spends a tonne of time caring for fish and turtles or who's crazy in love with their python, and dog people! Oh those insane people: carting home 90 lb bags of kibble, balancing three bags of treats and a Frisbee and a tube of tennis balls. All while texting to reschedule their lives around the walks, the feedings, the groomings and the Dog Park.

As much love as they give our pets are somewhat inconvenient family members. If we are honest though I would bet most of us resent the inconvenient humans in our lives with greater intensity.

Your pets don't call at 7am on your day off to ask if you slept well. They don't ask to borrow cash right after your car payment. They don't bring over their pet buds when you just want to sleep. They never tell your secrets or talk behind your back at the Vet. I have never heard of a mass shooting attributed to Fluffy or Rover. They are not known to foist their political or religious beliefs upon you. Although the occasional cat might stray to the neighbors for an extra breakfast they don't try to sleep with your best friend and break your soul. In fact, even the meanest Siamese won't tell you to lose 20 pounds. The dumbest Dalmatian won't ask ignorant personal questions.

So it begins to make sense.

We love our pets because they are warm and cuddly, cute and funny. They also lack the one thing that human relationships have in spades...hurt. Betrayal. Selfishness. Even the your nephew's tarantula or the least socialized pet rat cannot steal grandma's pearls, won't rat out your partying butt to your mom or tell your boss what you really said in the lunchroom. As much as they would like to: you won't find them retelling your embarrassing stories from fourth grade or creating new stories about you to further their careers.

Pets rock. It's not a wonder that studies say they de-stress us. Some say Hey they don't love you back, they just want food, they're so much work. Sounds more like most peoples marriages than my experience with my pets. So, like nearly everyone else I know, given the choice, when there's trust to be given, the dark horse I'll be betting on will be Mr. Whiskers.

So, not Mr. Darcy, then? A rant about suitors.

2017-12-31T08:37:00.001-05:00

1. Life is too busy. Nope, I don't have time for "coffee". Were you going to ask me how's work and how do you feel about sex? No, no, no, no and no. I have baseboards to wash and pretty sure I can find an innovative way to fold my laundry. You know what I don't have time for...your pickle. Maybe if it was a pickling recipe I'd be interested.

2. You bore me. You don't know how to have a conversation. If everything you say is a complaint about your life, your ex, your job...please just hand in your man card.... yawn, get over it. Or don't. Please resist the urge to share. Find a life.

3. I'm old. I'm old dammit. Like approaching 50. Last time I checked....every one of you was panting after 20 year olds. Even you married dudes had an autographed pic of Selena Gomez carefully hidden in your zip files. No go. Go pant over your teenyboppers preferably on another planet and just leave me out of it.

4. You are on eherpes, plenty of fungus and lavaload. All off them, and guess what? Ew. Just ewww.
*full body shiver*

5. There's TV. Like unfortunately, due to Channing Tatum, Liam Neeson and Nicholas Cage you will not receive my attention. I never demanded perfection. But for 12.99 a month Netflix provides it. Sadly, Netflix also knows more about me then you. Present, consistent...without any backtalk.
.

6. You wanna talk about your tire rotation and your dinner. I wanna talk about the way the light is reflecting off the fall leaves. You want to tell me how tough life has been to you and who picked on you in 4th grade. Now you want to show me your abs? Beach, please....I have things to do. Try sending a scan of your brain's activity. Do you see the difference? I do.

7. I know how to create. I endure. You know how to flatuate. I can make life fun, worthwhile. You want to work and then whine about it. You can't roll with it. Stub your toe and you cry. I'd rather be peaceful in my tiny slice of the world. Go twist yourself up somewhere else. I need strength, intellect, perseverance, mental toughness. I have it. You exist, sort of. Why bother?

8. You got more baggage than air Canada. Instead of dealing with it you wallow. You wanna retell the story of why she left you for 300 years. Present, future. They are a new thing we are all trying. Have you heard of them yet? Sadly no. I'm sure there's a chatroom than can see to your needs quicker than I can muster some interest.

9. I still love my husband. He might be dead, but he took the time to know more about me than you ever will. He put in the effort. Think you will ever measure up? Well, he's gone and still more interesting than you. It would sadden me to watch you try.

10. You cheapen reality. You tell me I'm pretty. Dang it, man. You don't even know what I am. It's a lot of things....pretty? Hmm, no. Other days you say I look terrible. Life, doesn't factor into your tiny, judgy thoughts. Perhaps you should woo Maybelline.

4 am. Every clock is ticking.

2017-12-17T04:11:00.001-05:00

Sleep eludes me. I needed to be asleep hours ago. I have tried deep breathing. I have tried sleepytime tea. I have not had caffeine since breakfast. Its nearly four am.

So tonights not going according to plan. Lack of sleep means tomorrow won't either. I need proper sleep to make it through the day. I worry about my demeanor and my focus. The risk of injury. The lost productivity. The long to do list I have tomorrow: That epic and self spawning list.

So many reasons for my lack of sleep. I wish I was one of those who napped when under stress. Nope, only a good basketball game or extremely busy days will bring about somnolent relief.

This weekend I'm sabotaged by anger. Some brave and ridiculous soul decided it was a good time to tick me off. I have often had difficulty sleeping when I'm mad. Try as I might, those stress hormones amp up and there goes the Sandman. I can usually handle a fair amount without repercussions until some beast comes along and decides to really push far, far too far. Add to that pique the betrayal my body adds by refusing to sleep. Its like a classic recipe for insomnia.

Even writing about sleeplessness is not making me sleepy. Not an exciting subject, either....I should have put half of you to sleep just by reading about it.

My coffee cup will be my best friend in the morning. Sure hope I can function when the alarm hits 630.

weltschmerz

2017-10-24T17:03:00.001-04:00

So many, many things to do.

Do I even want to do them? As July suddenly turned into October and I realized I haven't accomplished even half of what I set out to finish, I have to ask myself- what is holding me back?

A lack of passion could be the cause. Sure, I have a to do list ten miles long. Its just that that list contains about 90 % items that interest me very little. The other ten percent interest me but I cannot justify the time and money or prioritize them over all the rest. If my list said go to Kenya, get a facial, drink on the beach, write a book, do some woodworking, take pictures and eat other people's cooking.....well, I'm sure that would be a snap. Mine reads more like VCR instructions, it's boring, some of it scares me, but mostly, it puts me to sleep.

So I find myself squarely on the corner of Overbooked Street and Procrastination Ave. Its one of those cagey spots. I have never heard of anyone setting their GPS to get there but it is a crowded spot. Somehow, despite our late night intentions we all end up here sooner or later.

Social scientists tell us procrastinating is a result of a battle between our present self and our future self. Dreams goals and ambitions for our future self get quashed by the need for immediate gratification by our present self. Or something like that. Like I want to be healthy at 60 says Future Me. I need to go for a walk. Whoa! Hold up! Says Present me, There's a an Extreme Makeover Home Edition marathon this weekend and my house is full of Ranch flavored potato chips and Dr. Pepper! Ty Bennington needs me!

If they are right though, then we only put off our goals for petty immediate fun. Life's not like that. My procrastination involves the mundane. I'm not dancing, out taking breaks or eating chocolate covered jellybeans. The not preprepping the 300 meals I could possibly preprep for my freezer, the avoidance of the 12 piles of varied paperwork I need to do, the putting off of future fun is not for hyjinks and shenanigans .The 240 tasks my kids ask me to do in a month that they will immediately forget and never appreciate. That fills some time. The arbitrary requirement work has about employees showing up.... that puts a kibosh on my to do list, too.

I'm not out following my nirvana to put off all that mundane responsibility. The texts and emails my friends would love me to answer and in true white girl fashion "I just can't even". The constant reorganization of Tupperware and lids before my cupboards erupt in ultimate chaos.....I sidestep those things by working and fulfilling other's expectations, mostly.

Boring, boring, boring. There's no future gain for me, no vision, no payoff. Even if I check every box on my list I'm only going to have another list develop. There's no immediate frivolity in my avoidance- mostly because its time spent on paid work or housework. Or, often, other people's priorities. Obligations. So I continue to ask myself. Is what I do any indication of my desires? I am awash in ennui. Not quite apathy, but really nothing imminent to pull me forward. Prone on the rock marked "nothing to look forward to". Listless and unexcited.

I am sure some sensible person somewhere would tell me to just ball up the to do list....that it it is really just a list of things that aren't me, don't lead me where I want to go...so chuck them. Would be great if life was that easy. If we could all just do what we wanted, when we wanted. Ohhh, I'd love to have a good nights sleep! Lofty goal! Tell it to the neighbor yelling at his dog at 2am, the kid with the bad dream, or the sirens blaring by at the world's most unpredictable hours. The Stones said it best...You can't always get what you want (and yes, I sang that as I wrote it). Life's so very busy. You can't even plan what you want.

So my explanation for my hesitation and procrastination is different from the experts. I'm not immediately gratifying anything. #truth. Not even long term dreaming of a shred of what I want at all. If there's a me-too cake out there I couldn't find that bakery with a map and a bloodhound.

So getting to the just do it, get 'er done stage, for me, is will. Mind over matter. I have to force myself through my tasks. Against my wishes. Often in direct contradiction to who I want to be. Just to get it done. Being my own buttkicker in true adulting form.

For despite me grating against it- stuff just needs to be done. Most of the time, I'm the only one capable of doing it. The required one. If I had business cards that would be my byline.

It is the reason I drag my feet, grinding away slowly. Sometimes hating myself for this flaw in my character. Regrets internal, sighing at the reminders of what I would rather be doing. My inner pouty kid is there, for reals, and she's even pretty whiney, but there's music to be turned up to drown that out and check marks to be gradually made in my tedious lists.

Or listen at https://anchor.fm/jayne-mcsherry/episodes/Weltzshmerz-eikebh/Weltshmerz-a31ic38

Boundless

2017-10-12T23:26:00.001-04:00

Look at you, my sunshiney friend.

I think of you often. You are here with me despite having left us nearly a decade ago. I miss your laugh, your gentle chats about life and I miss the way you could spin a positive web around any situation. I know you are never very far from me, even now.

Full of wonder, I try to understand what it is that set you apart. Made you different. Gave you the strength to be nothing but light in the world- despite hardship, setbacks, illness, loneliness and all the negativity life swirls around. You truly were a burst of rainbows on a gloomy day. In my completely unromanticized memories of our friendship you were comforting when you often could of used comfort, smiling despite worry and fear, and creating and building, without discouragement, even as others damaged and destroyed.

You had that magical thing. The thing that allowed you to see every challenge as temporary. Setbacks extraneous to your life. You filed them on the difficulty shelf, said pfft, dealt with them and they were over. You seemed to know more than anyone that a single problem would not ruin you. The blame game was not a part of you. Any time trouble came calling you were this first to point out that it was temporary and send it back to whence it came.

You found delight in every good thing. Tiny gains were celebrated with as much joy as a marathon's completion. Good luck and blessings were evidence to you of much more coming. Like a magnet for happiness, you fed on the laughter and joy. You let it permeate your whole person. You were forever reaching out when it would seem to be time to retreat. You were inclusive and welcoming. If I had to describe you to a person who didn't get to meet you I would say you were brave and enchanting. A warrior for calm positivity.

Most days, I feel you in my soul. Your impact on me which started so young has lasted through young adulthood, growing children, a few years of separation while you were abroad, your illness and death, and the sudden passing of my baby and the love of my life. You know, more than anyone, how I wish you were still here. How profound though, that your short life continues to make such an impact on me, your family, your friends, coworkers and all who knew you.

In no way do I think I could ever touch lives like you did, my friend. You did help me, shape me and sugar my worldview. Someday, I hope to be a little like you. It is impossible to be the quiet phenomenon that is you but even a little of you is the best thing the world can have, Susan. You made every bit of life better.

Only Human

2017-10-03T12:39:00.001-04:00

But A wise man once said once said that you should never believe a thing simply because you want to believe it....tyrion lannister, got, 2017

For so long now I have believed that life is something that doesn't just happen to you. That we make choices: our response to circumstances determining as much of our happiness as the situation itself.

Yes, life is challenging. Often frustrating. At times, life is actually baffling. It is easy to get lost asking why. Why do things happen the way they often do? It would be so easy to tie myself up stewing over the facts: that death has touched me and those around me; that people are often petty and cruel; that adulthood is fairly thankless at times. There are many reasons why I, and likely everyone, could become bitter.

So, I look in the mirror and I ask myself: what do you want to believe? Some days it is harder to find an answer. I believe I want to insert kindness into my day. That there's more than enough of the negative. That there has to be balance out there and I can give that. I believe despite the fears I stare down daily that it is going to be okay.

Its not easy. It would be easy to say- I've been dealt a crappy hand of cards and I am just going throw them down and refuse to play. There's no win in that. I could cling to that truth and be sad....and say, but its true!!! I won't. I refuse. Its the kind of truth that only leads to despair. I just don't have time for that.

I look inside and try to drum up a better truth to attach to my soul. Not a greeting card platitude but a macro belief to guide me. So I look to the examples set by those wonderful people who grace my life. My friend Susan who always found a way to rejoice in her life. Her happiness was infectious. Was her life perfect? No. She faced bullying, I witnessed that. She overcame a bad marriage. She even found it in her to celebrate her emancipation from that. She stared death in the face and still took time to spread joy in those around her.

My friend Ramona: also an inspiration. She reminds me daily that life is a choice or series of choices. She has reshaped her career to reflect what she wants life to be. She has gone from being ground down and whittled away in the workplace to putting light into the world. Her work, as a life coach, now empowers so many others to choose to be the things the want to see in the world. She reminds me that the universe, if you ask for help, will work to put you in the place you need.

My children as well, who keep stepping forward to grasp any issue that is thrown their way, give me hope. Whether it is illness, grief, the miserable bullies that we find, or just the daily challenges...work, homework, relationships, their direction in life. Each one of them meets each obstacle with integrity. They overcome and beat the odds at an alarming rate. It's comforting and fills me with wonder.

It would be very small of me to ignore the beauty of the people who have been given to me to love. If I was to say, it is just so hard, I can't continue, wouldn't I be a silly git? If I was to become jaded and throw up my hands and say, there's nothing I can do-that would be a lie.

So I choose. I choose to try. I choose to find a way to put aside my annoyances, my fears, my hurts. I choose to be welcoming, positive and gracious. Even when it hurts. Even when I would rather retreat. Even when I feel the deck is stacked and the odds unlikely.

What do I choose to believe? Nothing major. No giant world view. Just one small hope: That I can step forward and try.

Jeepers Crisp!!! @#$@@#!!$#@ For the love of all things holy......

2017-09-27T10:58:00.000-04:00

I have nothing to say.

Shocking, I know right?

So that must mean that there isn't a thing bothering me, I see no imbalance in my life, or injustice in the world. Nothing to say must be a good thing?

Well, no.

If you have ever been moving through your life thinking " Okay, this is all pretty difficult but I got this. I'm fine" then turned your head and got blindsided with other people's outrageous bull-oney then you will know just how I'm feeling.

Wanna talk? No.
Wanna share? No.
Wanna write? No.
Wanna sing? No.
Wanna play? No.

Does this mean I have issues? I can say my point of view is recently affected and I am overwhelmed and somewhat distracted. I do not own the problem though. A young relative once in a similar circumstance asked me if I thought she was crazy and I gave her the standard George Carlin reply, "If you think you are crazy, Please ensure first that you are not just surrounded by @$$holes." So much truth.

Generally, I do not live in a place of No. This current state of mind is disconcerting for me. It unsettles my soul. I want to hop-skip-jump back to my usual home in a place of Yes. Will I find a way? Eventually, I'm sure. It is just the right-now that is life force diminishing.

You see, the issue for me, and for quite a few positive thinking people, is that I expect those around me to have generally good intentions. I try to surround myself with nice people. People who are trying to get through life without taking more than their fair share of space, certainly doing no intentional harm, and perhaps actively improving life in their circles.

However, lo and behold, despite every effort to avoid them the snakes start creeping in. The self serving, the petty and the downright mean. What a singular joy it is to find that your daily life is going to have to be affected by the kinds of personalities that make your hackles instantly raise. In a Utopian situation they would just slither around in the mud and the rest of us would pick up a few shed skins once in a while and whip them over the garden wall.

It does not work that way.

Surprise! They bite. They are poison. Those fangs hurt.

No one would choose to live with backbiting, scheming and generally horrible people surrounding them. It is definitely not my choice. Life though, sometimes has its own way of inserting rot into your life. Not to mention that shady and untrustworthy self promoting individuals will worm their way in by any deception they find convenient.

Slither, slither. Bone-tiring to hear daily. Living on the extra alert. Being hyper vigilant to random attacks. Starting to have a new understanding of Harry Potter. I understand how annoyed and sent off kilter he was while being followed by a relentless, evil minded snake. Of course, he had the advantage of a valiant group of like minded friends to chase out the danger. I could use a Ron, Hermione, a Dumbledore or even a Hagrid. Alas, no such animals in the tedious Muggle world. Plenty of snakes, though. Frustrating, when you know life does not need to be this way.

At present, there seems to be no magic wand and the motivation has turned from trying to fix and mend to self protection and apathy. I am grinding along and wondering where my determination went. There is a strength in me somewhere. I remember. Time to dig it up and find a way out of the snakepit.

Circus Freak

2017-09-03T20:53:00.000-04:00

Grief is a funhouse full of distorted mirrors. Most days I feel like a circus freak, still. It's in my emotions, my reactions and the way people look at me. Not the center attraction in the circus but certainly a curiosity in the side show tent.

I feel a bit steadier than I did nine months ago when Norm died. Steadier but I cannot say I have found my feet yet. I have searched my soul for a good analogy but I just do not have one. There is really nothing to describe it: one day you have the person who made your life. The next you do not. It is not having the rug pulled out from under you- then you would just get back up and everything would resume as normal. Nothing is normal now and I am continually off kilter.

The things I think about have changed. Mentally I am always making a list. No matter what happens in a day it ticks immediately over to the "Norm will not experience this with me" list. Whether it is a change at work, a milestone for one of the kids, a rainstorm, just another lunch hour when he would have been with me, a new neighbour or a more difficult challenge I immediately feel that ping of it adding to the list of things I cannot share with him. Other lists fill my head too. The list of our plans we cannot finish. The lengthy list of things I need to talk to him about, but once again, I cannot.

It has changed the things I wish for people too. I used to wish everyone could find what I had. A person who just got them, did not judge them and who always had their back. A person who loved them fiercely and wholly. Someone who knew how much to push and when they had had enough. Who could pull a smile out of awfulness and weep with them when necessary. Not sure I would wish that for everyone anymore. At very least, it might be easier to go through life not realizing that truly having "another half" is possible. Being in it: wondrous and enchanted. Being left behind by it: excruciating. So perhaps I would wish that death was not a thing at all. That those of us who love should be exempt.

So my emotions run a weird confusing maze now. Yes, I think sweet older couples are adorable. At the same time part of me deep in my brain is screaming that that could have been us and should have been. Sure, I am excited for my kids when they learn something new. Learn to drive, make new friends, try to cook something all on their own, make plans to move or to go to school. On the other side of excitement is just so much pain. He should be here, he would be so pumped up. How is it right or possible that he cannot be here to share this with us? My emotions look like that kid's attraction at the Fall Fair. The one with the crazy tippy floors and spinning rooms. Glass walls I run into at a moment's notice.

I miss things that I shouldn't miss. I miss being cuddled. I miss body heat. I miss having another human care if I am upset. I miss him fighting with me over who should pay for things. Him teasing me about getting old. Him calling me Puddles. The late night calls that used to drive me crazy. His snoring and his crankiness and the overly manly way he stepped in and defended me if anyone dared say a negative thing about me or anyone he loved. Having someone to talk to who listened and didn't make it about him. Who didn't have to compare what was happening to his life because I was his life. Someone who just got it: even the my stupid sense of humour. I miss all these things and more but I have no way to regain them. The source of these things is gone. These precious things.

Often since "it" happened I have wished that no one else knew. Impossible. Life doesn't allow for that. Just desire a moment when I could be alone in my grief. Where I did not have to deal with the sad looks, stories from others, platitudes. The assumption from some that every reaction I have or action I take is a result of grief. The sad head tilts in moments when I am doing okay that set me right back. The need some people seem to have to share all the negative past moments he had. Like, really. Not my experience. Go talk to someone else. I cringe inside and resist the urge to kick in some teeth. I walk away and feel that somehow I have caved just by listening. Diminished somehow. I hope those people have enough conscience to feel embarrassed by those statements and especially embarrassed to have shared them with me....or my children. I am pretty sure they don't. At least not as horribly bad as they should. Other people are the Roller coaster of grief. There's great heights and huge drops. Unexpected turns. It can leave you feeling exhilarated for a minute. It can also leave you feeling violently nauseous.

Very early on I said to someone, somewhere that I wished I was about six months in so that I was past the worst of the uncertainty, the misery. Well, here I am. Nine months. Not much better. Not much stronger. A little more worried about a few things. A lot more lonely. Full of a void that only my Gnomie can fill. My estimate was profoundly off. My hope I guess, a little too optimistic.

Too fat? Too thin? So what???

2017-08-31T00:03:00.000-04:00

For those of you who battle excess weight, I feel for you. You are gorgeous and I hope you know it. Please though don't judge us who do not. We also have a weight battle. We battle to gain it.

Guess what? We have almost no help. We are judged, often. It is not easy.

Sometimes people assume that those of us who look too thin are drug addicted, violently ill or have eating disorders. It is annoying beyond all get out.

There is a condition called being a "difficult gainer". It does not involve puking, meth or cancer. It is just an idiot high metabolism, allergies or both. I would much rather be fat, to tell the truth. There is tonne of help if you are overweight: magazine articles, Jenny Craig, gyms, Weight Watchers, low fat grocery items, a plethora of internet articles, a crap tonne of businesses and weight loss supplements.

Google search how to gain weight and you will see what I mean. You may find one or two articles that try to help and a few articles for body builders but there are no businesses out there dedicated to help the chronically calorie deprived gain weight.

I do not know why. There are actually a lot of us.

I will bet that a lot of people do not know that the risk of dying early is actually higher for the underweight than it is for the overweight. ( 50 percent higher for overweight, 90 percent higher for underweight).

I know overweight people complain they are judged and bullied. Underweight individuals are often bullied also.

We are called meth heads and anorexics. I personally have been asked by a stranger if I have a disease. It is assumed we cannot lift things or accomplish basic tasks. Imagine taking your groceries to your car and having someone randomly comment " Oh, you shouldn't be lifting that. You are too small." Every time. Like clockwork, like being pecked to death by ducks, as Maya Angelou would say.

Sometimes, in work, people assume you are too small, too young to have any responsibility. How could an 85 pound person have authority?

Being underweight actually sucks. It is not some dream. It is not supermodel greatness.

Gaining weight for us is an ongoing difficult task. You cannot just eat crap. Your heart will still suffer. Fresh foods are way too filling but you need to eat them. You need exercise to gain muscle and at the same time need to limit activity to gain weight. Oh vey. You have to intake loads of protein without gaining fat. You have to eat so many calories that you feel you might puke. You must add more food than anyone would ever consider normal just to gain a few ounces.

It is entirely not fun. I would love to burn out my thyroid or get some medications that would add a few pounds. It just never seems to happen for me.

I literally seem to only gain weight when I am pregnant: and as much as I would love to gain thirty pounds I am not willing to do 20 years of hard labour for that outcome.

So the next time you are tempted to ask your thin friend to eat a doughnut or hamburger please remember. We all have our challenges. You might just have a buddy who envys that extra five pounds. Someone who would love an extra ten and remarkably would take a transfer of it from you without a thought if it were possible. Who would be the last person to judge you for the double chin. Who accepts you just the way you are. Who actually understands why you struggle with your weight but just from a different perspective.

For despite our culture, weight in the grand scheme of things means absolutely unequivocally nothing. It does not make you nicer, does not give you better priorities, make you a better person, make you more desirable or change the world.

It means literally nothing, So despite the focus on it, the misunderstanding of it, you will be the greatness you are despite it. You are actually you, the best you, no matter what the scale has to say.

Spit on it.

Enough said.

Oh, Give Me Strength.

2017-08-29T13:07:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I'm so chill its like: Come at me, bro....rain, thunder, plagues of locusts I'll deal. Other times I'm like, Universe ! Change one more stoopid thing and imma gonna blow up and melt into a gooey blob of skittles.

Depends on the day.

There have been many days, too many when I start counting, where I seem to handle it all. Whether its my stuff, your stuff, stranger's, friend's, children's stuff. Just throw that stuff on my pile and whoosh. Its done. Its dealt with. Then out of the blue along will come a day where I am beside myself over the most trivial teeny thing. I have no strength, no stamina, no initiative.

Just the thought of all my responsibility makes me want to take a nap. I don't nap, but on the days where even looking at my laundry makes me cry out snot bubbles it would most likely do the world a giant favor if I just stayed in bed.

I don't have impossible days very often. I am kind of adept in hiding the worst of my angst when I do. Chin up, chest out.....as my sister would say.

So I ask myself on those days when life seems totally undoable what it is that has me dangling over the edge like an untrained cliff climber. I write down everything that has happened that day....what I've done, what I need to get done , all the glitches and annoyances. Then I think back to one of the hardest days I've ever had.....just a random hard day where everything went "well" all things considered. I write down all the deets of that day. I compare them.

Not really surprisingly, the largest difference is easy to see. Its all in my head. My life is no more difficult on the days where I just "can't even." In truth, its usually less hard, less busy, and the issues are smaller and less important than my "I got this" days.

The big diffence? Worry. Ah, worry.....that creeping ivy that gets in your brain and makes you think spilling your coffee is a major catastrophe. Oh no, now people will think I'm clumsy (ya, i am. Thats not a secret). I'm staining the carpet! (So what? There's a thing called soap!) Now I have less coffee! (Ok, that's a realistic worry. Cannot blame myself for that one) Mr. Worry. Sitting there with his feet up on my mind couch eating my chips. Rotund, covered in crumbs, and spewing out evermore ridiculous scenarios that often start with....wouldn't it just be awful if....?

Wouldn't it just be awful if.....you fail? Wouldn't it just be awful if....you get sick? Like really really sick? Like dying sick? Wouldn't it just be awful if.....everyone realizes you are insignificant?

Oh ya, Mr. Worry Bear Bear. He's got a poor manners and nothing but time to make me uncomfortable and sometimes even sweaty. Worry is a rather useless little skill that we, as humans, need to unlearn. It does nothing positive. Worry will stop any progress you intend to make like forgetting to oil your car stops the engine.

Worry, will grab you, beat you around the brain, mix up up your heart, and leave you marathon tired without accomplishing a thing.

Take any issue you are worried about. My favorite is "will I have enough time to get everything done?" The answer to that for me is very simple. No. I won't. There's too much. I'll get some done and that's way better than none.

Same question but with worry. Will I get everything done? Oh, no, there's too much. I dropped the baking pan, now I have to wash it! Oh no, that is more to do. I will Never get everything done. I will fail to get this one thing done! Then Nothing else will get done!! Oh my gawd, Everyone will be mad, everyone will think I am a bigger idiot!!! Then there will be vitriol from all the people who need me! Oh no! I will have to deal with that....that's more to do!!

You see where im going with this. Insidious worry can take a simple task and turn it instantly into a life sucking, dramatic, traumatic event. Even the Bible says: Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life. Guess that means that Luke guy got the concept that worry is useless a couple thousand years ago. I am a slow learner. Read that dang big book years ago and still let worry rip me up....many many times.

Worrying, doesn't add value. It takes perfectly good energy and wastes it. Worry gets me no closer to my goals. If I take a step, complete one thing, take another step, do one more.....I'm fine. If I mix in a heaping dollop of worry while I try......I just exhaust myself. Stop sooner and go to bed miserable. Worry more, sleep less, have terrifying dreams.

In the interim Worry does nothing for me. Who makes the cookies, sows the blankets, does the dishes? Was that worry? Nope. Lazy butt Worry doesn't do a dang thing. Can't remember the last time worry got me to work on time, fed my kid, or washed my windows. Did worry write for me,water the plants, pay my bills or paint my bathroom? Nope. All me. Well, except the plant thing- they are all dead. Rest in peace, begonias.

So why do I ever let this loafer have free rent in my head? Heck I know there's very little room in there. I do not understand why our bodies and brains are hardwired to worry. I don't get why worry is even a thing. It is truly miserable, useless and unproductive. In fact so anti productive you would think that evolution would have fixed this problem by now. Yet on we go, spending half our lives worrying. Changing nothing, making ourselves panic, filling our bodies with stress hormones and inflammation.

I desire more days where I feel like I can do anything. I need more days where it feels effortless. I think that I know how to get them. The next time the Worry Bear becomes a tenant- I'll evict him. I'm sure he's redecorated my brain space a few times but this time: He can take his baggage and go.

Mixed Messages

2017-08-19T17:41:00.002-04:00

Grade 2. Lovely fall class room. Construction paper leaves adorn the walls and the alphabet runs its comfortable circle around the classroom near the ceiling like an annual school hug. Mrs. Y: "Children your brain is the computer of your body. We will fill it with information and you will solve problems just like IBM". Hold up Mrs. Y. Yes, my brain is an intricate system. Pathways for pain, autonomous body function, memory, pleasure, higher judgment.....I have been filling it with information for another 40 or so years now but my brain is not just like a computer. I cannot reboot, defragment, or alt control delete my brain. I cannot, try as I might, erase the hard drive. I often want to but I cannot.

Every one talks these days about screen time and no real communication. That argument has merit. The world outside of cell phones, televisions and tablets also has many voices -often too many. I sometimes have trouble trying to decipher who to and not to listen to or whether to listen at all. In my nearly 5 decades I have lived an interesting life. My brain is full of stories, memories, experience and I have listened. Listened to so many stories....friends, counselling clients, children, relatives, coworkers. Do I have room in the old brain for all of this?

There are people who just talk. Meaningless pleasant drivel. Most of them understand the basic etiquette of not discussing religion, politics, money or sex in polite society. This kind of talk is mostly handleable. It is what we used to call small talk. Mostly unnecessary but fills some time.

On the other side of the coin are the deep, dark talkers. The ones who should really say : "Hey, allow me to dump all this really heavy emotional crap on you and then I will move on to get attention and sympathy from someone else while I do absolutely nothing about any of it."

The Agenda talkers also have a purpose. That is to bias you. Here is a story about X. X did this. Last time X did this to Y. If you talk to X this will happen to you. This type of communication tends to be self serving to the utmost. Unless it is your Mother.

The touchy talker also gets a mention. It is just me, mostly, but the touchy, huggy, standing too close to me talker is the hardest to understand. I have ears. I can hear you. Please do not invade my space. Believe me: I am sure what you need to say is important. At least to you. However, I am not in a super secret spy agency and your need to go pee is not a state secret. There is no need for you to lean in and whisper like no one in the history of the planet ever peed before.

Most hilarious for me are the Third Party chatters. They definitely have something to say. Usually to you but will they talk to you? No. Much better to loudly voice their concerns to a small child, nearby animal, their spouse or just the air. I once witnessed a gentleman with a 9 month old baby very publicly lecturing said baby on how close a nearby man had parked to his car. Apparently he found the proximity of the other car distressing. I am not certain why he felt his 9 month old could rectify the situation. I am sure the other man would have preferred a straightforward, "Could you move your car?" To a booming, " Well, Timmy I guess this guy over here doesn't care if his car gets scratched!!!"

No wonder we are confused. Quite understandable that we have been choosing to grab headphones and check out since 1981. Heck some of us carried a boom box around before earphones and walkmen were even a thing.

Is conversation meaningful ? Is it drivel or is someone trying to tell me something? I don't know most of the time. Kind of wish people came with a sign to tell me how to take them.

Hey, do you think we could require people to wear an emoticon shirt? Wear the "ice cream" one if it is small talk day, the happy face if you are straightforward, the serious face if you wanna tell me something that has some weird hidden deeper implications, and the embarrassed smiley if you are going to talk about yourself all day.

Valid debate, close conversations between pals and family, the chatter of children is great. The rest, sadly : just more noise.

Drop Your Sandbags

2017-07-29T20:28:00.001-04:00

"Instead of trying to make your life perfect, give yourself the freedom to make it an adventure, and go ever upward." Drew Houston.

I carry it around. My baggage. There's a few things that weigh on me. Lately, I mostly ignore those things that drag me down. Probably not the healthiest approach to the issues but for now: it is my reality.

Truly, it is not a matter of avoidance, just a profound lack of time. My personality requires copious amounts of time to process things. Alone time. If there was an extreme Xgames for introverts I would be slamming it in high scores.

My life, currently, is not an introvert's paradise. Work is people, people, people, Oh, and more people. My children also require interaction. Strange but they like talking to me and being listened to as well. All my other responsibilities require speaking to actual humans, too. So, sitting and pondering my dreams and the plan to make them happen gets about 0.0002 minutes out of my regular week. Eureka moments to work out bumps along the way are fewer and farther between.

Hey, I am not complaining. I have some real affection for all these people type people. I just simply mean that because I am the one who needs to work things out in utter solitude and in a quiet peaceful place; I have not happened upon many solutions lately. I am recognizing that.

In one of my very first jobs, I worked with a sage, experienced bartender named Bill. He was quiet. He rarely offered advice and was not the boisterous barkeep. I walked in one day and out of nowhere Bill looked at me and said "Hey, Jayne, you need to drop your sandbags." Anyone who has known me more than a minute would recognize the confused, immediate reaction of my face. Try as I might to stop it: my face speaks for me even when I would rather remain silent. Lady Gaga might have a Poker Face but I missed that prize in the gene pool lottery.

Since my face had done the talking I did not need to ask any questions and Bill just continued. "You are a nice, young girl (yupp, I used to be a young girl, peeps) , but you are carrying a lot of crap with you. If you were in a hot air balloon, Jayne- You wouldn't make it off the ground. Drop your SandBags!"

I spent a long time after that pondering exactly what he meant. I was 18. Clueless. I think I picked up a little more weight before I eventually figured it out. Bill meant I was carrying a lot of SEP's. Somebody else's problems. What he could see that I needed was to let go of being a "fixer" for the people around me. To let them take their own journey and create their own outcome.

He was wise and once I learned to do that around 30- being such a slow learner- life got easier and lighter. I was able to forge my own path rather than take on other's chores and struggles.

Yet here I am.....once again. I am pretty sure that my sandbags now are different. I am not trying to change the world for others anymore. I haven't taken on scads of difficult projects that are not of my own making and benefit me in no way, as I used to, frequently. I can say, without doubt, that I do not completely understand what the heaviness is this time.

Much of my difficulty has sprung up from a sea change in my day to day life. Not of my choosing this time but foist upon me by....life? The universe?

Somehow through all the demands, all the over scheduling, the mountain of responsibility; I need to steal some time. Time for about 48 hours on a quiet private beach....with a couple of my journals. Time to figure out again what I can change, where my next challenge is and how I can find the time to get there. Time to drop my sandbags.

Hello Justin Trudeau

2017-07-26T13:15:00.000-04:00

Okay, Mr. Trudeau,

First let me say I'm a fan. I like your policy of inclusiveness and I remember it as a legacy from your Father. I like what you have done with international diplomacy. I applaud your inclusion of vast numbers of women and all ages in your cabinet. I think your wife and children are darling: as do you.

However, you and I would have words over your legalization of marijuana. Yes, my friend, I may be of the demographic that seems to think that is a great idea but I disagree wholeheartedly. I don't want it, to smell it, to have secondhand exposure or to have my children exposed to it.

I lived through the 70's. I watched the result of dealers lacing pot with LSD and PCP. I worked in a youth center: I have seen kids between 14 and 25 burn out on marijuana. I have seen them lack coping skills and develop mental health issues out of nowhere. I have been helpless already as they spiral down into other addictions.

I imagine you would say: "Well, Jayne. No worries: I will have stringent controls in place and only legal dealers will be able to sell pot. " Really? That sounds pretty naive to me. For decades there has been an illegal system in place. Those selling illegal drugs are not going to suddenly say, " Hey, Mr. Trudeau just made this legal so I guess I better find a regular job!"

No, they are going to see the legal system of distribution as competition. They are going to need an edge to compete. Competition tends to drive prices down and content up. Dealers will be looking to make their product a little fancier and more addictive. Hmmm, almost sounds like they will begin lacing pot with lsd, pcp, ecstasy, or gawd help us all, fentanyl.

You might answer that the police will shut that right down. I doubt that. Even in my small town, the police have there hands full busting a meth lab every couple of days only to watch two more spring up to take its place. They also have a few other things to do: stolen property (mostly by drug addicts), murders, assaults, white collar crime, stalkings and rapes. So, I highly doubt they will have the resources or the inclination to spend on what will be the illegal dealers of what you will have made a legal drug.

Rethink it Mr. Trudeau. Our addiction treatment centers and hospitals are already burdened by the current level of addiction. At very least make the age required for legal partaking in this "past time" 25, 40 or even 65.

Next year, when my apartment is full of pot smoke from my neighbours- like it is on the 20th and 1st of the month now and my asthmatic child texts me to to call the police- I won't be able to. Can I please give her your personal cell number to text instead? It's your deal, Mr. Trudeau: I hope you can handle the consequences.

The Eff Word

2017-07-13T23:25:00.000-04:00

It is like it's an accent. A dialect. Perhaps, in the small town where I live babies speak their first sentences peppered with it. It's not Fire Truck.

A light bulb came on for me today about how the people I interact with, speak. You see, I just spent five days in another city. A larger city. I spent a lot of time downtown with a variety of people: business people, vacationers, homeless people, gangbangers and teenagers. There were the elderly dealing with advancing age and mobility issues. People who are busy, some who have very little, lots who are frustrated in ways big and small. Some of the time I spent in the hospital where I met people in very high stress situations: people who were losing and had just lost family. People who had friends and family members admitted for long stretches of time. The families I met at the hospital had every reason to swear. I spent time other places too. The mall, stores, restaurants even cabs and city buses. I don't remember hearing that one word, not even once. Or any of his less offensive younger cousins.

I hardly noticed when I was there but there was something missing. That accent. In the whole time I was in London, Ontario I didn't hear anyone punctuate their sentence with an eff bomb. In fact, I would be hard pressed to say that I heard anyone swear even once.

Now, I certainly cannot say that no one swears in the city. That would be an effing ridiculous statement. What I can say is that I returned home to my apartment today and within ten minutes had opened my balcony door. Floating up to me in the warmish night air were the dulcet tones of my neighbours having what passes for a normal everyday conversation around here.

It went something like this: " And then I effing told him that he effing needed to make an effing call. They are not going to effing fix his effing car if he doesn't effing tell them when he effing wants it done." It went on longer but I am sure you get the drift. Ah, there's that local dialect again. I must be home.

Mind you, I wasn't witnessing an argument. The conversation was not heated or debated. Just one man passing along a story about his day to another. I wish I could say that it is an isolated thing but it is not. This is the way a lot of people speak here. A chat on the bus, a conversation at work, a simple coffee order at the local Tim's......pretty much every day, multiple times a day you witness this use of vulgar language. Even in schoolkids, teenagers and the elderly. Wow, I would say especially amongst the middleaged population.

So I ask why. I was raised mostly in Niagara and Stratford. I really do not remember it there. No one felt the only way to be heard was to salt our speech with nasty epithets. Truth, most of the people I knew spoke plainly or eloquently with no swearing at all. Sure, there were a few people who threw in the occasional "bad" word. They thought they were rebels and we mostly laughed at them for how stupid it sounded. Oooh, big man said a bad word.....I'm shaking. With mirth.

Does it bother me? Not on a moral level but it is tiresome to hear daily. Being around it I find myself slipping into this habit. That, in and of itself, bothers me quite a bit. After spending most of my life with pretty good verbal hygiene I don't like being infected with the local accent. I fight it consciously but it is slipping in.

It's annoying to hear the kindergarteners speaking this way- and they do. There is so much more to say. More productive things, more positive, more useful words. It is frustrating to try to deal with an individual's concerns when their go-to method of communicating is so inherently disrespectful to both the listener and speaker. I wonder if no one ever taught any of them how to make a valid point with clear emphatic language and tone.

I also wonder if they kiss their Mothers with those dirty mouths. Bet Momma would be proud.

Darkest Whispers

2017-07-02T22:37:00.000-04:00

We do not talk about it. Suicidal thoughts. In sad reality we talk about TV shows, news reports or third person what ifs but we don’t talk about our own experiences. If we mention someone ending their own life: we whisper. There is a lot of fear in words we feel we must whisper.

Its taboo. Most rational adults know that even a simple reference to the darkest thoughts one can have leads to consequences, judgements, overreaction. Will my spouse respect me? My friends be overly concerned? My doctor lock me up? My boss stop trusting me?

It's controversial. Suicide itself was still illegal in Canada in 1972. Try it and you’ll be locked up if you fail. Many religions prohibit self harm. All major world religions prohibit suicide. Catholic rhetoric was that those who took their own life went to purgatory and not heaven. Some Fundamentalists still believe it damns you to hell. Jews don’t condone it. Jewish suicides are buried in a separate portion of the cemetary and denied some burial traditions. Hindus believe it violates the idea of nonviolence. Muslim teachings say " The Prophet said, “He who commits suicide by throttling shall keep on throttling himself in the Hell Fire (forever) and he who commits suicide by stabbing himself shall keep on stabbing himself in the Hell-Fire.” It is considered a form of murder and a grave sin by all these religions: the murder of one's self as wrong as taking another life. Socially it has been called selfish, crazy or cowardice. Centuries of judgement and concrete thinking that taking your life by your own hand is just plain selfish, wrong, and evil. Even now, you’ll find this attitude without searching too far.

Times have changed though right? We talk about it now don’t we? Perhaps, we talk about 13 reasons why or Rehteah Parsons…..or how tragic it is when someone we know commits suicide. However, when we do talk about it now-unless the conversation turns to euthanasia- it is immediately labelled a mental health issue.

I find that thinking demeaning and outdated.

Suicidal thoughts, on their own, do not necessarily indicate a mental health problem. In fact, they can be part of a persons coping mechanism and a sign of a very healthy mind.

Dwelling and obsessing about suicide or committing suicide are quite different from having the occasional suicidal ideation.

Yet, if a person you loved or you were responsible for mentioned the idea of suicide….Would you react judgementally, immediately try to “talk them out of it”? I think that way of reacting is assumptive. It is hardly a rational response but a visceral one. A giant oh no! akin to stomping your feet…..and just as effective.

Speaking personally my friend Heather could tell you that the poster in my highschool locker read in lovely script “vaguely suicidal”. Even at the time she said that her Dad, a doctor, would have been royally irritated to know she made that for me. It was, however, my truth at the time. Did I kill myself? No. Was it attention seeking, no: It was deep in my locker for me and no one else. Only Heather knew I had it. Why was it there? Well, life was pretty crappy and in my mind at least, the thought that I could escape it was comforting. The idea that though there was nothing under my control I could still decide whether to be. Was I crazy? Nope. Would those in charge have ordered counseling if they had seen it? Yupp. Most likely outcome. Did I need a therapist? Nope.

Like I said….having the thought if this does not change I could do that….is not always unhealthy. It does not mean I was in some immediate danger of harming myself. In fact_ that visual reminder was an outlet, a vent, a way help myself overcome the difficulties that stood in my way. All was not lost because I felt I had a choice. But I still could not speak to anyone about that. I knew that meant at very least a swift trip to the school psychologist and quite possibly a mind altering prescription.

I am in no way minimizing mental health or the tragedy of suicide. When my friend Tony killed himself I was devasted . He was full of life and had a bright future. He in no way ever indicated depression or spoke of ending his life. That’s the key- he never spoke of it. Why didnt he?

Perhaps he was not interested in hearing platitudes and reasons why he shouldn't. Or didnt want his life disrupted or to see that godawful head tilt people do when they feel sorry for you. Maybe he thought his parents would yell. I'll never know but I do know for sure he did not have what you would call mental health issues, he was not unhappy, bullied or selfish. I do know he discussed his plans with no one. I have known two others who also did not speak of it. All three took their own lives. It might be anecdotal evidence but in my world each one of them shared a silence about their inner thoughts and feelings. Two of them you would describe, if you had known them, as having perfect lives. Perhaps that is why, like most of us, they felt they couldn't share their darkness. Scared of shattering the perfectly happy, lovely person, responsible child myth.

We need to speak. This is something we need to let people say without our fear, judgment, invasive concern, efforts to "fix" them, labelling or social stigma. Listening without silencing them.

I think if honesty was highly prized in society many more of us would cop to our darkest feelings. If we had no fear of reprisal we would speak of our own despairs large and small. We are sometimes, just too content with whatever the common way of looking at a situation happens to be. We have to learn to let people talk despite our discomfort. We need to listen and learn instead of talking about and judging. In my mind at least, we must question the way we look at whispered words.

Experiment Awry

2017-06-03T10:38:00.001-04:00

Back in the mid90's at my wits end with my kids teacher, I decided to try a small experiment in behavior modification. I was pretty desperate for a solution. When you are 25, busy, working, going to school and taking care of two kids and a house there isn't all the much time to be called into the grade 1 class and forced to sit in a mini chair listening to a high strung teacher grumble. But for three months I was forced to do that daily.

No amount of communication could get Madame to see she was part of the problem. No suggestions from me ever made it past her sardonic smile. I had a bored child on my hands. My Darling girl whos mind outthought most adults and who had set out to make school fun. A teacher who had a love affair with conformity. Who found my little beans brilliance serial killer level disturbing. Somehow, out of that situation I found myself getting served with Grade 1 Detention ad infinitum.

Unable to convince Madame to try anything new I turned to the one person I could influence. I explained to my baby that her hijinks were rather unwelcome. "But its soooooo borrrrrrring Mummy". I know Baby. You only have about 20 more years of oft boring teachers to deal with. No worries, we are going to try something.

I knew I was going against the permissive grain of the parents around me. ( Deep breath! Be brave.). Baby, take this little elastic and wear it as a bracelet. Okay. Now every time you want to get out of your seat, feel you need to tell your friends to ask unanswerable questions, shoot spit balls from your drinking box straw or tell your teacher a wild, wild story and prove her gullibility please give your wrist a little snap. Worked charmingly. No more detentions for Mom. Just 8 hours of one bored kid 5 days a week and Madame had no problem with that.

Enter the nosy Mom! Having seen how my 90's version of the fidget spinner restored classroom peace for me Mom 1, the self appointed Mayor of Grade 1 parents, decided it was just the ticket for her bored child, too. A day later I hear her shrill complaint.

The school called and gave her a movie of the week level warning about self mutilation. Turns out that instead of a tiny snap to remind oneself to be good her Darling decided to try to use the trick to change her friends behavior. No matter how much she twisted that elastic....or how blue her fingers turned her friends remained annoying. Odd.

I hadnt forseen that extrapolation of my experiment. For a six year old it was a brilliant thesis. Missed one minor given, that's all. Nothing in this world you do can force another human to change. You can complain whine cry manipulate and even dominate but real change is all the other persons deal. Sorry Bunny. That's just the way it is.

We would like it to be easier to change people. As Mom and Dads, bosses and employees, lovers, friends. Unfortunately, behavior rises from so many competing factors. Personality is a strange mix of biology, experience and current and past social mores. Behavior takes all that and then adds quality of sleep, nutrition, the environment and available tools and pops out something new at the end. It can be fantastic. It can be dismal.

Still, all we can do as humans is change ourselves. If we change enough then sometimes people around us must change to adjust. We control how much or how little other's behavior can affect us. Our own level of tolerance determines how easy or hard that will be. We can choose to be like Jello. Just let the cream poor over us and jiggle- largely unchanged. We can choose to stir and become a yukky mess of gelatin and dairy. Changed largely by our own reactions and behavior.

This is our human truth. Even now in the " new millennium" where we teach our children its their right to be offended by anything. Like that is a healthy notion. Sorry, kids, your rights, your feelings, your discomfort still ends at the tip of the next guys nose. Agree or disagree, be offended or dont- theres only one person we each truly control. The self.

Eden

2012-06-25T02:10:00.000-04:00

Quarter past five. Deep in the most private part of your soul you smile. Your heart knows that anything useful you have been inclined to do at work today is done. There is only one persistent drive left in you today. The drive to punch out, say a pleasant goodbye and rush home.

The travel time is not enjoyable but worth it. In twenty minutes your key turns in the lock. It is an amazing sound that key makes. You open the door and are greeted with open affection. You set down your bag and spend the next 40 minutes hearing amazing stories. "Do you know what ? Manda was in art and she was laughing 'cause Issac burped and it was soooooo funny, and the teacher said "That is enough" and we tr-i-e-d not to laugh but we couldn't and Manda had milk come out her nose!" I bet that was pretty funny. "And guess what else, we only have four more days of school, and then next year, we might get this teacher and he's a really nice teacher, and if we get him he has ipods in his class and if we get him, know what else? We get to use them when we are done our stuff and I really, really really hope I get him." That just might happen, kiddo. I am pretty glad that you are already excited about next year.

You smile inside and it hits you. There has not been one single development at work today that can hold a candle to the conversation you just had. This moment right here was the most important meeting on your schedule. So, you make dinner and check for homework while your gorgeous husband shows the munchkin how much the cucumber plant has grown. You thank your lucky stars that he is home tonight with you. It means there may just be a long walk in the country or a drive out to the lake for all of you, together. You hear them giggle. It is not the kind of giggle you hear at work where you wonder; What has happened now? Just innocent bell-like laughter and with it the tension in your neck begins to melt away.

It is good to be home. It is magical.

Glowing Earth

It is full of this indefinable thing we choose to call love. A sometimes chaotic fusion of baking, WII games, guinea pigs and back rubs. Of wall hangings handmade just because He thinks you might like them. A quick nibble on the back of your neck while you fold socks. Snapshots and portraits and preschool art frames glimmering in the background. A list of chores of Sisyphean proportion to keep it all running in some predictable order. As much a thinking game as it is slugging to get it done. A constant series of questions we ask ourselves: How do I make it better? Make them happier? Guide them in the right direction? Keep it positive and inspiring?

Outside these walls the world can knock you out repeatedly whether you are four or forty. Bullies. Irate customers. Idiot drivers. The just plain rude. Disappointment can reign sometimes out there- but at home it has no hold. We plot against it here. Fortify against frustrations. Actively build each other up in a cocoon of safety, strength and respect. The next time we head out the door we each take a little bit of home as the courage that beats within us.

Yet, it is only four walls and a roof. It is pleasant, organized and comfortable. It could

Summer Fun

use a new coat of paint. No one is knocking from Architectural Digest to say, "Hey, can we do a photo shoot?" Yet, it somehow, in it's simplicity, is an oasis. There is so much good here in this one small place on a very big planet that I bet it glows on google earth at night. Like a star doused in fairy dust.