All that I learned in 2021, I take with me into tomorrow

In 2021, I learned that...

People we love can be on opposite sides of the fence, and all we can do is pray for their safety.

My friends are braver and more badass than they realize they are. And they inspire me daily.

Letting intuition inform choices can result in an abundance of sweetness and joy. 

When I stop feeling angry and sit with it, I'm mostly afraid things will never go back to before.

But I really don't want before.

I've learned too much to pretend I liked then, better.

 

I also learned that…

Some people love you so much they check in. And others don't. And you can't take that personally.

Sometimes change is a permanent state. And I have to embrace this reality.

Home is where my heart is. And changing the world starts with loving my kids through every bad mood, hard day and long week.

I prefer to be around people who think less from their ego, and more often from a place of collective well-being and humanity.

Listening means not always having a response right away. And that sitting and holding space is an act of great love.

Considering others' perspectives means that even if you don't agree, you seek to understand.

And this is harder than being right.

Finally, I learned that…

Lived experience informs risk tolerance during a pandemic.

And I don’t need to apologize for that.

I’m allowed to have personal boundaries, and people pleasing interferes with them.

If you find a job you love, not even a pandemic will stop you from enjoying going to work.

My husband is my rock, gives the best hugs and can find a joke suitable for even the worst days.

Dropping secret gifts on people's porches is pretty fun, and sponsoring a family at Christmas can light up the hearts of children who sometimes forget how lucky they are.

 

And that next year won't be 2020, too.

It will be 2022.

With fresh new eyes, enhanced gratitude and the promise that even the most menacing of storms passes, eventually.

Right now, I have more than enough to find joy.

That much like my very smart and special neighbour recently said, when aboard the boat during a storm, all one can do is hold the steering wheel and marvel at God's creation.

Happy New Year, lovelies.
xoxo
P

His hand in mine

He held my hand.
The finale of my trio of babies.

We walked.
Not too fast, not too slow. 

I mostly listened.
To his stories about life at school. 

I stayed curious.
Asking questions to understand his heart. 

I relished in the gift of time.
Being present with his words as we walked. 

Nothing else to do.
Nothing else on my mind. 

Just my baby.
His hand in mine. 

He let go, more than once.
Worried someone would see him.

But he always came back.
Hand in my hand, smiling broadly.
The classic twinkle in his eyes.
My son, eight years later.

Time has never moved so slowly,
Yet passed so fast,
As it did tonight.

Just my baby.
His hand in mine.

A mindful moment at the window

There's something about the air, outside.

Opening the windows to let it all in.

It's freeing from the old.

 

Clearing out the dark spaces.

Vast places,

The thoughts that loomed in the air.

 

There's some about open windows that makes me lighter.

A lessening of the heaviness that fills a house closed from the world.

It's a new beginning, a welcoming sign of new life.

 

There's something about the way the breeze shifts my mind.

An opportunity to notice and remove the cobwebs.

Newness to appreciate.

 

Clearing out the negativity.

Pushing aside,

All that no longer served me.

 

There's something about the air, outside.

It fills my home with the day's perfection.

A positive energy I cannot replicate.

 

There's a reason windows should stay open,

They clear that which is not needed.

And remind me that life is all around my home.

 

So go and open your windows, if you can.

Feel the breeze.

Listen.

 

Know that if you want,

A new beginning is behind each breath of air.

Each gust of life.

Your smile can return.

With the simple act of noticing.

The beautiful breeze from your window.

Fifteen things I want you to know about food allergy and celiac life

Food allergy awareness month and celiac awareness month, both in May, are now coming to a close. As many of you know, not only did our entire family move to a gluten free diet, but I also made a big mistake last week that led to a serious anaphylactic reaction. It’s been a very overwhelming four weeks and while I had hoped to share great educational articles and stories this month, I shifted into survival mode and never got it done. It happens, I know. I am trying to provide myself grace and patience as I continue to lead our family’s special diet life.

Many friends and family members alike have said they feel helpless and don’t know how to support our family. It got me to thinking, what would I really love for you to know about food allergy and celiac life? 

It didn't take long to come up with a list:

1.   Never question a child when he or she says they cannot eat something: Ethan, and now his siblings, are superheroes in training, learning how to stay safe and healthy. If they say no, it’s a wonderful moment of self-protection. Instead of questioning them or giving them a guilt trip, consider telling them how proud they should be of themselves.

2.     Teach your kids that inclusivity of allergy or any special diet is just as important as that of other disabilities: While not every country formally lists celiac and allergy as a registered disability, they can be both life threatening and debilitating at times. The best way to support my kids is to teach yours all about their conditions.

3.     When you see someone reading a label, don't get mad. They are doing it for a reason: I’ve heard people I love complain about ‘that person’ at the grocery store, standing in the aisle taking forever to look at products and read boxes, touching many items at a time. Trust me when I say, this is me. And this is how food allergy and celiac parents keep their kids safe. We aren’t trying to get in the way or be annoying, just literally trying to keep our kids safe.

4.     When a parent or caregiver requests more information about a party or gathering - be that food, art supplies, etc - know that they understand the burden this creates:  It’s honestly horrible to have to ask all the time. I know it may be A LOT for some people. But I appreciate you taking the time to do so, and I am full prepared to provide substitutions so my child can participate fully in all activities.

5.     Take the allergy aware training course! It could save a life: It’s free and it’s available for absolutely everyone to take – www.allergyaware.ca

6.      If you work in a restaurant or own a small food shop, listen to your guests when they ask questions, and be honest in your responses: People who ask these questions aren't trying to make your life hard. They just want to enjoy a meal safely. And they are probably more stressed about the meal than you are, so you already have something in common.

7.     Substitutions mean the world to food allergy and celiac families: When the school allowed me to provide my son a freezie on ice cream day at school, my son was happy, but embarrassed that he stood out and was ‘different’ than his friends. When my daughter saw a ‘free from top 8 allergens’ product in the school snack bin, available to ALL children, she felt normal and safe and included. Anytime you can include a safe substitution and offer it to the entire group, you’ve provided an inclusive environment for all.

8.     When people ask to read the labels even though you feel it's safe, please let them: Don’t take it personally when a food allergy or celiac family asks to peek. It's hard to trust others, most parents don’t even trust themselves. Sometimes people miss things, and allergens can be disclosed under many names. Have the labels ready and you’ll relieve so much stress.

9.     Consider asking a food allergy or celiac family, ‘what can I do to make you feel safe in our home/at our event?’: This will make them cry. I guarantee it. People who do this are angels in our books and make us feel included and safe.

10. An episode of anaphylaxis is a trauma: Please be patient as a family recovers from the very scary experience of sudden, severe illness. We might not want to talk about it, or overshare. We might be afraid to leave home, not want to try new things, or just seem quiet. It takes time to decompress, please don’t take it personally.

11.  Don't take offense if a food allergy or celiac child doesn't wish to touch the same thing as you: In my experience, my food allergy child is often worried about what you touched before that moment. He is on alert, 24/7. Right or wrong, he’s just trying to stay safe.

12.  Food allergy and celiac families may not wish to eat out: It is really hard, every time. While we don’t want to hurt your feelings, please know we may decline your offer because it’s too overwhelming.

13.  Normalize washing hands before AND after your child eats: This is such an easy way to help keep others safe! What seems like crumbs or greasy fingers to you, scares the pants off food allergy and celiac families. Hand washing goes a very long way in keeping others safe.

14.   Please don't bring snacks to public playgrounds and play centres: How long are you really there? Do you really need more than water for thirst? If so, please have them sit and eat, then wash up before play. Goldfish, trail mix, cookies and yogurt drinks can honestly make a child so, so sick, and if there is nowhere to properly wash hands with soap and water, you may leave residue and crumbs that lead to an ambulance ride for another family.

15.   Finally, sanitizer is not enough to remove allergens from your child’s hands: It’s good, especially during this crazy COVID time, but soap and water (and a long scrub) is the only guaranteed way to remove allergens from hands and face.

If you’ve stuck through this post, I am grateful <3 <3 <3 

I hope you’ve learned something new, and maybe one of these suggestions is something you are willing to implement moving forward. Food allergy and celiac life can be overwhelming for parents, but thanks to our amazing support network we know we can be safe and healthy.

Biggest hugs.

xo

The good still lives here

The good still lives here

Even when the news isn't what we hoped.
When there's more appointments ahead.

Good still lives here.

Even when our bodies are weary, worn and aching for rest.

Good still lives here.

Even when it's hard.
When tears of frustration become a normal part of every day.

Good still lives here.

Even when we are low.
Defeated and frustrated and depleted.

Good still lives here.

Even when the only constant is change.
And nothing surprises us anymore.

Good still lives here.

It's the 'feel better' notes.
The long, steady hugs.
The dance parties we are 'forced' to take part in.
The puppy cuddles.
The sweet messages from friends.
The distanced help from ‘ride or die’ family.

Proof that the good still lives here.

It’s looking in the eyes of your partner and knowing that,
while we ask aloud,
what else could possibly go wrong,
we are grateful because we know it could be worse.

Now is the simultaneous existence of
present moment awareness,
complete exhaustion and anxious thought.

It’s life.

And the good still lives here.

Twelve months of twister

I've had a hard time finding the right words to share, over the last 12 months. What normally flows so naturally from my inner monologue has been somewhat silenced. I can't put my finger on why.

I feel like I’ve been playing an endless game of twister.

I spent the first few months of the pandemic feeling motivated and empowered to sustain positivity in my thoughts and words.

I was scared.
I mean, who wasn't?
It was all so new and outrageous. An actual pandemic? A lockdown? What?

But it was happening whether we liked it or not.

By the summer I was fatigued, but re-energized by the sunshine, slower days and time spent in nature. I read more, laughed more and even though I struggled to make decisions I was relatively calm and confident. The game was getting old, but I was still playing it and encouraging my kids to find fun as the spinner kept spinning away, beyond our control.

Fall came.

I felt 75% normal. I was worried about back to school and term but I felt like we could handle it. It was a relief to see the kids act like kids, again. I had the energy to greet them with a smile and hug away the worst parts of their day.

The continual pivots at work were slowing. Difficult, but manageable.
Twisting and turning, tired but focused.

Then holidays approached.

I meticulously planned ahead. Worried more than I should have about everyone else's feelings and complaints. Felt a new level of exhaustion and began dragging my butt out of bed. Noticed I needed the kids' hugs more than they needed mine.

It wasn’t the same, but we made the absolute most of it.

We celebrated.
Toasted.
Made new memories and found joy.
Rested. Relaxed. Read.

The moment the calendar flipped to 2021, I felt a renewed sense of optimism. I was hopeful for a better year. I felt more positive and ready to face whatever was coming next. I set goals!

That lasted a whopping two weeks.

The second lockdown drained my last reserves, and those of my kids. The game’s been going on too long. Too many twists, too many turns, too many things out of our control.

We are weary. Deflated.
Sensitive.
Hypersensitive actually.

Each family member requests hugs, but are often too tired to give them.
We make ‘big’ plans, then struggle to accomplish them.
We cry a lot. All of us.

The game is not fun anymore.

I am burnt out.
Playing twister for a year.
Every move more exhausting than the last.
Intertwined with my kids' fluctuating emotional waves.
And my own.
The odd giggle and fit of laughter.
Trying so, so hard to keep it fun and positive.

Truth be told, I am absolutely sore, weak and tired of playing.
There's no time for parents to tend to their own needs.

Don't tell me to take care of myself!
(Lord knows I am trying)

I am busy pouring every ounce of myself into the act of holding my kids steady.
Cheering them on.
Holding it allllllll together.

Can we stop yet?

Throw the damn spinner in the garbage.
And don’t ever ask me to play, again.

I did not sign up for 12 months of twister.
No one did.

Yet the arrow keeps on spinning… and we are forced into our next move.

The five-year finish line

Our sweet, beautiful warrior princess has crossed a finish line we've only dreamed about. Today Brookie is officially cancer-free five glorious years!

She was in agony.
She was so sick.
She fought PTSD post-treatment.
She still fights preverbal trauma related to her journey.
She has a very real phobia of stickers that creates panic, leaves her in tears and interrupts her daily life.
She has a long, deep bravery line covering her tummy.

But she survived.
She is thriving.
She is healthy.
She is beautiful.
She is brave.
She is stronger than she even realizes.

And while she is enduring a new journey of life with celiac disease, she continues to show all of us how life is meant to be lived.

She is so real and authentic.
She deeply loves her family and friends.
She enjoys her hobbies.
She provides herself and others grace.
She embraces creativity and laughter every, single, day.

It is not lost on Jay and I how fortunate we are. We remember the dark days wondering if Brooklyn would honestly live or die. We know many children do not make it to this milestone. We wish we could change that. It hurts our hearts. xo

So we humbly celebrate today with a giant dog on the lawn, Paris decorations in our dining room and gluten-free cupcakes and pizza after school.

We will keep crying, today.
Keep hugging.
All glory to God for our healthy, beautiful baby girl.
Thank you Lord Jesus.

#cancerfree #fiveyears #childhoodcancer #thankGod

Hindsight is 2020, after all

When we look back on 2020, what will we remember?

Will it be the heavy feelings? 
Worry. Isolation. Grief.

Or the small blessings?
Extra cuddle time. Homemade meals. Rest.

Will it be the negative comments?
Nastiness. Judgement. Trolls.

Or the kindness shared by others?
Surprise deliveries. Lovely words. Gratitude.

What will we remember, when we look back on 2020?

I hope it's the time I spent baking with my kids.
The movie nights and snacks, both outdoor and in.
The extra donations made to charities we love.
The lunch breaks chatting with my husband.

2020 was hard. So entirely exhausting.
Who would have ever dreamed of this?
Certainly not I.

Perhaps we'll uncover the lessons, when we look back.
Hindsight is 2020, after all. 

Certainly we'll remember the waves. 
The constant state of flux.
Standing on unstable ground.

But I'm not sure, what we'll remember. Only time will tell.

I notice I feel stronger, when I am less busy.
Maybe I'll remember this when my calendar is full, later next year.

I've come to appreciate the sound of silence, for no other reason than it's peaceful.
Maybe I'll remember this when my house is alive with guests again, someday.

I've found joy in having no-where to go.
Maybe I'll remember this and prioritize 'space' more often.

I can promise I'll remember the love I shared with my children and husband in 2020.
The deep conversations, and the silly ones.
The tears and the hugs.
The frustration and fear.
And the simple joy of spending time observing their own unique gifts.

Here we are, day 365 of 2020 and just hours from a new year. And while I know that midnight will not end a global pandemic, I believe we can make the choice to enter 2021 with positive, peaceful thoughts and our eyes set on the ultimate prize... a return to hugs, celebrations with the people we love and appreciation for all we learned during this very incredible year.

From my heart to all of yours; may 2021 bring you good health, a deeper awareness of self and a greater desire to do all things with love in mind.

xo

Surrender

Surrender.
Don't hold it all so tightly.

Surrender.
Let your emotions ebb and flow like gentle undulations above your heart centre.

Surrender.
Breathe in and out, noticing the rise and fall.

Surrender.
Hold yourself in stillness and notice the space.

Surrender.
Listen to the moments unfolding all around you.

Surrender.
Be at peace. 

Nothing to do.
Nowhere to go.
Just simply, be.

Surrender.

Advocating is life on a treadmill

Tonight I feel heavy.
My head is throbbing.
Neck tight.
Eyes burning.
Exhausted.

Some days it takes all of me, to advocate.
To protect my son.
Educate others.
Keep him safe.

Some days it's exhausting.

I wonder what it's like for other families.
Not to worry or analyze.
Do they even notice this blessing?
They don't bat an eye.
I feel jealous.

Right now, it's a struggle.
It's damn hard.
It zaps my energy in minutes.
Leaves me hanging like a damp blanket on a clothesline.

Advocating is life on a treadmill.
Sometimes fast and sometimes slow.
It feels like I am going nowhere.
But I can't stop.

This little person depends on me.
His literal life depends on my resolve.
My purposeful actions.
My coaxing and educating.
My choice of words. 

Prove me wrong.

I can't stop.
Won't stop.

I support the hard things;
His daily grind to survive.
I am the body guard;
His personal safety vest.
I aim to make it bearable;
For him to live with fear.

My job is to rest,
But not quit.
Crack,
But not shatter.
Bend,
But not break.
Cry,
But not drown.

Tonight I'll silently tantrum.
Then rest.

Because I've learned that the key to advocating is rising,
over and over and over again.

With hope in my heart, 
a smile on my face, 
and the invisible shield of hugs that protect him when we are apart.

Life is a series of energetic give and take

I spent a little time talking to my son about energy today. It's something I never learned about until I was in my late 20s, but it's a very mindful concept that helps me decide where to spend my time, when I have the choice to do so.

If you've ever read The Celestine Prophecy, the author refers to the concept as 'energy takers' and 'energy givers'. It's the idea that everything surrounding us has energy attached to it, as do we. And every interact point will leave us feeling some degree more or less energetic, as a result.

There are some people, places and things which GIVE me energy. For me, the feeling of receiving energy makes me feel rejuvenated, joyful, grateful, loved, energetic, pumped up or bursting at the seams after spending time in this way. I think of how my parents and my best friend leave me feeling better, more full and capable, after spending time with them. Meditation, snuggling on the couch with my family, walking my dog, feeling the sunshine on my face, date night, spending time near water, in nature and at our family cottage all provide energy to fuel me.

On the other hand, some people, places and things TAKE energy from me. For me, the feeling of having energy taken from me feels exhausting, weakening, tiring; like my mood is lowered and my brain and/or body have been depleted in some way. Things like taking my kids to medical appointments, managing conflict, spending time with inauthentic people or those who lack integrity and explaining myself to someone who isn't listening, suck the energy right out of my body.

Now here's the tricky part; we don't always get to choose the people, places or things we interact with. We cannot always avoid hard things, difficult people and draining environments. I would argue that perhaps these are put in our path to help us notice the difference between the ones that give energy, and the ones that take it away from us.

Also, important relationships in our lives will be a MIX of giving energy and receiving it, depending on circumstance, trial and other hardships. I would argue that we are designed for this purpose entirely, as in loving others we must give of ourselves. We can give and take quite remarkably, and we do so all the time without even noticing.

The amazing thing I've realized about energy is that sometimes we CAN MAKE A CHOICE. We can choose how much time we spend with energy takers; the people, things and situations that drain us. We can begin to notice how our bodies and minds actually feel, while interacting, then use our observations to inform future choices.

Let me give you an example.

Today, my son came upstairs twice and asked for hugs. He said he felt tired and I observed him to be sullen and sluggish. I noticed but didn't say anything to him. This afternoon we took a short drive and he had nothing to say on the way to our destination. He just sat in silence, and I controlled my many urges to make him speak. After reaching our destination, he interacted with a few people he hadn't seen in awhile, received some items and got back in the van. He was smiling ear to ear and chatted all the way home about what he received, how to use them and why they were awesome.

Huge shift in energy, right?

I would argue that whatever he was doing this morning likely zapped his energy. I would also argue that our drive and interaction left him bursting with new energy. It was awesome to observe and I shared it with him.

What he does from here is his choice. 

I encouraged him to notice the difference in how he felt this morning vs this afternoon, and spend the week noticing how he feels around certain people, doing certain activities and being in different places. I could hazard some guesses, but he's old enough to go inward, notice and observe, then be empowered to do more of what strengthens his energy. I also suggested he consider sharing his energy more often when he has lots to give, as life is a series of energetic give and take.

So this week, challenge yourself to notice how you feel. Maybe keep a journal, digital notepad or debrief once a day with someone you love.

Notice the people who ignite you with joy, as well as the ones who do not. Notice the way things you interact with - news, social media, art, music - add or retract from your day.

Then, whenever you can make a choice, seek out more of what keeps you energized,
and give energy to others whenever you feel strong enough to share.

xoxo

A reminder that you are worthy

Yesterday evening I had the pleasure of moderating a career education event where students had the opportunity to 'meet' and hear from professionals from across Canada. I was placed with two women who spoke about their incredibly unique and dare I say, badass, career journeys with the Canadian government. I loved learning about each of them, their similarities and differences, as well as how 'happy accidents' led them to very fulfilling careers. As a person who strongly believes in the connectedness of the universe, it was really incredible to be present for their stories.

At the end of the evening, we spoke rather candidly about working from home during the pandemic. One of the women, in her 30s without children, said she was really impressed by the way parents like myself and the other speaker have managed to find ways to adapt to working from home, particularly in the evenings when she knew kids were close by and needing attention. She asked how we stayed focused, and re-iterated that she really felt we should be commended for all we've done to persevere this year. 

I've been thinking about her comments all night.

Here I had spent the greater part of two hours admiring her amazing story of struggle, triumph and work 'in the shadows' as a badass security intelligence officer, yet she was genuinely congratulating us for the last 9 months of pandemic work-from-home life?

Wow.
I didn't feel worthy.

The truth is, compliments make me uncomfortable. My dear, wonderful husband of 14 years still makes me squirm when he tells me I am beautiful. My kids declare me 'the best mom in the world' and I immediately start into... well not really, because...

I struggle to feel worthy.

Then I remembered something I read, by one of my favourite writers:

Maybe you needed this reminder, too? We've got to keep showing up, vulnerable and brave, and keep remembering that we are absolutely worthy.

Accept that compliment. 

Appreciate that gift shared in words.

We are all worthy.

Every. single. day.

Reflecting on nine months of a global pandemic

We are now ending our ninth month of pandemic life.
It's wild, right?
I marvel at how different the world continues to be.

My experience has been full of questioning, wondering, worrying, ruminating and even falling apart a few times here and there, as the weight of this experience has changed so much of our family life.

Nine months working from home, without the collaboration and friendship of my co-workers.
Nine months of holding back hugs, kisses and other acts of authentic love from my heart.
Nine months without hosting a single party, get together or birthday celebration.
Nine months since I had the people I love, in my home.
Nine months of reminding my kids to wash their hands a million times a day.

It's been a long nine months.

Lately I've been struck by the different perspectives, lived experiences and concerns of the people I care about. Some have said they don't feel uprooted by the pandemic, others mildly inconvenienced and more still a great majority are feeling burnt out, depressed, anxious and overwhelmed.

I think it's safe to say this pandemic has pushed many of us to unhealthy emotional states, like it or not. I know I have leaned deeply into my self-care practice, and there are still some days where I feel like I cannot keep it together for a moment longer.

This has been so friggin' hard.
So hard.

Waves wash over me.
Days of exhaustion.
Crazy dreams.
Mannequin-like moments,
Unable to move.
Frozen.

Parenting during a pandemic, in my experience, means questioning even the small every day things I was used to taking for granted like...

Kids playing basketball together.
Driving friends around in my van.
Online chats and gaming.
How many school sweaters to buy.

At times paralyzing, this pandemic has proven once again that life can change in a heartbeat, and we have no control over it's timing.

But then this happened...

This afternoon, as I sat with Brookie preparing a surprise for some friends, I stopped dead in my tracks when I read a simple message from a neighbourhood friend:

"I just had Nolan come in. He's a lovely boy. You should be super proud of him."

I'm teary again, as I type this.

You see, today I let him hang out with a small group of boys from his school. They rode bikes, played basketball and stopped at a local corner store for a treat. They had the good fortune of just being kids, aside from my requests to sanitize and be safe. They had a relatively normal afternoon.

My awkward, sweet 12 year old pre-teen bought a treat and paid for it himself.
He did good. Really good.

Today, despite a pandemic, my friend took a moment to share positive words with me. She had no idea I was agonizing over his safety, or worrying he would be disrespectful in public or gluttonous in his purchase. Today she thought of me, and took a few moments to reach out.

Today she lifted my weary soul.

And this, this is the way forward during this difficult, sometimes divisive time. 

We must reach out.
Be proactive.
Thoughtful.
Check in.
Share a positive note,
Warm reflection,
Quick love story.

We need to lift up every single person we love.
Find and support the weary hearts.
Prioritize love.
BE LOVE.

Because the pandemic isn't over and the world keeps turning, the bills keep coming, the kids keep growing up and we continue to live our lives, for the most part.

So DO LOVE, this week. 
Reach beyond your own challenging life to envelop a weary heart in loving kindness.

xoxo

Maybe we won't go back

I've been reflecting lately, on this crazy year we are having. 2020 will most certainly never be forgotten, for a million different reasons. At times I've fought with it, hated it, cried about it and many times I have gone to bed thinking there was no way I could make it through another day. 

But then I thought, perhaps this is what we are supposed to learn. 

That grey is a medium place. 

It's not good, but it's not necessarily bad. 

It's non-striving. 

It's being. 

It's stepping outside of the stories we create in our own monkey minds. 

During this time of awakening, perhaps we are being called to listen. 

Actively listen to our bodies, our partners, our neighbours and children. 

Perhaps this time can teach us to find gratitude in each moment as it unfolds. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Maybe experiencing non-striving is the gift, here. 

Finding joy in simply being. 

Remembering what it's like to not have plans, throw big parties or take marathon shopping trips. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Perhaps this is the new normal. 

Less scheduled driving, more time to explore our own minds and beliefs. 

More time to look inward and support others in a new consciousness. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Maybe this time is teaching us that our before was truly unsustainable. 

It was too fast, too wasteful, too superficial. 

Too far from mother earth and the beautiful gift of simply being. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Perhaps the grey is teaching us to trust Him more. 

To pray on our struggles and consider this parable's lesson. 

Believe that God's plan is exactly ours, as well. 

In a world that was so egotistical, so full of wants confused as needs, perhaps we shouldn't go back.

Perhaps the little humans we are raising will be better for this time, better for the grey, better for being.

So, don't be so quick to want to go back.

Perhaps there's no such thing, and the only sure thing is the experience we are having right now. 

As we commit to being. 

Non-striving. 

Trusting.

Living.

 

To the ones who don't understand

I'm sorry.
I know I can be confusing.
I am confused, to some extent.

But my instinct is strong, right now.
Confused at times, but strong in my resolve.

I will do everything I can to protect my kids, while I have the choice to do so.

Have you ever wondered if your child might die?
Seriously, without an ounce of dramatic flair.
Have you ever really looked your child's mortality in the eyes?

Have you worried every single day, each time you prepared a meal, bought groceries or watched your child eat that today might be the day they stop breathing? That the food you lovingly bought and prepared for them might actually kill them?

I don't mean to sound crass or lean into stories of trauma and terror for attention.

All I mean to say is this:

I thought cancer might kill my daughter.

I live with daily chronic stress related to raising a child with anaphylaxis. I wash my hands more often than those most fearful of coronavirus because my actions directly impact whether my son survives, every single day.

I had no control over their diagnoses.
No choice to make.
All I could do is learn to live in the uncomfortable space and breathe through the dark moments.

Since the pandemic began, I've found the grey area exhausting to navigate.

What is safe to do?
- grey -
Who is safe to be around?
- grey -
What level of risk is comfortable?
- grey -
What happens when I change my mind?

It continues to bring me to tears.
It's hard and wild and unrelenting.

But inside this pandemic, I've found I have some choice.

I can choose to reduce my family's risk of becoming sick.
I can choose to make decisions about what feels safe.
I can choose to speak up when something doesn't feel right.

So, I might sound confusing to some.
Overreacting to others.
Difficult.

But the truth is, I am still healing.
Trauma is engrained in my bones.
Chronic stress in my blood.

And while I am not living in fear as a result of this pandemic,
(I trust in God and feel protected by my family of angels)
I am making the choice to take precautions for the health of my children.

And those precautions are subject to change.
In fact, they change pretty regularly.
Even when I don't want them to.

This pandemic is confusing, and new information means the grey area continues to be just that.
So. Damn. Grey.

But because I have considered more than once that my child could die... injected an epinephrine needle into my son's tiny leg... stood in a surgical waiting room wondering when the oncologist would provide an update on her prognosis... begged God to take it all away from them and give it to me...

I am always considering what choice is best to protect my children.

I know you don't understand.
But bear with me.
Be patient with my confusion.
Notice, but please do not judge.

Consider that you'll never fully understand how it effects my healing heart for me to have a choice to protect them, this time around.