The teachings of my soul

Last week I got lost in the busyness of life.

(If I'm being honest, I've been lost most of the summer)

Many of my worst habits... to do lists, late night notes to myself, an overly full calendar.... have come back in full force as I attempt to control my world.

But back to last week.

Last week was a particularly crazy week, one where I literally spent hours preparing for a weekend event that I look forward to every year. I was making phone calls and sending texts, I was confirming rules and considering all angles to ensure the best possible chance for success. 

Hours.

I'm not even kidding.

Then, the weekend arrives. I was overpacked, my brain was still swimming with all the busy of the week but my heart was happy as I was about to spend my weekend with some of my favourite people.

Then, get this.

Despite my organization, time spent and energy expelled all week, it blew up in my face.

Literally, another human being blew up in my face.

Crap.

Really?

If you know me personally, you know how much I hate conflict.

It makes my skin crawl. 

Call me an idealist, but I like to think that words are powerful enough to deflate most conflicts, and that if we take time to check our perspectives we can almost always see another side of the story.

But this weekend, despite my very best efforts to promote smooth sailing, I hit a massive wave.

I can't even tell you how much it hurt my heart. 

Hurt.

My.

Heart.

But it happened, and I left feeling unheard, disrespected and totally overwhelmed.

In fact I spent most of my day feeling sick to my stomach.

And it didn't matter how much I prepared, because it didn't help me.

Huh.

Sometimes life just throws us a curveball. 

Acts in a way which is contrary to every plan, scenario and best practice.

Sometimes we just aren't prepared.

Sometimes no one listens.

Sometimes no one wants to listen.

Sometimes we just can't win.

Sometimes words aren't enough.

And so despite living with an awareness of self, despite my every effort to be kind, speak calmly under distress and build mutual respect, sometimes life just doesn't work that way.

All I can do now, is listen to the teachings of my soul.

It continues to say, love, even when others don't love you.

Breathe deeply and speak calmly when you want to explode.

Love friends like family, because they really are the family you choose.

Fail and keep failing, but never ever stop living with optimism.

Thank those who support you, but appreciate those who do not, for they help you grow.

Remember that faith can heal a hurting heart.

And hugs really do make a tough day better.

And finally, never, ever let another person's opinion of you, become you. 

I am not what you think.

I am what I know, deep inside.

Chin up, heart open and soul bared.

Always.

Courtesy Buddha Doodles

Kindness in the Chaos

I am three weeks into my new position, and as expected, we are hitting some bumps in the road. The timing of this transition couldn’t be worse, as we are knee deep in summer sports and out of the house pretty much every night of the week.

The kids are super tired.
My brain is on overload.
Jay and I have had very little quality time together.

Change, as always, takes time.

I am still firm in my belief that this is the right time.
Right position.
Right reason.

As I keep swimming, head just above water, something heart warming happened this week.

I ran to the local drug store for a few items, my boys in tow. At the checkout, Nolan asked for a pack of gum (he has always been an opportunist). I wanted to resist, but such a simple request was really no reason to do so. The gum landed in my pile and as the last item was scanned, he asked for a second pack.

‘For Brooklyn’, he said earnestly. 

And so I bought two overpriced packs of gum, and we went home to pack up and leave for another baseball game. Later than night, I found this on the window sill of Brooklyn’s room:

It made me smile.

The crazy melted off my face.

We are a family of note leavers.
Sign makers.
Love sharers.

And here, despite the chaos, was a little piece of sibling love.

My heart sang.

Life is so good, if we just stop and see it.

The next morning I left for a full day of baseball fun in the sun with Nolan. Brooklyn, Ethan and Jay stayed home. As a very close family, we truly dislike being in two places, as logical and wise as we know these decisions are for our sanity and wellness.

All of us had a great day, but we missed each other like crazy.

When I stepped in the door last night, this was on the kitchen table.

  

Oh my heart.

Despite the migranes.

Arguments.

Exhaustion.

Overly busy week.

Here was this little piece of love and kindness.
A small exchange of big feelings.
A reminder that the little things, always matter.

Especially in the chaos.

Let me explain....

Next week I go 'back to work' as I've been saying to my kids.

This statement is false. I've been working as a freelancer and adjunct professor for five years since my last full time job. And work, oh man have I ever worked. I went back to work a week after an emergency c-section, newborn in one hand and two needy siblings in the background begging for playmates, food and attention. I worked away more weeknights than when I was in university. I lost most Sunday-fundays to a desk in the corner, one floor from my kids and hubby's laughter.

The last five years were the hardest of my life.

Every hour that I worked,
Every moment of my professional life,
Chosen to avoid interference with my priority.

Motherhood.

For the last five years,
My every thought.
Every choice,
Every priority,
Was my children.

That's a little crazy to 'say' out loud.

I never imagined feeling so passionately about being a mom.
I didn't know children would take over my heart and soul and mind.
I had no idea my whole world would change the moment I became a mother.
That my family would supersede my career.
That I'd be willing to work less, and spend more time, with tiny humans.

Yet here we are.
And the last five years are coming to a close.

Like the end of a maternity leave, where mom talks about 'going back to work', I find myself having similar discussions with my kids about how life is about to change.

I will not pick them up from school at the end of the day.
I will not go on every class trip.
I will not be home with them, this summer.
This is the hard part.
I adore these pieces of my life.

But wait.
Let me explain....

In all honesty, I have come to notice, in the last year, that my children and I have developed some borderline unhealthy co-dependencies.

They cry when I leave for meditation, stating they miss me too much when I am gone.
They need me to 'help them' with small tasks, simply because they want me to be in the same room.
They nnnneeeeeeeedddddd me, all-the-time.

And truthfully, I need them too.
I feel lost when they are not around.
I love to be free of parenting duties, but spend all my time thinking about them when I'm not with them.

Kind of crazy, right?

We are super attached.
SUPER ATTACHED.
And now it's time for us to find some space.

Space for my children.
To explore their own abilities.
To gain new skills.
To mature and grow and learn, without me... sometimes...

Space for me.
To focus more time on my career.
On my health.
On my healing.

I do not anticipate it being easy.
But I know we are rooted in strong values.
Unconditional love.
Mutual respect.
Faith.
And family, always, at the heart of our being.

On Sunday we went and had some family photos taken. On the drive home my oldest asked if he could have copies of the mommy-kids and daddy-kids photos. When asked why, he expressed that he would like to display them in his room because they were special to him. His sister and little brother swiftly echoed his thought with a 'me, too' and in that moment I smiled knowing that everything was going to be just fine, with this little family of mine <3

Unpack the bag

I had a really interesting conversation with a friend today.

We were discussing how she and I have both suffered trauma, around fertility and motherhood. We have both endured deep heartache, but for different reasons. Our journeys have taken us along different paths, but we quickly found commonality in the weight of it all.

Trauma
Grief
Loss
Heartache.

They are pretty darn heavy.
Like a tote bag strapped awkwardly over our shoulder.
Hanging there, obvious and heavy.
Awkward.
Uncomfortable.

We both agreed that at one time, that bag of heartache ruled us.
We were defined by it.
Owned by the emotional baggage.

We chose to wear it.
Every.
Single.
Day.

We struggled unsuccessfully to adjust it.
We couldn't manage life with or find the energy to carry around that damn bag all the time.

It was exhausting.
We were owned by our heartache.
Our sorrow ran the day.
The past was in charge of our every moment.

Thankfully, somewhere along the way, we realized the bag had to be put down.

Opened up.
Unpacked.
Put away.

We realized that we couldn't go on forever.
Managing that bag full of hurt.
Pain and grief.
Lost hopes.
Shattered dreams.

THANK GOD we realized it needed to put it down.

Wrapped in courage, we unpacked the bag.
Scary as it was, as hard as it was.
As long as it took.

And in that bag we found memories worthy of shelf space.
Released the heavy feelings out the window.
Found tiny pieces of silver that made us smile.

And we agreed to never wear that bag again.
Because it did not serve us any longer.

We were not defined by that traumatic time.
That loss nor diagnosis.

We realized that living in the past, hurt us in the present.

Unpacking that heavy bag did not lessen the experience or dishonour the life we were grieving, but rather released us from it's weight on our shoulders and heart.

We became free to live again.
Soar again.
Feel lightness again.

We made space.
Took up distance.

-------------------

Most of us endure really difficult experiences.
Incomprehensible pain.
Immeasurable grief.

As much as we want to stop, control or remove it from our lives, it's just not possible.

At some point we have to notice the weight.
Make the conscious decision that it is too heavy.
And breathe in the courage to overcome that which is ruling our life.

So please, only carry your bag for a while.
Don't let your every today be weighted by the past.

Please, get help.
Let others assist as you carry that bag.
Take breaks now and again, and let that heartache sit in idle timeout, beside your feet.

When you are ready, unpack the bag.
Find homes for the memories.
Enjoy life once again, holding those little pieces of silver as a reminder of your strength and love.

xoxo

One year down!

Today marked a very special occasion...
the end of Brooklyn's first year of after-care protocol.

Today we learned that she is still cancer free.
NED.
No evidence of disease.

Her results were PERFECT.
100% perfect.

She has gained 15lbs since her cancerous tumour was removed and sprouted almost 8cm (3 inches) in 11 months. Even her feet have grown nearly two sizes. She looks incredible, healthy and well. She is smarter than ever, working on grade two spelling words and practicing for her dance recital in June.

Her anxiety is manageable.
She is happy more often than sad.
Long, gorgeous hair is growing like mad.

God is good.
My heart is so damn happy.

While waiting for her oncologist to call her in, I took this photo.

With those bright, beautiful eyes of hers, she asked if we could confide in each other. We had made 'wish chip' wishes at lunch time, and she wanted to know if we had the same wish.

I told her the truth.
I wished for a clean scan, cancer free, and no appointments until October.

She looked at me and smiled.
"Me too, Mama."
Then she went back to her toys.

Well, warrior princess, wish granted.
Fuck you, cancer. You cannot bully us for six whole months.

#TeamBrooklyn #WarriorPrincess

Father Fear

Lately I've noticed fear hanging around.

Sometimes it's dark and heavy.
Other times it's quietly casting shadows.

But it's there.
Fear.

It's an interesting emotion. One I didn't always view as such.
Sometimes it looked like anxiety. Or anger. Or sadness.
Deep down, though, at the root of all those other emotions was simply fear.

Father Fear as I like to call it.
The one that has existed forever.
The one I rarely question.
It's so deeply rooted in my life experiences it becomes truth.

I am honestly scared to walk alone, day or night.
I am afraid that any depressed person I know will consider suicide.
I hear the word cancer and I cannot breathe.

Fear.
Big Father Fear.
Paralyzing, heart pounding, dream squashing fear.

Why do I let it win?
Why don't I question it?
Since when does fear trump passion? faith? love?

Truth is, I don't have the answer.
But I know this:

Fear + Courage = Progress

Just last week, for the first time ever, Brooklyn met a big, ongoing medical fear, and showed great courage. She breathed, remained calm and believed she could. And she did.

Major progress.

Five years ago, scared out of my mind, I left my full time job to spend more time with my children.  I found courage to let go of assumptions and ideals and the opinions of others. Thanks to a courageous heart, I have spent the last five years amassing time and memories with my children, without a single regret.

This is massive personal progress on my path to a life well-lived.

So now, it's time.
To have courage, once again.
All of us.
To really live our lives.
Love our here and now.

Engage our passion.
Make our perfect moment.
Manage without the money. time. guarantee.
Embrace the nonlinear path.

Find our courage.
Breathe.
Stay calm.
Have faith.
And love.

The only way to beat Father Fear, is to embrace him.

A little unsteady

Three months down, and I am not a fan of 2017.

I have friends fighting bitter divorce and custody disputes.

Friends who have lost their children.

Friends battling bullies like radiation, depression and infertility.

Friends in a self-described funk.

I know people who are struggling, 

I am struggling,

to understand why life can be so outrageous and cruel.

I have nightmares about cancer, head lice and broken cell phones.

I worry about doctor appointments, childhood friendships and my career.

A headache turns into brain surgery and a stomach ache turns into relapse, if I don't stop myself from going all the way there.

"Hold

 Hold on
 Hold on to me
 'Cause I’m a little unsteady
 A little unsteady" - X Ambassadors

There is a collective sense of unsteady. 

We are collectively holding our breath.

It's time to take back our power.

Breathe, friends.

Breathe, self.

Anchor.

One day.
One hour.
One breath at a time.

We will persist.

We will rise.

We will triumph.

We will strengthen.

And in the meantime, we will hold on, together.

We are not alone.

We are simply unsteady.