The trouble with money...

Over the past year one of my biggest challenges being a single mom has been money.  Yes, finances.  No one likes to talk about it, no one likes to admit they don’t have any and a lot of people try to buy class with it.  

We are driven to want more, buy more, have more.  In the grand scheme of things, what does "more" even mean?  When the bottom suddenly falls out on you, "more" isn't even an option.  Day to day survival is.  Then, gradually, life has a way of settling.  You realize "more" was with you all along.

I spent many sleepless nights wondering how I was going to make this new life of mine work financially.  I would be up until 2 or 3am calculating, budgeting and was so worked up that I was physically sick more than once.  I mean, how can I do this alone on my income???  I have a part time job, run my own business (which really doesn’t contribute much to my income at all) child support payments coming in and my monthly child tax credit from Revenue Canada.  The total of my income per month is less than half of what it was when I was married.  But, here I am.  I have managed not to bounce a single cheque in a year and continue to pay all my bills on time.  I have the same expenses as I did with the four of us here but with less money coming in.  How can this be? 

Turns out, you don’t really need a lot of money to be happy.  Or “survive”.  I budget and it’s strict.  It’s not always “fair” but we always have enough.  And having enough is a state of mind.  I know I am fortunate…more fortunate than some in my situation.  I wake up every morning with a grateful heart appreciating what I have.  I also know that I want some ``wiggle`` room in my budget for the future.  Those decisions are totally up to me.  It`s freeing and terrifying to be responsible for my finances.  I am 100% responsible, succeed or fail.  I could have $1000 in my bank account or $1.00 in my bank account.  Either way, it's all me and I am doing it.

I have a car. It’s a nice car.  It is in one piece.  It runs well.  It’s not being repossessed out of my driveway. It’s great on gas.  I am content and grateful that I do not have to walk to the grocery store and that I can pick up go whenever I like.  Unless my car suddenly dies, never to be resurrected, I don’t see myself getting another one just for the sake of getting a new car.  I used to have a fancy van with automatic sliding doors, built in DVD player to entertain the kids and storage under the seats.  I don’t miss it.  Now we sing songs and play games on a trip.  There are toys in the back seat.  We communicate.  We laugh.

I do not own my own house.  I am ok with that.  I will someday and when the time comes, it will be something I can afford.  I will not mortgage myself to death for bragging rights to a concrete driveway.  If you have never lost everything, be grateful.  Because once you do, the type of hardware in your kitchen will be pretty meaningless.  Now I know some of you will draw your own conclusions with this. Thinking “she’s jealous” or “bitter”.  So before you get your knickers in a knot, this is untrue. I am happy for my friends who have these things.  It’s what they want and how they choose to live.  That just isn’t for me.  I like the uniqueness of my home.  I love that the drawer to left of my kitchen sink that holds my tea towels gets stuck every now and again.   I love the groans and creaks of an older place. I love that my door frame to the kitchen shows the marks of the how quickly my kids have grown over the years.  I love that my walkway isn’t perfect and has moss growing between the cracks. I love my lumpy brown lawn.  I love my maple tree in my backyard.  Trees are hard to come by these days.  I feel grateful that I was able to stay in the place we call home. 

My furniture isn’t the newest or the most expensive.  My dining room table is marked and scratched and worn with the memories of all the dinners, crafts, science experiments and laughter that lingers around each place setting.  Why would I want to trade that for a new table?  Antique dishes instead of modern pieces, mismatched cutlery and bowling alley glasses fill my cupboards.  These are important to me.  Sure I yearn for at least 8 teaspoons, yet they keep disappearing.  It’s not the cutlery that matters to me.  It’s the ice cream sundaes we eat with those spoons that makes me happy. 

My $50 Ikea chair is covered in paw prints, remnants of chocolate chip cookie and permanent marker.  It’s not overly stylish or even very nice looking.  However, it is the best chair in the house to curl up with a book, a cup of tea, take a nap or snuggle. You can actually use it. 

I have one TV in the whole house…gasp!!!  It’s not a big screen, bolted to my wall.  It’s not HD.  It’s not a plasma.  We have basic cable.  How do we survive you must be wondering?  We play, we draw, we read, we go outside, we make forts.  We create.

I have healthy kids who have learned to appreciate the value of a starry night, a picnic at the beach and the joy of lying in the grass guessing the animal shapes in the clouds.  Partly out of necessity and partly to keep the balance between the fun that you pay for and the fun that’s right in your own backyard. 

I guess my point is…why do we think we need more???  Your possessions don’t make you a better person.  They don’t make you nice to be around.  Your possessions, in my eyes, don’t define you. One of my favourite movies has this line in it:

"You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. "  Fight Club

Amen Fight Club.  Amen.

When you come to my home you will find shoes on the floor, smudges on my fridge, Lego men scattered among the books and toothpaste splatter on my mirrors.  You may even find the remnants of last weeks stink bomb that we created in our chemistry lab.  You will also find a place where you can put your feet up on my coffee table, set your drink down without a coaster, eat chips from the bag and walk barefoot on the mossy pathway.  You will find big dreams, imagination, rib crushing hugs and an open invitation for coffee. And love, alot of it.

Why am I telling you this?  Because my house isn’t a show house, it’s a home.  It’s messy and thrifty and well loved. It's lived in.  And that my friends, has more value than any professionally landscaped garden.  This was a lesson that I needed to learn. 

Without the events of the past year, I would still be trying to keep up and live beyond my means.   I came to realize that when I lost everything, I was given the opportunity to live life on my terms.  I was tired, stressed, scattered and afraid. I was dragged along the path of fear.  Afraid that we won’t have more than them.  Afraid of what others will think if we didn’t have this or that.  Afraid that we would never have enough to meet the standards of the ``friends`` we spent time with.

In place of feeling inadequate, stressed and anxious that I didn’t measure up, perspective, gratitude, peace and contentment filled my life once I realized I am not my bank account.  (Says the mostly broke woman who still dreams of winning the lottery)

Time has given me the amazing gift of knowledge.  Knowing that this moment is all I am guaranteed in life.  And it didn`t cost a thing. 

Dear Future Me

I had a lot of ideas floating around in my head for a post this week.  None of them felt just right.  I either couldn’t find the words, wrote and rewrote or just didn’t think it was “time” to write about the particular thoughts that have been bouncing around in my head.  I had three posts written this weekend and saved them for another time.  They just didn’t feel right.

As I sat here tonight and pondered what I would write about, I scrolled through my documents hoping that I had by chance written something super amazing previously and saved it for a rainy day.  All I could find was a letter I had written to myself a few months ago…mid May to be exact.  I wrote it shortly after I returned from my trip to Vancouver when I was feeling particularly hopeful that life was going to be ok.  When my therapist first told me to take on this “project for self-healing” I was a little wary.  But I am glad I did it.  I think everyone should write a letter to themselves once in a while. It’s healing and freeing and enlightening. 

It’s been three months since I first wrote that letter to myself. It’s no wonder that the things I wrote about then are the still the same lessons that I struggle with now. I really do need to look at it with some perspective as it has only been a short time since I managed to find the words.  I didn’t intend to read it again until next year.  I certainly didn’t intend it to be a post for my blog.  However, since I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason and I stumbled upon this letter today, I have decided to share it with you. 

In fact, after having quite the pity party for myself this weekend, I know for certain that I stumbled upon this letter for a reason.

Dear future me,

I am writing this letter to you as you approach the one year mark in your new life.  When you read this letter next year, and the year after and the year after that, you will see just how far you have come.  Clarity takes time.  Since I know you better than anyone, I think I am fully qualified to write such a letter.

This letter will likely be painful for you to read — perhaps even more painful than it has been for me to write. It may bring back sad memories; it may make you wonder how this whole thing is going to turn out.  What you must know right now is that nobody wants you to succeed more than I do. 

I hope that you'll remember that you wanted to learn as much as you could from this experience to avoid making future mistakes and that in the end, you wrote this letter to remind yourself of all you do have.

Think back to those first hours, days, weeks, months. The pain, the heartache, the loneliness, the turmoil, the fear, the hopelessness, the lack of confidence, the feeling that you would be alone FOREVER.  Do you still feel those things now? Has the pain dulled a little?  Have you stopped crying at the drop of a hat?   When you read this letter a year from now, you will have time and healing on your side. You will wonder how you ever made it through.  Let me remind you.

Remember when your best friend took you and your kids into her home for the weekend, gave you a foot rub and let you cry while he moved his things out of the house.  Remember that is was this same friend who was there for you when you returned to a half empty house.  Remember the friend who waited on you hand and foot for an entire weekend because you just couldn’t fake a smile anymore.  Remember the other best friend who still takes you home after a hard day and makes dinner for you and your kids.  She is the one who ran down to your house at 10pm in her pajamas to comfort you when he told you about his 27yr old “girlfriend”.  You cried and she listened.  Remember the Christmas elves who surprised you by coming to the door with gifts for you and the kids because they knew you needed to feel love at that moment.  Remember the friends who picked you up and listened to you cry by sharing their stories so you knew you weren’t alone.  Remember your family who has always stood by you.  Remember the messages and texts and phone calls from people who care about you.  Remember the people who cared for you in those first months by distracting you with scary movies and terrible coffee. Remember the connections and reconnections you have made, how these people have lifted your spirit in ways you didn’t think was possible.  Think about the amazing support of people you don’t even know who follow your story.  Don’t forget that you flew across the country to indulge in a much needed re-charging and laughed for 6 days straight.  Flying…that’s huge for you.  (You need to travel more by the way)  These are things that will sustain you, help you live the life you deserve.  Continue to be grateful and pass it forward.

There will be struggle; there will be moments of complete melt down.  It will not always be this way.   You will have many things happen to you that you would not have chosen, and that’s ok. You will see that your life will be so different than it is from today.  Embrace it…learn from it…feel it.  Remember that no matter how hard things get, it won’t last for long.  Life ebbs and flows, it’s ok to be afraid, to feel sad.  It’s also ok to let go of the fear and guilt and live the life that is waiting for you.  Living is much better when you actually do it.

I know you have had moments of self-doubt, loneliness. It’s ok to feel what you feel…just don’t dwell on it for too long.  You will still have these moments in the months to come, but they become less intense, less heartbreaking and more easily managed.  Among these moments is where you will find strength, inner peace and clarity.  You will realize the life you thought you wanted wasn’t what was meant for you.  You are capable of so much more.  I am proud of you for handing this with grace and courage and for being gentle with yourself through the process.  For listening to your heart and doing what you know is right.  It takes great courage to come as far as you have. 

Don’t lose yourself in the” what if’s”, the “should haves” or the” could haves”.  Embrace the why not, the possibilities, the adventures.  Sure it’s scary, but you’re not going to get anywhere standing still.

Embrace the craziness of life with the kids.  They won’t remember the “stuff” but they will remember the time you spent with them.  Know that all the open dialogue, tears, hugs and kisses, showing of emotion, extra snuggles and midnight star gazing have made a difference in their lives.  You did that…you make life amazing for them.

Know that you will meet someone sweet and kind, who will move your very soul and embrace your weirdness. You will meet someone who understands you and who will support you.  You will find love and it will be more than you ever dreamed.  He will show you beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are worthy of a happy ending.   He will be your best friend.  You will know what it feels like to be cared for and cared about.  He will love you for you.  Don't take him for granted, I promise you there is nothing better out there. And he is out there…it will happen when the time is right.

Stop worrying about what other people think.  Everyone will have an opinion of your life and what has happened.  The gossip, the constant defending of yourself, the lies, the half-truths…they don’t matter in the end.  What matters most is that you can walk away from all this with your head held high, with dignity and integrity intact.  You are not your past.

Some bridges are better burned.  You will see this is true.  Maybe not today, but you will.

Stop feeling guilty and stop playing the victim.  Yes, what has happened is horrible.  Its heart wrenching and sad and terrible.  Your “damaged” heart will heal.  You will live an amazing life.  But only if you stop this self-defeating guilt trip you lay on yourself.  You are not the first single mother and you won’t be the last.  So knock it off. 

Don’t worry so much about not having the life you thought you should have.  Don’t resent the people who have what you think you want and don’t let hatred poison your kind heart.   Karma will take care of all that.

People will treat you the way you let them treat you.  You know this.  Yet you continue to be a door mat.  Stop it.  As harsh as it sounds, get a backbone.  Sometimes you have to say no…and mean it.

Stop always doing the right thing, the safe thing.  Live with an open heart.  It’s risky, but the choice will reward you tenfold when the timing is right.  Step out of your comfort zone.  Do all the things you want to do.

Keep laughing.  Do it a lot.  It will save you from insanity.

Forgiveness is hard and it will come.  Living with regret and hurt is even harder.  Give yourself a break and let it be what it is for now.

Stop trying to control everything.  Haven’t you learned yet that you cannot do this?  There are some things you just cannot change…so stop trying to change them.  Instead, change the way you handle these annoyances.  Because in the grand scheme of things, that’s what they are, annoyances.

Have you even forgiven yourself yet?  No one is perfect.  And knowing how hard you can be on yourself, I ask that you forgive yourself first.  This was not your fault, in spite of what gossip network has to say.  You did not make him leave.  You did not make him choose a different path.  You did not prevent him from being happy.  He chose those things.  You enabled him.  We all make mistakes.  We all wish for a do-over at some point in our lives.  What has happened to you and your marriage does not define you.  It does not predict your future.  It will make you stronger and allow you to live a more peaceful life.  I know this one will be hard for you.  Just trust me on this one.

The loneliness and fear will subside.  There will come a time when you are comfortable with yourself and your path.  Don’t force it.  Strength will come in many forms and day by day you will find yourself stronger. Be patient, which I know is not your strong suit.  Know that the universe had a plan for you then and has huge plans for your future.  These events will lead you to a beautiful life full of peace and joy and love.  These events are aligned for you.  Just believe.

There are people who will shake your soul to the core and there are people who will steady it.  Spend more time with the people who steady it.

You are beautiful.  Even when you have spent the weekend alone, in your pajamas, crying your eyes out.

While we are on the subject of crying…I know you are a sensitive soul.  You put on a brave front, but deep down you are needy and emotional and scared of being left behind.  Enough of that.  Keep your sensitive side, it’s who you are.  Allow yourself to realize you don’t always have to be strong.  It’s ok to need help.  It’s ok to say I am tired.  It’s ok to say “no, I am not ok”. 

Think back to all you have accomplished…things you thought you would or could never do alone.  You took a huge risk writing your blog and publishing it for the world to read,  you took ballroom dancing lessons alone, you went to the movies by yourself, you conquered  the world of water softener salt, you finally managed your finances and know that “enough” is a state of mind, you took apart a sink drain and successfully put it back together, you are raising two amazing kids who are two of the kindest souls around, you manage your home maintenance, you work outside the home at a job that sometimes takes all you have, you run your own business , you scrape dead frozen mice off the walkway without too much girly screaming, you dug out your wedding box and dress, remembered the happiness and avoided burning it all.  You built a death star on Christmas morning without any tears.  Don’t forget you get out of bed every morning with an open heart.  That takes courage. 

Be proud…you did these things on your own. 

Re-examine who you think you should be and just be who you are, no apologies, and no excuses.  You are powerful, more powerful than you will admit. You have the power to change things.  Anything.  Everything.  I am proud of you for standing up for what you know is right…even when people told you that you were to blame.  You took the high road, continue on that road.  You may want revenge; you may want him to hurt as much as you have.  Don’t go there. 

Do you remember when you thought that you would never be whole again?  Do you remember when you could not see the light?  Do you remember when you thought that nothing would ever be the same?  News flash… things are not the same and you will be grateful for that.   You will see that for the amazing gift it is.  Know that your light is shining brighter every day.  Sometimes you let “stuff” cloud your vision, (there’s the control freak coming out again) but trust me, the light is there, strong and ready to take on the world.  Leave the “stuff” behind.  You will figure out a way how to do this.  You have come so far from those first months of heartache. You are amazing.  Keep going, keep moving forward even when you want to give up.

Breathe.

Be grateful.

Keep wearing your heart on your sleeve.  It’s a good look for you.

With all my love,

Me

Parking Lot Inspiration

As a writer, you require a little boost of inspiration from time to time.  This week was one of those times.  I had lots going on in my life and inside my head, none of which were blog worthy or appropriate. I typically draw on lots of areas in my life to inspire me…my children, my family and friends, significant people in my life, my work, nature, my journey in general.  However, I found myself with nothing to say.  Horrifying I know!

I did laundry, spent time with friends, cooked, cleaned, texted, emailed, reflected.  I had a few days of vacation time and embraced my kids.  All the normal things one would do during the week.  I also blew a gasket at one point, let the foul language and anger spew out, and then brought it all back into perspective.  I know a lot of you were hoping I would post about that, however, it doesn’t serve a positive purpose, so I am not going to. 

As I got a little more frustrated, because as most of you know, I am not usually at lacking in the word department, inspiration found me in the strangest place.

The parking lot at the grocery store.

Before I move forward and tell you how this parking lot inspired me, I am going to drift off into thought for a moment.

When you commit to spend forever with someone, your intention is not to get divorced down the road.  Unless you’re a Kardashian…then carry on.  You promise, you vow, to journey through this life together…good, bad, beautiful and scary.  As we all know, that sometimes just doesn’t work out.  And that’s ok.  But why not?  Why does it work for some and not for others?  This is a question that has plagued me since my marriage ended.

I believe I am on the path to answering that question. 

Back to the parking lot.

Feeling happy and comfortable in my own skin, confident in my life and my new direction, feeling supported, cared for and gasp…liked (a considerable amount) I was reminded of what really matters.  It's like the universe doesn't want me too comfortable or complacement and sneaks these moments in every now and again.

As I left the grocery store and was settling into my car, I saw an elderly couple shuffling along, side by side, both using the cart to steady their movement forward.  His tall, lanky frame, weathered with age, walked proudly beside her.  Her petite frame clothed in a blue pants suit and sensible shoes walked briskly, her little steps keeping up with his longer strides.  They made their way slowly across the parking lot, oblivious to the dirty looks of the impatient shoppers who obviously had things to do and no time to wait for this couple.

As they reached their car, which was parked right in front of mine, it became clear to me that the husband was much frailer than his wife.  He also had the look of slight confusion, which, due to the nature of my “real” job, I am quite familiar with recognizing.  He held on to the cart with a look in his eyes not unlike that of a small child.  Part trepidation, part wonder as he stood with the sun on his deeply wrinkled face, smiling.  She gently tucked his wayward shirt tail back into his pants, making sure that even though he was obviously confused, that he still had his dignity.  He watched his wife with intense interest as she loaded the small bags into the trunk of their car, with a look that can only be described as love…pure, simple, uncomplicated and very real.

I saw her glance at him, say a few words and watched his eyes light up as he laughed.  A loud, booming laugh I didn`t expect to hear.  I don`t know what was said, but whatever it was, it made his whole face smile. 

Groceries secure in the trunk, the wife came around to where her husband was still griping the grocery cart handle, to keep steady.  What I saw in the next moment brought me to tears…most things do, but this was a cry that came right from the very depth of my heart.  These tears did not gently slip down my cheeks like they do in the movies…these tears came with heaving sobs, a runny nose and quivering lip.  All the ladies know what I am talking about…this was the “ugly” cry.

Anway…

The wife stepped around the cart and stood beside her husband.  He placed his frail hands, one on each of her wrinkled cheeks, steadied himself, tipped her face to his and kissed her, right on the lips, with such tenderness, respect and gratitude that it took my breath away. 

He drew back and they stood for a few moments, still with his hands on her face, looking at each other with the wisdom only age can bring.  They know it’s these moments that matter most.  It’s not about “stuff”, it’s not about revenge or regret.  It’s not about whose kids got the best report cards or who just built a new house or a concrete driveway.  It’s about making a conscious decision to stop the world for a few breathtaking moments to be present and grateful.  It’s about recognizing that at the end of our journeys, regret and a landscaped flower bed isn’t going to tuck your shirt in for you. 

The wife took her husband by the hand and supported him as they rounded the car to the passenger side.  She opened the door for him and he slid gratefully into the seat, folding his long legs inside.  I watched as she leaned in the car, fastening his seatbelt for him and place a loving kiss on his forehead.  Knowing he was secure, she closed the car door gently, returned their cart, got into the driver’s seat and carefully drove away.  I could have missed this entire lesson, had I been impatient and ignored the people around me.  In less than 10 minutes, this couple clarified a great deal for me. 

I can only assume that a couple of their age (likely in their mid 80’s) have been through some hard times. I also can only assume that life may not have always gone the way they planned.  Yet, here they are enduring, maintaining, still nurturing each other.   I found myself wondering how they made it.  I am sure they had arguments, resentments, children, money issues during their journey together.  I suspect that she is his main caregiver at home, possibly cutting his food, washing his face, combing his hair, tying his shoes.  Obviously by the enormous laugh I heard come from the husband, even after old age crept in, they have humour in their lives.  That my dear readers are what our journeys should be about.  Commitment, trust, respect, laughter and unconditional love.  10 minutes in the parking lot of a grocery store reminded me that forever is possible. 

We get so wrapped up in our work, who is doing what with whom, money, having “more”, our kids….life.  We end up taking each other for granted.  The couple that inspired me today reminded me that I don’t want the disposable life that is all too common these days.  I want simple. I want the good, the bad, the scary and the beautiful.  And when the time is right, my second chance will matter.  It will be my chance to make my journey simply amazing. 

Today is the day that my life becomes less of reminding myself about what I didn’t have and more of making today matter.

What the what???? Say it isn't so

Well, it finally happened! Two kids and almost 11 years of parenting, Monday morning was a first.

My sensitive, sweet baby boy (who is 7 by the way) told me for the first time in his little life that he didn’t love me.

In all honesty, neither one of my kids have ever said that to me, or gasp, said the ever hurtful “I hate you.”  So it shocked me to hear it come from his sweet little lips.

I knew eventually it would happen, all kids go through it.  What shocked me was the fact that there was no reason for it, or so I initially thought.

Having the house to ourselves as my daughter was away with a friend on a mini vacation, my son and I decided to build a fort and stay up watching his favourite tv shows.  We snuggled, ate chips and giggled.  We talked about his weekend with his dad.  All was well, we fell asleep in a heap together on the floor in the fort and woke up smiling.

The usual morning routine ensued.  Get shower, get dressed, prepare breakfast, made lunches, brush teeth.  As I called him to come and get his shoes on so we could head out the door, BAM, it happened.

He looked at me with huge tears spilling out of his eyes, his bottom lip quivering.  All of a sudden, the kid had a ‘stomach ache’. 

Since we were running a wee bit late already, and against my better instincts, I rushed him along, saying he would be “fine.”  I know I really dislike when people brush me off with a “you’re fine”, so I should have taken a moment to choose my words more carefully.

Out of nowhere I have to dodge a flying back pack as he hurls his bag at me, tears flowing, and says “I don’t love you anymore.  I want ro be with daddy.”  He didn’t shout at me, he didn’t even waiver.  He looked me right in the eye and broke my heart.

I could have gotten angry, I didn’t.  I could have cried, but I held it in.  I could have demanded an apology and ordered him into the car.  I didn’t do that either. 

What I did do was took a deep breath, scoop him up in my arms and sat on the landing of the stairs. 

He sat in my lap and cried, his little body shaking, his breath ragged.  I held on to him tight and stroked his hair. 

I explained to him that I had to go to work today, he had to head off to camp and that if he still felt sick later this morning, I could be reached by phone and I would come to get him.

He looked at me and said that he lied, he didn’t have a stomach ache.  I played along pretending to be shocked.  I gently asked him to talk to me about what was bothering him.  I reminded him that keeping  “worry bugs” in his tummy wasn`t good and talking always makes things better. 

After a discussion about the lack of rules, structure or any predictability at all when with his dad, we discovered that, contrary to his father’s beliefs, my sensitive boy isn’t coping well with the transition from dad’s place to home.  It really hasn’t been an issue in the last year and you would think that he would be used to the routine by now.  For whatever the reason, this was the day that the flood gates opened.

This is where the “I want daddy” part comes in.  Daddy has no schedule on the weekend, mommy has a job and camps and kid`s schedules during the week day to adhere to.  It's a rough transition between 24 hour fun time and the weekly grind of routine.

I am the peace keeper, the rule enforcer, I always have been.  When the kids are with their dad, it is chaos.  Late nights, day trips, eating/drinking whatever they want, shopping for toys, large amounts of pop at 9pm because “it’s dollar drink days and they were thirsty”, no schedules, no rules, no consequences.  It’s actually quite frustrating because number one, I can’t say anything about it and number two, I am left to deal with the aftermath of every free for all weekend. 

The question I have is…why am I the only one taking responsibility for the raising of our kids?  We all have responsibilities.  To our jobs, our families, our friends, our planet, ourselves, even to our fellow man.  It’s part of being a grown up.  What about the responsibility of raising our children?  By all means, have fun with your kids, treat them (occasionally), do fun things, but for the love of all things holy, be a parent!!! 

During our married life, I was the ruler maker, he was the rule breaker.  The good cop, bad cop routine worked for us.  We were a team and the kids always knew that no matter what, mom and dad were on the same page.  Things are different now, mom and dad are not on the same page, or even in the same library anymore and he actually has to parent these children on his own.  The kids are confused, dad is trying to buy their love out of guilt and mom is tired and frustrated.

 Now, I can hear some of you…”just because he doesn’t parent the way you do, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”  Blah, blah, blah, whatever.  I am not complaining about the way he parents (when he actually pulls it off he is a great dad) I am complaining about the lack of respect and good judgement when you are 100% responsible while your kids are in your care.  

I am talking about the absence of discipline, the disregard for limits and the lack of common sense.  I am not talking about let`s have cereal for supper, I am talking about `forgetting` your kids at a ball diamond at 10 pm kind of responsibility.  I could provide a hundred different examples, but I am not going to.  

Maybe I am totally wrong, but I don’t think so.

Those of you who know me and my family well will say he never knew what the word responsibility really meant anyway.  Very true.  However, when faced with the task of parenting on your own, you would hope that some sense of personal ownership of responsibility would kick in.

There`s always hope, right?

Ok, fast forward to the sobbing boy sitting in my lap. 

I kissed his little face, wiped away his tears and told him I appreciate how hard it must be to find his place in this new family.  I told him I loved him.  And that was enough for him. 

He asked me if he should apologize for saying he didn’t love me anymore.  He cried and asked me to forgive him, telling me he didn’t really mean it.  We talked about using different words and ways to describe our feelings, but we should never apologize for how we feel.    Because in that moment, he did want to be with his dad.  I wasn’t about to downplay his feelings or make him feel bad for saying what he needed to say. 

I told him that we need to acknowledge our feelings and be true to ourselves.  Feelings can be good or not so good, and no matter what, we need to take responsibility for the words we choose to describe those feelings.  Something I am always telling my kids, and I am sure they are sick of hearing it, is:  “Take responsibility for the energy you bring to any space.”  I follow that rule myself.  I think it’s important to be aware of that responsibility.

I told my son that it’s ok to feel angry, to feel hurt, to feel upset, to feel confused, but take responsibility for those feelings!  You can’t control what other people say or do to you, but you can control your reaction.  Hard stuff for a 7 year old to understand, even harder for some adults who like to lay blame. 

All I can do is my best…to give what I have and be proud of the gifts I have been given. 

                                  

Strength...it's never too late to find your power.

My bucket post really got a huge reaction.  It took me two days to get through the messages and emails that came after that post.  I answered every one of them by the way.  The love and support that came from you overwhelmed me.  Thank you to each and every one of you for your kind words.  Even 10 months after starting my blog, I still get messages filled with love and support and people (some I know, some I don’t) telling me they can relate and they are inspired by what I write. It’s incredibly uplifting. 

The one word that wove its way through every text and message I have received was “strength”. 

So many of you have told me you admire my strength.  Many of you wish you could find the source of your own strength. 

I think it is important for my readers to know, my strength did not appear overnight.  It requires daily intention, focus and persistence.  My kids provide me with strength every single day.  However, this is not what this post is about.  My kids, my family, my friends, all actively fan the flames of my strength, every single day.  This post is about the ugly side of actually reclaiming power.  It’s for all of you who are struggling and need hope that yes, you can find your way back.

Because I am always honest in my writing, I am going to share my struggle finding strength.  I want my readers to know that my strength came from the depths of a very dark place. What happens in the darkness of change isn’t always pretty so I want my readers to know that the positive, strong person I am now, required work and alot of it.  So, for those of you struggling finding your own strength, read on.

At the beginning of my new life as a sinlge woman, it felt like I was hardly coping, that I was stuck in a dark place of fear, pain and confusion. Externally I seemed to be managing.  I went to work, took out my trash, got my kids to school, but that’s about it.  I was going through the motions and did just what was necessary to make it through the day. 

I didn’t eat, I slept on average 3 hours a night and lost about 20 lbs in the first month from stress.  It was a time of hopelessness, fear and sadness.  Sleep came only after the nightly sobbing ceased and my body and mind had taken over and forced rest.  I still don’t sleep well, and am patiently hoping that will come with time. 

Once I came to the realization that my marriage over, I turned to therapy.  Even though couples therapy wasn’t an option, I made the decision to start and continue with therapy on my own. It was a solid start to reclaiming my power.  My therapist gave me insight, tools and encouragement.  He was an extremely important part of my healing process.  A small spark of strength started here, because going to therapy and gasp, admitting you are in therapy, is not an easy thing to do. 

Regaining my strength came from the knowledge that I needed to retreat.  I spent about 3 months locked up in my family room, on the couch watching Criminal Minds marathons.  Seriously.  If I wasn’t working, and the kids were either in bed or not home, I was in pajamas on the couch.  It wasn’t pretty, but it was necessary.  This was how I needed to cope and that’s ok.  This “hibernation” fanned my spark into a small flame.

I couldn’t go grocery shopping in my small town for about six months after he left.  I wanted to avoid meeting anyone I knew, I wanted to avoid remembering that we always shopped together, I wanted to avoid the questions and the looks of pity.  I wanted to avoid the familiarity of it all.  I actually would drive 20 km from the city I live in to do my shopping just to accomplish avoiding all of it.  Very few people know that once I actually started shopping at my grocery store in my own city again, I left my cart full of groceries in the middle of the store more than once and sat in my car and cried.  Finding courage to finally face the people in my small town, gave my little flame of strength what it needed to keep burning.

I am going to share this next bit of my journey because it’s something that people don’t want to talk about.  Taking medication for any kind of depression is still seen as weakness, no one wants to talk about it and frankly, I am tired of hearing how perfect everyone’s life is.  The fact is, that’s bullshit.  We all have “stuff” to deal with.   Can you imagine how freeing, how supported you would feel if we weren’t so afraid of being judged and we actually shared our struggles?  So, I think it’s important that my readers know that there was a point early on in my separation I was so over medicated that I couldn’t even care for my kids.  There are actually 4 days that if  I hadn't been told after the fact, I wouldn't have known where my kids were or who took care of them.  Thankfully I have an amazing network of family and friends who came to my rescue.  After too much time in a medicated fog of fear and pain, and the realization that I was one more prescription away from being hospitalized, I decided that I needed to feel what was necessary in order to move forward.  I was fortunate and with therapy and sheer stubborness, I did not need medication to climb back into the light.  I am a minority, I realize this.  Medication has its place in people’s lives.  I am not denying that.   Accepting that I needed medication, accepting that it wasn’t working for me and accepting that I could not hide from the pain, fanned my small flame of strength into a burning fire.

I suffered from panic attacks…a lot of them.  Once I realized what they were and that I wasn’t actually having a heart attack, I could manage them.  My strength came from knowing that I could work through an attack and be ok. 

Music provided and continues to give me strength.  It puts your confusion, sadness, fears, disappointment into words that you can’t seem to find otherwise.  Music gave me strength so many times. 

Life is unscripted, which means you’re guaranteed to be thrown into situations that are hard.  They are, quite simply, a test of your heart.  At some point, these situations will lead you to finding your strength.

I had a choice to either roll over and wallow in regret or get up and find a way to heal.  I got up. I decided that enough was enough.

I know that it’s absolutely necessary to take the small steps.  If you take the small steps, with time, you’ll look back and be amazed at how far you’ve come.  Once you can see how far you’ve come, your strength to move forward builds. 

I do believe that people are strong enough to endure the struggles they are faced with. Sometimes situations force us to create strength out of scraps what’s left of us. I think everybody has the capacity to rebuild themselves after falling apart, but it’s hard and it’s painful and in the end, it’s freeing.

I finally realized my fate is in my hands. I realized I am in control of my journey.  I had the answers I needed, I just need to be still long enough and listen. The universe always gives you the answers.

Embrace the struggle. Let it shake your core. Feel scared and weak. Feel vulnerable.  Accept that sometimes you don’t know what to do. Listen to your own soul and reflect. In your fear, you will discover your strength and power. Stay strong and fight back. Don’t let the fear overtake you.  Anything worth having is definitely worth the fight.  A life full of joy and peace is worth the fight.  It won’t always be a struggle.  Just believe.

With a full heart, I am thankful for where I have come from, all I have and for the things I have yet to discover.    

Today is the day I stop looking back because I absolutely want to keep moving forward straight into the amazing life that’s waiting for me.

My bucket

After a busy, rollercoaster week, I learned a very valuable lesson from my 7 year old son.

The week had been a bit stressful…feeling tired, emotional, pulled in every direction and generally feeling sorry for myself, there was a moment that if I had chosen to ignore, would have never provided me with the clarity that I needed.

As I stood in the kitchen doing the dishes, feeling genuinely sad and lonely, wishing I had a partner standing there with me to talk to about my week, my son came up to me out of nowhere and put his little arms around me.  Because I was distracted and feeling annoyed, I continued doing the dishes.

He just stood there with his little arms tight around my waist, his head nuzzled into my back.

All I really wanted to do was get the damn dishes done and just sit for a minute, but he held on.

Finally, I stopped scrubbing and sighed.  I turned myself around to face him, thinking he was buttering me up to ask me something.  “What do you need?”  I asked him more gruffly than I really intended.

He looked at me, still with his arms tight around my waist and said, “I don’t need anything, I am just filling your bucket.” 

I have never seen him look more wise than he did right in that moment.  It was one of those moments that I am always rambling on about.  You know the ones…where the universe actually bitch slaps me into stopping what I am doing and take notice of what’s right in front of my face.

I dried my hands and sat on the kitchen floor, right there in front of the sink.  He climbed into my lap and I asked him to explain what that meant.

This is the wisdom of a 7 year old:

“Everyone has a bucket.  What you need to do is fill your bucket and someone else’s bucket with magic and love and happiness.  

When you do or say nice things for people who need it, you put a little magic in their bucket and you end up filling your own bucket too.  After a while, your bucket overflows and you have lots of good magic to give people.  Then their buckets over flow too. 

If you don’t say or do nice things for people, your bucket dries up and you end up feeling sad, because no one wants any empty bucket.  That’s not true for you because you are too nice.

If you always give your magic and nobody gives you some back, then you get tired and your bucket doesn’t get to overflow.  You always give so much magic to everyone…so much that it’s hard to keep up with your bucket.

I saw you looked sad and wondered if you were missing daddy because you always used to do the dishes together.  That’s why I thought I would come and fill your bucket. “

I just sat there in silence.  I cried, because that’s what I do and hugged him tightly.   I thanked him for filling my bucket and told him all the reasons I love him, so his bucket would overflow.

After kissing his little face all over, he declared he was “outta here because that much kissing is gross.” I remained sitting on the floor after he scrambled away and pondered the past week.  Did I fill anyone’s bucket this week, did I make an effort to pour some of my magic into anyone’s bucket? 

I have always been an open, giving person.  I don't hold back on telling people I appreciate them and respect them.  I try to do whatever I can to help someone when they need it. I am a great listener, an even better hugger and feel for other people’s struggles.   I strive to be a good person and give of myself even when I feel like I have nothing to offer.  I appreciate being the one people can rely on.  It makes me feel good.  I like knowing that if I can help, I will, giving all I have to the people I care about and quite often to people I don’t even know.  It’s just a part of me.  I laugh freely and love openly.  To quote my kids “your heart is just too good mommy.”

Still, I wondered if I had given enough.  My own 7 yr. old recognized my bucket was no longer over flowing.  Did I let the magic in my bucket stop flowing? 

It made me reflect on the past week, the past year even.  Through the turmoil and heartache, the ups and downs of our new life, I am pretty sure that the magic in my bucket suffered. 

In the midst of figuring out how to be a single mom, a single woman with a new identity, I missed some opportunities to overflow my bucket. 

How did I let my bucket run so low?  I know the answer to that question.  Avoiding life.  Plain and simple.

I often made excuses not to have family game night because quite honestly it hurt too much. 

For the first 8 months after the 4^th team member left the game, I wasn’t 100% present for movie night, day trips, hikes, trips to the park, snowball fights.  Instead I let my mind worry about finances instead of enjoying the laughter and silliness. 

I rushed through bedtime stories because I just couldn’t do it without the four us. 

I spent too much time worrying about the friends I lost along with the loss of my husband.

I allowed myself to get caught up in all the hurt, that I stopped enjoying the everyday things.

I let worry and regret consume me.

A variety of things took magic from my bucket.

With a grateful heart…I have made huge strides with my new amazing life and now that I can see how far I have come.  I stopped worrying about what could go wrong and saw what was right in my life, no matter how small.  I make a conscious decision every day to be present and live. I am enjoying my life.  Aside from the small glitch this past week, the magic in my bucket has increased leaps and bounds in the last little while.  A shared laugh over a latte, a quick kiss from my kids, a funny text, a reassuring hug from a friend.  All these things fill my bucket. 

Don’t let the magic in your bucket disappear…fill it whenever you can.  Let it overflow.  Don’t miss an opportunity to tell people what they mean to you, don’t hold back, give praise, give hugs, give kisses, say I love you, find the possibilities in every day, live with an open heart full of magic.

My kids are amazing little souls who constantly show me how appreciate the important things in life. It was a much needed reminder from my son that I must be ever conscious of how full my bucket is. 

Today is the day I continue to fill my bucket and the buckets around me.

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Free Spirit seeks patience...is it possible?

I am restless. 

Perhaps this is part of the process, part of the healing, part of the moving forward. 

I am restless to move ahead in my personal life, to stop being in this middle place.  What’s stopping me?

I am restless in my job.  I want to do more.  I want to make a difference and be recognized for what I can contribute.  Is it time for a change?

I am restless with my spiritual growth.  I am free to be, to practice, to embrace the spiritual side of myself that has been living quietly for many years.  What’s holding me back?

I am restless to do more, to give more, to be more than I am right now.  How do I allow courage to win over apprehension?

Typically I am fearless…jumping into everything I do with enthusiasm, faith and a strong will.  I am still that person, but the events, the people in my life during the past year have altered that somewhat.  I still give my whole heart and soul into everything I do and to everyone I meet.  But, I have become more cautious.  I am learning that I cannot plow forward forcefully, no matter how much I desire to. I cannot “make” things happen just because I want them to happen. I have learned that there are other forces at work that align me into the right positions at the right times. The universe always knows what I need and when I need it, regardless of how hard I try to make my wishes come true.  This is where faith comes in.  It was a lesson that I had to learn…one that I fought at first.  Then, one day I woke up and realized; it’s ok to be lead gently.  It’s ok to let the universe guide me.  It’s ok to acknowledge the gentle nudges that have brought me this far.  It’s ok to look for the subtle clues that will guide me to where I need to be. 

Nevertheless, I am restless.  Impatient for the next phase. 

I can feel the reset button close at hand, but it’s elusive at this moment.  Just out of reach.  I can feel it, its close, but not close enough to touch.  I feel ready for the next great chapter to begin, to push ahead.  Pushing, as I have learned, never works.  Perhaps the universe is gently telling me it’s not time, perhaps there are a few more things for me to learn before my new chapters are to be written.  These guide posts will appear when they are meant to appear, lighting the way for me.  Patience is required on my part.  I know this. 

I like my free spirit. I get excited about possibilities and whole heartedly appreciate life. I absorb the small moments, letting the moments be what they are.  But some of the time, I am in such a hurry to get to the “good stuff” that I miss the great stuff along the way.  I get wrapped up in the big picture, because the world seems to hold so much for me that I often have to tell myself, stop and just breathe. 

I am romantic at heart and a star gazer to the very core.  That in combination with a restless spirit makes for a difficult transition.  I am content, I am restless.  I live in the moment, I am a daydreamer.   I am practical and pensive, I use my heart as my guide.  I am responsible and reliable, I long to be free of restrictions.  I am intelligent and soulful, I am silly.  I am strong, but easily hurt.  Finding the balance is the key. 

I often have to stop and give myself a reality check and realize how far I have come and how much I have conquered. And I remind myself of the necessity of this journey.  

Nevertheless, I am restless.  Waiting for the alignment of stars.

Can a free spirit ready to burst forth and take on the world also be patient, trusting that she is exactly where she needs to be?  I think so.  My senses are wide open to the clues on how to get there. 

Today is the day that I continue to move forward, small steps, large steps, running fast and free if necessary, but always with a heart full of gratitude and faith that this journey is leading me somewhere amazing.