Sometimes, I Even Dance

Goofball in full effect

Four years ago on New Year’s Eve, I moved into my new home.  My ex-husband and I had separated five months before but had continued to live in the same house up until then as I looked for work and we tried to figure out how to do this whole thing (yep, lived in the same house as my ex for five months…good times).  I found a place on Kijiji – a three bedroom house, the main floor of one side of a duplex – and as soon as I saw the ad, I knew it was the right place for the girls and I.  I got the keys and began moving my things in on December 31st, 2012.

It was a difficult night but a good one.  An important one, and it was so appropriate that I was beginning my new life with a new year.  I took my wedding ring off at exactly midnight because I’m dramatic like that sometimes (Drama?  I have a degree in it!).  I vowed to myself that I would move forward and find my way and be strong.

Tonight, my plans got cancelled and I find myself home alone again on New Year’s Eve.  But this time, it feels different.  Four years ago, I was lonely.  Tonight, I’m just alone, and happily so.  Four years ago, I was terrified.  Now, I have my fears but I am brave.  I have made it this far and I’m still standing and sometimes, I even dance.  Four years ago, I didn’t know who I was and I felt I couldn’t be whole on my own.  Tonight, I am in the company of someone I love to be with, someone I have come to know and finally care for: Myself. 

I know now that I am a good person.  I know that I am stronger and more capable than I ever expected and than was probably ever expected of me.  I know that I am a goofball and any man who doesn’t find me funny is not the man for me.  I know that I am my favourite and truest self when my sister is home with me and we are laughing.  I know I will beat you at Scrabble unless you’re my mother.  I know my daughters think I hung the moon and I know that I am deserving of that love and honour.

I know that I can be alone on New Year’s Eve in my bed with my wine and my early 90s hip hop and my comfy leggings and I can be perfectly happy.

My counsellor often says to me, “And do you give yourself credit for that?”  I have a tendency to view progress in my life as an act of fate, as the result of some good fortune and not, in fact, as a result of the hard work I have put into enacting the changes that have made that progress possible.  I look back at these last four years and it could be said that not much has changed.  I am in the same rented home.  I have fewer dollars in my bank account and am in fact making less money than I was then.  I am still single.  But these are not failures.  I have made a home for my children where they are warm and loved, a place I am always happy to come home to.  And if my furnace breaks down, someone comes to fix it with no cost to me.  That’s not too shabby.  I left the job that paid well but was costing me my mental health, and I’m now in a job that doesn’t give me a lot in my bank account, but gives me confidence and a feeling that I’m doing something important.  I’d still like to find love, but I no longer need to.  There’s enough love in this home to last me a lifetime and alone is not lonely.  Alone is dancing in your favourite dress lip synching to Montell Jordan’s “This is How We Do It” and no man can make me feel better than that.

Four years, and sometimes the pain of it all is a breath away and sometimes the memories are like the scenes of a movie I saw once and can barely remember.  The fact is that a lot has changed.  I’m not the same person I was then.  I am the woman excavated from her.  Under all that fear and doubt was this woman who I am proud to be.  Flawed and at times still flailing.  Imperfect and at times beautifully impolite.  But fierce and loving and talented and busting her ass to make this short life a good one.

2017.  We’re properly in the 21st century now, kids.  It’s the 21st century so let’s live like we understand how amazing that is.  This is the future.  We’ve made it.  And we can make this year whatever we want it to be.

Four years from now, I hope I am as happy as I am tonight, whatever happiness is to me then. Whether I’m full to the brim after a year of incredible experiences with my daughters, or because of a job I love, or because I’ve written something that feels like the gorgeous truth, or because I’m in a relationship that celebrates the best of who we are together and alone.  Or simply because I have a pretty dress to wear and Montell Jordan to play on my iPhone.

I wish you and yours this kind of happiness, too.  Turn up the music and dance and celebrate how far you’ve come and the amazing things awaiting you.  Happy New Year, dear friends.  Here's to a great one.

How to Fall

Over the weekend, the girls and I took a trip to the playground, where an amazing thing happened: My little one, the firecracker, finally got the swing of the monkey bars.  

She made it two rungs, then fell.  She got back up.  She made it four rungs, then fell.  She got back up.  She fell straight away.  She got back up.  A few short minutes later and she had managed eight rungs in a row before falling, and she was beaming with excitement.  But she wasn't a big fan of the falling part.  

I found myself coaching her on how to fall.  I explained to her that, just like with learning how to do the monkey bars, falling takes practice.  "You've got to practice falling so you can learn how to fall without getting hurt." 

There are a few keys to falling safely, you see.

• You have to remain calm. You can't do the things you need to do to protect yourself from harm if you panic and flail about.
  

• You have to expect to hit the ground. Maybe there's someone to catch you and if so, that's wonderful. Safety nets and loving arms are fantastic for falling into. But they're not always there. Recognize that you are capable of controlling the fall and landing on your own two feet, when things slip out of your grasp.
  

• You have to fall with those two feet beneath you, so that when you land, you can hold yourself up. If you can get your two feet beneath you, if you can do whatever is in your power to help yourself, you can steady yourself and rise back up to standing.
  

• You have to bend your knees when you land, so you can handle the weight of the fall. You have to stay flexible so you can adapt to the new ground you're standing on and find your balance.
  

• You have to go easy on yourself when a fall doesn't go as planned, when all the things you've tried to do to protect to yourself have failed and you hit rock bottom and fall flat on your face. Not everything goes to plan and you did your best. Falling takes practice.

My daughter thinks that the idea of practicing falling is pretty hilarious.  That's okay.  She already understands the most important thing about falling:  You have to get back up.

BYOB

Thanks, me. You're the best!

How do you love to be loved? 

I think that we each have a unique answer to this question, and likely a long one.  There are a lot of different ways we love and show our love for one another.  We tell someone the lovely things we think about them.  We surprise our loved one with a special treat.  We give our partner a back rub at the end of a long day.  We listen - to stories, to rants, to the unsaid words in the silence.  

But, what if you don't have someone in your life to love you in those unique ways that you love to be loved?  

Well, I propose that you Be Your Own Boyfriend.  Or Girlfriend.  Or Best Friend.  The title is not important.  Be the person you need.  This is about self-care.   This is about loving yourself in the ways you love to be loved.  There's no need to go without or to wait until someone comes along who can love you in those ways.  Love can be a DIY project.  

What follows are some of the ways that I have learned to be my own boyfriend, my own loved one.  These are, then, the unique ways that I love to be loved and they may not be yours, but perhaps these ideas will spark you to consider that question - How do I love to be loved? - and then put into action some simple ways to show yourself some of that love.  (Oh hey, future boyfriend!  I sent you the link to this post and strongly implied that it would be in your best interest to read it, didn't I?  Yeah, sounds like something I'd do.  Listen up.)

• Buy yourself flowers. Once a month-ish, I buy myself a bouquet of flowers from the farmers market, or scavenge for them in the countryside. For me, flowers are one of the cheapest sources of joy.
  

• Set your phone to send you sweet-nothings throughout the day. I'm not ashamed to tell you that I wake up every morning to a message on my phone that reads, "Good morning, beautiful." It's surprisingly heartwarming. As soon as there's an app that will make me breakfast, I think my iPhone and I will make it official. (Side note: I've also set my phone to buzz and pop up the message "Take your meds, lady!" at 8 am everyday. Whenever my kids hear that alarm go off, they shout at me "Take your meds, lady!" as a sort of conditioned response. It's one of my favourite things.)
  

• Run yourself a bath. Get out the fancy bubbles and bath oils. Pour yourself a glass of wine. Put on your favourite tunes or set up your iPad in some sort of waterproof cocoon so you can watch Friday Night Lights (guys, I know I'm late to this party, but OMG so good). Or screw all that and just splash around to your heart's content. I mean, it's you that's going to have to clean it up, remember, but what better way to clean the bathroom floor?
  

• Sit with yourself - not simply by yourself but with yourself - and listen for the words unsaid, as you would with a dear friend. Greet those words with kindness and an open heart.
  

• Celebrate your birthday. Don't wait on someone to plan a party or sing the song. Sing it yourself. Buy yourself cake. You'll be guaranteed to get the kind you want. If you can, spend the day doing something you really love.
  

• Cook your favourite meal, just for you. Take the time to pick out the right ingredients and to prepare the meal slowly and with love. If you are so inclined, light a candle and use fancy plates and sit at an actual table that is not a coffee table or a couch cushion. Or take yourself out for dinner. Trust me, you can do that. It may feel uncomfortable sitting at a table for one but in all honesty, nobody cares and listen to this: you don't have to share your dessert with anyone.
  

• Netflix and chill. By yourself. You heard me. Either literally or metaphorically. (Oh jeepers, now I'm going to have to explain this to my mother. Sex, ma, it means sex.)
  

• Rant out loud to yourself (perhaps in the privacy of your own home?) or get it out on paper. Is it as satisfying as ranting to someone else who will nod and mm-hmm and give you all the visual cues that they believe you are totally justified in your ranting? No, frankly it's not. But it still feels good.
  

• Get a massage. For my part, I recently bought a gym membership and the level of membership I purchased includes the use of hydromassage beds. When signing up for the membership, I thought I'd just give the massage thing a whirl but I didn't expect much. I assumed I'd decide I could do without. But then I tried one and HERE HAVE ALL MY MONEY. My kingdom for a hydromassage. Seven minutes of heaven that I really don't think a boyfriend could replicate. If you're keeping track, the robots are winning.
  

• Check in with yourself about how you're feeling. Loved ones, boyfriends, girlfriends...they check in to see if you're comfortable, if you're happy, if you're feeling safe. Are you warm enough? Are you having a good time? Do you want something to eat? Do you like where you are - this restaurant, this neighbourhood, this career, this life? Make a point of checking in with yourself and asking those questions.

These are just a few ideas and, as I said, they are my own and they may not float your particular boat.  The point is to consider how you can meet your needs instead of waiting for others to meet them for you.  This is about empowering yourself to create the love you want and the life you want instead of relying on destiny or luck to bring you what your heart desires.

But you know what?  I believe if you do this, if you learn how to show yourself the love you need, if/when someone does come around who wants to show you some love too, you'll know what you want, you'll know what your favourite kind of love feels like, and they'll have a shining example of how to love you in just the right way.  I believe this Dr. Phil-ism to be true: You teach people how to treat you. 

Show 'em how it's done. 

No Less than the Trees and the Stars

Working on it.

One afternoon a year or two ago, while wandering my local thrift store, I came across a large, 11x14 frame with white matting.  It was nothing terribly special but it was in great condition, and only a few bucks, and I thought it could be put to good use in my bedroom.  I knew just the wall.

I didn't, however, have anything to put in it.  And so, I proceeded to spend countless hours (yep, hours) scouring through photos and looking at art prints on Etsy, searching for just the right piece.  I wanted something inspiring to wake up to every morning. 

The frame sat in my closet, gathering dust, for several months.  I could have just thrown something in there, bought something suitably pretty, but nothing felt quite right and I wanted to hold out.  Picky?  Yes.  But sometimes it pays off. 

I was back in the same thrift store one day, casually perusing the aisles, when I spotted another frame, this one gold-hued and tacky.  This one had a poem inside, and as soon as I read it, I knew it was exactly what I had been looking for.  I bought the frame, brought it home, removed the poem and discovered, as I had hoped, that it fit perfectly in the empty black one.  (I donated the tacky one back to the thrift store...someone will love it!)

The poem is called Desiderata, Latin for "desired things", and was written by American writer Max Ehrmann in 1927.  (According to Wikipedia, it is often falsely believed to have been written in 1692, as it was included in a compilation of devotional materials at St. Paul's Church in Baltimore in 1956, and marked with the church's foundation date.  Indeed, at the bottom of my copy, it says "Found in Old St. Paul's Church, Baltimore. Dated 1692."  I have discreetly hidden that part under the matboard.)  While the poem was new to me, it seems that it has actually become quite well-known in recent years.  For good reason.  Here are Max Ehrmann's beautiful and inspiring words: 

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Success!

What more needs to be said.   

This scavenged poem now holds a place of honour on my bedroom wall.  Admittedly, there are days when it is just part of the landscape, when "the noise and the haste" get in the way of me taking the time to enjoy it, just as it gets in the way of seeing other joy and beauty around me.  But I find that when I do stop to take the time to read it again, the effect is powerful, and different parts speak to me at different times.  This week, for example, the line "enjoy your achievements as well as your plans" is particularly meaningful; as my to-do list keeps getting longer and my eyes are drawn to the handful of unchecked boxes, I am trying to give myself credit for the tasks I do complete, both big and small. 

Whether new to you as well or an old favourite, I hope you too can take something from Desiderata this week.  In fact, if you feel like sharing in the comments below, I'd love to hear what line speaks most to you at this moment.  And I hope you will remember that "you are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars."  Lovely.

Next Steps

Finding a few moments of beauty and joy in a parking lot, waiting for a mechanic to repair my car and hand me a hefty bill. Which says it all, really.

As many of you know, I left my job four months ago in order to recharge, spend more time with my daughters, and figure out a new way forward.  The decision was not an easy or hasty one - it took me a good year to get my ducks in a row and get up the gumption to take the leap - but it was absolutely the right one.  The past three years have been the most challenging of my life, and I knew that if I didn't stop and prioritize my health, my family and myself, there would be dire consequences for all three.

When I left my job, my thinking was this: I'd take two months (May and June), while my kids were still in school, to rest and think and have some time to myself, and then spend the following two months (July and August) enjoying quality time with my girls.  And then...well, I wasn't sure what would come next.

Those four months played out more or less as planned.  While the spring was not as productive as I had initially imagined it would be, at least in terms of coming to any grand epiphanies about my life and putting new plans into action, it served as a much-needed restart.  Around that time, I was speaking to one of my best friends about my frustration that I was not further along in figuring out my life.  She responded by reminding me that a machine, when it is restarted, needs some time to fully shut down before it can start back up again, and she urged me to be patient with myself.  I decided, then, to ignore the grand to-do list I had written and just let go.  I wrote without quota.  I read voraciously.  I worked out and nourished my body.  I haunted coffee shops and caught up with friends.  I relaxed, truly relaxed, for the first time in years.

By the time the kids were out of school, I was ready to be there for them in a way I hadn't been able to be for a long time.  While not every moment was picture perfect by any stretch, my time with my kids this summer was as wonderful as I had hoped it would be.  We went to the beach and explored the city, made living room nests and watched movies, took countless trips to the library and belted out Taylor Swift tunes on car rides, slurped slushies and sidewalk-chalked the driveway.  But most importantly, I held them in my arms and kissed their freckles, eavesdropped on their early morning sister conversations before they climbed into my bed with their poking elbows and soft cheeks and giggles and complaints, listened for "just a few more minutes" and smoothed the curls out of their sleepy eyes as they shared with me their amazing 5-year-old and 7-year-old thoughts and dreams.  For the first time in a long time, I felt I had a few more minutes to give, although I was really the one who received.

The one big adventure my daughters asked for this summer (aside from taking the city bus, which was also a hit) was to go to Canada's Wonderland.  And so, on one of the hottest days of the summer and a Sunday no less, we ventured there.  And had The Best Day.  It was only later that I realized that I hadn't even flinched at the idea of taking the girls there all by myself and dealing with the crowds and the heat and the line-ups and tired little legs, a situation which, in the past, would have been far too daunting for me to even contemplate.  It hadn't occurred to me not to do it and it hadn't occurred to me to be nervous that I couldn't handle it.  I was relaxed and expected to have fun, and so we did.  This realization highlighted for me what this time has given me: it has allowed me the chance to restore my faith in myself and my ability to not only handle any challenge that comes at me but to create a happy life and joyful moments despite those challenges, whether they be the oppressive heat or obnoxious crowds or negativity or what others think or heartbreaks or disappointments.  It has allowed me to move a few steps closer to becoming the parent, and the person, I want to be.

But now, it is September, and the kids are back at school.  So now what?  A part of me has been dreading September and the questions that were waiting for me here, the main one being how I can support my family and build the life I want through a career that allows me to use my talents and do something of value.  I've spent the last few months and several sleepless nights wrestling with these questions, trying ideas on for size, researching options and hitting roadblocks, tuning into my intuition and turning away from anything my gut tells me is the wrong path for me.  I still wish to pursue a writing career; in addition to my writing here, I have finished the first draft of my children's book and it will (WILL!) be sent out to publishers by the end of this month.  And then, I'll be starting on the next, and my writing will continue to be a priority.  I have big plans for this website, and several book ideas queued up anxiously awaiting my attention.  But, as much as I would love to ignore this fact and live my creative life, there are bills to pay.  Publication is, in large part, out of my control and frankly, no one ever went into writing for the money.  Luckily, I have more to give than words alone and I'm making some progress toward fine-tuning my understanding of what those skills and talents are and figuring out a (compensated) place to put them to use.

To that end, this fall will be about testing my hypotheses and beginning to put toes in the water to give some ideas a trial run, amongst other relevant metaphors.  In addition to continuing with my writing and keeping my kids and my health front and center, I will be taking a few courses to further my education and I'm pursuing some volunteer opportunities that will help me to reconnect with my community and gain some experience in fields that I think would allow me to do important work I care about.  I'm also working with an employment counsellor and applying to positions that I think might be a good fit, both for what I'm looking for and what I can offer.  And I'm staying patient, and continuing to have faith in myself.  I have the luxury of having more time to sort things out, but I'm not taking that luxury for granted and I'm aware of the possibility that my best-laid plans may not work out as hoped.  I'm okay with that.  I think that optimism and realism can live hand in hand.

So we'll see.  That's my answer right now to all inquiries about what I'm going to do now.  We'll see.  I'm as curious as anyone.  I have these next steps in place but I have no idea where the staircase leads.  Do any of us?  What I do know is that I couldn't have done all of this and made it this far without the tremendous love and friendship around me, and I want to take this moment to thank you for continuing to read my words here and for offering me your own words of support and advice. 

I don't know what the future holds.  I don't know what I'll be doing and what my life will be like another four months from now.  But I'm more excited about that than scared because I know I can make molehills out of any mountains I may come across on my path, and I know these steps are just a small part of the journey.

You Can

You can make a funny face lunch. Or you can hot dog it for the third time that week. You get what you get and you don't get upset.

Parenting is hard work.  This isn't news, really, and I'm not about to say that nobody ever told me that it would be this hard.  Sure they did.  People say it all the time and I'm just adding my voice to the choir.  What I don't think is said enough is that we are, for the most part, doing a damn good job.  This is true no matter what kind of parent you are but I want to say this in particular to the single parents like me who, I know from experience, take self-criticism to a whole new level.

All parents doubt their ability to parent, worry that they have screwed their kids up by making the slightest "wrong" move, and can point to a dozen small but potentially scarring mistakes on any given day.  For many single parents, these doubts are underscored and amplified by the perception of one major fundamental failure: your failure to give your children an intact family, a happy childhood in one home.  There are all sorts of truths that can be applied to soothe and counterbalance this feeling, the primary one being that the kids are better off this way.  But no matter how true that is, no matter how much evidence you can compile to prove it, that one big thing that you were not capable of doing casts a large shadow over even the most amazing of triumphs.

I try to cast the light on what I'm capable of, to notice those triumphs and give myself credit for the things that I get right.  To get out from under that shadow. But it's hard. It's so much easier for us all to see our mistakes, real or perceived.  For that reason, I think it's important that we pay attention to and acknowledge our successes, no matter how small. 

In case you need the reminder, here are just a few examples of what you are capable of.  Although these are directed to single parents in particular, many of these apply across the board, and we all could do with applauding our victories and going a little easier on ourselves.

High fives for all the many things you can do:

• You can clean vomit off the carpet with one hand while rubbing your child's back with the other.
  

• You can calm down the kid who is convinced she sees tiny ghosts in her room, settle her back to sleep, then return to your own bed, alone.
  

• You can shovel the entire driveway while comforting the child who is crying because the snow is cold.
  

• You can broker a peace agreement between pint-size dictators while showering.
  

• You can find the bear at 2 a.m. and fix the covers at 3 a.m. and deal with the jammies that "feel weird" at 4 a.m.
  

• You can take your kids to a busy amusement park on one of the hottest days of the summer, by yourself, and not lose them or your sanity.
  

• You can read a bedtime story with silly voices and aching bones.
  

• You can put your daughter's hair in pigtails while you pee.
  

• You can give your kids a fun Christmas even if there's not much under the tree.
  

• You can weather the heartbreak of your child screaming that she doesn't want to live with you anymore.
  

• You can work all day, get dinner on the table, and help your kids with their homework before tucking them into bed and doing your own homework.
  

• You can dance your kids around the kitchen to make them laugh when all your legs really want to do is run away.

You know what else you can do?

• You can drink wine for dinner.
  

• You can serve pie for breakfast.
  

• You can eat the secret chocolate bar that you didn't tell your kids about, while watching Netflix in your bed.
  

• You can date. You can have sex. You can do those two things exclusively of each other, if you'd like.
  

• You can buy something for yourself.

• You can insist that it is bedtime in Ponyland because if you have to play My Little Pony one more minute you are going to lose your freaking mind.
  

• You can hide the Playdoh. You can just hide it and pretend you have no idea where it is simply because you don't want to deal with cleaning it up or even explaining about how you don't want to clean it up.
  

• You can LOSE YOUR SHIT. You can yell once in awhile and say the wrong thing and you can apologize.

• You can cry. A lot. You can cry in front of your kids. You can let them comfort you.
  

• You can forgive yourself.
  

• You can ask for help.
  

• You can show your kids what it is to be strong. You can show your kids what it is to be vulnerable. You can show them how to rise up and own their mistakes and their victories and their lives.

And another thing?  You can make your own list of your triumphs and update it regularly, even slap it up on the finger-printed fridge that you can totally just not clean any time soon.  You can toot your own horn and feel proud of yourself.  You can redefine "intact" and "family" and what it means to have a happy childhood.

You can do so much more than you think you can do and you can also do so much less than you think you have to, and everything will be okay.  You can count on it.