My Closed Door Policy

Hello from the outside

I've been thinking a lot lately about closed doors.   

We have all encountered closed doors in our lives:  those times when the chain is on, the bridge is drawn, and that thing that we really want is on the other side, out of reach.  Relationships we hoped to have.  Promotions we worked hard for.  Groups we longed to be a part of.  Jobs we thought would be perfect.  For my part, I've tried to pick the locks on a seemingly endless supply of closed doors these past few years, as I've pursued new career paths and relationships, with increasing frustration.  Time and time again, it seems, I get excited about a new opportunity, take a step forward, even get my foot in the door, only to have it slammed shut.

Recently, I had the experience of encountering yet another closed door.  I had been excitedly researching options for going back to school in a particular area of study that I have long thought would be a great fit for me.  I had decided that it was so obviously my path.  And yet, as I tried to find a way to make my dream a reality, I discovered that everywhere I turned I was met with closed doors.  This program is at a school that is too far away.  The one in town won't accept me because I already have a university degree.  This one looks amazing and I can complete it online and...oh, it would cost me my first-born (I'm partial to her).  As I flailed and cursed about yet another door closed in my face, I suddenly had the thought: "Maybe this door is closed for a reason."  

Huh.  I sat still for a few minutes, letting that sink in.  And then, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

I still really wanted that thing.  I was still frustrated.  I was no closer to figuring out what I was going to do next to move my career forward.  But I realized that although I may be powerless to open the closed doors, I have the power to change how I think about them and I can change my strategy for dealing with them.  

So I have devised a new approach: My Closed Door Policy.   These are the steps I plan to take the next time I'm left out in the cold.

1)  Feel the Feelings

Allow yourself to get sad, or frustrated, or angry, or all of those emotions at once.  Give yourself some time to feel whatever you feel.  It's tough when there's something you really want and you can't have it, especially when you've worked really hard to batter that door down.  Go ahead and cry and flail and curse.  Throw eggs at the closed door.  Figuratively, not literally, unless it was a relationship you wanted and he or she left you for someone younger, then by all means (although there are plenty of better doors).  It's natural to be upset.  Let it out.

2)  Stomp the Sour Grapes

Go one step further than just being upset.  Think about all the reasons why you didn't really want that thing in the first place.  It could be said that this "sour grapes" approach is not the most emotionally mature and is perhaps moderately delusional, but I think there's something to be said for thinking through all the not-so-great things that would have come along with the prize on the other side of the door, that now you don't have to deal with.  He was really funny and sweet, but now you don't have to spend every Friday night listening to him play in his terrible band.  That job paid well and might have been a good step in your career, but the hour-long commute would have been awful.  You really really liked her, but not so much spending time in her disgusting apartment.  Also, remember that you can't predict the future.  Those grapes looked delicious but I bet they were sour!  They very well could have been.  The fact is that you just don't know that what was on the other side of the door was as great as it seemed.  So this is the only time you'll hear me give this advice: assume the worst.  It would probably have been terrible.  Phew, guys.  Dodged a bullet there.

3) Conduct a Post-Mortem

Hold on a second: DID you really want that thing anyway?  Take some time to consider whether what was on the other side of the door was really the best option for you.  Sometimes it happens that we're so caught up in the pursuit, so busy knocking on a particular door, that we lose sight of the fact that there are all sorts of other doors we could be knocking on.  Think about why you wanted what you wanted, and then consider if what was behind Door #1 was really going to give you that.  The answer may very well be an emphatic YES.  "YES, I really wanted that thing and I still really want it!"  That's completely fair.  So now what?  Now, conduct a post-mortem.  What did you do to try to get it?  Why did it maybe not work? What could you do differently next time?  What other steps could you take to try to get it?  Maybe there's another way in.  But if the answer is "NO, you know what, I don't know what I was thinking, I don't really want that thing"...well advance to go and collect $200.

4) Search for the Silver Linings

Assuming you're not quite ready to advance to go, this step is when we quit our stomping about and focus on the positive.  The fact is that every missed opportunity leaves room for a better one.  So you can't have the thing you wanted?  What might you get instead?  This doesn't even have to be about creating a whole new big dream.  Keep it small: What are some of the positive things about the closed door?  I'll give you some personal examples.  I didn't get the job = I have extra time with my kids.  I didn't win the writing competition = I can work on making that piece even better before it is eventually published, which it obviously will be.  That relationship ended = I have more time to write on my website!  Even if the positive stuff doesn't make you feel all that positive at first, take some time to think about the good little things that might now come, and start to dream up the new big dreams too.  If you like the thought of destiny, maybe consider (as I did) that perhaps those doors are closed because that's not the path you're meant to be on.  Think about whether there may be another, better path for you.

A word of caution, however:  Sometimes a closed door is so difficult to cope with because we made the door THE ANSWER.  We constructed a storyline such as "Once I have this, this will happen" or "I'm supposed to have this thing to make up for the other thing I didn't get" and we overloaded the attainment of that thing on the other side with a whole lot of expectations.  Be cautious, in dreaming up the new big dreams, that you don't carry this process forward.  This step is about being optimistic, but it's important that you don't simply shift all your expectations on to the attainment of the next thing.  For example: This relationship probably didn't work out because he's not the man of my dreams and the next man totally will be and then my life will be perfect!  There are lots of ways in to the perfect life.  One door (one person, one job, one opportunity) is still just one door.  No matter how good that door looks in a three-piece suit.

5) Examine the Evidence

I'm straight up stealing this from my years of cognitive behavioural therapy (the fact that I've had years of therapy despite using this technique should not reflect poorly on the effectiveness of this technique).  SURELY this isn't the first closed door you've encountered.  What happened in the past?  Did you find another way in?  Did you find another door?  Did you cope?  If you're still standing then I'm going to assume a Yes, at least to that last one.  If you take the time to look back on the times when your way down a particular path was blocked, you may find that much of the time, in hindsight, it was really for the best.  Yes, that relationship ended.  But then you met someone new who was better for you.  No, you didn't make the team.  But then you joined that other club and made some of the best friends of your life.  Yes, a couple/dozen/hundred times the doors slammed in your face, but you pulled yourself up by your bootstraps and soldiered on.  Just like then, you can get through this now.  And there's a good chance that some day you'll look back on this closed door and thank your lucky stars you never crossed that threshold.

6) Have Faith

This could be faith in God or the Universe or some other form of spiritual power, if that brings you some comfort and helps you get through the tough times when life just isn't going your way.  I'm personally more interested, though, in the faith we place in ourselves and our ability to move forward and to enact change in our own lives.  It can be difficult to have faith.  It's one thing when we have the benefit of hindsight, when a new door is open and we can see why it was a good thing that the other was closed.  It's a lot more challenging when we are still knocking on doors and figuring out a new path.  It's hard to stay patient and optimistic.  But try to have some faith in yourself.  You've handled closed doors before and forged new ways forward. You will get through this and you will create an amazing life.  You can find the keys.  Better yet: you can create your own doorways.

As for me and my most recent closed door?  Having reached the dead-end of that career path, having had that thought that those doors may have been closed for a reason, I stepped back to reflect on what I want in my life.  I thought about other ways I could get there.  And I came across a new path with several optional doors that all seem to be open, at least a crack, a path that I feel even more excited about than the first.  There's still a long way to go and there are still plenty of other doorbells to ring that may go unanswered.  But I'm going to keep the faith, keep my new policy at hand, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, into the open door cracks.  Perhaps, this time, in steel-toed boots.

Jump for Joy: Inspiration Wall

You'll notice in the mirror's reflection that the photos of my girls have simply been relocated. I couldn't bear to put them in the closet. So, make that total 75.

The girls and I moved into our place three years ago and ever since, I have been waking up to a wall.  That is, when I am not waking up to a small person jumping elbow-first on to my pancreas, I wake up and stare straight ahead at a blank wall.  For a long while, I had a large multi-photo frame on the wall with pictures of my girls.  While waking up to photos of my two favourite people is lovely, it's important that I note that there are in fact (I've just counted) 66 other photos up in my tiny house that feature one or both of my daughters.  That's a little crazy, particularly when you consider that they also live here.  So, recently, I decided that it would probably be okay if there was one surface in this house without their sweet, smiling faces on it.  (And truthfully, I was also thinking that it might be nice if my room were a little less "mom" and a little more "amazing woman who a man might want to spend time with in that room".  Ahem.)

I've been thinking a lot, then, about what I want to wake up to (other than the aforementioned man) and I decided that I want to start my day with a view that inspires me to get up and get going and have the best day possible.  For lack of a better name, let's call it an "inspiration wall".  At first I thought it might take the form of a sort of vision board, but I quickly realized that I don't really have a problem with vision:  I am a pro-star at setting goals and I have a very clear idea of what I want in my future.  What I have trouble with is staying in the present, and keeping my values and priorities front and center so I can live the life I want to live right now. 

About a year or so ago, I found a little mirror I love as well as a pretty framed cork board, both at Home Sense I believe.  I put them in my closet, alongside an old picture frame, not really knowing where I wanted to put them.  Then a few weeks ago, I found a shadow box at Value Village that features four squares just the perfect size for these 4 inch by 4 inch illustrations of motivational quotes that I cut out of two books I bought last spring (at Urban Outfitters, if memory serves).  Suddenly I had all the pieces I needed.  

The organized, perfectionist side of me is pretty happy with how it has come together and how lovely and clean it all looks.  The rebellious side thinks it's altogether too pretty and is dying to throw things askew and add a "Fuck Yeah Let's Do This!" alongside the more classy, grown-up quotes.    Mama might need a secret inspiration wall in the closet for her more subversive thoughts.

In the coming weeks, I'll be talking about some of the elements included here in more depth, the scrawlings and quotes and why I've chosen them, but I'll share a little about the details here too, below.  I'm sharing this not because I think I'm so great or because I think I've come up with a perfectly curated collection that you should copy immediately.  What is pretty and inspiring for me will not be what is pretty and inspiring for you.  I am hoping though that this project might spur you on to think about your own values, priorities and goals and how you might put them in full view, whether on a wall or a post-it note or a screensaver, should you be so moved.  If nothing else, let me tell you that this is a pretty excellent project for a cold and snowy Tuesday afternoon.  The driveway will shovel itself (or it should, it's 2016, for goodness' sake).

The details:

• Frame within the frame bought at Michael's, then painted.

• Five priorities for self-care: create, move, connect, rest, laugh.

• "❤️ & soul" is a reference to my daughters, as well as to what I feel are my two vocations (work in social service and my writing). "Action" is my word for 2016. "Sisu" is a Finnish word that is about perseverance in the face of adversity; my youngest wanted to help so she wrote it out for me. "You are awake. You are awesome. Live like it." is a quote from Kid President, who is awesome.

• Some pretty, inspirational words. I plan to switch these out every now and then. These are the ones that I feel I most need to hear right now.

• "There must be a Pony!" is a funny little story about optimism, told on a postcard I found in Vancouver. One of my favourite photos of my sister and I, taken outside our grandparents' farmhouse. Flowers from the girls. A Corky and the Juice Pigs pin that reminds me of my high school friends. For some random reason, a note that says "Little Suzy Girl" contributed by my five-year-old. And words to make me brave.

Jump for Joy is a series on JTTG about small, simple ways to boost the joy in your life. 

Home

Home sweet home

My dad built this dollhouse for my sister and I back in 1983.  It's a pretty impressive little place.  In addition to six fabulous rooms, the home features an elevator, a stained glass window, and a rooftop terrace, and it's lit by Christmas lights which also serve as the "fire" in the brick fireplace at the center of the living room.  We played with the house a ton growing up until some point when I guess we played with it for the last time and, after gathering some dust, it was quietly stored away.

My mom took it with her when my parents split, my sister and I already adults by that point but with no children of our own quite yet.  She carried it with her through several moves, tucking it in basements and sheds, until it finally made its way to my home.  I hid it away in the crawlspace under the stairs, draped in an old duvet cover, waiting for the time when I could give it some TLC.

A grand piano, even. Fancy.

I pulled it out of hiding this fall to survey the damage, on a day when my kids weren't around.  The carpet was mouldy.  Some of the wallpaper was peeling.  There were chips in the wood.  One of the support beams holding the elevator was long lost.  But the bones were good.  It was solid.  And so the renovations began.  On kid-free weekends, I lugged it out of the crawlspace, pulled out the carpet, washed it down.  My father-in-law fixed the elevator.  And in the final weeks before Christmas, I put on the final touches.  I sewed tiny pillows and blankets and searched high and low for mini-Christmas lights to replace the 30-year-old ones that were a guaranteed electrocution hazard (those mini-lights were everywhere in early December, I swear, but a few days before Christmas, they were SO hard to find.  Thanks for coming through, Napanee Walmart!).  

I gave it to my daughters on Christmas Eve, lights a-flashing, and their eyes lit up in turn.  Numerous domestic dramas have already taken place within its walls, and there has been a lot of tucking in of all of the dolls into all of the beds, usually after they've been sent sliding down the roof one by one to the sound of wild giggling.  I remember my sister and I doing the exact same thing.

Check out these sweet bunk beds

I love that the dollhouse is now a hodgepodge of old and new: The brick of the fireplace is the same brick from the fireplace in my childhood home, the flowery blue wallpaper in the bedroom the same as that in our old dining room.  The grey paint I used to touch up various walls is the same grey I painted the bedroom in my current home.  Some of the furniture is the same my sister and I played with 30 years ago; other pieces are brand new, lovingly crafted by my friend Dan (who needs a website promoting the new dollhouse-furniture-making venture I am insisting he embark upon).  The new "hard wood" laminate I put down in the living room is a remnant from my in-laws' place.  The elevator is made using picture frames, leftovers from my dad's framing business, I'm sure. 

When I set out on this renovation project, I didn't anticipate that the process would also lead me to reconcile some things from my past.  As I pulled up old carpet, I pulled up old feelings, some happy and others not as much.  I chose to welcome them all the same, and sit with them awhile.  And then I put them to bed. 

Chillin' on the terrace in the cutest chairs ever.

And as I worked to clean up and refresh each room, I also found myself thinking about how I could improve the rooms of my own home in this coming year, not so much my physical home as the relationships and values that are my home base. The living room reminded me to spend more quality time with my family.  The kitchen: To better nourish my body, and take time for more kitchen dance parties.  While wallpapering the bedroom with the contact paper that covers the surface of my dresser, I thought about how I wanted to make my own bedroom a sanctuary and get more rest, and perhaps do more of that other thing that happens in bedrooms (reading, Mom, I'm talking about reading).  Setting the tiny Adirondack chairs on the terrace made me daydream about sitting in the sun, and I resolved to spend more time outside.  I lifted the garage door so the tiny people could take a road trip, and thought about how I want to go on more adventures, and leave my comfort zone once in awhile.

This little home.  It's so much more than a play thing.  I look at it and I see both my past and my present.  I see my sister and remember the fierce sisterly love that echoed in those little rooms, that same love that I hear on the phone line these days as we discuss relationships and careers and laugh over our stupid inside jokes.  That same love I see between my own girls as they send one doll up the elevator, another down the roof, with peels of laughter.

And I wonder if one day one of my girls will fix up the dollhouse for her own children, make her own changes, remember that same grey in her mom's old bedroom, marvel at the blue fleece blankets she once wrapped around little wooden limbs.  I hope she will.  I'll store it away someday when they've left the dolls tucked in one last time, and I'll take it with me, and it will be waiting.

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.

Wandering Home

Ooh all the pretty colours

Over the past few months, I've had the tremendous good fortune to travel to both the West and East coasts of my beautiful homeland, Canada.  In May, I ventured to Vancouver to visit my good friend Ada, a city and a set of arms that welcomed me with a basket full of joy and beauty.  Last month, I flew east to Nova Scotia to spend time with my favourite/only sister Leah and her partner Conor, a trip that included several days on gorgeous Brier Island in the Bay of Fundy.  And in between those trips, I threw in a weekend in Vermont for good measure.

Travel is a huge part of who I am and what I want for my future, and my desire to travel informs a lot of the decisions I make in my life.  It is part of the reason I live a fairly frugal existence.  When considering whether or not I should purchase something, I quite often find myself asking, "Do I want this more than I want to travel to <insert anywhere in the world>?" and the answer is usually a clear No.  I recently met with a new financial advisor, and when he asked me about my plans for retirement, I explained that my plan is to kick my kids out of the house, sell everything I own, and buy a one-way plane ticket out of here. 

This goal, to travel the world, is also at the heart of my desire to live a healthy life.  I want to get these arthritic bones up a few hills and down a few winding paths before my time comes.  It plays a necessary part in my romantic life, too.  Anyone interested in sticking with me for the long haul has to be prepared to either grab a backpack and come with me, or wait happily for me at home. (I'd send postcards.  I'd sexy Skype, if old arthritic broads are your thing.)

But for now, I am back home and, having exhausted my travel fund for the time being, home is where I'll be for the next wee while, save for a few weekend getaways.  And that's okay.  My homebody nature is as strong as my wanderlust, and I don't think that I see the two as diametrically opposed as I once did.  I have felt a great sense of home in places far from my own - in quaint coffee shops and quiet forest groves and company that feels just right.  And I think that adventure can be found in my own backyard. 

I think that's my next step, actually - figuring out the adventure of my life here, now.  Figuring out what's next for my career.  Pursuing my passions.  Enjoying my life with my girls, who are growing up way too fast.  Exploring the hometown I love and the quaint coffee shops and quiet forest groves and company closer to where I lay my head. Nurturing friendships, old and new.  Maybe even finding romance, ideally with someone who owns either a backpack or Skype account. 

I recently came across a quote by George A. Moore: "A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it."  These few months and these few adventures have brought my needs into clear focus, as I've reconnected with myself and formed an even stronger bond with my children.  Not all questions have been answered, by far, but I've come to a much better idea of what my priorities are, and I'm now ready for phase two of this new life that I've embarked upon.  I'm sure phase two will include more uncertainty.  I'm definitely in the question mark stage of the Underpants Gnomes Profit Plan (get ye to that YouTube link if you have no idea what I'm talking about).  The underpants, though, have been collected.

As have a million and two photos along the way.  These are but a small part of my collection from my trip to Nova Scotia (I promised you some of the whales).  Enjoy!  I sure did.

Sunset with the seals (Brier Island, NS)

The most beautiful sunrise I've ever seen.  (Brier Island, NS)

Our cabin by the sea (Brier Island, NS)

Mama and baby humpback whales

The last whale we saw waved goodbye

The Loss or the Lesson

On my way home from work today, I stopped at Portsmouth Olympic Harbour.  It was a beautiful day and I had my camera with me, intent on getting a photo to accompany the post I planned to write tonight.  I walked along the sun-soaked pier, snapping photos aimlessly with no clear subject in mind, marveling at the sparkling lake that had been ice up until much too recently for my liking.  The spring was a long time coming this year, and I think many of us around these parts are greeting it with arms flung wide with adoration and enthusiasm, although not without a gentle, exasperated "Where have you been?!!!" reproach.  But you can't stay mad too long, not on a day like this.

I had stopped on the pier to admire the view, thinking for about the millionth time that I live in a tremendously beautiful city, when suddenly there seemed to appear out of nowhere a flock of birds flying in my direction, about to be perfectly positioned for a gorgeous shot as they emerged as if from the sun.  I quickly tilted my camera in their direction and pressed the shutter button, and then again and again, feverishly and futilely, as it turns out.  My camera wouldn't take the shot.  And then they were gone. 

I watched them fly off and laughed, because I immediately got the message.  My camera was set on automatic and couldn't focus.  Which exactly describes the last few years of my life.

The location of my photo shoot was deliberately chosen, although I couldn't have predicted my experience with the un-photographable flock and the moment's echo of another visit.  It's been a long few years since this other morning at the harbour when, as it happens, I managed to get a very similar shot to the one I attempted today.  It's been a long few years of trying to keep it together and figure out a new life, putting one foot in front of the other to move forward.  And, doing so, I've come a long way.  But I've also been dancing on the edge of burning out, and feeling an acute lack of focus and self-connection as I've been going through the motions, living my life on automatic.  Not unhappy, not all the time, but not truly living.

Over the last year, I've noticed a growing gut feeling that it is time to stop, a feeling that whispered quietly at first but recently it has been singing in every cell in my body, which sounds dramatic (even for me) but I have been slowly filled up by this feeling and now feel truly saturated in the knowledge that I need to flip the switch from automatic to manual and take control of my life.  I need to shake things up a bit.  I need to live.

Five weeks ago, I gave notice at my job.  Tomorrow is my last day.  I don't have another job to go to.  I was saying to a friend the other day that I haven't quite perfected my sound bite, the abstract of my decision, to offer when responding to the natural question, "What will you be doing?"  Thankfully, I came to the most beautiful and freeing realization very quickly that I don't have to fully explain this to anyone, but I have found that in my attempts to do so, I have come to a clearer understanding of it for myself.  So here's the best I've come to, for what it's worth:  I'm taking some time off to take care of three priorities: my health, my daughters, and my dreams.

I have a body that is strong and able and capable of most anything.  That might not always be the case.  My rheumatologist reminds me on a regular basis that my rheumatoid arthritis, which, to date, has been fairly manageable, could get bad at the turn of a dime.  I read a statistic once that said that 50% of those diagnosed with RA are unable to work ten years post-diagnosis.  I was diagnosed nine years ago.  Of course, there's every chance I'm in the lucky 50%, but I can't sit in front of a computer with my able body, doing a job I don't love, any longer.  There's a chance I'm going to have plenty of time to sit around all day soon enough.

I have two incredible daughters who have been through a hell of a lot in the last few years and have come through so remarkably, but even still there's a palpable, mutual longing between us for more time together, for a deeper reconnection.  This is a critical time in their lives, and I can afford to invest in more time for the three of us to be together.  I may not always be able to pick them up from school every day, I may not always be able to afford to have the whole summer with them, but I can do it now.  So I'm going to.

I have been told by others all my life that I should be a writer and, most importantly, I have agreed with the assessment.  I have a lifetime's worth of notebooks and Word files and backs-of-envelopes full of half-finished writing and ideas that, if they haven't yet in my nearly 37 years here, are never going to see the light of day unless I throw myself at them and shake off the dust.  I'm a few sentences away from completing a children's book.  I have been a few sentences away for nearly two years.  Attempting to summon creativity at 10:00 at night after a full day at work and putting two kids to bed and trying to keep my house (and myself) from collapsing into shambles...well, that's working about as well as you might expect.  I can't fit these dreams into the margins of my life.  I have to take a run at them full-throttle. (And yes, sit my able body in front of a computer from time to time to do so, but it's a different kind of sitting.  An energized sitting with intent.)

All signs have been pointing in this direction and, other than some initial nausea when I first spoke the words "I am leaving", all I've felt in these last few weeks is joy and relief.  I don't know what will happen, but I have set myself no metrics for success.  If I need to head back to a desk job six months from now, so be it.  But right now, each one of those singing cells knows this is the right decision, and each one of those cells was in the moment on that pier, with the birds flying out of shot, feeling nothing but amusement and gratitude.

Had I missed a shot like that a few years back, I would have been upset.  I would have lost sight of the beauty around me, wrapped up in my disappointment.  I would have only seen the loss, just as, on that July morning at the harbour a few years ago, I only saw the loss of the life I once knew.  But today I saw the lesson.  That's really what it seems to be about.  Choosing whether you're going to see the loss or the lesson.

So there you go.  There's the best shot I got today, above.  If we're looking for relevance to subject matter, let's say it represents my new, clear direction toward the light.  Or I suppose you could say it's the path to a drop-off into an abyss, if you want to be all Negative Nelly about it.  This is either going to be one of the best decisions of my life or one of the worst.  I expect it will be the former but I'm prepared for the latter (I've been to hell and back a few times now so I know the route).  Frankly though, I'm just ready to find out. 

There was much more I planned to say about my new-life launch - about the array of interesting reactions experienced when you tell people you're opting out of the working world for awhile, for example - but those words can wait for another day (I'm about to have a lot of time on my hands, after all).  My life didn't go to plan either, and I'd say both post and life have ended up better because of it.