Where I’m From

September 21, 2011 by ·

I am from homemade Playdoh in blue and green, from the endless possibilities of Brio trains, and multi-coloured afghans hand knit with love.

I am from beach houses, suburban houses, and the house of many trees, each one a home complete with dogs and dance recitals.

I am from my mother’s mountain, a freshwater spring spilling on to the sand, and a John Denver soundtrack on long drives between the two.

I am from summers at the pool and advent calendars at Christmas, from Rileys and Birds and the traits of the Nelsons.

I am from Calvin and Hobbes quoted at the dinner table and laughing so hard milk comes out your nose.

From you have your mother’s eyes and I’m going to drive with my eyes closed so tell me if we’re going to hit something.

I am from a belief system that knows kids and clothes can be washed and that little girls are more valuable than family treasures accidentally broken.

I’m from a hospital nestled in the foothills, tourtière on Christmas Eve and school lunches that were the envy of classmates, they who wore kilts and blazers and heard pull your socks up and dangly earrings aren’t allowed. (I wore them anyway.)

From boats and salt water oceans, a mother’s hand warm from her tea, and the man who summoned emergency personnel with a practical joke, prompting a fondly-recalled story in the newspaper 25 years later.

I am from fat, brown photo albums, artwork and photos above computers  and a do-anything-for-you kind of love reflected in a lifetime of knowing what it is to have a family.

family photo of children playing in the sand

The beach house where the spring water flowed into the ocean. (That's me on the left. The 4th sibling came later.)

 

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With thanks to Mama Kat for the prompt using this template based on this original work, which I’d seen before but had not yet been inspired to try. 

And with sincere apologies to my mother if I’ve made her cry (again). 

Filed Under: Be enough me, Happy things, Writing · Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Walking the TEDx Talk

September 11, 2011 by ·

Yesterday I presented at a TEDx event – the locally-organized versions of the well-known TED conferences. I’d like to share that experience with you and have been trying to figure out how best to do that. I was inclined towards a humble description of how it went, as in:

It went really well. 

It was a great experience. 

It was fun, and I’m really glad to have done it. 

You know what? Screw it.

Instead I will tell you this: I got up in front of a theatre full of people I don’t know – people from my local community who I might very well see on the street tomorrow – and told my story about postpartum depression and how blogging, with brutal honesty, about my breakdown not only helped me but helps others. I shared some excerpts from my posts here. I cried – not a little, a lot.

Here’s how it went: I got a standing ovation. And I am really damn proud of that.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from the event and I certainly wasn’t sure about my place in it. I was honoured and totally excited to be asked to speak, and I was less nervous than you’d think about telling my story. What I did worry about was whether people would connect with it and whether I would be able to offer something for them to take away.

The organizers were supposed to give me time cues and they chose not to, so I went, er, slightly beyond my allotted six minutes. Judging by the response, the people – including men – in the audience who were crying, and the incredibly generous comments I got afterwards, I think I can safely say I managed to get my message across.

That’s not the only reason I’m proud of how it went. I’m proud because I did it in a way that was true to who I am. I knew I was going to cry – I couldn’t figure out any way around it. And I actually didn’t worry about it. My story, and my message that it’s okay to be a little bit vulnerable, it’s okay to remove our masks and be honest about our struggles, and that, in doing so, we might actually make the world a better place – that’s an intense sort of topic. You want people to be emotionally invested in what you’re asking them to do? Make them cry.

Making people cry wasn’t my goal, obviously. Making it okay for me to cry was my goal. Because that’s what happens when we open ourselves up to people and share the stories about the hard stuff and reveal that maybe – just maybe – we’re better off for having dealt with something difficult. We allow ourselves to be vulnerable. I was never okay with that before. I am SO okay with it now.

Those of us who put our words to these pages – who tell those hard stories and reveal our tears – know there’s beauty in the breakdown. We know we’re not alone. We know we will get support and that those who don’t support us perhaps just don’t understand.

I’ve seen this countless times on other blogs. My friends’ blogs. Your blogs. I’ve seen you share stories about hard things I never would have suspected had you not written about them. I’ve seen you be bravely, beautifully honest and then, just when I think all your cards are on the table, you lay down your hand and say, “This is what life dealt me. It’s not the hand I’d have chosen, but there’s no point hiding it so I’m going to play. I’m going to stay in the game and play, and if you care to read along with me I’ll share my strategy and you’ll see that you can win even when you get dealt a bad hand.”

That’s why I believe bringing together writing and technology is more than “blogging” and think those who dismiss what we do here underestimate the power of this art. This art has the power to break down barriers and borders. It has the power to make life better. It has the power to make lives better.

You know it, and I know it.

And I think it’s an idea worth spreading.

[Update: The video of my talk is now available.]


This is our very last week to make an impact for Be Enough Me 4 Cancer. Last week we had 45 people link up an enough-themed post in our Be Enough Me for Cancer campaign and I’d love it if you’d help us boost that number again. For every 20 linked up posts, Bellflower Books will provide a memory book to a woman fighting breast cancer through Crickett’s Answer for Cancer, and help bring a smile to courageous women giving it their all, every single day. The link-up remains open for three days. No blog? No worries. You can also comment on the post or on the Just.Be.Enough. Facebook page with your own story and be counted.

 

Filed Under: Be enough me, Better world, Happy things, Hello, Inspiration, Postpartum depression, Writing · Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Back To Life, Back To Reality

August 31, 2011 by ·

Truthbomb: This transition is tough.

Overall things are great, but I’m at the point of desperately hoping it stays that way. After being on sick leave for 4 1/2 months, I went back to work on August 15, starting part time and gradually increasing hours. The first week was fine. I worked Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings and felt really silly leaving at noon. Same schedule the second week, same “it’s fine” feeling, except by Wednesday night I was wickedly cranky. Normally I would have ignored it – chalked it up to a bad day or PMS or something – but I know not to do that now. So I put on my sleuthing hat (with thanks to Yael for this technique) and started examining what was going on.

I knew returning to work was going to be challenging in some ways. I have less time with my boys and more time with bureaucracy. (In case you can’t tell this about me, I’m not good with bureaucracy.) I miss my boys. I also have less time to write and less time to read. I miss all of you.

I knew going in those things would be my reality. What I didn’t anticipate: Missing down time at the end of the day. I haven’t been going home at the end of the morning because Connor still naps and I don’t want a barking dog to wake him up, so I’ve been going to Starbucks or the library or the gym for a bit instead. But Connor is used to having me around, so of course when I do get home he wants me to play with him. I thought I would want to do that. I really did. But sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I just want time to catch up on blog reading. (Oh hi, guilt! How I’ve missed you…) And if I don’t play with him RIGHT AWAY, he starts with the undesirable attention-getting behaviour, like hitting me or running full speed at me and body checking me. (Speaking of cranky…)

It doesn’t help that it’s taking me well over an hour to get him to go to bed at night. The constant escorting him back to his bed is getting really old, especially since standing sentry outside his room means I’m not getting anything else done, like tidying, making my lunch, or anything else that’s generally good for my mental health.

What I also (stupidly) didn’t anticipate: Connor missing me because I’m not around as much. When I was getting dressed on Monday morning he asked me where I was going. When I told him I was going to work, the lip came out, started to tremble, and then caught his salty tears as they rolled down his cheeks. (Oh hi, working mother guilt! I’d forgotten how much of a bitch you can be.)

So instead of reading and writing and playing with my son on and off throughout the day, which was lovely (in the last part of my leave, anyway, once I got over that whole wanting-to-die thing), I’m at work. Work is work and, as I said when I first returned, it’s okay for it to be just a job.

In theory, anyway.

We all have things we don’t like about our jobs and even though I’ve loved mine for years there are things that annoy me. Of course there are. And it doesn’t surprise me that those things are annoying me more right now after some time away.

Anyway, it’s making me cranky.

Or maybe it’s just – as my sister pointed out – that I feel my superpowers are needed elsewhere. (Anyone want to hire me to write about the reality of motherhood and how to find inspiration after life has kicked you to the ground? I can be whatever you want – serious, poignant, funny, you name it. I can only draw stick figures but I’m willing to do that to add visual appeal to the material.)

None of this is meant to be a criticism of the organization I work for. It’s a great organization and, as far as bureaucracy goes, it could be way worse.

Still, this transition is tough.

Filed Under: Writing · Tagged With: , ,

World Moms Blog Post: On Maternity Leave

July 13, 2011 by ·

My first post is up on World Moms Blog and it’s about maternity leave in Canada. Yes, we get a full year and while I won’t complain – because I believe everyone should get that opportunity and it’s good for both mother and babe – at times it felt too long for me.

C’mon over and share your thoughts!

Filed Under: Writing · Tagged With: ,

Waiting for the Words

April 13, 2011 by ·

People tell me I’m brave for sharing my experience.

I’m not feeling very brave this week.

People have said they’re in awe of my honesty.

Sometimes I’m scared to be honest.

My story has taken a turn and for a week now I’ve been trying to find a way to share it. This turn has two parts and both need to be told. I need to tell them. I started to write one – the really hard one – and the other came out. The first is apparently not ready. I’ve tried to coax it, to assure it the telling will be okay, but it’s not ready.

I’m not ready.

The second is now in draft – a jumble on the page. Its format doesn’t do it justice. There is weight to this decision I’ve made – both the heavy weight of admission and the powerful weight of potential.

This part of my story needn’t be poetic but I need to tell it the right way.

I’ll wait, and it will come.

Filed Under: Postpartum depression, Writing · Tagged With: ,
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