gratitude Archives - Page 22 of 24 -

Love Letter to My Middle Sister

May 12, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

Dear M.,

When we got married you gave Rich and I a gift. An intangible gift, but one you managed to capture in words.

“On this day, I can think of only one thing to offer.”

It wasn’t a present. It was a gift. A extraordinarily beautiful gift.

“You have given it to me. Others have received it as well. In fact it is given all over this great Earth. No one should go without it.”

I knew this, but not the way you knew it. You knew this, and among your many strengths this is one of your most powerful.

“It is something that, if properly maintained, respected and contributed to, will never wilt or disappear.”

You gave us this gift nearly seven years ago, and during the time since I have often felt I didn’t nurture this gift enough. I was never afraid it would disappear, but I’m not sure I contributed equally to its upkeep.

“Its value cannot be measured and is rarely appreciated enough.”

You’re right, it can’t be measured, though I’ve always appreciated this gift you so freely offer to those around you. But I’ve never, never appreciated the value of this gift more than in the last couple of weeks. I’m overwhelmed by it, and the fact that you have given it to us.

When you came over Easter weekend I was happy to see you. No, not happy. Really, really glad. Relieved. My whole family was here that weekend and it felt like a buffer. It felt like you were all standing around the three of us holding hands and blocking everything else out. When you all left, I knew that support was still there, but I felt a little bit more alone.

Last Tuesday, when I came downstairs in the morning and Connor said, “Auntie ‘Shell is coming over today,” I just smiled.

“I don’t think so, honey,” I said. “She went back on the plane. She’s back at home.”

I didn’t believe him when he revealed that secret, so when you walked into the living room I didn’t know what to think. How could you be back so soon? Why were you back?

But I knew why. And I was glad.

“It is not a one-way gift. It is hard to give and not get back.”

Over the last week and a half, you have given me so much more than you will ever know. I can never repay you for distracting Connor when I couldn’t do it. I want to package up time and sleep and give it to you when you need it in exchange for those mornings you got up with him so we could sleep. I want to give you everything I have – every nourishing thing, every comforting thing, every beautiful thing – for coming, without being asked, when I needed you to come. For knowing when I needed to talk and when I needed to be silent. For seeing in my son what I sometimes don’t. For seeing in me what I felt was lost. For just being here and bringing the most precious gift I have ever received.

“FRIENDSHIP. My friends are my family and my family are my friends.”

I couldn’t ask for a better family but I will never forget your gift of friendship when I needed it most.

Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With: family, gratitude, love

Hello Inspiration – Signs of Support

May 9, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

Since yesterday was Mother’s Day, I’m moving Hello, Inspiration to Monday this week. Hopefully that won’t throw you all off, since I’ve been doing this a whole two weeks now.

I had a variety of sources of inspiration this week, some more easy to describe than others.

It Gets Better

One of them was a video. Most people have probably heard of the It Gets Better Project, which I think is a great thing, but I saw this ad on TV and I think it’s amazing. It’s well done, but it’s a message that can apply in so many situations. Maybe that’s why it stuck with me.

[Update: Damn, sorry, they removed the video.]

Dreaming Big

I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer, and there are a lot of things I want to accomplish in my life. There are some things that are not on my life list but now may need to be. Or maybe it’s more than that. I think I have a new Definite Chief Aim – my most important goals in life. As part of exploring what that might be – or perhaps how it might come to be – I’ve signed up for Mondo Beyondo’s Dreaming Big online class.

I gave my mom one of their courses for Mother’s Day last year, and she really liked it. Here’s the description for this one:

This five week online class complete with inspiring lessons, real life stories, secret missions, audio interviews and hands-on activities will help you take your dreams from the realm of wishing into everyday motion.

I’m not generally shy about going after what I want to do, but a little inspiration and insight from others along the way can’t hurt.

The course starts May 16 and costs $99 US and right now they’re offering a 2 for 1 deal. If you want to learn more, click the image below. (Full disclosure: that’s an affiliate link so if you happen to register I get a little something. And you get a cool class and some good karma.)

Signs and the Rock of Friendship

My last source of inspiration is harder to describe. It’s a you-had-to-be-there sort of thing, but it’s worth adding to this list because it’s connected to the concepts behind both of the above and to this roller coaster of a journey I’m on.

On Friday night, two very good friends and I went to stay at a beach resort a couple of hours from here. It started as a casual, girls’ getaway suggestion and turned into something we realized we needed to do because we all needed to talk about some stuff.

“Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’ve seen this quote before, but it keeps coming across my path. I’m more aware of this after the last four months than I ever have been before, and I’m so grateful for being able to sit down with friends and talk about our hard battles, even the parts we haven’t told many – or any – people before.

On our way home, we were looking for a group of shops we’d heard about and wanted to check out. We found them, went in, and at first it was overwhelming. The first was a house – an actual house that hadn’t really been modified – and things were displayed on every surface, every wall, every floor. Normally those sorts of places are way too stimulating for me, but the things were so beautiful so I started to walk around. And then a funny thing happened.

I have two symbols that are meaningful to me – one that goes back to when I was pregnant that I’ve since associated with becoming a mother, and one that has come to represent what I hope to do with what I’ve learned from this PPD journey – and as I walked around these shops I saw these symbols everywhere. They were on jewelry, mugs, stickers, tea towels, bags and more. It was as though I was being told I’m on the right path.

While I was tempted to buy every item in the store, I managed to select a few things that will remind me of the power of that weekend, the power of believing things will get better, and the power of dreaming big.

Filed Under: Better world, Hello, Inspiration · Tagged With: gratitude, hope, living life, perspective, we're not alone

Run and Hide

May 5, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

The first time I ran away from home I was 36 years old. This is what happened two weeks ago.

***

The inside of my head is screaming. I can’t be here. I already had one escape and it was 24 hours of sanity in the midst of a mad merry-go-round with a cackling clown taking up all the space in my brain and preventing me from finding an exit. That escape helped, but not enough. Mostly just made me realize how much I need some space to think.

Being on leave from work to deal with postpartum depression is good. Having a toddler around the house who is my trigger is bad, hence the inside-the-head screaming.

My husband understands that I need to be away for a bit and we talk about options. They’re all possible, and yet not what I need.

I feel trapped. I’m back to imagining what it would be like to live in a condo by myself. Finally, I decide to ignore my credit card balance and spend the money for another night in a hotel.

And then it comes. A message from a friend, one who doesn’t know how much I’m dying to run away but who happens to appear at exactly the right moment.

I’m going to be away for a bit, she says. You’re welcome to use my apartment if you want a break.

I come very close to crying with relief.

She drops off keys on her way out of town. I still hesitate. Can I leave my husband to be on toddler duty alone for however long I decide to escape?

Yes, he says. Really, you can.

What if I leave and decide I don’t want to come back? I worry about this.

I hope you don’t, but if you do we’ll deal with it. He has faith when I don’t.

So I leave.

***

I walked into my friend’s apartment feeling like I was intruding, but all that was there was peace. It was everything my toddler-dominated house is not. Clean. Quiet. Decorated the way I’ve always imagined my home would be if I lived by myself.

Luxurious white bedding suggested hours of uninterrupted, guilt-free sleep.

A couch with a soft blanket provided a space to sit or write or watch TV.

The kitchen made it clear I could eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and that no one else would be there to ask for a snack and then not eat it.

I walked into the bathroom to set my cosmetic case down and hung on the wall was something that made it clear I was in the right place:

I spent one night there and felt much more my keep-calm-and-carry-on self. I came home over Easter weekend when my siblings showed up from out of town. When they left, I went back to my friend’s place and didn’t know when I’d be home.

That stay turned out to be for three full days. I left for an appointment and then came back and spent a full 48 hours holed up there, blinds drawn, hiding. I finally emerged to get some groceries – across the street and back again, filled with anxiety until the door closed behind me.

I spent the time writing. I read – a lot. I took deep breaths. I cried it out. I bought fruit and forced myself to eat it. I allowed myself to eat ice cream.

I stayed up late, when the world was quiet and dark. Then I took my sleepy time pills and crashed for 12 hours at a time.

By the third day, I knew I needed to leave. I had realized I could stay there forever – not in that apartment, but in that dark place where I stay in my pajamas all day and shower at 9 p.m. Where I avoid going to sleep because I’m not ready to do all this again another day. Where every night I take a pill that knocks me out for so long that I don’t have to.

Coming home, I was ready to deal with whatever the toddler threw at me – literally or figuratively. I knew it would be challenging and I was prepared to deal with it. Or at least I thought it was.

He was practically manic from my return and we had a bedtime battle that dumped me right back into the depths of anger and despair. Turns out those triggers are deeply embedded in me and it’s going to take a lot more than three days of self-reflection to put a damper on my response to them.

But I rediscovered a part of myself in that apartment – a part I knew was there but couldn’t coax into the light. My friend thought she was just giving me keys, but what she actually gave me was a path out of the darkness.

Love you, M. You saved me during a time I really needed it and I’ll never be able to adequately express how grateful I am for that.

Prompt 2: That time you ran away from home.

Filed Under: Postpartum depression · Tagged With: anxiety, call for back-up, gratitude, hope, love, meltdown

Versatile Blogger Award

April 24, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

Awards season is in full swing here at Farewell, Stranger. The lovely – and very brave – Naomi from Confessions of a Momaholic has awarded me the Versatile Blogger Award.

According to the rules, I’m supposed to tell you 7 things about myself. I already had to do this when I got the Stylish Blogger Award so now have to think of 7 more that will make me sound interesting. Here goes:

I have 3 siblings and 2 half siblings. I didn’t grow up with those 2, but my whole sense of what family is about is due to having had a big family growing up. There’s no way I could ever have 4 kids, but it makes me a little sad that Connor’s childhood will be different – and somehow less – because his won’t be like mine was.
I hate licorice.
I was vegetarian for a few years when I was in university but chicken brought me back.
I only drink black tea. Never met an herbal tea I could get down.
I really like the Muppets (I even incorporate them into presentations I do for my work) and we used “Somebody’s getting married” as one of our wedding songs.
We considered naming Connor Jackson but then realized since we intended to use Michael as his middle name that would be sort of…unfortunate.
I watched the movie “Annie” countless times when I was in about grade 4. I counted how many times I’d seen it but lost track after 27.

Now that I’ve revealed all this nerdy stuff about me, it’s my pleasure to pass this award on to 15 other bloggers. (Yes, 15. That seems crazy but I don’t make the rules.)

The award goes to:

Leighann from The Endless Rant of a Multitasking Mumma, who started blogging at the same time I did. She writes honestly about her PPD but she’s also funny and frequently very good when you’re looking for a touching post about babyhood.
Denelle from Caitlin’s Concepts. Denelle doesn’t hide her crazy, but she’s got a stare-life-in-the-face attitude that comes through in her posts. Plus she’s funny. Plus she rocks responses to The Red Dress Club writing prompts.
James from James & Jax. She’s another in the PPD army, but wow, is she ever versatile. Beyond PPD, she writes about her goals, her thoughts in response to Thought-Provoking Thursday questions and everyday-life stuff with her little guy. Her appreciation for things really comes through in her posts.
If you haven’t checked out this blog before you really need to. The 21st Century Mrs is hysterical. And she draws. She even drew a giraffe just for me because one day I needed one. Before that she drew bears and after that she drew a stabby meat cleaver. That’s versatility, people.
If you visit Mommy is in timeout! you will find Elena writing about taking time to have fun with her two boys on Crazy Mommy Mondays, recipes, and all kinds of other things in addition to her timeout reading suggestions, which I’m honoured to have been featured in three times.
One day I caught a tweet about wishing more people would comment on blogs. I got in to a conversation with Tonya from Letters for Lucas about it and we ended up being comment buddies for a bit. Somewhere along the way hers has become one of the blogs I always read. I love her stories – about her son, her parents’ deaths, the ways she takes time for herself. She reflects on things and then describes them so others know just what she means. Plus she’s become one of my biggest supporters, and for that I just love her. (I am aware that she’s received this award before, but I am choosing to give it to her again.)
Wanna see how a web-savvy chick who’s new to blogging gets her blogging ball rolling? Check out Bluebird’s Nest. She has a wee babe and a tweenager, she’s smart, she’s determined and she’s adventurous. (She’s also a friend and colleague.) Robin’s currently getting ready for the trip of a lifetime and I’m looking forward to reading all about it.
I stick to one style of writing, more or less, but Jenna (or Frelle, as she is known) doesn’t. Poetry, narrative, memoir – doesn’t matter. It’s all poetic. No matter what she’s writing about, she puts her soul on every page and I think it’s beautiful
Some people start blogging and seem to immediately get it. Mama Track is one of those blogs. She went from Harvard lawyer to work at home mom, which makes for some great blog. I can’t even remember how I found her, but I’m so glad I did. She reads all my stuff and is so supportive – one of those people I’d love to meet in real life. (While I was putting together this post, someone else gave her this same award. Can you believe it?! The nerve. But I love her so I refuse to take her off my list.)
Someone else I connected with via Twitter is Liz from NorthShoreMommy. After tweeting with her and reading her blog for a while, I want to move in next door and establish a mutual support society. Except she’s moving. So her adventure will continue in a different way and I’ll still follow along.
Some blogs are all “my kids are so cute!” and “look how perfect my life is”. (I think. I don’t read those blogs.) Not Jayne’s. She’s another one of those beautifully honest writers who manages to still be funny.
Pamela strikes me as a totally funky person. Unfortunately for her, she’s riding the same PPD rollercoaster I am, but she always manages to bring it on her blog.
When I first saw Carrie’s blog, The Sweetest, I was totally drawn in by her blog design. I won’t lie – I want it. If she ever decides to redesign her site, I’m calling dibs on that design. But that’s not why I think she deserves this award – take a look at her categories. From the kitchen. Lifestyle. Marriage. Parenting. Versatile, baby.
A good friend of mine tells me I inspired her to blog. For some people starting a blog takes but a click. For others, it’s part of a process of determining who you want to be and how you want to express yourself. I think Kim’s doing it beautifully, so head on over and show her some new-blogger love.
The last – and not least, of course – is Devan from Accustomed Chaos. If you haven’t visited Devan, you really need to. She survived 10 miscarriages and instead of wallowing she set up a site to support others following miscarriage, stillbirth and neonatal loss. On her own blog, she covers all sots of topics including gentle parenting and gluten free living. I haven’t met her in person, but I’d be willing to bet she’s one of the kindest people I would ever have the privilege to meet.

So that’s it – 15 women who inspire me, support me and demonstrate why all this bloggy-ness matters.

There’s more to come from the (virtual) red carpet. The amazing Multitasking Mumma has given me the Stylish Blogger Award (again! She clearly hasn’t seen my sweat pant collection). Over the next while I’ll be pondering on whom to bestow this next honour. Are you stylish? Want an award? Let me know – I’m accepting nominations (self or otherwise).

Thanks again to Naomi!

Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With: blogging, community, gratitude, spreading the love

Thoughts for My Mother

April 20, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

If my mom were a blogger I know exactly what she’d be like. She’d be the kind of person who pours her heart onto the page without worrying too much what other people think. She would start writing thinking no one would read – except maybe her kids – and then realize her ability to create a community around her would work magic in the blogosphere as well. People would read because she was a mom in the time before mommy bloggers and therefore her story is different. And yet it’s very much the same.

I could never have imagined how the advent of one small child into my life would change things, permanently. I was pretty passionate about everything I tried, passionate about business, passionate about training, passionate about travel, passionate about the mountains and skiing. So no one ever expected me to drop it all in favour of one small child.

I also could never have imagined how much time one small child took up. I think I envisioned myself getting up in the morning, dressing the small (and of course perfect) child in something becoming, and sitting, sipping tea and reading mind-expanding material to said child so that he or she grew up to be something extraordinary. The reality, as you can imagine, was quite different and a bit messier.

The day the earth-shaking child chose to make her entrance was cold and snowy… I won’t go into boring detail about the following day but it was indeed D Day and while I remember thinking, “Well, I will never do this again,” I was in for the surprise of my life. What was about to happen to me resulted in not one small child, but 4, and my life being co-opted and enriched in a way that was totally unexpected.

At 4:31 p.m. on December 21st, a child was born. She looked at me with my eyes. Then the whole world shifted.

Those of you who are members of The Red Dress Club will recognize the beginning and end of this piece as a recent prompt. My mom read what I wrote and then sent me a piece of her own, part of which is excerpted above.

“You should start a blog,” I told her.

“I wouldn’t have enough to say,” was her response.

I confess I laughed. My mom? Not have enough to say? She’s interested in everything. She could write and write and write and still not run out of things to say. She would write thoughtful posts. Insightful posts. Funny posts. She would probably write a lot of poignant posts. She would write posts that would connect to something in people and they would comment. And then she would click on links and follow tweets and read others’ writing and comment back.

That’s the sort of person my mother is – through her involvement in various things she becomes part of something. As far back as I can remember she’s been genuinely interested in people’s stories.

My mom is not a blogger, but her earth-shaking child is. And right now, reading the things I have written – especially recently – I imagine it’s hard to be my mother. So because I have, yet again, shaken her world, I will use my own blog to tell her this:

I know you’re worried.

I know you wish you knew how to help.

I know you’re beating yourself up about not noticing sooner or not coming by more. About saying the wrong things. About not knowing what the right things are.

I know you’re watching and reading and trying to understand, and I love you for it.

I know you don’t really understand though.

I actually don’t think you can. If you haven’t experienced this – especially this experience as it relates to being a mother – I really don’t think it’s possible to know what it’s like. During the times I feel good, even I can’t remember what the bad feels like.

I imagine just knowing I’m struggling, whether you understand it or not – and perhaps especially if you do not – is consuming you with stress and worry.

You might feel as though I’m not reaching out to you enough. Don’t take it personally – it’s not really anything to do with you. I just can’t right now.

I don’t know why this happened and I’m not entirely sure how to fix it, but I feel like I’m getting closer to finding the way.

You have to trust that it will be all right.

That’s what I’m doing. I’m holding on and trusting that it will be all right.