#tbh

I wonder why no one talks about loneliness.  Surely, I am not the only lonely person in the world. Yet, I haven't heard anyone or seen someone write about loneliness.

Except the Beatles, of course.

I have developed a new appreciation for the Beatles lately.   It seems to me that Eleanor Rigby was actually a groundbreaking song.  So brave. We do not talk about loneliness.  Its just so not cool.

We live in a world that pretends we are connected.  We have 645 friends on Facebook after all.  We post a photo on Instagram and get 100 likes in the first five minutes. Everyone loves you on Snapchat with your virtual ears.  Loneliness is thing of the past right?

In my experience, not so much.

Loneliness is real.  Very real.  It defines me.

Feels embarrassing just to type the word.  Perhaps that is why we never speak of it.

There must be people out there who can relate but honestly, I often feel like the most isolated person in all the world.  My husband, who was my person,  who understood me completely, has been gone for over two years.   It feels like a million years. My friends, some of whom are quite nice people, have shied away from my bad luck.  I almost never hear from any of them.  Sure, if I reach out with a message I will get a quick message back.  Even a promise to make plans......and that's about it.  A lick and a promise.

 So why is it so hard to admit that I am lonely?  Somehow,  it just seems daunting to say, " Hey,  here I am all alone and I am handling life...but I need someone."  Almost seems like I am admitting that I have failed as a person.  That somehow I am defective.  Otherwise, there would be countless people flocking to my company, right?  Certainly, saying that no one wants to be around me means there is something wrong with me, doesn't it?


It's  horrible to admit how often I have thought....jeez, if someone would just message me.  Or to put myself out there way, way beyond my comfort zone..... How I have yearned for one of my friends just to want to spend time with me, or to hold me,  or to let me into their real life.


Oh, it's ridiculous, I know, how many times I have reached out, to be met with silence or a prefunctory Hello.  Nothing else.  Just, a brief hello.

So I am sucking it up and being brave.  I am owning the reality that I am not just alone, but lonely. That if I was to take the facts as they stand:  that my cat is only entity who seems to feel I am a vital part of their life.( and I feed him).  That that fact makes me feel pathetic. That even though I am sure I am enough, that this all makes me feel that I am not even close to being enough.  That despite all I have to offer....I will most likely take that to my grave as some strange secret.

Seems that is my truth.  And it's ugly.

Scream Therapy

I wish you comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, Faith so you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth and Love to complete your life.


In a world of hurt, I wrote out some scream therapy today.   Love scream therapy.  Pour the pain onto the page. No sharing. No arguments. Nobody sending virtual internet hugs. Just raw pain, pen to paper, out of my body, and gone.

No one to justify it to; just what is.

At one time, this would have been translated into true scream therapy. Thoughts privately screamed to the wind.  Very cathartic. Circumstances though find me not so rural and not so mobile.  A scream session in even the most private place I could reach right now would likely end with strangers calling 911.  So here I am.

So today in my stream of consciousness free write I found myself writing a list of People I Do Not Trust. Wow, who knew?
This list, for various reasons, seems rather long and it doesn't even include the obvious-rabid exes and randoms who are hateful from day one.

The people on this list go from my run of the mill generic selfish manipulative acquaintances to others I genuinely believed were friends who cut me so deep it feels like internal bleeding.  Constant emotional gushers.

Some, just lie so regularly it is impossible to give them the benefit of the doubt.

A few, who despite a bright facade, continue to prove themselves downright, junkyard dog, mean. I would hate to live in their heads.

This list started getting out of hand when I decided to add anyone who had said "If there's anything I can do..."and then disappeared when asked. I didn't even include the ones with excuses, just the ones who when asked, appeared to have been suddenly beamed up to the Starship Enterprise by Captain Kirk and taken to a galaxy far, far away.

Even with those parameters that list grew: Thanks guys. Really. Feel real chuffed at those empty offers of assistance you put out there.

A few I threw on there because  they hang with some sketchy cruel people. Guilty by association.  Maybe not fair. At this point, I was feeling a little self protective.

So to be balanced, I needed to throw in ten or so people who have made plans with me this year, at their insistence, then canceled, then ghosted me. For reals, invisibility suddenly has become my  SuperPower.  My number mysteriously disappears from cells citywide when my SuperFriends cancel plans. One big 'Poof' and the we've got to get together gang is gone! Kinda pathological.  Although I am sure someone out there is scratching their head saying, But I made the 'effort' do I have to take away my gold star?

It got serious writing about two friends specifically. Who this year stood eye to eye with me. Made promises. Nearly immediately turned around and did the exact opposite.  (Aside: you can pick up your ninja knives anytime if you wanna grab 'em from my back).

Just tell me, what was your endgame here? Break me down? Hurt me? Spirit crushing a cool new sport?

Fail. Epically proportioned.

Way too easy to take someone who has had stress after stress and find a way to exploit it. Kind of like winning chess with a toddler so be proud. Maybe you two just find this shit funny? Well, Bless your Hearts!

I will never understand how easy this was for you. I will be angry with myself forever for believing even for a minute that you were forthright, transparent basically good people and somehow miraculously by my side.

Bad Jayne!  *smacks self in nose with newspaper*
Should have known and run.

Yepp. It turned into a reckoning. Shocking even to me. This pile of jokes is decidedly unfunny. Time to get real. Time to cherish the real.

So to the real; and you know who you are- Thank You. You Amazing Fun Positive Truthful Buttkicking Hellions who have let me have your back and steadfastly stood with me.

Its time for us who deserve some light and each other.

Time to resolve not to waste another moment on ridiculous ignorance, bad intentions, users, pot stirrers and hollow promises.

Time is precious.

Thank you to my peeps who do not fritter it away.

cue the jazz hands

I recently read an interesting blog about people who experience cancer personally.  It was something I hadn't really thought about.  The basic premise of the article is that cancer has a secret that we don't talk about- people leave you.

The author, Kerri K. Morris, states in her blog titled "Cancer's dirty little secret: people turn their backs on you" that "As I get to know more and more people in the cancer community, one of the most common stories I hear from them is abandonment. It;s our dirty little secret, the one we keep from you."(March 18,2016)

It transcends cancer....catastrophe in all it's forms sends people running from you.  Whether its "oh this makes me sad" or this person may be needy or an indignant "well, I'm busy and  I have problems, too" there is a nearly  universal flee to the closest exit from grief, illness, flood, fire, mental  or financial difficulties.

Theres the if there's anything I can do friends....followed by nothing. Ever. Except maybe a followup...Let me know if there's...Cue the jazz hands! These ones make me smile. Its a wry smile because in my heart, I know they have no intention. They are done in the saying or they would be there, doing. Most have never spent a second near you that they didn't have to and don't plan on starting now.

The veiled eyes friends...Just. Don't. Make. Eye. Contact.  Stares at phone!!! Such interesting wallpaper.  When my husband died, I had a friend who crossed the street the first time she saw me again.  The comedian in me, momentarily thought about running after, fully expecting to see the keystone cop fastwalk start until she found her car. But I refrained. Besides, I had no energy for that. Haven't talked to her since and that's her call.

There's also the Imma- make- this- about- me- friends."Oh, you are stressing me...your horrible thing has touched my life now! Oh how can this world foist this on me yet again? Cue the facebook post on how sad and stressed They are and a gossipy post about how sad your life is to them. On behalf of everyone who has had a third party social media diatribe about how sad someone is for them without their consent: I truly would like to thank the Internets. And please my friends, it is  Rest In Peace. Not RIP. No one ever got carpal tunnel from 8 extra letters showing a little respect.

I get very quickly annoyed with the' Can I send you cash instead of you talking, Please?' friends. Yeah I get it. Sometimes, the stressed need to talk. It is so very, very difficult for you the listener.  I know. How do you live? I mean, yep, we are stressed but we feel your displeasure and desperation to get away. Laughably, usually the very sick or the very sad person in front of you is editing out 95% of the gory truth. Ending the talk long before they say what's on their mind because you are so dang clear how incredibly difficult this problem they own and deal with daily is for you to merely hear about.

Which is also what you get from a lot of people who beg you to talk. Simply plead and argue about how you need to get it out until....you realize you have got a Chernobyl friend. Suddenly ready to melt down if you say anything they don't want to hear. "Please talk to me...please, I know you need to!!!  Wait!  What?  Too much,too much, too much, suck it up! Gawd, just deal with it already, go away!"

I was raised by people in my teen years who did not fall into any of these categories.  Somebody hurt? Visit. Grieving? Visit. Accident? visit. Troubles of any and all kinds were met with hours of time, casseroles and pies in hand and with open ears-not mouths.

I never once heard Mabel say," Oh, we'll get together sometime. You have my number?" or " So sorry, Let me know if there's anything I can do."   It just wasn't in her to take a person, in the middle of the worst stress and make them come begging for help or worse leave them hanging with an empty promise.

She didn't worry about overstepping or being judged for doing.  She just went. Stayed.  Went back again.  If the house was a disaster she quietly fixed it. If the kids needed attention too; well she brought me or her husband or another sibling. She didn't shout to others about it. Although, I was often met after the school bus with "Go get dressed nice, W's wife died- you are carrying this pie plate, and I want you to sing that nice song he likes while were there."

Not just for friends, but for  anyone in her wide circle, she was there, she cared, a true Earth Angel of a person. School was hard? Homework? Tired?" So what! Get in the car! So and so is in the nursing home with no visitors!  Hurry, wash your hands, be pleasant."  It was a lesson I'll always appreciate. A living example of how to care.

She's 99 now, still doing all she can. Despite raising her own children and many other's, multiple heart attacks, skin cancer, breast cancer, the loss of her husband and falls.  My excuse is invalid.  So is yours.

Right now, I am pretty lucky to have two listeners. Real solid, hey, I'm here for you night and day ones: more earth angels. Rare as unicorn farts in this world.  I hope I can someday stand in the breach between stressed and overwhelmed for them as well as they do for me. They talk me off ledges and they don't even really know it. It seems to me, that the true Earth Angels I find are just as busy and stressed and face as much life as anyone-they just have actual empathy. A heart.

When I had my daughter, I met another Earth Angel. She was someone I had hardly ever noticed in my neighbourhood.  Now having a beautiful baby is hardly a tragedy.  But my neighbor, seeing me come home from hospital timidly knocked on my door- with a fully cooked meal.  She said,"Hey, I only know you to see you, but, here's a list of 6 other neighbors. Don't worry about dinner this week between myself and these other neighbours you will be meeting, we have it covered."  What a gift.  A gift I've never forgotten almost 30 years later.

There are tangible ways to help in all situations.  It might surprise some to know that with their very own eyes they can see them and just do it. We don't need to add layers of hurt to people with gossip, false concern, platitudes and ignorance. A simple card, a shared meal and an ear. Our time. A real body sitting with real body instead of Hugs! from somewhere online. A couple hours of babysitting. A walk with someone. Taking care of a pet. Laundry. 12 cookies.Yes, some will never get the joy it is to actually, for reals, care.  To get the heck off the couch and just do for someone else.

It might just be the reason we are here. There really is a greater satisfaction in live human interaction than spending our precious years holed up with popcorn, netfix and a tablet.  What a lonely world it would be without Earth Angels.

How Hairy is the Love of your Life?

Ah, the fur babies.....squeegee!

I'm no crazy cat lady. I do love my cat.

I'm not posting signs that say " If my dog doesn't like you I won't either." But I'd still die to share my life with a Bernese, a Newfoundland or an old English sheepdog.

Yes, even my guinea pigs bring me joy and hilarity.

Still the amount of time and money we spend on pets is pretty astounding. In Canada, while only 57% of us own pets it is predicted that we will spend between 6.6 and 8.3 billion on them in 2018. Billions, geez. I should be investing in Hartz and Purina. That doesn't even include our sweat equity. The amount of time we spend cleaning up after them, exercising them, worrying about their happiness and well being. Just hanging out and playing. Mourning them, too.

We adore our pets. I am sure everyone can think of someone who lives for their cat, a friend who's nuts over a ferret, who had to comfort a friend when their lizard died, who knows a least one person who spends a tonne of time caring for fish and turtles or who's crazy in love with their python, and dog people! Oh  those insane people: carting home 90 lb bags of kibble, balancing three bags of treats and a Frisbee and a tube of tennis balls. All while texting to reschedule their lives around the walks, the feedings, the groomings and the Dog Park.



As much love as they give our pets are somewhat inconvenient family members. If we are honest  though I would bet most of us resent the inconvenient humans in our lives with greater intensity.

Your pets don't call at 7am on your day off to ask if you slept well. They don't ask to borrow cash right after your car payment. They don't bring over their pet buds when you just want to sleep.  They never tell your secrets or talk behind your back at the Vet.   I have never heard of a mass shooting attributed to Fluffy or Rover.  They are not known to foist their political or religious beliefs upon you.  Although the occasional cat might stray to the neighbors for an extra breakfast they don't try to sleep with your best friend and break your soul. In fact, even the meanest Siamese won't tell you to lose 20 pounds.  The dumbest Dalmatian won't ask ignorant personal questions.

So it begins to make sense.

We love our pets because they are warm and cuddly, cute and funny.  They also lack the one thing that human relationships have in spades...hurt.  Betrayal. Selfishness.  Even the your nephew's tarantula or the least socialized pet rat cannot steal grandma's pearls, won't rat out your partying butt to your mom or tell your boss what you really said in the lunchroom. As much as they would like to: you won't find them retelling your embarrassing stories from fourth grade or creating new stories about you to further their careers.

Pets rock. It's not a wonder that studies say they de-stress us. Some say Hey they don't love you back, they just want food, they're so much work. Sounds more like most peoples marriages than my experience with my pets. So, like nearly everyone else I know, given the choice, when there's trust to be given, the dark horse I'll be betting on will be Mr. Whiskers.

So, not Mr. Darcy, then? A rant about suitors.

1. Life is too busy.  Nope, I don't have time for "coffee". Were you going to ask me how's work and how do you feel about sex?  No, no, no, no and no.  I have baseboards to wash and pretty sure I can find an innovative way to fold my laundry.  You know what I don't have time for...your pickle. Maybe if it was a pickling recipe I'd be interested.

2. You bore me.  You don't know how to have a conversation. If everything you say is a complaint about your life, your ex, your job...please just hand in your man card....  yawn, get over it. Or don't. Please resist the urge to share. Find a  life.

3. I'm old. I'm old dammit. Like approaching 50.  Last time I checked....every one of you was panting after 20 year olds. Even you married dudes had an autographed pic of Selena Gomez carefully hidden in your zip files.  No go. Go pant over your teenyboppers preferably on another planet and just leave me out of it.

4.  You are on eherpes, plenty of fungus and lavaload.  All off them, and guess what?  Ew. Just ewww.
*full body shiver*

5.  There's TV.  Like unfortunately, due to Channing Tatum, Liam Neeson and Nicholas Cage you will not receive my attention. I never demanded perfection. But for 12.99 a month Netflix provides it. Sadly, Netflix also knows more about me then you. Present, consistent...without any backtalk.
.

6.  You wanna talk about your tire rotation and your dinner.  I wanna talk about the way the light is reflecting off the fall leaves. You want to tell me how tough life has been to you and who picked on you in 4th grade. Now you want to show me your abs?  Beach, please....I have things to do. Try sending a scan of your brain's activity.  Do you see the difference? I do.


7.  I know how to create. I endure. You know how to flatuate.  I can make life fun, worthwhile. You want to work and then whine about it.  You can't roll with it.   Stub your toe and you cry.  I'd rather be peaceful in my tiny slice of the world.  Go twist yourself up somewhere else. I need strength, intellect, perseverance, mental toughness.  I have it. You exist, sort of. Why bother?


8. You got more baggage than air Canada.  Instead of dealing with it you wallow. You wanna retell the story of why she left you for 300 years.  Present, future. They are a new thing we are all trying. Have you heard of them yet? Sadly no.  I'm sure there's a chatroom than can see to your needs quicker than I can muster some interest.

9. I still love  my husband. He might be dead, but he took the time to know more about me than you ever will. He put in the effort.  Think you will ever measure up? Well, he's gone and still more interesting than you. It would sadden me to watch you try.

10.  You cheapen reality. You tell me I'm pretty. Dang it, man. You don't even know what I am. It's a lot of things....pretty? Hmm, no. Other days you say I look terrible.  Life, doesn't factor into your tiny, judgy thoughts. Perhaps you should woo Maybelline.

4 am. Every clock is ticking.

Sleep eludes me. I needed to be asleep hours ago.  I have tried deep breathing.  I have tried sleepytime tea.  I have not had caffeine since breakfast.  Its nearly four am.

So tonights not going according to plan. Lack of sleep means tomorrow won't either. I need proper sleep to make it through the day. I worry about my demeanor and my focus.  The risk of injury. The lost productivity. The long to do list I have tomorrow: That epic and self spawning list.

So many reasons for my lack of sleep. I wish I was one of those who napped when under stress. Nope, only a good basketball game or extremely busy days will bring about somnolent relief.

This weekend I'm sabotaged by anger.  Some brave and ridiculous soul decided it was a good time to tick me off.  I have often had difficulty sleeping when I'm mad. Try as I might, those stress hormones amp up and there goes the Sandman. I can usually handle a fair amount without repercussions until some beast comes along and decides to really push far, far too far. Add to that pique the betrayal my body adds by refusing to sleep.  Its like a classic recipe for insomnia.

Even writing about sleeplessness is not making me sleepy. Not an exciting subject, either....I should have put half of you to sleep just by reading about it.

My coffee cup will be my best friend in the morning. Sure hope I can function when the alarm hits 630.

weltschmerz

So many, many things to do.


Do I even want to do them?  As July suddenly turned into October and I realized I haven't accomplished even half of what I set out to finish, I have to ask myself- what is holding me back?

 A lack of passion could be the cause.  Sure, I have a to do list ten miles long.  Its just that that list contains about 90 % items that interest me very little. The other ten percent interest me but I cannot justify the time and money or prioritize them over all the rest. If my list said go to Kenya, get a facial, drink on the beach, write a book, do some woodworking, take pictures and eat other people's cooking.....well, I'm sure that would be a snap.  Mine reads more like VCR instructions, it's boring, some of it scares me, but mostly, it puts me to sleep.

So I find myself squarely on the corner of Overbooked Street and Procrastination Ave.  Its one of those cagey spots.  I have never heard of anyone setting their GPS to get there but it is a crowded spot. Somehow, despite our late night intentions we all end up here sooner or later.

Social scientists tell us procrastinating is a result of a battle between our present self and our future self. Dreams goals and ambitions for our future self get quashed by the need for immediate gratification by our present self. Or something like that.  Like I want to be healthy at 60 says Future Me. I need to go for a walk.  Whoa! Hold up! Says Present me, There's a an Extreme Makeover Home Edition marathon this weekend and my house is full of Ranch flavored potato chips and Dr. Pepper! Ty Bennington needs me!

If they are right though, then we only put off our goals for petty immediate fun.  Life's not like that.  My procrastination involves the mundane.  I'm not dancing,  out taking breaks or eating chocolate covered jellybeans.  The not preprepping the 300 meals I could possibly preprep for my freezer, the avoidance of the 12 piles of varied paperwork I need to do, the putting off of future fun is not for hyjinks and shenanigans .The 240 tasks my kids ask me to do in a month that they will immediately forget and never appreciate. That fills some time. The arbitrary requirement work has about employees showing up.... that puts a kibosh on my to do list, too.

 I'm not out following my nirvana to put off all that mundane responsibility. The texts and emails my friends would love me to answer and in true white girl fashion "I just can't even". The constant reorganization of Tupperware and lids before my cupboards erupt in ultimate chaos.....I sidestep those things by working and fulfilling other's expectations,  mostly.

Boring, boring, boring. There's no future gain for me, no vision, no payoff.  Even if I check every box on my list I'm only going to have another list develop.  There's  no immediate frivolity in my avoidance- mostly because its time spent on paid work or housework. Or, often, other people's priorities. Obligations.  So I continue to ask myself. Is what I do any indication of my desires?  I am awash in ennui. Not quite apathy, but really nothing imminent to pull me forward. Prone on the rock marked "nothing to look forward to". Listless and unexcited.

I am sure some sensible person somewhere would tell me to just ball up the to do list....that it it is really just a list of things that aren't me, don't lead me where I want to go...so chuck them.  Would be great if life was that easy. If we could all just do what we wanted, when we wanted.  Ohhh, I'd love to have a good nights sleep!  Lofty goal!  Tell it to the neighbor yelling at his dog at 2am, the kid with the bad dream, or the sirens blaring by at the world's most unpredictable hours. The Stones said it best...You can't always get what you want (and yes, I sang that as I wrote it). Life's so very busy. You can't even plan what you want.

So my explanation for my hesitation and procrastination is different from the experts. I'm not immediately gratifying anything. #truth. Not even long term dreaming of a shred of what I want at all. If there's a me-too cake out there I couldn't find that bakery with a map and a bloodhound.

  So getting to the just do it, get 'er done stage, for me, is will. Mind over matter. I have to force myself through my tasks. Against my wishes.  Often in direct contradiction to who I want to be. Just to get it done.  Being my own buttkicker in true adulting form.

For despite me grating against it- stuff just needs to be done.  Most of the time, I'm the only one capable of doing it.  The required one. If I had business cards that would be my byline.

  It is the reason I drag my feet, grinding away slowly. Sometimes hating myself for this flaw in my character. Regrets internal, sighing at the reminders of what I would rather be doing.  My inner pouty kid is there, for reals, and she's even pretty whiney, but there's music to be turned up to drown that out and check marks to be gradually made in my tedious lists.



Or listen at https://anchor.fm/jayne-mcsherry/episodes/Weltzshmerz-eikebh/Weltshmerz-a31ic38

Boundless

Look at you, my sunshiney friend.

I think of you often.  You are here with me despite having left us nearly a decade ago.  I miss your laugh, your gentle chats about life and I miss the way you could spin a positive web around any situation.   I know you are never very far from me, even now.

Full of wonder, I try to understand what it is that set you apart.  Made you different.  Gave you the strength to be nothing but light in the world- despite hardship, setbacks, illness, loneliness and all the negativity life swirls around.  You truly were a burst of rainbows on a gloomy day.  In my completely unromanticized memories of our friendship you were comforting when you often could of used comfort, smiling despite worry and fear, and creating and building, without discouragement, even as others damaged and destroyed.

You had that magical thing.  The thing that allowed you to see every challenge as temporary.  Setbacks extraneous to your life. You filed them on the difficulty shelf, said pfft, dealt with them and they were over.  You seemed to know more than anyone that a single problem would not ruin you.  The blame game was not a part of you.  Any time trouble came calling you were this first to point out that it was temporary and send it back to whence it came.

You found delight in every good thing.  Tiny gains were celebrated with as much joy as a marathon's completion.  Good luck and blessings were evidence to you of much more coming.  Like a magnet for happiness, you fed on the laughter and joy. You let it permeate your whole person. You were forever reaching out when it would seem to be time to retreat.  You were inclusive and welcoming.  If I had to describe you to a person who didn't get to meet you I would say you were brave and enchanting.  A warrior for calm positivity.

Most days,  I feel you in my soul.  Your impact on me which started so young has lasted through young adulthood, growing children, a few years of separation while you were abroad, your illness and death, and the sudden passing of my baby and the love of my life.  You know, more than anyone, how I wish you were still here. How profound though, that your short life continues to make such an impact on me, your family, your friends, coworkers and all who knew you.

In no way do I think I could ever touch lives like you did, my friend.  You did help me, shape me and sugar my worldview.  Someday, I hope to be a little like you. It is impossible to be the quiet phenomenon that is you but even a little of you is the best thing the world can have, Susan.  You made every bit of life better.

Only Human

But A wise man once said once said that you should never believe a thing simply because you want to believe it....tyrion lannister, got, 2017

   For so long now I have believed that life is something that doesn't just happen to you.  That we make choices: our response to  circumstances determining as much of our happiness as the situation itself.

Yes, life is challenging. Often frustrating.  At times, life is actually baffling. It is easy to get lost asking why.  Why do things happen the way they often do? It would be so easy to tie myself up stewing over the facts: that death has touched me and those around me; that people are often petty and cruel; that adulthood is fairly thankless at times. There are many reasons why I, and likely everyone, could become bitter.

So, I look in the mirror and I ask myself: what do you want to believe? Some days it is harder to find an answer.  I believe I want to insert kindness into my day.  That there's more than enough of the negative.  That there has to be balance out there and I can give that. I believe despite the fears I stare down daily that it is going to be okay.

Its not easy.  It would be easy to say- I've been dealt a crappy hand of cards and I am just going throw them down and refuse to play.  There's no win in that. I could cling to that truth and be sad....and say, but its true!!!  I won't. I refuse.  Its the kind of truth that only leads to despair. I just don't have time for that.

I look inside and try to drum up a better truth to attach to my soul.  Not a greeting card platitude but a macro belief to guide me. So I look to the examples set by those wonderful people who grace my life. My friend Susan who always found a way to rejoice in her life. Her happiness was infectious.  Was her life perfect? No. She faced bullying, I witnessed that.  She overcame a bad marriage. She even found it in her to celebrate her emancipation from that.  She stared death in the face and still took time to spread joy in those around her.

My friend Ramona: also an inspiration.  She reminds me daily that life is a choice or series of choices. She has reshaped her career to reflect what she wants life to be. She has gone from being ground down and whittled away in the workplace to putting light into the world. Her work, as a life coach, now empowers so many others to choose to be the things the want to see in the world. She reminds me that the universe, if you ask for help, will work to put you in the place you need.

My children as well, who keep stepping forward to grasp any issue that is thrown their way, give me hope.  Whether it is illness, grief, the miserable bullies that we find, or just the daily challenges...work, homework, relationships, their direction in life.  Each one of them meets each obstacle with integrity.  They overcome and beat the odds at an alarming rate. It's comforting and fills me with wonder.

It would be very small of me to ignore the beauty of the people who have been given to me to love. If I was to say, it is just so hard, I can't continue, wouldn't I be a silly git? If I was to become jaded and throw up my hands and say, there's nothing I can do-that would be a lie.

So I choose. I choose to try. I choose to find a way to put aside my annoyances, my fears, my hurts. I choose to be welcoming, positive and gracious. Even when it hurts. Even when I would rather retreat. Even when I feel the deck is stacked and the odds unlikely.

 What do I choose to believe?  Nothing major. No giant world view. Just one small hope:  That I can step forward and try.

Jeepers Crisp!!! @#$@@#!!$#@ For the love of all things holy......

I have nothing to say.

Shocking, I know right?

So that must mean that there isn't a thing bothering me, I see no imbalance in my life, or injustice in the world.  Nothing to say must be a good thing?

Well, no.

If you have ever been moving through your life thinking " Okay, this is all pretty difficult but I got this.  I'm fine" then turned your head and got blindsided with other people's outrageous bull-oney then you will know just how I'm feeling.

Wanna talk?  No.
Wanna share? No.
Wanna write? No.
Wanna sing?  No.
Wanna play?  No.

Does this mean I have issues? I can say my point of view is recently affected and I am overwhelmed and somewhat distracted.  I do not own the problem though. A young relative once in a similar circumstance asked me if I thought she was crazy and I gave her the standard George Carlin reply, "If you think you are crazy, Please ensure first that you are not just surrounded by @$$holes." So much truth.

Generally,  I do not live in a place of No. This current state of mind is disconcerting for me. It unsettles my soul.  I want to hop-skip-jump back to my usual home in a place of Yes.  Will I find a way? Eventually, I'm sure. It is just the right-now that is life force diminishing.

You see, the issue for me, and for quite a few positive thinking people, is that I expect those around me to have generally good intentions. I try to surround myself with nice people. People who are trying to get through life without taking more than their fair share of space, certainly doing no intentional harm, and perhaps actively improving life in their circles.


However, lo and behold, despite every effort to avoid them the snakes start creeping in.  The self serving, the petty and the downright mean. What a singular joy it is to find that your daily life is going to have to be affected by the kinds of personalities that make your hackles instantly raise.  In a Utopian situation they would just slither around in the mud and the rest of us would pick up a few shed skins once in a while and whip them over the garden wall.

It does not work that way.

Surprise! They bite. They are poison. Those fangs hurt.

No one would choose to live with backbiting, scheming and generally horrible people surrounding them. It is definitely not my choice.  Life though, sometimes has its own way of inserting rot into your life. Not to mention that shady and untrustworthy self promoting individuals will worm their way in by any deception they find convenient.

Slither, slither. Bone-tiring to hear daily. Living on the extra alert. Being hyper vigilant to random attacks. Starting to have a new understanding of Harry Potter.  I understand how annoyed and sent off kilter he was while being followed by a relentless, evil minded snake.  Of course, he had the advantage of a valiant group of like minded friends to chase out the danger. I could use a Ron, Hermione, a Dumbledore or even a Hagrid. Alas, no such animals in the tedious Muggle world. Plenty of snakes, though.  Frustrating, when you know life does not need to be this way.

At present, there seems to be no magic wand and the motivation has turned from trying to fix  and mend to self protection and apathy.  I am grinding along and wondering where my determination went. There is a strength in me somewhere. I remember.  Time to dig it up and find a way out of the snakepit. 

Circus Freak

Grief is a funhouse full of distorted mirrors.  Most days I feel like a circus freak, still.  It's in my emotions, my reactions and the way people look at me.  Not the center attraction in the circus but certainly a curiosity in the side show tent.

I feel a bit steadier than I did nine months ago when Norm died.  Steadier but  I cannot say I have found my feet yet.  I have searched my soul for a good analogy but I just do not have one.  There is really nothing to describe it:  one day you have the person who made your life.  The next you do not.  It is not having the rug pulled out from under you- then you would just get back up and everything would resume as normal.  Nothing is normal now and I am continually off kilter.

The things I think about have changed.  Mentally I am always making a list.  No matter what happens in a day it ticks immediately over to the "Norm will not experience this with me" list.  Whether it is a change at work, a milestone for one of the kids, a rainstorm, just another lunch hour when he would have been with me,  a new neighbour or a more difficult challenge I immediately feel that ping of it adding to the list of things I cannot share with him.  Other lists fill my head too.  The list of our plans we cannot finish.  The lengthy list of things I need to talk to him about, but once again, I cannot.

It has changed the things I wish for people too.  I used to wish everyone could find what I had.  A person who just got them, did not judge them and who always had their back.  A person who loved them fiercely and wholly.  Someone who knew how much to push and when they had had enough.  Who could pull a smile out of awfulness and weep with them when necessary. Not sure I would wish that for everyone anymore.  At very least, it might be easier to go through life not realizing that truly having "another half" is possible.  Being in it: wondrous and enchanted.  Being left behind by it:  excruciating. So perhaps I would wish that  death was not a thing at all.  That those of us who love should be exempt.

So my emotions run a weird confusing maze now.  Yes, I think sweet older couples are adorable.  At the same time part of me deep in my brain is screaming that that could have been us and should have been.  Sure, I am excited for my kids when they learn something new.  Learn to drive, make new friends, try to cook something all on their own, make plans to move or to go to school.  On the other side of excitement is just so much pain.  He should be here, he would be so pumped up.  How is it right or possible that he cannot be here to share this with us?  My emotions look like that kid's attraction at the Fall Fair.  The one with the crazy tippy floors and spinning rooms.  Glass walls I run into at a moment's notice.

I miss things that I shouldn't miss.  I miss being cuddled.  I miss body heat.  I miss having another human care if I am upset.  I miss him fighting with me over who should pay for things. Him teasing me about getting old.  Him calling me Puddles.  The late night calls that used to drive me crazy. His snoring and his crankiness and the overly manly way he stepped in and defended me if anyone dared say a negative thing about me or anyone he loved. Having someone to talk to who listened and didn't make it about him.  Who didn't have to compare what was happening to his life because I was his life.  Someone who just got it: even the my stupid sense of humour.  I miss all these things and more but I have no way to regain them.  The source of these things is gone.  These precious things.

Often since "it" happened I have wished that no one else knew.  Impossible.  Life doesn't allow for that.  Just desire a moment when I could be alone in my grief.  Where I did not have to deal with the sad looks, stories from others, platitudes.  The assumption from some that every reaction I have or action I take is a result of grief.  The sad head tilts in moments when I am doing okay that set me right back.  The need some people seem to have to share all the negative past moments he had.  Like, really.  Not my experience.  Go talk to someone else.  I cringe inside and resist the urge to kick in some teeth.  I walk away and feel that somehow I have caved just by listening.  Diminished somehow.  I hope those people have enough conscience to feel embarrassed by those statements and especially embarrassed to have shared them with me....or my children. I am pretty sure they don't. At least not as horribly bad as they should.   Other people are the Roller coaster of grief.  There's great heights and huge drops.  Unexpected turns.  It can leave you feeling exhilarated for a minute.  It can also leave you feeling violently nauseous.

Very early on I said to someone, somewhere that I wished I was about six months in so that I was past the worst of  the uncertainty, the misery.  Well, here I am. Nine months.  Not much better. Not much stronger.  A little more worried about a few things.  A lot more lonely.   Full of  a void that only my Gnomie can fill.  My estimate was profoundly off.  My hope I guess, a little too optimistic.

Too fat? Too thin? So what???

For those of you who battle excess weight, I feel for you. You are gorgeous and I hope you know it. Please though don't judge us who do not. We also have a weight battle.  We battle to gain it.

Guess what?  We have almost no help.  We are judged, often.  It is not easy.

Sometimes people assume that those of us who look too thin are drug addicted, violently ill or have eating disorders. It is annoying beyond all get out.

There is a condition called being a "difficult gainer".  It does not involve puking, meth or cancer.  It is just an idiot high metabolism, allergies or both.  I would much rather be fat, to tell the truth. There is tonne of help if you are overweight: magazine articles, Jenny Craig, gyms, Weight Watchers,  low fat grocery items, a plethora of internet articles,  a crap tonne of businesses and weight loss supplements.

Google search how to gain weight and you will see what I mean.  You may find one or two articles that try to help and a few articles for body builders but there are no businesses out there dedicated to help the chronically calorie deprived gain weight.

I do not know why. There are actually a lot of us.

I will bet  that a lot of people do not know that the risk of dying early is actually higher for the underweight than it is for the overweight.  ( 50 percent higher for overweight, 90 percent higher for underweight). 

I know overweight people complain they are judged and bullied.  Underweight individuals are often bullied also.

We are called meth heads and anorexics. I personally have been asked by a stranger if I have a disease.  It is assumed we cannot lift things or accomplish basic tasks.  Imagine taking your groceries to your car and having someone randomly comment " Oh, you shouldn't be lifting that.  You are too small." Every time. Like clockwork, like being pecked to death by ducks, as Maya Angelou would say. 

 Sometimes, in work, people assume you are too small, too young to have any responsibility.  How could an 85 pound person have authority?

Being underweight actually sucks.  It is not some dream.  It is not supermodel greatness.

Gaining weight for us is an ongoing difficult task.  You cannot just eat crap.  Your heart will still suffer.  Fresh foods are way too filling but you need to eat them. You need exercise to gain muscle and at the same time need to limit activity to gain weight.  Oh vey.  You have to intake loads of protein without gaining fat. You have to eat so many calories that you feel you might puke.  You must add more food than anyone would ever consider normal just to gain a few ounces.

It is entirely not fun. I would love to burn out my thyroid or get some medications that would add a few pounds.  It just never seems to happen for me.

I literally seem to only gain weight when I am pregnant:  and as much as I would love to gain thirty pounds I am not willing to do 20 years of hard labour for that outcome.

So the next time you are tempted to ask your thin friend to eat a doughnut or hamburger please remember. We all have our challenges. You might just have a buddy who envys that extra five pounds. Someone who would love an extra ten and remarkably would take a transfer of it from you without a thought if it were possible. Who would be the last person to judge you for the double chin. Who accepts you just the way you are. Who actually understands why you struggle with your weight but just from a different perspective.

For despite our culture, weight in the grand scheme of things means  absolutely unequivocally nothing.  It does not make you nicer, does not give you better priorities, make you a better person, make you more desirable or  change the world.  

It means literally nothing,  So despite the focus on it, the misunderstanding of it, you will be the greatness you are despite it. You are actually you, the best you, no matter what the scale has to say.

Spit on it. 

Enough said.

Oh, Give Me Strength.

Sometimes I'm so chill its like: Come at me, bro....rain, thunder, plagues of locusts  I'll deal.   Other times I'm like,  Universe ! Change one more stoopid thing and imma gonna blow up and melt into a gooey blob of skittles.

Depends on the day.

There have been many days, too many when I start counting, where I seem to handle it all. Whether its my stuff, your stuff, stranger's, friend's, children's stuff.  Just throw that stuff on my pile and whoosh.  Its done. Its dealt with.  Then out of the blue along will come a day where I am beside myself over the most trivial teeny thing.  I have no strength, no stamina, no initiative.

Just the thought of all my responsibility makes me want to take a nap.  I don't nap, but on the days where even looking at my laundry makes me cry out snot bubbles it would most likely do the world a giant favor if I just stayed in bed.

I don't have impossible days very often. I am kind of adept in hiding the worst of my angst when I do.  Chin up, chest out.....as my sister would say.

So I ask myself on those days when life seems totally  undoable what it is that has me dangling over the edge like an untrained cliff climber.  I write down everything that has happened that day....what I've done, what I need to get done , all the glitches and annoyances.   Then I think back to one of the hardest days I've ever had.....just a random hard day where everything went "well" all things considered.  I write down all the deets of that day.  I compare them.

Not really surprisingly, the largest difference is easy to see.  Its all in my head. My life is no more difficult on the days where I just "can't even."  In truth, its usually less hard, less busy, and the issues are smaller and less important than my "I got this" days.

The big diffence? Worry.  Ah, worry.....that creeping ivy that gets in your brain and makes you think spilling your coffee is a major catastrophe. Oh no, now people will think I'm clumsy (ya, i am. Thats not a secret). I'm staining the carpet! (So what? There's a thing called soap!) Now I have less coffee! (Ok, that's a realistic worry. Cannot blame myself for that one)  Mr. Worry.  Sitting there with his feet up on my mind couch eating my chips.  Rotund, covered in crumbs, and spewing out evermore ridiculous scenarios that often start with....wouldn't it just be awful if....?

Wouldn't it just be awful if.....you fail? Wouldn't it just be awful if....you get sick? Like really really sick? Like dying sick? Wouldn't it just be awful if.....everyone realizes you are insignificant?

Oh ya, Mr. Worry Bear Bear.  He's got a poor manners and nothing but time to make me uncomfortable and sometimes even sweaty. Worry is a rather useless little skill that we, as humans, need to unlearn.   It does nothing positive.  Worry will stop any progress you intend to make like forgetting to oil your car stops the engine.

Worry, will grab you, beat you around the brain, mix up up your heart, and leave you marathon tired without accomplishing a thing.

Take any issue you are worried about.  My favorite is "will I have enough time to get everything done?"   The answer to that for me is very simple. No. I won't.  There's too much.    I'll get some done and that's way better than none.

Same question but with worry. Will I get everything done?   Oh, no, there's too much.  I dropped the baking pan, now I have to wash it! Oh no, that is more to do.  I will Never get everything done.  I will fail to get this one thing done!  Then Nothing else will get done!! Oh my gawd, Everyone will be mad, everyone will think I am a bigger idiot!!! Then there will be vitriol from all the people who need me! Oh no!  I will have to deal with that....that's more to do!!

You see where im going with this. Insidious worry can take a simple task and turn it instantly into a life sucking, dramatic, traumatic event.  Even the Bible says: Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life. Guess that means that Luke guy got the concept that worry is useless a couple thousand years ago. I am a slow learner.  Read that dang big book years ago and still let worry rip me up....many many times.

Worrying, doesn't add value.  It takes perfectly good energy and wastes it.  Worry gets me no closer to my goals.  If I take a step, complete one thing, take another step, do one more.....I'm fine. If I mix in a heaping dollop of worry while I try......I just exhaust myself.   Stop sooner and go to bed miserable. Worry more, sleep less, have terrifying dreams.

In the interim Worry does nothing for me. Who makes the cookies, sows the blankets, does the dishes? Was that worry? Nope. Lazy butt Worry doesn't do a dang thing.  Can't remember the last time worry  got me to work on time, fed my kid, or washed my windows. Did worry write for me,water the plants, pay my bills or paint my bathroom? Nope. All me.  Well, except the plant thing- they are all dead. Rest in peace, begonias.

So why do I ever let this loafer have free rent in my head?   Heck  I know there's very little room in there. I do not understand why our bodies and brains are hardwired to worry.  I don't get why worry is even a thing. It is truly miserable, useless and unproductive.  In fact so anti productive you would think that evolution would have fixed this problem by now.  Yet on we go, spending half our lives worrying. Changing nothing, making ourselves panic, filling our bodies with stress hormones and inflammation.

I desire more days where I feel like I can do anything. I need more days where it feels effortless.  I  think that I know how to get them. The next time the Worry Bear becomes a tenant- I'll evict him.  I'm sure he's redecorated my brain space a few times but this time: He can take his baggage and go.

Mixed Messages

Grade 2. Lovely fall class room. Construction paper leaves adorn the walls and the alphabet runs its comfortable circle around the classroom near the ceiling like an annual school hug. Mrs. Y:  "Children your brain is the computer of your body. We will fill it with information and you will solve problems just like IBM". Hold up Mrs. Y. Yes, my brain is an intricate system. Pathways for pain, autonomous body function, memory, pleasure, higher judgment.....I have been filling it with information for another 40 or so years now but my brain is not just like a computer. I cannot reboot, defragment, or alt control delete my brain. I cannot, try as I might, erase the hard drive. I often want to but I cannot.

Every one talks these days about screen time and no real communication. That argument has merit. The world outside of cell phones, televisions and tablets also has many voices -often too many. I sometimes have trouble trying to decipher who to and not to listen to or whether to listen at all. In my nearly 5 decades I have lived an interesting life. My brain is full of stories, memories, experience and I have listened. Listened to so many stories....friends, counselling clients, children, relatives, coworkers. Do I have room in the old brain for all of this?

There are people who just talk. Meaningless pleasant drivel. Most of them understand the basic etiquette of not discussing religion, politics, money or sex in polite society. This kind of talk is mostly handleable. It is what we used to call small talk. Mostly unnecessary but fills some time.

On the other side of the coin are the deep, dark talkers. The ones who should really say : "Hey, allow me to dump all this really heavy emotional crap on you and then I will move on to get attention and sympathy from someone else while I do absolutely nothing about any of it."


The Agenda talkers also have a purpose. That is to bias you. Here is a story about X. X did this. Last time X did this to Y. If you talk to X this will happen to you. This type of communication tends to be self serving to the utmost. Unless it is your Mother.

The touchy talker also gets a mention. It is just me, mostly, but the touchy, huggy, standing too close to me talker is the hardest to understand. I have ears. I can hear you. Please do not invade my space.  Believe me:  I am sure what you need to say is important.  At least to you.  However, I am not in a super secret spy agency and your need to go pee is not a state secret.  There is no need for you to lean in and whisper like no one in the history of the planet ever peed before.

Most hilarious for me are the Third Party chatters. They definitely have something to say. Usually to you but will they talk to you? No. Much better to loudly voice their concerns to a small child, nearby animal, their spouse or just the air. I once witnessed a gentleman with a 9 month old baby very publicly lecturing said baby on how close a nearby man had parked to his car. Apparently he found the proximity of the other car distressing. I am not certain why he felt his 9 month old could rectify the situation. I am sure the other man would have preferred a straightforward, "Could you move your car?" To a booming, " Well, Timmy I guess this guy over here doesn't care if his car gets scratched!!!"

No wonder we are confused. Quite understandable that we have been choosing to grab headphones and check out since 1981. Heck some of us carried a boom box around before earphones and walkmen were even a thing.

Is conversation meaningful ? Is it drivel or is someone trying to tell me something? I don't know most of the time. Kind of wish people came with a sign to tell me how to take them.

Hey, do you think we could require people to wear an emoticon shirt? Wear the "ice cream" one if  it is small talk day, the happy face if you are straightforward, the serious face if you wanna tell me something that has some weird hidden deeper implications, and the embarrassed smiley if you are going to talk about yourself all day.

Valid debate, close conversations between pals and family, the chatter of children is great.  The rest, sadly :  just more noise.

Drop Your Sandbags

"Instead of trying to make your life perfect, give yourself the freedom to make it an adventure, and go ever upward."  Drew Houston.

I carry it around.  My baggage.  There's a few things that weigh on me.  Lately, I mostly ignore those things that drag me down.  Probably not the healthiest approach to the issues but for now:  it is my reality.

Truly,  it is not a matter of avoidance, just a profound lack of time.  My personality requires copious amounts of time to process things.  Alone time.  If there was an extreme Xgames for introverts I would be slamming it in high scores.

My life, currently, is not an introvert's paradise.  Work is people, people, people, Oh, and more people. My children also require interaction.  Strange but they like talking to me and being listened to as well.  All my other responsibilities require speaking to actual humans, too. So, sitting and pondering my dreams and the plan to make them happen gets about 0.0002 minutes out of my regular week. Eureka moments to work out bumps along the way are fewer and farther between.

Hey, I am not complaining. I have some real affection for all these people type people.  I just simply mean that because I am the one who needs to work things out in utter solitude and in a quiet peaceful place; I have not happened upon many solutions lately.  I am recognizing that.

In one of my very first jobs, I worked with a sage, experienced bartender named Bill.  He was quiet.  He rarely offered advice and was not the boisterous barkeep.  I walked in one day and out of nowhere Bill looked at me and said "Hey, Jayne, you need to drop your sandbags."  Anyone who has known me more than a minute would recognize the confused,  immediate reaction of my face. Try as I might to stop it:  my face speaks for me even when I would rather remain silent.  Lady Gaga might have a Poker Face but I missed that prize in the gene pool lottery.

Since my face had done the talking I did not need to ask any questions and Bill just continued.  "You are a nice, young girl (yupp, I used to be a young girl, peeps) , but you are carrying a lot of crap with you.  If you were in a hot air balloon, Jayne- You wouldn't make it off the ground. Drop your SandBags!"

I spent a long time after that pondering exactly what he meant.  I was 18.  Clueless.  I think I picked up a little more weight before I eventually figured it out.  Bill meant I was carrying a lot of SEP's.  Somebody else's problems.   What he could see that I needed was to let go of being a "fixer" for the people around me.  To let them take their own journey and create their own outcome.

He was wise and once I learned to do that around 30- being such a slow learner- life got easier and lighter.  I was able to forge my own path rather than take on other's chores and struggles.

Yet here I am.....once again.  I am pretty sure that my sandbags now are different.  I am not trying to change the world for others anymore.  I haven't taken on scads of difficult projects that are not of my own making and benefit me in no way, as I used to, frequently.  I can say, without doubt, that I do not completely understand what the heaviness is this time.

Much of my difficulty has sprung up from a sea change in my day to day life.  Not of my choosing this time but foist upon me by....life? The universe?

Somehow through all the demands, all the over scheduling, the mountain of responsibility; I need to steal some time. Time for about 48 hours on a quiet private beach....with a couple of my journals.  Time to figure out again what I can  change, where my next challenge is and how I can find the time to get there. Time to drop my sandbags.