Category: small stories

Communicate

Communicate. Say what’s on your mind, even if it’s hard. Own how you feel.

Before you open your mouth understand it’s origins. Understand where it comes from, inside you- Do not attack.

Be mindful that you will NOT full understand the motivations of others. Don’t walk away on assumptions. If there are good things to tell, do that too.

For a writer, I have never been good at conveying my personal feelings without over explaining, or thinking that people should just know. These opposite ends of the spectrum are heightened by my mental illness, there seems to be no in-between. It leads me to taking everything personally (victim mind set). “What did I do? How can I fix this?” It leaves very little room for other person because I have created the narrative already.

I have been working on learning the difference between what is mindful compassion for yourself and the other and what is falling on the sword martyrdom.

Falling on the sword martyrdom- “I know I am horrible and I am the reason you are angry/sad. I have ruined everything, but I wouldn’t have if you weren’t so mean. Tell me what i did wrong? But I will change, I will be the perfect one.- or- I have done nothing, I will withdraw, that’ll show them, they will realize what they have done and miss me 😒”

Mindful compassion- “Things seem off, and I am feeling that there is some anger/tension and I’d like to discus the situation. It is making me uncomfortable/sad.”

The catch? The other person may not be receptive to this style, they may not be willing to participate in this way.

The lesson is to not take that personally. Which is hard if you are really trying to come from a place of mindful compassion, and it feels they are not.

It won’t always work. You are still human. They are still human. All you can do is try- especially if the relationship was significant. At least if it can’t be fixed it can go out on a respectful end. And you might be surprised at what you learn, what can be worked on, what can be achieved.

Communicate with intent, love and respect.
Rambling 5 am thoughts…. Thanks for reading

Motherhood and Us

Mother’s day is tomorrow. My Mother’s birthday is in two days, she would have been 79.

There have been years past that the grief ripped at me. I needed my Mom, I needed a her advice on how to be a parent, a wife, me. Other years I feel just a hollow, a wash of grief. This year is different, this year that grief, that longing, is mired up in so many other things, it seems just a piece. All that comes to mind about her is this: I miss and love you Mom, everyday. Happy Mother’s Day. Happy Birthday.

I very much have a kaleidoscope view of what Mother is. I did not raise my first born. He has an amazing Mother that I love and admire. Yet I feel very ‘motherly’ toward him, he is still my child (grown man), and I will be protective of him until my last breath. My daughter, whom I have raised, provides me the day to day prism colours of Motherhood. The intricate dance between the joy and frustration of parenting. The deep connection and love we have, watching her grow, and the bittersweet acknowledgment of her budding autonomy into a young woman. I have been told that I am a mentor and appreciated by some, I hold much gratitude for this, and I feel protective of so many that I know, regardless of age. I believe it is my strong connection to the Goddess that allows this maternal feeling toward life in general to be so present in my life.

So today- in this very skewed world, I am not in a place where I am desperate for my own Mother’s guidance. Perhaps it is because she would not have had experience to draw from to teach me how to be, what to do, right now. Part of me is grateful she is not here, it would be a constant state of worry about her health and what could happen. I am glad she did not see the mess the world has become. But I really could use her hug, a place to weep my tears of frustration and confusion. A place where I could fall apart, just for a moment.

I am feeling ferociously protective of all I know, yet aside from sharing the odd bit of food (doorstep drop off), and removed electronic communication, I don’t feel connected to a majority of my world. To the people I can help, the people I enjoy, I feel cut off, energetically deprived.

My son is safe and healthy, but removed, living his life and I trust doing well. He is very much a young man with a beautiful life of his own, but I worry as does his Mother, these times are messy and we want to make sure he is secure.

I am trying so hard to protect my daughter and guide her through this. Not unscarred, but to trust there will be wisdom that will come from this. To help her keep balanced as best as she can. I allow her to feel as she will, angry, lonely, joy, humour and frustration. There is no handbook for this. It is the best that can be done. I let her know that I am also experiencing these things, and that we will be ok, together.

This Mother’s day is odd. Do I feel like I have been a great mom? No. But I appreciate that all I do comes from a deep love and appreciation of all I have, all the people (born to me and not) that I adore. I believe my children know I will always do what I can to help them be their own best selves. I feel I often come up short, limping along, slipping up in a frustrated moment. I feel all too fragile when I need to be strong. I feel all too stupid, when I should know what to do. I feel all too human, when I really want to be a superhero. The overwhelmed emotion I feel this Mother’s day is not just because I miss my own Mother, it is a reflection of this time we are trying to navigate.

I celebrate all the Mom’s I know – we are tired, frustrated, angry, calm, messy, loving, beautiful and perfectly human. We try so hard and many of us feel we come up short. The emotional load this pandemic has added is unbelievable, we were already operating from an overwhelmed place that we have allowed society to dictate. I admire all the Mom’s (wether you have children born to you, raised them, don’t have any of your own, we all bring the divine maternal to many elements in our lives), I think you are amazing. I think you are so much more than you see, than you feel. I see you all operating from a place of deep love, and that is the most Motherly thing we can do. I love each of you in this sisterhood immensely.

So this weekend, remember who you are. Love yourself for the complexity, love yourself for doing what you can. Love yourself. Happy Mother’s Day- rest, you deserve it.

An Open Letter to My Massage Friends and Clients

To All my Therapist Friends, and anyone who misses massage
One of the things I have noticed having been in this field for such a long time is that there is a general quality most therapists have, we genuinely want to help people. We want to see people be a better version of themselves. We want to do the best we can for them. I am proud that the therapists I know are extremely diligent in their client care. They are well educated, compassionate people. But we are very human too.
When we were first asked to close because of the pandemic, there was much fear about our practices, our clients, our finances. How long would this last? What were we going to do? How would we, and by extension, our clients manage?
We adapted
In that time since we shuttered I have talked with many of the therapists I know. Many set up contact with their regular clients, keeping up with check ins and reminders of self care. Many are trying to calmly just wait it out. Many are just in limbo, doing the best they can. We talked of how we were feeling, the frustration at not being able to work, concern about finance, wanting to be out in the world. Hoping for a quick and secure resolution.
We are now facing something else, even more nerve wracking that what we were facing a mere eight weeks ago. The anxiety, fear and anger is palpable.
The powers that be, feel we are ready to start opening, slowly. Our profession is slated as ‘phase 2’. This announcement first brought with it some hurt prideful feelings, how were we not considered as important as hairstylists (somehow they are in phase 1). Even client’s of mine were wondering why we weren’t given the same priority as physios and such. Then there was a collective pause.
We see many of those slated for the first wave of opening are asking why? Shouldn’t we wait longer? Is it really safe? Others are relieved to be able to start getting out in the world. But in the same breath we are told we are going to start opening up, we are told that not all the symptoms are as they appear, we are to maintain social distancing, there will be a second wave that threatens to be much worse than the first wave. Can we really trust the majority of the public will be responsible with social distancing and general common sense?
The numbers have not spiked in an uncontrollable way. But there has been no significant decrease either. On paper it looks to be on the rise, but the math must be considered. There is more testing available, we must also look at the number of resolved cases and of that, the percentage of fatal cases. But this brings little comfort, with the din of all other mixed messages. Pictures of unsafe gatherings of people, people protesting to have things of convenience reopen. The community spread that has become more prevalent.
There is no clear plan of how we practice safely, for ourselves and our clients. Are we going to be forced to practice? If we personally choose to wait will the government cut aid off? Is it worth it? Will people come back?
There is no specific answer to even the simplest of questions. Colleagues have been directed to watch the training for what nurses need to observe for physical safety to work with people. From what I have seen, I am not even sure when that would be available, how to locate the approved type or what the cost of that kind of PPE would be. Not to mention that it would not be conducive to an effective massage at all.The fear is understandable, we work, for an extended period of time, in very close proximity to our clients. So now we wait, we wait to see how the early and first phase roll out. There will be much to learn here. Much to consider.
The only thing I can say, is trust your gut my therapist friends. Follow the science, use your best judgment. When or if you choose to work, follow the rules, keep everything clean. Some of us will go back to work as soon as the green light hits.Some of us will ease back into it.Some of us will wait.Some of us may not come back.
Let’s support each other. Do not judge another for their choice to work, wait or not. Pass helpful information. Be understanding of the fear and anxiety. Most of all be safe.
Take care my friends

TFTFL- Confusion in the Muck

This battle.

This fucking battle….. 

To start off with the , ‘we are in unprecedented times,’ (no shit Sherlock), is a patronizing sticky glob. I think by now most people recognize that since the last official World War, there has not been an event that has effected people on such a large scale.

Will it go back to normal? What was normal? What will we try to take away from this? At this moment, sitting in my chair, trying to focus on the task at hand (it is not this I can assure you) I don’t fucking care what human kind decides. I am trying to decide what will get me through the day. I believe this is where many people are at. 

The pandemic and its isolating measures have compressed many things. We can not be together, we are told to rely on electronic communication. We know how often electronic communication is miscommunication. Everything is a dichotomy. There is no right way to handle what these times bring, yet we are all so vocal about what we need, it feels like constant chatter that no one is actually listening to.

In the shut down, important tools have been taken away from people that help them in their daily lives. This is what is eating at me. This is what is dissolving me. This is what is defeating me. 

I am still trying to be helpful, maintain purpose, be the thing I want have in this world. Offer space, reminders of self care, empathy. Not only to those I can (family, friends, clients), but to myself. It is wearing thin.

There is now speak of going back to work. Being able to resume getting people back on my table. In my heart I know how badly some need this. I know how badly I need to do this. I love my job, it fills my cup. And trust me, I do have gratitude. I am terrified.

I have been shown much appreciation and love and kindness over this last while. People letting me know that my messages of kindness, respect and empathy have been helpful, checking in with them has meant so much. That I am missed, valued and they can not wait until we can see each other again. For this I am grateful.

Yet today I feel so broken, so fake, so tired, so full of fucking pain. Full of fear that I can not do this any more. 

As my clients have come to rely on massage to alleviate their pain levels so they can function, feel whole, connected, calm and that their core person is valued enough to receive that care, I have come to rely on the same. 

My body had determined about two years ago, that weekly treatment worked best. This is a unique thing, to find the rhythm of care, but I had. My own chronic clients understand this all too well. We get maintenance care (some things can not be fixed, just patched ), and due to lifestyle, and other factors those patches can wear off in a week, two, maybe even a month. Then the pain and/or disfunction return, sometimes creeping in, sometimes like a freight train. To those that do not live in my head or body, my weekly treatment may have appeared excessive. It is has now been weeks since I last received the skilled hands on that help to let me function, move, think and feel ‘normal’. I am acutely aware of how far down I am.

Old injuries that are destroying my joints are screaming. I can not move with out feeling something sharp, restricted and weak. I have been mildly joking I am like a T-Rex. There have been moments i need my daughter to brush and pull my hair into a ponytail, because I have neither the range or strength to do it. I try to push to exercise (this is a much needed piece to myself care ) but it too has become a source of frustration rather than salvation. My mental health pain is determined to make its presence physically known, is at levels that are making rational emotional thought a monumental task. The physical and mental pain has become a loop.

So my voice is added to the babble. Lost in the expressed chorus of wants and needs of others. Trying to catch myself and the negative patterning. Trying to not take others (non)reactions personally. Trying to allow for understanding. I feel like I am screaming into the ether. I feel like I do nothing but complain.

‘Buck up. Shit has to be done. No point in whining. I HURT. I can not keep doing this. Pain meds hardly work. I need a soft place of understanding, not patronizing. Thank you for the love. Fuck why can’t you hear me? I’ll stop talking about it. Please listen I am not well. I am fine, it just is what it is. Do you see now why care is so important? FUCK THIS!! Please hear me, talk with me. LEAVE ME ALONE. I just want to get dressed with out feeling nauseous. I want to sleep. Don’t patronize me I am not weak. Help me please.’

I work at distraction, try to busy myself to be of service where I can. Step out when the noise becomes too much. To ride through the sharper parts of the pain. To manage what I can.

I am tired. How do I navigate getting ready to go again, with whatever version of normal that will be? When I am not sure I have even been navigating the now with any great aplomb. I feel for my daughter, trying to help her move through her altered life. My husband, my friends who all face their own challenges, all have their own needs. How to make it fit. Make it work.

So as I sit here, in my chair, desperately trying to focus on the task at hand, the refrain that the powers that be keep telling us, ‘we are all in this together.’ is thrumming the the fog of my brain, and all I can think is that I think, I have never felt so alone.

How are you doing?

Tomorrow is another day. 

Middle of the Night

Tired does not begin to describe

Torn does not even come close

You don’t see me

You don’t hear me, unless you need

It’s your need, your play ground

You say ‘I know you work hard’

But the list of to do becomes longer

You tell me how things should be

But wait to see if I lead, guide or just do

You don’t see me

You don’t hear me, unless you need

It’s your need, your playground

I repeat, I repeat so often

You say ‘how was I supposed to know?’

I am so tired, I am so torn, I am so hollow

You don’t see me, you don’t hear me

Ghosts

I saw a few things I wanted to pass along to you. Things I thought would make you laugh or at least a moment of respite from life. I caught myself….almost too late.  I remembered. You are not there. It would be lost to the ether. By choice or by design some endings will never be understood. 

I miss you. I miss laughing with you. I miss our interesting and challenging conversations. I miss the meals we shared. I missed the fun we created. 

This hit home this morning. I dreamt of you and others I have lost. We were at a table filled with oddities, pretties and food, we were celebrating with so many more friends and family, those I brought to you, and you to me, that have intertwined our lives. When I woke you were still untouchable, lost.

I popped online and the first thing I saw, I knew would make you laugh……. and it began again.

I wish you peace, you touched my life in ways I can’t explain. Some day the loss of you will sting a little less and the remembered laughter will feel a little warmer. Until then……

Pieces

Her voice came out in pieces.

Important words lost to silence 

Her meaning distorted by perception 

Her voice came out in pieces 

Soft words of understanding devoured 

Her own requests spat out like gristle 

Her voice came out in pieces 

The songs others wanted to hear 

Pulled from the fragments 

Her voice came out in pieces 

Although she thought she spoke well 

She came to understand it was in a language no one knew 

Her voice stayed whole inside her

TFTFL- Isolation and My Monsters

For most of my life, my anxiety issues, at their very worst, have lead me to feeling isolated. Trapped inside my own head. It is a lonely, loud place, it can be very dark. 

In my mid twenties for a time, I became agoraphobic, I was able to go from work to home, and that was all. Anywhere else was like torture, vertigo, nausea, my ears would ring and it took a lot of control not to cry. I had every excuse in the book to find ways to stay home. 

During that time I also became anxious and fearful of using the phone. 

I learned then, that having few trusted people in close in physical proximity was very helpful to me amongst other things.

It took the better part of two years before my anxiety about being in the outside world eased gradually. It took until this past winter (20+ years) for me to use the phone and not feel severely ill. It was a goal I had set for myself this past fall. Another goal I had set was to conquer a different social anxiety that had set in in the last couple of years. More recently, symptoms of social anxiety had again begun to show. This time it has manifested in getting together with people I know. We used to be known for our gatherings, meals and parties, but that came to crashing halt after my 45th birthday.  There are a series of pin point triggers that I have identified, but have not yet been able to get past with much success. But I was determined. I was going to try to host a Spring Equinox dinner, or at least celebrate my birthday this year. Then Covid took over the world.

We are now asked to isolate. We are encouraged to keep in contact at a distance. We are being asked to save physical lives by limiting physical contact. There has been some discussion of how this will affect mental health. But this will be a cost for so many tallied well into the future.

I have learned that a good portion of my emotional and mental health wellbeing is contingent on physical contact and conversation. I also invest heavily into my job and life to be of service. Currently this has become somewhat impossible. 

I am trying to be adaptable. I am trying to reach out, I am trying to be open and understanding. I am trying to be hopeful. I am trying to create what I can for myself and others. I am trying to be gracious for all the kindness and connection I have received. I am trying to stay a float. I am trying to use my awareness of mental health to be proactive, helpful and supportive.

The fatigue with this is not just my own. I know the people around me are feeling it too. Not only the ones with existing mental health issues, but those that until now, have never experienced mental health problems. I know that we all respond differently to these difficulties. Some close in and down, some reach out and try to be proactive. 

My own anxiety has me fighting myself not to take lack of communication personally. Has me fighting myself that reaching out does not make me annoying or overly needy. Yet… I have hit reoccurring patterns. I have come up against my own expectations of what I am willing to do for others, but do not feel is being invested back. I am up against wondering why I matter less to some than others. Has me second guessing my energy investments. Things I believe I had made peace with and moved past. It has me giving in to letting the physical pain I feel exacerbate the fog and pain in my head. I can feel the fog, the heightened drama, the things the monsters believe are unforgivable pieces of me. I am fighting. I am winning slightly more than I am losing this week. But the battles are getting bigger.

This is not the time. This is not the time to be taken down from the inside. This is not the time to give in to the paranoia. This is not the time to give up asking for what I need. This is not the time to recede from what I can give to those who need more than I do regardless of their ability to create reciprocal support. This is not the time.

I am trying to be gentle with others, myself and the world as we navigate the now and what is to come next. I am frightened. I am tired. I am sad. 

In moments I also can feel hopeful, calm, engaged in helping.

All I can say- keep an eye on yourself, and on those around you. We need each other more than ever. We need kindness, forgiveness and compassion. If you need contact, tell someone. It is easy to let people slip away. It is easy to fall into moments of scarcity and self preservation. But that is not the lesson here.

Hold space, love and kindness. Check in, check often. Share love, kind word, even a hello. It doesn’t have to be big or time consuming, but it can make the difference to how we survive this.

Thanks for reading.