Wisdom

This week my 17-year-old went through what seems to have become a right of passage for teenagers today, the removal of her wisdom teeth.

It's been a while since I have had a child go under general anethestic, 5, years to be precise, and the same kid too while I'm thinking about it although last time it was emergency surgery so there wasn't really any time to think about or prepare for it.

Still, Zoe's surgery has meant a few things not the least of which has been that I have been home all week. Perhaps because the intensity of her needs or the dedication with which I filled them, it slowly dawned on me that I haven't been doing a great job of taking care of myself.

Oh, I've been eating (sometimes) and sporadically flexing my new YMCA membership muscles but I do it in between the time I spend taking care of the kids and taking care of my relationship and taking care of my mother who this year has developed a heart condition and a need to be taken care of.

I spend a lot of time in my van driving back and forth between Hamilton and St. Catharines and Hamilton and Mississauga. A lot of time driving to soccer and guitar and piano and youth group and boot camp.  A lot of time cooking and shopping and cleaning in not just my home but in my other two part time locations.

My life has somehow flipped upside down so that I am taking care of myself in between, like it's a hobby rather than the main event. I have a list of things I need to do and a list of things I want to do and I find myself knocking that list down so incredibly slowly because the list never makes it to the top of my list.

Case in point, it's almost May and my snow tires are still on my ever-moving van. I have an appointment for tomorrow (which I called four different service stations and waited three days to get) to fix this and to change the oil but my mother has an appointment she forgot to tell me about and nobody else to take her. Van/mother/Van/Mother....

In the mix, I have a writing workshop in two days. I signed up for it two months ago when I was more productive. I haven't written very much recently even though I have all these letters crashing around in my head forming words. I don't have the time to sit with them long enough to let them course their way from my head to the tips of my fingers.

I love my family.  Love that I get the honour of facilitating their lives and watching them grow.  This year, however, as I look forward to watching the eldest walk across the stage and get her high school diploma then take off for University, I can't help but think about how time flies; how just yesterday it was me being launched and how I have spent way too much of my time and energy helping other people chase their dreams instead of chasing my own.

As I look at my calendar for May, I vow to make sure that my time doesn't get sucked down the rabbit hole of facilitating other people's lives; to make sure more of me ends up on paper and more things get crossed off my personal to-do list.

But that's for May...it's still April and, well, two kids have swimming lessons and one has boot camp so I better go!

The Fisherman and Passerby

Freed from ice the surface rushes
forming waves which dance
together joyfully before collapsing.

The eager fisherman
stands holding his rod
on the wind-battered shore,
line dangling below the frigid
surface, hoping fish will rise
to his bait.

A passerby scurries past, small dog
on a leash walking quickly behind.
He shakes his aroogant head while
tsk, tsking the fisherman's
foolishness.

The fisherman hears the
reproach and silently chuckles
as he watches passerby sink
deeper into the upturned collar of
his spring jacket, dusted
off and donned too soon for the
winter chill which lingers.

Smugly the fisherman barely has time
to sip from his nearby coffee cup, tug
down the rim of his warm woollen hat and
flex toes inside his winter boots before his line
is jumping.

Boyishly he grins and reels in his
catch which he admires while
removing the hook. He holds the
floppping fish up, quickly stoops over
the water to release it before standing to
replace the bait.

"Why waste your time?"

Fisherman turns to see the passerby has
circled back to ask the question.

"I don't know," said the fisherman pointing
to the dog. "Why do you waste yours?"

- Vera

Petrified

The sun rides low
in April's sky
while winter's wind
continues to terrorize,
daring petrified leaves
to burst forth
from their buds.

Squirrels scurry tree's
limbs anxious to return
to the warmth of their
Dreys and the few nuts
they have left.

Overhead birds chirp
of the newly hatched
before loudly complaining of
their exposed nests
watching intently wondering
when and where nature's greenery
will first be gleaned.

As sky darkens
sun sets taking
its empty promises
of warmth while silencing
their chatter with an answer
of not today.

I slide between my
cold sheets
shiver off the chill
while taking comfort
from the knowledge
that tomorrow the answer
or the question may
change.

- Vera

Indigestion

My doctor says I'm

suffering from verbal 

indigestion.

I have letters on my mind,

words in my heart and

sentences on either side of

my semi-colon.

As she prescribes,

I drink a lot of water.

What comes out is sometimes

pure sh*t

But other times it's

Sheer poetry.

- Vera

Forgiveness

One of the hardest things I am learning to do is forgive myself. Not because I maim and torture puppies, drown kittens or am generally a horrible person.  Not because I cheat or steal or live my life with a careless disregard for others, but for sometimes taking too long to see the truth; for allowing fear to get in my way; for sometimes unintentionally hurting people I care about.

That's how I am starting this year, with a need to forgive myself.

Perhaps my expectations of myself are too high for wanting to be able to step outside who I am and already be who I am in the process of becoming.  Perhaps I need to remember that the mistakes and the consequences that come with them are the process that makes the change possible.  Perhaps I need to remember that my intentions are almost always set with only the best outcome in mind, even if that's not the outcome I reap.

If I was watching a friend encounter what I am going through, I would generously tell him/her that they were being way too hard on themselves. That they did the best they could at the time and if that's not acceptable then so be it, but it's not a friend, it's me.

It's hard enough to watch people hurt, harder still to know I'm the reason for it.

Possibility - Poem

I held his heart

so closely that I could

feel it beat inside me.

I could taste the breath

he took into his lungs.

When he ate

my belly became full.

His laughter bubbled and

spilled from my lips

while moisture from his

tears clung to my lashes.

Now his sadness echoes

through my empty chest,

His hot despair rides the

current through my veins and

acid leaks from my eyes

masking my beauty

even from myself.

Still somehow the knowledge

that love's light lays in

our eyes and God's goodness

is embedded in the

very thought of our touch

penetrates the illusion.

My heart holds fast to the truth

and has no ears to hear differently

So I open my hands

and my hears in hopes that

he will feel

me beating inside  him.

That he will taste the hope

I breathe into my lungs

and that when I eat, he

will become full with possibility.

- Vera

Failing Greatly - Me, Not the Book

I first read Dr. Brene Brown's book Daring Greatly just over a year ago.  At the time I felt so encouraged and inspired to authentically share myself.

After this last week, when I found myself stuffing very raw and very real emotions down into every dark corner I could find within, I realize that I need a refresher course. A reminder of how not just appropriate but necessary it is for me to show myself.  If not to everyone then at least to a few somebodies.

The funniest thing about vulnerability is that I can't really hide it.  

Mask, yes.  I can make it look like anger, like sadness, like incredible competence or, wait for it...I don't give a shit and you can't make me."

Depending on the depth of my challenge, I will rub through the list once or twice which is really handy for keeping people wondering what the fuck is going on but also robs me of the opportunity to get my needs met. 

As emotionally savvy as I think my magical mask makes me, I haven't found a way to make my vulnerability look like happiness or joy or anything else that remotely resembles a positive emotion.  

So, here I am on January 4, me who doesn't make resolutions, gritting my teeth and preparing to give myself a kick in the ego by rereading this book.

I would like to say I'm surprised I need the reminder, that I expected the first reading to sink in and take root, forevermore providing me with courage an wisdom.

Truth is, I am a voracious reader and it is one of only four books that I keep at my bedside. One, out of all the thousands of books that I have read which has the ability to put out my emotional flame while setting my soul on fire.

This evening I will be pouring my glass of wine, adding bubbles to my bath and setting out on this journey so that 2015 is as joyous and fulfilling as it is meant to be.