Monday Musings-The Aftermath of Time

It takes two minutes to return a smile, a lifetime to grieve a loved one, and thirty seconds for panic to set in when your child’s missing. People can vanish without a trace, be lost and never found, die of sudden or natural causes and we’re left to wonder about time. The time we could’ve spent sharing our love and appreciation with that person, a better use of the time spent with them not knowing it would be the last time we would see them. 

It’s happened a lot in my life-loss and the grief’s felt like a never ending cycle of turmoil and pain. Ever circulating and appearing in my life for a personal loss of life or one shared with a friend. Time where you wish you hadn’t said words in anger, fear or mistrust. When you could see past your very human ego to forgive instead of forming the words of negativity and pain. Forgiveness really is an art form, to move past the pain inflicted on your psyche and spirit. To turn the other cheek and give kindness when in your heart you know it’s the right thing to do. Forgiveness solves many problems but what happens to the person who releases the one who caused the indiscretion in the first place? 

Do they simply forgive and forget words that sliced through their heart like a serrated knife? Do they move on and feel their spirit lighter with an air of peace? Does the simple act of saying “I forgive you” imply that they understand why the hurt was inflicted upon them? Here lies in the struggle, I personally find it difficult to forgive. I was raised with an armour of stubbornness and tenacity that’s made it difficult to make that choice to forgive. I feel weak and vulnerable, to relent to pain caused to me. I’m human yet moving past the pain to divinity is better for my soul. 

I recently had an argument with my son and in his preadolescent mindset he chose to walk away then help resolve it. We were in a city we had never been to before and on our way back to the hotel we were staying at. He thought his Dad and I were being unfair so he stomped away. I had no idea where he was going or if he knew how to find his way back to our hotel. It was a dark yet a well lit parking lot but to see him run away like that was heartbreaking. I was feeling more scared then angry as I ran after him and he disappeared!  

My family and I entered the hotel and I couldn’t find him anywhere. My lungs were ready to burst as it was cold night and my asthmatic symptoms were setting in and I frantically searched for my son.  I asked the front desk staff if they had seen him and they replied they had not. The woman said “do you need a key card” and I replied “no I just need my son back now unharmed!” I made my way to the elevator to see if he was waiting for me while my husband and youngest son went ahead to our room. 

For fifteen heart stopping minutes I had no idea where my oldest son was. Was he hurt, was he kidnapped, was he lost and searching for me? By the grace of God he was found when another friends parent saw him waiting in the hallway and took him back to our room. I quickly jumped in an elevator and as my mind raised all I could think of was the last time I saw him. The hurtful words that were exchanged, the look of anger on his face, and how lost I felt when I couldn’t find him. I should’ve took back those spiteful words of anger said, I should’ve recognized he was frustrated and needing to be heard than reacting to his outburst. I needed to make better use of my time with him letting him know even though I disagreed I still loved and respected him. 

When I got to my floor I burst out of the elevator like I was on fire and ran to my room. I opened the door and grabbed my son up in my arms in a hug that needed to last a lifetime. He squirmed away from me then eventually relaxed into my embrace as the tears flowed. I tried to talk but my words were halted by my sobs. 

What I managed to convey to him was that I was so worried that something could’ve happened to him. With the last words we had spoken to each other in emotion were not what we meant to say. Yet it’s true as the adage says we always hurt the ones we love. Why is that easier option then to just agree to disagree and come up with a solution? There were apologies given and received and for the rest of the weekend he wasn’t out of my sight. Except to play hockey and use the dressing room facilities. Forgiveness was difficult but necessary to give in order to value each other and our relationship. 

I never want to go through that heart wrenching experience again! I feel like it aged me by ten years and took time off my lifespan. It all begins and ends with time.  I’ve learned a valuable lesson to curb my temper and refrain from spouting words of anger and angst in the heat of the moment. My son has learned that a moment of negativity can cause him to make a poor choice yet he’s willing to admit his mistake and learn from it. Time it’s the deciding factor of all our words, actions, and transgressions. And I for one will be using my time more wisely with my friends and loved ones. You just never know when that time will run out and regret will take its place. 

Would you like to take part in #MondayMusings? Our host is Everyday Gyann read her post to see how to slow down and get creative. 
Here’s how it works:
Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.

Use the hashtag #MondayMusings.

Click on the Everyday Gyann link then add your link to the linky below

Use our #MondayMusings badge to encourage other bloggers join in too.

Visit and comment on the posts of other bloggers linked here.

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#Mondaymusings-Lets talk about mental health on #Bellletstalkday

 
I have a story to share I always have. I have a big heart and a big vocabulary and I’m always up for a honest, open discussion. Yet the one thing that always silenced me was my depression. To speak of it meant a horrible feeling of shame that washed over me. I have struggled with the stigma of it since I was very young. I was four years old when my parents separated and with that brought an immense sadness. 

I had no control of it but I was glad to see the fighting stop in my daily life. There were still tears, prayers, and long heart to heart talks but the hurtful words thrown about so carelessly were gone. My Dad took on another life and family and my Mom was forced to make a life as a single parent to two little girls who needed her. She struggled with mental health too, sleeping at odd hours of the day, angry outbursts, tear filled days and nights as her heart was broken over her failed marriage. 

I saw it all, heard the stories, and did my best to comfort her. Being empathic I could feel every emotion and it was like a double edge sword living with this pain. I was so young and impressionable and yet I was growing wise to the ways of the world. I grew up like any other typical kid living in this  existence as I fought with the sadness and anger that would overtake my heart. The world was too loud, confusing, chaotic, and busy. I didn’t know how to cope so I turned to prayer, songs, and my faithful books. 

I grew into a sullen teenager and battled with anyone who would talk to me. My poor Mom didn’t know what to do and so we attended family therapy. I soon started having nightmares as triggers from my childhood came back to haunt me. I would go days on end not sleeping which means my Mom did do. I was finally diagnosed with clinical Depression and Insomnia 

I refused medication as I had such a fear of being drugged into what I call the “Ritalin generation.” It seemed like any child who couldn’t sit still, thought outside the box, and expressed a volatile opinion was put on the token drug of choice. I wasn’t going to be a statistic so I chose to take a more natural route. 

My Mom supported me with this as I changed my nutrition plan, got more exercise, and took Valerian and other herbs for my lack of sleeping pattern. It was a dark and confusing time in my life and I coped with it the best I could. I soon matured into an adult and had years of journals that commemorates that confusing chaotic time in my life. As I grew older graduated and attended college my mental health issues came back full force. The stress of deadlines, securing a student loan to attend school, and maintain a relationship took it’s toll. At the age of twenty I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

I also experienced a lot of death in my life losing both my Grandparents, parents, and my step sister all before I was the age of forty. I suffered with Post Partum Depression which I had with both of my babies and it was dark, devastating tunnel of grief and despair. What I hadn’t know that it was being overshadowed by Sensory Processing Disorder. I would come to know that when I took the journey with my children to a diagnosis.  Who both have two types of SPD, (also known formerly as Sensory Integration and Sensory Dysfunction Disorder) Sensory Defensive Disorder which means avoiding all sensory input to the central nervous system and  Sensory Modulation Disorder which is the opposite, it’s the seeking out of all sensory input to the central nervous system. 

 

Clara Hughes

 
I’ve learned a lot as a Mom to children with complex needs and I’m now referred to as a walking medical dictionary by my therapist. I’ve come to know from my experience that being a special needs parent is not for the faint at heart. We’re all struggling in our ways with parenting, making our marriages a priority, and trying to carve out some me time. Some of us struggle, swear, drink, and eat too much. I believe others do too they just hide it better. I still have another leg of my journey to take with my children as more letters of the alphabet are discovered with each diagnostic test and assessment. Since I’ve introduced therapy with a psychologist, a psychiatrist, occupational, physical therapists,  and speech and language pathologist their future is looking brighter with early intervention. 

 

Clara Hughes speaking candidly about her mental health

 
I advocate strongly on their behalf and my own and I share this glimpse into our lives for #Bellletstalkday. This is a mental health initiative in my country Canada and for every talk, text, tweet, and share Bell will donate five cents to Canadian Mental Health. Last year the campaign raised over $500,000 and I had the fortunate experience of meeting one of the spokespersons former two time Olympian Clara Hughes. 

Please share, talk, text, and tweet the hashtag #Bellletstalkday to erase the stigma of mental health and bring it into the spotlight than having it shrouded in darkness and fear. One random act of kindness can do so much to help others like one ripple across the water that can create a wave of understanding. 

It’s time for #Mondaymusings and all you have to do is this list of things. 

Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.

Use the hashtag #MondayMusings and link to this post.

Add your link to the linky which you will find either here and on the post of a co-host. Today’s co-hosts are Everyday Gyaan and Living My Imperfect Life

Use our #MondayMusings badge to help other bloggers join in too.

Monday Musings-the lies we tell ourselves

I’m a truthful person I’ve been taught to always be honest but never cruel, to be appreciative and not take things or people for granted. To always speak from my heart instead of inventing a lie. There’s one lie I’ve told myself is that I’m fine. I’m really not when I say that, it’s a easy way of letting the world know I have it together. 

Even though it appears like I do I really don’t, I’m struggling and I hide behind the mask that I present to world. I always think about that quote 

“Be kind to others, because everyone is fighting their own secret battles.”

I am a kind and loving person and I’m raising my children to be this way as well. I teach them to tell the truth, and to let them know they can tell their parents anything. I give them the opportunity to tell the truth first then give consequences if they’re not honest with me. I don’t want them to think it’s ok to tell me they’re fine when they’re not. Or that “I didn’t do it”or “I don’t know broke” the lamp. 

We tell ourselves these lies because it’s hard to face the truth sometimes. But even though it’s an old cliche the truth will set us free. There’s nothing to remember when you tell the truth, there’s nothing that needs to be created when honesty is the best policy. I’m dealing with a situation right now of lies being told. I have given the opportunity to hear the truth but wasn’t given that respect.

 So now there are consequences and disappointment. Why do we have to hide behind a mask of untruths instead of just being honest? Why does it feel better to lie and make ourselves feel better than ripping off the bandaid and exposing ourselves? It’s easier to hide behind a facade then to be real with ourselves. This is a foreign concept for me as I was taught the truth is a positive way to live my life. 

To be lied to is to be disrespected, and the hurt that arises from that is crushing. I don’t need to build myself up with a house of cards where the truth is distorted and I can’t tell what is real or what is not. Whether it happens sooner or later that house of deception comes crashing down around you. Be real, it’s the only way to feel good about yourself don’t build yourself up into being someone you don’t recognize or respect. 

I’m going to start taking my own advice when people ask me how I’m doing I’m not going to say fine. I will tell the truth I’m happy the sun’s shining, I’m struggling but I’m finding a way to cope. I owe it to myself to speak the truth and not hiding behind a mask I’ve created out of fear.  William Shakespeare is one of my favourite poets and playwrights and he spoke the truth when he created this simple but profound quote. 

“To thine own self be true”

It’s time for #Mondaymusings and all you have to do is this list of things. 

Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.
Use the hashtag #MondayMusings and link to this post.
Add your link to the linky which you will find either here and on the post of a co-host.
Use our #MondayMusings badge to help other bloggers join in too.
Visit and comment on the posts of other bloggers linked here.

Share the love.

Today’s co-hosts are Everyday Gyaan and Tales of Two Tomatoes

  

Monday Musings-Triggers of the Past

What is it about the past that activate the triggers in your mind from childhood? It’s like those thoughts lay in a locked  box deep inside my brain then something happens and then they’re triggered, and opened up to sift through like a filing cabinet of memories. I recently woke up with a stiff neck and had to spend most of my day resting and stretching my overworked muscles. 

I started a new fitness program and I was overzealous about it and this is the result. I have to remember I’m not twenty anymore and take it at a less than frantic pace. All I could think about as I lay there feeling sorry for myself was how much I loved to climb as a child. You could find me in trees, on top of the roof of my house, and sitting on my Mom’s upright piano. 

There was one time I was climbing like usual after I bounded out of the house after breakfast. I reached out to grab a branch and instead I grabbed a snake! You can imagine my fright as I felt helpless and plummeted to the earth below. I lay there listening to my bones crack I wondered if I could walk and if that snake was going to land on my head. I could see it still in the tree hissing at me like something out of Disney’s Robin Hood. 

I never did like that character Sir Hiss as my Mom and Gram had a fear of snakes and all I knew was to fear them as well. My Mom came outside to check on me and saw me lying on the ground. She started screaming, crying, and praying as she tried to find help. All my siblings had left for school and my Dad for work. So she picked me up and brought me into the house. 

She laid me softly down on the couch and covered me with my favourite blanket. She put a cool washcloth on my forehead and began to check my head and neck for damage. I was so sore and had a big goose egg on the back of my skull. It hurt to move my neck so I just laid there while my sweet Mama cried and prayed over me. 

We lived in a rural community so to find anyone home to take me to the Dr was a slim and none chance. My Mom gave me something for the pain and turned on the tv. She had put my favourite show Sesame Street on and I listened and drifted off to sleep. I survived that fall and many others because I was a climber. Now I have my own child that loves to climb bookshelves, the back of the couch, on top of his bike, and has yet to climb a tree. 

This is what I thought about as I lied there in my bed having my pity party unable to turn my head while my sweet little boy looked after me. I don’t do helpless and sick very well, I don’t suppose any of us does. I just wish for my Mom to look after me like she did so long ago. But time has passed on and with it her life has too so I end up wistfully missing her and her tender loving care. 

Childhood triggers fill my mind with memories of good days and bad. Songs, games, and old friendships that were so important to me. I think of that old red house that reminded me of a barn on a farm. With the big heater with the stove pipe in the middle of the room. I think of the many hours spent there on my beloved Mama’s lap as she rocked me holding me tightly in her arms. I wish I could go back there for another day feeling that loves and cherished. Instead I lie here in my bed stiff and sore cuddling my child. Who will grow up and have these memories of special times with his Mom. 

This brings to mind a poem to fill my wistful grieving heart. 

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

-Rumi

This has been my late edition of #Mondaymusings as I was searching for the linkup that is now being hosted at Everyday Gyann if you’d like to join in here are some tips to take part in #MondayMusings? Here’s how it works:

Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.
Use the hashtag #MondayMusings.

Add your link to the linky which you will find here and on the post of a co-host.

Use our #MondayMusings badge to encourage other bloggers join in too.

Visit and comment on the posts of other bloggers linked here.

Share the love.

  

Monday Musings Worry

Waiting for days on end for news that I’m praying will be positive instead of negative. I watch my son’s behaviour to indicate if he’s having seizures and I’m missing out on documenting them. My mind can go in a thousand different directions without hearing any results for a month. And trust me it has, is this how my life is supposed to be in constant worry for his health? 

I never knew when I rubbed my belly at eight months protecting him from the news of my Mom’s death that I would be in this state of mind now. I never knew with him arriving at thirty-six weeks we would encounter all these medical issues. I wasn’t prepared for my one and only Mom’s death, nor ready to to give birth prematurely. 

I went home from the hospital reeling with grief while my baby had to stay behind in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive care unit) I had a four year old son and a husband that needed me and I felt so torn. All I wanted was my Mom to hold me and tell me everything would be alright. But I didn’t have her then and I don’t have her now. 

Being a special needs parent feels a lot like venturing out on a lonely road to find my happy, peaceful place in my mind and body. A lot of the time reading and researching helps so I know how to approach Dr’s and specialists with my questions. What is the reason that my son’s Global Developmentally Delayed, why does he struggle so much with basic concepts of visual spatial relations and verbal fluency with his conversational speech? 

Why does he suffer with anxiety, OCD, and possibly ADHD behaviours?  I’m told he was born early so he would be delayed to reach his developmental milestones. Which is half true he sat up and crawled later then his peers, but walked early and ran laps around me by the time he was fifteen months. Yet there are challenges, his speech was delayed, he had a high threshold to pain, but a weaker immune system and was sickly as a baby. 

Life has turned into a system of checks and balances he’s been tested for genetic disorders, allergies, and I’ve completed many developmental questionnaires. To date he’s had a polysonogram and an EEG that will be followed by an MRI and surgery to help improve his severe Obstructive Sleep Apnea Disgnosis. He has a wonderful therapy team that is helping him succeed so I question myself what do I have to worry about? 

I worry for his future will he hold down a job, graduate and go to college, meet someone special and fall in love? What will it be like when he does and he gets his heart broken? How will he cope with his anxiety, how will I? Will he still be living with us or in assisted living? I pray he will be continue to be his own success story as I cheer every accomplishment he makes. The latest is remembering words to the Christmas carols he practiced in preschool. As well as being able to sing Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes while performing the actions. 

When we would sing that song before he’d get so confused and start yelling and putting his hands over his ears to block out all the excess information flooding his brain. I had to explain to his preschool teachers that the song irritated and I think even scared him. It broke my heart to see his reaction so after three months of therapy he can sing the song with a smile on his face. Then I think you don’t have anything to worry about he’ll be fine. I’ve heard this from well meaning people in my life and I always say he will be with the proper early intervention in his life. 

The call I’ve been waiting for finally came in today after waiting for thirty long days! The results were great there’s no seizure activity but his brain will need to be assessed at his MRI. So I arm myself with Teflon encased around my heart, cover myself in prayer and I realize I’m not emotion or bullet proof but I have God and a wonderful support network on my team. I will help my son get through this with love, acceptance, and prayer. I’m a warrior, and I love homand I may get knocked down with worry but I will always get back up ready to fight. 

It’s time for #Mondaymusings and all you have to do is this list of things. 

Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.
Use the hashtag #MondayMusings and link to this post.
Add your link to the linky which you will find either here and on the post of a co-host.
Use our #MondayMusings badge to help other bloggers join in too. Write Tribe is going through some maintenance so it will be hosted at a different website for a few weeks. 
Today’s Monday Musings is co-hosted by Crazy Little Family Adventure and Everyday Gyann please check out their posts and all the other talent that link up. 

Monday Musings-Christmas in my comfort zone

I’ve always been a traveller during the holidays. Ever since I was four years old and my Mom would have my sister and I for Christmas and my Dad would have us for Boxing Day. This tradition continued for many years until my Dad passed it over to my middle sister and her family. We’re of Ukrainian descent on my Dad’s side so it would be a day consisting of perogie making and eating contests. This was our way of celebrating the Ukrainian Christmas that falls in January. 

My oldest brother always won the record of most perogies eaten at one sitting with fifty-two and our Dad a runner up with forty-nine. I won for the women one year with fourteen eaten and many, many, created in my family’s kitchen. Now that I’m married and have a family of my own I have my own traditions. We do Christmas baking and advent calendars with my kids. I also started the book advent where a new book is unwrapped and read each day up till Christmas. My son’s each get to open a present on Christmas Eve which consists of pyjamas or slippers. This year they each get a family movie night box complete with hot chocolate, DVD, popcorn, and pj’s. 

I’m excited about this new way of celebrating Christmas with my children! I love to see their faces lit up with the joy of decorating the Christmas tree. As well as their amazement when we see how many decorations we piled on that seven foot beauty. We’ve always been the members of our family who lived furthest away but were expected to travel. And so we did just as couple for many years and later as a family of four. My Grandparents and parents were still alive during these Christmases and seeing them was what made my holiday brighter. 

  
After they had passed away in 1991, 1999, 2009, and 2011 our trips back home ceased to happen. It was just too heartbreaking to go back to the same place and see that empty spot at the kitchen table. The last Christmas I had with my Dad my oldest son was two. I remember how special it was to see them together soaking up every precios moment they could together. It was bittersweet as I knew this would be the last time they’d share aholiday together. 

When my Mom had passed I was eight months pregnant with my second son. She had known he was planned for, created, and growing in my belly but never got to meet him or hold him. That last Christmas she spent most of it sleeping as her medication for travel made her very tired. I wasn’t able to travel as I was being watched for complications. The next time I saw her was at her viewing in the church and then her funeral. That wasn’t something I’ve been able to forgive myself for but I know it’s nothing I had control of. In time I will heal and let that go. For now it’s a double edged jagged knife in my heart. That makes it hard to breathe sometimes….

Now my children are growing up so quickly I’d like to freeze time and let them stay little and innocent awhile longer. We travelled to family last year and it took a lot out of us as a whole. It’s not easy to have a busy, loud, bustling, holiday season with sensitive children. Being out of routine, away from their calming and emotionally regulating routine and not sleeping well can lead to sensory overloaded meltdowns. While it’s common for this time of year it’s not always accepted behaviour at one’s home, family relative or not. 

I spent a lot of time outside playing in the snow with my kids. Snowball fights, snowman building, and powder diving kept them happy, calm, and me from losing my ever loving mind! My youngest son with his Sensory Processing Disorder has a lot of food texture issues so I knew he wouldn’t be having the turkey with all the trimmings. No matter how delicious it appeared to be for others he was happy with his peanut butter sandwich and milk. I did not pressure or chastise him for this preference, as this is not how to help him adapt and want to try new foods or food groups. 

Food is not a battle I choose to have with my son. I pick them carefully because at this time of year everything in his environment is a hair trigger to a blow up waiting to happen.  His older brother who’s a Sensory avoider of excess sensory input will cover his ears, beg for quiet time, and get overloaded by the noise and commotion. Then my youngest who’s a seeker of this sensory input who will run, spin, stim, and then fall apart with exhaustion or overload. This is what I refer to as Armageddon implosion, internally they’re struggling so much, and externally they can’t regulate themselves without my help. 

 In 5-4-3-2-1 BOOM 💥 massive meltdown city is where we’re living and it’s not for the weak hearted. This leads to my husband and I watching for the triggers and doing our best to keep them calm or remove them from the situation entirely. That is how we spent last Christmas Eve where I was told my one son needed valium, and my reply was “no he could use some understanding, I’ll take the Valium.” To be honest my wine glass was never empty during that holiday.  We all got to do what we got to do to get through those hellish hours, without judgement. 

Last year was a long, painful, exciting, and exhausting holiday. I got to see family on my husband’s side and mine. My kids were eager to see their aunts and uncles and open up and play with their toys. I was able to sit back and relax and enjoy seeing them happy and regulated around my side of the family. While repeating my mantra there’s no place like home. Because really there isn’t, it’s so rewarding to be able to hang out in your pj’s all day eating popcorn and watching Netflix. I went against my better judgement and did what was expected of me and my kids reacted accordingly. I accept that now, although it was a bitter pill to swallow at the time. 

This year I’m doing what’s best for them and staying home. We just moved and bought our house last year and now after eighteen months we get to have our first Christmas in it! I’m so excited to relax in my pj’s, cook a big turkey with all the trimmings, munch on my holiday baking, and enjoy Christmas movies with my family. I will light a candle for my loved ones who are no longer with us. Yet are now our Christmas angels from heaven sending us love and comfort when we need it the most. I will provide strength to my family and relatives who are walking through the pain of losing their family member as well, and trying to get through the holidays while grieving. 

After all the eating, sharing, and cuddling are done then we’ll roll out of the house after indulging in our holiday feast and go tobogganing and enjoy a bonfire, hot chocolate, and laughter with our friends. I couldn’t be happier about starting to revive this tradition and add some new ones to our family. This year we are travel free, except to the toboggan hill and back. I couldn’t be more happier and excited about revelling in this freedom and joy!  Christmas is where the heart is, and also where my comfort zone resides. 

It’s time for #Mondaymusings and all you have to do is this list of things. 
Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.
Use the hashtag #MondayMusings and link to this post.
Add your link to the linky which you will find either here and on the post of a co-host.
Use our #MondayMusings badge to help other bloggers join in too.

Today’s co-hosts are Happiness and Food, Blogs by Esha, Everyday Gyaan thank you for having me in the linkup today. 😃

Monday Musings-Procrastination

Here we are 11 days before Christmas and anyone ready for it? Slowly raising hand in the back of a crowded shopping mall… Actually you won’t find me anywhere near a shopping mall I avoid them like the plague. I’m a very sensory individual so my personal bubble is close like a vest. I have to resist the urge to throat punch most people around this busy bustling season. 

I’m usually quite a calm person but the harried, hectic energy of the holidays sends me into a tailspin! Just driving into a parking lot to mail my Christmas cards is enough to send me into a panic attack as I drive around and around looking for a parking spot. I prefer to do my shopping really early or late at night at a big box store. Then if all else fails I have the online option sitting on my couch and I don’t even have to wear pants! I do though because it’s winter and damn cold in my fridge box of a house. 

 

This isn’t my meme, I found it on Facebook and it’s brilliant dont you think? 😉

 
My husband discovered I turned up the heat last night to a balmy + 25 degrees. Comparing that to 77 degrees Fahrenheit which some states are experiencing this winter! Our Canadian one came upon us graciously and gradually compared to the blizzard of 2014 that had me wearing my winter coat and freezing my ass off in September brrrrrr! 

This year we were blessed with chinooks (a beautiful phenomenon that has warm air meeting cold air and the result is higher temperatures) In October we had a + 20 degree day ( 68 degrees Farenheit) and I set up the bouncy house for my kids. They loved it as did I, it’s a great workout bouncing all my stress away. It was fabulous and fleeting but I enjoyed every minute of it. 

 

This is my meme and an example of the mighty Chinook weather pattern

 
Getting back to the winter and procrastination at hand, I’m not usually a Bah humbug I love Christmas as you can read about here. But I’m a Grinch about shopping it’s either done very early or very late on my time table. This year early didn’t factor into my plans and late well I’m not entirely there yet but I will be soon if I don’t stop procrastinating! 

In my defence though I had the flu bug hit my home like an assault team taking no prisoners. It took down each member of my family with no mercy. I cleaned up enough bodily fluids and wiped down and sanitized every square inch of my household. I was cursing the former owners on their decision to install beige carpeting in my kids rooms! 

Even now my plan was to mail off my Christmas cards and parcels today but my youngest child is sick with a nasty chest cold. I’m doing my best to not share in that misery but my loving little germ factory is crawling all over me as I write this. Sigh I can’t say I blame him though all I want is my Mommy cuddles when I’m sick. But unfortunately heaven doesn’t take drop ins just permanent guests. 

  
I felt I was more on the ball this time then last year. There was a death in my family two weeks before Christmas and with that experience I learned 

1. That death can devastate you even at the most special time of year 
2.  That the good really do die young. 

     3.Cancer really, really, sucks. 
This year I had one of my closest friends and a family member die. It’s a time of self reflection, sadness, and also to realize what’s important in life. Not the crossing off every present on my kids list, shopping for family members that can’t shop for themselves, or even passing along my own wish list to my husband. Who was kind enough to buy me some new specs so that I can see properly since my eyes are getting older. 

The list that matters that I’ve lived, loved, and learned from is as follows.

1. Kindness above everything  is the most important gift to possesses and give freely. 
2. Gratitude is a game changer in life. If you’re not grateful for what you have, you won’t appreciate what you want. 
3. Love solves everything, is everything, and means everything. 

It’s like the good ole wise Grinch from Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas found out and narrated by the late great Boris Karlov says:

  
It’s time for #Mondaymusings and all you have to do is this list of things. 

Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.
Use the hashtag #MondayMusings and link to this post.
Add your link to the linky which you will find either here and on the post of a co-host.
Use our #MondayMusings badge to help other bloggers join in too.
Today’s Write Tribelink up is co-hosted with The Bespectacled Mother, Vinitha Dileep, and Everyday Gyaan. Thank you to these lovely ladies for co-hosting and letting me part of some Monday magic. ❤️

#Mondaymusings-Tales of my Childhood

Monday Musings-Tales of my Childhood

I write a lot of my thoughts, feelings, and passions. I was a little girl with a big heart and an even bigger imagination. I remember stories my Gram would tell me about her family. Her parents that were born in Ireland and Scotland who survived hardships of the Potato famine of 1846 and found their new life in Canada. 
Her close knit family came over by boat to forage a new beginning with two little girls and then my Gram was born almost a month after the town they lived in burnt down! They suffered a fire, flood, loss, and still remained strong together. Music was a very special outlet for their healing as whole family. The church and hymns sung around the house, and in the parlour after dinner sustained them. It gave them faith to overcome whatever trial they had encountered. 
One song that was so special to my family is Danny Boy. My Gram’s only brother had a beautiful heart and and even more beautiful voice. He loved his church as equally as he loved the church. He had survived the First World War and came back to support his family. He was set to have the solo for Danny Boy on the night of the St. Patrick’s day. He had been sickly but he wanted to honour his commitment to his choir. 
Being he was too ill to leave his bed he wasn’t able to. With his family surrounding him he sat up and sang one last time for them. Then he lay down, closed his eyes, and went to meet God. My Gram would tell me this story and her eyes would well up with tears. The pain of losing her brother in his late twenties was something she never healed from. 
When I expressed my love of all things Irish she taught me the song. I would sing it for her, my Grandpa, and my Mom. They would sing quietly along with tears in their eyes. My Gram would hug me so tight and say I made her brother proud. Every story she told of my hard working Great Grandparents made me feel connected with them. She brought their travels and tales to live for me. 
This is a tradition that still continues onto this day as I share these stories with my own children. I tend to gravitate to playing Irish characters in my theatre experience. My kids still ask me to speak in an Irish accent and they just love it. Every time I entertain them with a song or a jig I can hear my Gram giggling. I only hope my rendition does her and our Irish clan proud as all my memories are of them. 
s time for #Mondaymusings and all you have to do is this list of things. 
Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.
Use the hashtag #MondayMusings and link to this post.
Add your link to the linky which you will find either here and on the post of a co-host.
Use our #MondayMusings badge to help other bloggers join in too.

Today’s Write Tribe’s co-hosts are Crazy Little Family Adventure and Vinithia Dileep please be sure to check out all the talent that link up. Thank you. ❤️

#Monday Musings-knocking from the inside

 There are times that I’ve felt like no one is listening while I knock on the door to success. Is it because I’m pinning all my hopes and dreams on that door opening? Or did I just forget the formula to achieve it? A lot of time it’s my own self limiting beliefs that are holding me back. I take stock of my life every time someone I love dies. There’s really no better time to make changes and have them have creedence. 

I knew that I wanted to see my name in print so after my cousins death last year shortly before Christmas I wrote out my goal list. On there was my first goal to live life to its fullest, believe in myself, and share my writing. I ended up published for the first time on the Original Bunker Punks website and then I had a dream and wrote about it. As it took me away from the pain and grief of all I have lost of the last seven years. 

  
That dream was a blessing to me as the words ebbed and flowed with my fingertips transporting to a place that was so beautiful and esoteric in nature. I knew as soon as I finished I would have to share this dream that clawed it’s way out of my sleep deprived mind. I was encouraged to submit it to a magazine and it was published. 

To see my name in a by line of a popular magazine was proof that I was believing in myself and I was living life to it’s fullest. I write for myself, for the words that spin and swirl like a tornado in my mind, and most of all for my beloved Mama who still helps me on angels wings. It’s a joy and a privledge to be able to share this story with you here about the Voyage of Discovery. 

I’m in a habit of making my dreams come true when I can beat back the anxiety monster that threatens me and tells me “I’m not good enough no one would ever read anything you wrote!” I’m proud to look at my story framed on the wall beside a picture of my beautiful Mom. She had always wanted me to grab the opportunities presented to me with a gusto. Now I feel beyond blessed that that my words are being shared and appreciated out there in the interwebs. 
I still have the list of goals keeping me accountable and after a few more publications I decided to try my hand at book writing. I signed up for Nanowrimo and wrote with a flourish then another death in my family sidelined me and my efforts. I dove into my theatre commitments and continued writing with a vengeance to catch up on my word count in my quiet time. Only to have my phone storage delete my 10,000 words! 

I don’t see this as a failure just a set back and I’ll continue writing as my story needs to be told. After a few more publications, guest posts, and seeing my writing being appreciated I set the bar higher. The other thing on my goal list is I wanted to come to fruition was I wanted to be in a book. I chose my opportunity carefully as I wanted to stay true to myself and write something that I would want to read. I’m blessed beyond belief to be a proud contributor to a book anthology with some other amazing collaborators! 

  
I read and reviewed the first book in the Lose The Cape series with the editors and the talented authors Alexa Bigwarfe and Kerry Rivera. I felt I had found the answer to my prayers! I had judged myself for not being  super Mom and this book delivered validation to me for the first time I became a parent. After I read it and put my review up I thought I want to be in their next book. 

  
Well I believe in the power of intention and the law of attraction and once you put those kind of thoughts out in the universe magic happens. Now as the year comes to a close soon I’ve accomplished that goal. The next instalment in the Lose The Cape series will be released on Dec. 9 th and there’s an exciting giveaway going on at their website. As I reflect back on my list of goals I realized all that time that I was knocking on the door to success I was knocking from the inside. And now that door is wide open and there’s no stopping me now! 

It’s time for #Mondaymusings and all you have to do is this list of things. 

Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.

Use the hashtag #MondayMusings and link to this post.

Add your link to the linky which you will find either here and on the post of a co-host.

Use our #MondayMusings badge to help other bloggers join in too.

The co-hosts today are Risha Singh and Rashmi Karthik (Happy birthday to her today!). Do read, comment and share on their posts too.

The quote that inspired this post. Found on the Facebook page Rumi.

Monday Musings-hiding in plain sight

Life has a way of catching up on you without you realizing. Whether you’ve been eating unhealthy, sleep deprived, or skipping out on daily workouts. All the above has happened to me I’ve been dealing with death, disillusionment, and deadlines. It started out as a way to protect my heart, my family, and just not wanting to deal with the sadness of it all. 
I found it difficult to concentrate on anything so I just kept putting my head down and plowing through life. The late night spent reading, researching, and staring at the moon and asking for answers to life’s mysteries has taken their toll. I had to take a backseat as I felt like my emotions were in the drivers seat. I had to share more than I wanted as I walked away from my business, ignored emails, and my accountability fitness group. I protected myself and put my attention  into my family and my passion and dedication to my theatre group. 

This hasn’t been the first time I put my grief on hold. There’s many times when the pain I felt as an emotional reaction and the empathic aftermath of the grief of others has sent me into a tailspin. You wouldn’t know it to look at me. I got up and got my kids off to school, folding my ever flowing laundry baskets, and made my daily phone calls to family and friends to inform them of the sad news. I had to cut of communication with a family member who’s need for greed was too much for me to bear. Yet I continued to pray that their heart and mind would change. Death doesn’t always bring out the best in people. It’s a rude awakening to see it happening right before my eyes and being powerless to change it. 
Every night for eight shows you’d seen me bright and shining on stage with my cast of our pantomime play. I only told three people how I was really feeling and then dry my tears and put my makeup on and carry on. We had boisterous sold out crowds and small appreciative ones who’s interaction with the pantomime play was as entertaining as the acting itself. 
On our final show I was backstage at intermission and everyone was running around signing each other’s programs and making efforts to keep in touch and it struck me like a thunderbolt, that this was my lifeline. These people, the script, costumes, heart to to heart chats whispering back and forth were my way of divinely grieving. I was honouring my loved one by continuing to live! I had dove headfirst into something that gave me a chance to escape and in the process I was healing my heart. I didn’t realize it until I looked around the room and saw those smiling beautiful faces. It thrilled me to have this ephiphany and I wrote something quickly in my notes so I could cherish this moment for always. Today I share it with you and I hope my words bring you some inspiration about finding your passion in life. Thank you never seems like enough to say so to exude those feelings of gratitude is even more special to me. 
  

  
Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.

Use the hashtag #MondayMusings and link to this post.

Add your link to the linky which you will find either here and on the post of a co-host.

Use our #MondayMusings badge to help other bloggers join in too.

Today I link up with #Mondaymusings hosted by Richa Singh and Vidya Sury thank you for having me in your linkup today.