Category Archives: Uncategorized

It all comes down to this

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 In her last two years, my mother was plagued with increasing poor health and dementia.

Her move from living in her own house to a quasi-nursing home was swift and dramatic. I bundled her home with me on Christmas Day so I could help her get over a flu bug and by New Year’s Eve she was sipping “champagne” at Victoria Place retirement home.

We whittled her many possessions down to what was most precious to her. We filled her one new room with books, photo albums, vases, some paintings, a chair and a large cabinet. I also stashed many of her endless crafting supplies in the nursing home’s rec room, but my mother never touched them again.

Everything else, including her house and car, was given to family members or charity or sold.

A month before my mother died, I had a birthday party for her and invited all her friends. I brought her mother’s vase to the nursing home and filled it with lilacs. My mother could no longer recognize some of the people at the party, but she exclaimed over the vase and was lost in memories of her mother, of lilacs, of birthdays past, of the vase and of bringing it to Canada.

In her last week, my mother was taken by ambulance to the hospital. The only possession she ever expressed any concern for was her false teeth. Where were they? Could she have them in?   

Eventually she slipped into a coma and her teeth were taken out. It was just my mom then – naked under a sheet in a mercilessly sunny hospital room with her family and her dearest friend at her side.  

That’s what your life comes down to. You. Your experiences. And the people you love.Image

Namaste, divine child

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I remember when I finally got it, really got it, that my mother had been a child once too. I had heard my mother’s stories about her childhood and understood intellectually that she had been a girl, had had parents, had grown up. But in my mind’s eye, she was always and only my mother – important and yet only tangential to my needs.

That childish view continued until I moved away from home and disengaged from the complicated child-parent relationship. I began to see my mother as another human being in her own right. When that happened, I could also finally understand that she too had been a child once.

And there, for the first time, I found a common ground with her.

I remembered what it was like to be a child – small, vulnerable, dependent, innocent, evolving. Seeing her in that light allowed me to love my mother in a new and unconditional way.

I live in the downtown core of my city where all the social services are housed. I see a lot of people, many of whom are referred to as the “the dregs” or bottom rung of society. They are the homeless, mentally ill, elderly, physically and mentally handicapped, poor, addicted, immigrant.

And they too were someone’s child once. That thin, dirty man picking cigarette butts out of the gutter and arguing with himself was someone’s baby boy. The meth-addicted prostitute whooping in the moonlight was someone’s little girl.

When I encounter people (particularly people who may be challenging to be with for whatever reason), acknowledging the child that was and the child that is still within them helps me to find our common ground.

It’s my version of Namaste, except in my version the child in me recognizes the child in them. The result is still a divine recognition.

Happy birthday to my mom, who came screaming into this world 84 years ago today. I wish you could have stayed longer.

Happy birthday to my mom, who came screaming into this world 84 years ago today. I wish you could have stayed longer.

Gender neutrality – a/k/a unplumbing the future

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Image

These look like they fit boy feet or girl feet.

Every spring when I was a child my mother and I would make the annual trek to the shoe store for my new pair of rubber rain boots. Every spring, I wanted a black and red pair like the farmers wore. Every spring, my mother dismissed my request saying “Those are for boys.” And every spring, I was exquisitely frustrated that something would be denied to me simply because I was a girl.

To be fair, it was one of the very few times my mother made overt gender-based decisions with me. That’s saying a lot considering she was a woman whose husband’s official, legal response to her request for a divorce was “Everything was fine until my wife decided that she wanted to be a person too.”

We’ve come a long way. But we still have a long way to go. The same sort of insidious gender biases happened to the next generation in my family.

My very young nephew wanted to be a bunny rabbit for Hallowe’en. His mother said no to the idea – it wasn’t appropriate for a boy. He was a cowboy instead. I wonder if my nephew felt frustrated then too.

These are just tiny examples of how our notions of what is gender appropriate play out in western society. As children we are instilled with messages about the most inane things and it builds from there until as adults the limitations and biases are ingrained, pervasive and damaging.

In an ideal world we would not make distinctions about people’s abilities or potential based on their gender. How do we move to that ideal world? What different language and actions could we adopt to create a gender-neutral world? I have to challenge myself every day to think and react in gender-neutral ways. Could you, would you do the same?

A love letter to my depression

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ImageI have suffered from depression since I was a young child. Depressive episodes would come and go. Each episode was a little deeper, a little longer, a little harder to come out of.

The pain of my depression was terrible. With mere words, I cannot begin to describe the despair. Thoughts of suicide were as soothing as a lullaby, yet I felt that I was already dead to the world. I was hollowed out, disconnected from life. When I did feel anything, it was sorrow, anger, anxiety or shame. Oh, I felt such shame for being so broken.

Deborah Shields, a woman who only knew me through an online chat group, was the first person to actually name my condition. She plainly told me in a private message “Heutzie, I think you are suffering from depression.” I was furious. Startled. Busted.

And I am forever grateful to her.

Once Deborah named it, I couldn’t deny that something was “not right.” I went to my doctor. I got a prescription for antidepressants. I stared at that bottle for days, giving it the stink eye, refusing to take the pills, refusing to believe I had a mental illness.

But the bold truth is I do.

My brain chemicals don’t work the way they’re supposed to. I take antidepressants, which are wonderfully effective for me. And like any other disease, I manage the illness. I have an open and regular relationship with my doctor. I exercise. I eat whole, healthy foods and cook from scratch. I get enough sleep. I limit my alcohol intake and I quit smoking. I accept help and talk through problems with friends or professionals (my swans). I keep my life balanced.

My depression, so long a part of my life, has made me who I am and who I am is splendid.

Responsibility is freedom

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Responsibility is freedom. Doesn’t that sound so wrong? As adults we try to recreate our carefree childhoods – yearning for a week at a resort or dreaming of retirement.

So how can I say that responsibility is freedom? It’s freedom from being ruled by other people’s opinions and whims. It’s freedom from being a victim. It’s freedom to make your own life.

When I am responsible for my part in a situation, I am free to make that situation what I want it to be. No one else gets to tell me what the story is or how it’s going to play out.

Let’s say my bicycle is stolen. I can blame the thief for taking it (and yes, I do blame the thief for taking it – I only have to be responsible for my part of the situation). I can blame society for making it necessary for people to be thieves. I can blame God for making me a victim.

Or I can take responsibility for my part in it: lock up my bicycle; have the serial number registered; advocate for better law enforcement and bicycle enclosures, and consciously choose to let the situation be done.

If my boss criticizes my work, I can sulk and complain that he’s being unfair, or I can examine where I can take ownership for what’s being said and change for my own betterment.OwnIt

These are just tiny examples.

Because I am responsible for my life, I can make it anything I want it to be. I am not limited by the illusion that other people will or should determine how the world ought to be.

I give myself the power to write my own story and the freedom to write it how I want it to be.

A shout out to Dee whose comment under the post “I don’t know…” inspired this topic.

This is not the ark

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A friend and I were venting about the affront of being asked as single travellers to either pay a whopping single supplement* or bunk up with a complete stranger that the tour company offers to find. The incredible thing is solo travellers accept this treatment.

It struck me how much society is biased against single people and how bought in to this bias single people are. Please note that I use the term “single” to mean both unmarried people and people out in public on their own.

Here’s a quick list of common activities many people are uncomfortable doing solo: Image

  • Eating in a restaurant
  • Going to a movie, concert, gallery etc.
  • Travelling
  • Attending a wedding or other social event
  • Having a drink in a bar.

It is fun to share experiences with others, but it’s also fun, or sometimes just necessary, to get out on your own.

To not live your life and do the things you want to because you are “just one” is cruelly self-limiting. To let society or business dictate what you are allowed to do and enjoy as one person is egregious.

This is not the ark. We do not need to go forth two by two. We are whole just as we are. We don’t need an “other half” or ~eesh~ a “better half.” And we certainly don’t need anyone’s permission or approval to be in public and do whatever we like on our own.

In Europe and North America there are now more single people (and single-person households) than married/partnered people. The world is seeing a social and economic shift. We can all help speed up that shift and make the world a more inclusive place for everyONE by venturing out solo (but en masse!) and claiming our space in the world.

*Single supplement. Isn’t that an interesting term? What’s actually getting supplemented isn’t the single traveller’s vacation experience but the travel industry’s coffers.

I don’t know…

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This is a blog about simple wisdom from savvy women. But being aware of the things I don’t know is also worthwhile. The more I learn about life the less I realize I “know.” I don’t even know what I don’t know!

The awareness of my own ignorance keeps life open and full of possibilities.

Painting by Glen Tarnowski

Painting by Glen Tarnowski

I thought I knew there was a God (just one) and that there was life before life, and life after death. I was sure that karma, reincarnation, ghosts, spirit communication et al all were real. As it happens, I do still believe in all these things, but do I know these things exist? Do I know what happens when we die? No. I take these things on faith. My mother’s gravestone says “Gone to see for myself” and that sums up the situation rather nicely, in my opinion.

I don’t know what other people are thinking or what motivates them. A lot of the time I don’t even know what I’m going to do next or why.

I don’t know what’s going to happen today, tomorrow or ever. Life is unpredictable. It can blindside or delight in the space of a heartbeat.

Knowing that I don’t know much means I can comfortably let the world and the people in it run their own lives without feeling the need to meddle or change everything or everyone. It’s a state of being that’s simultaneously humbling and liberating, and there is deep peace in accepting that life is full of unsolvable mysteries.

This moment is the moment

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One morning a few weeks ago, near the end of one of the most bitter winters in living memory, I was walking to my chiropractor’s office. I go to his office once a week – the only time I take that route.

Along the way, I pass a community garden marked by a white picket fence. That morning, the shadow of the fence undulated in blue lines across a gleaming, fresh snow drift. I considered stopping to take a photo of the fence, the shadows, the brittle, diamond-like snow reflecting the blue sky.

But it was so cold. I didn’t want to stop and take off my mittens in the frigid temperatures or take the time to find my phone. “I’ll get that picture next time,” I told myself.

Image

A photo that I didn’t take from
http://www.beyondthefieldsweknow.org

But there wasn’t a next time. There was never another week where the snow was that fresh and cold AND the sun shone AND the light was right.

Just in case I hadn’t gotten the message clearly enough, the Universe reiterated it for me last Sunday when I went to a drumming recital. At the end of the session, class and audience were invited to take up a drum or other percussion instrument and jam together. It was an amazing, collective experience. Afterwards, one of the leaders noted “The music we just created will never exist again.”

I’m glad I was fully in that moment.

Each spot of time is unique. Be in it. Absorb it. Appreciate it. This moment is the only moment and will never be again.

My body is…

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My body is fat, with a BMI that makes my doctor tilt his head like a quizzical dog and sigh. My body is also strong and healthy. Maybe that’s what has my doctor so quizzical. My body is defying all the conventional wisdom about the perils of obesity.

My body has 46 inches of scars (from one surgery!), a tattoo, four missing teeth thanks to orthodontics, and extra bones in my feet that hurt. All. The. Time.

I used to hate my body. It didn’t conform to the flawless and waif-thin images that our society cleaves to. I, on the other hand, did conform to all that conventional thinking about what was beautiful, and that made me hate my body.

Because I hated it, I mindlessly treated my body terribly, eating the wrong things and too much, not exercising enough, sleeping poorly and doing things that did me no good.

As I grow older, I’ve realized that my body – my healthy, perfectly functional body – is one of the most cherished and valuable things I have. It’s my most important tool. It gives me joy. It lets me experience life. It’s powerful, ever-changing, self-calibrating and amazing.

My body. In every sense it’s a really big deal.

If you lie down with dogs, you will get up with fleas

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ImageWe are never done changing and growing as human beings.

Psychologists say that by the age of five our personalities are fixed. That may be true.

But our experiences, perceptions, responses, opportunities and consequences are very much in flux throughout our lives, and the people around us can profoundly influence us.

Remember as a teenager when your parents didn’t want you to hang around So-and-So because he/she was a bad influence? You rolled your eyes in response and thought (or said) “No one is going to make me do anything I don’t want to do.” Maybe So-and-So couldn’t make you do things, but they could introduce you to ideas and activities you didn’t even know you wanted to do – and some of those things could be questionable, stupid or dangerous.

Conversely, people in your life can introduce you to brilliant, stimulating, uplifting ideas and experiences.

Studies show that spending time with the same social group can limit your growth. The reasoning is that your exposure to new information and ideas is limited. Media coverage on abuse and bullying, which happens at home, school and the workplace, reminds us daily of the low self-esteem, anger, depression and despair these situations produce.

People will come and go in your life and they will help shape your understanding of the world and of yourself.

Don’t underestimate the influence of the outside world on your growth and well being. And never forget you have the power to change who and what you keep around you. Choose well.

p.s. I mean no disrespect to dogs; I love them all – even the ones with fleas.