In the Waiting Room

There were 17 of us between the ages of 1year and 81 years old crammed into the small waiting room during Mom's surgery 3 weeks ago. We cried, we laughed, we hugged, we ordered pizza for supper, we entertained the children and alternated between appreciation for their beautiful innocence which helped ease our own discomfort and a sense of how unfair it was that their Nana was in surgery.

And we waited.

Together.

A million things were running through my head. About how long I would stay at my parents after the surgery. And if I would be able to adjust my work schedule to return again soon. About whether or not I should move back, depending on what happened after the surgery. And if I really was strong enough to continue to pursue a career as a counsellor, supporting people through their life struggles while coping with my own Mom's illness. And of course the worst kind of “what ifs...”, the ones I don't even want to say out loud for fear they would become true.

Three hours later Surgeon came to tell us that all had gone well with this surgery. But then he started using other words. Scary words. Words I don't want to type out. Words that, though official confirmation was still needed, meant this really was only the beginning of a process requiring further treatment.

We cried and hugged some more, trying to process the vast amounts of developing information we had learned in a mere 2 days.

A young woman came into the room during this time and took a seat among us. I felt annoyed at this violation of our privacy. But quickly realized she must have a loved one in surgery. And this was the waiting room. Really, it was us who was invading her privacy. It was her turn to wait.

Dad was the first to formally acknowledge her presence, asking who was in surgery. Her Mom. We asked her name and invited her to join our prayer. Leave it to my family to reach out to someone else during our own time of crisis!

We asked if she had someone coming to wait with her. With her response of “later, after work” I immediately knew, if she would allow me to, I could not leave this woman alone to wait.

It was somewhat of a profound moment for me for a couple of reasons. One was a reminder of how blessed I and my family are to have each other. Not only the 17 of us in the room that day, but the countless members of our extended family and friends who have offered support in as many different ways. I cannot imagine sitting in that room alone, waiting. No one should ever have to.

The other was a realization that waiting with this woman, reaching out and offering support in that way was never a question in my mind. It is part of who I am and something I must continue to pursue, supporting people through their life struggles. It is in part what gives me strength and inspiration to face and cope with my own.

Since that night there are times when I feel like we haven't fully left the waiting room. We waited for test results that confirmed what Surgeon had told us. And now we wait for a treatment plan and treatment itself. During which time we will wait for results, for healing.

I often think back to that woman who walked into the waiting room on her own. I admire her strength. I really don't know if I would have been strong enough to do so. And I am glad that I don't have to find out.

Because we wait,

together.

When it's your Mom

I remember thinking it was weird that middle Brother was texting and calling me in the morning, since we don't connect that often and we had just texted the night before.

I sat bolt upright in bed when he said, “Aunt called...”, knowing immediately something was wrong.

Mom had been taken to the hospital.

That was a day I was thankful for text messaging! Keeping in touch all day with Brothers, updating with the little news we could.

I remember noticing and thinking small things: that my overnight toiletries bag was still mostly packed; that I'd already made plans to do laundry that day so had something to occupy my mind and would have clean clothes if I needed to travel; that I should try to switch that night's shift to work longer in case I needed to take a few days off.

All the while thinking, hoping it would be a short visit to the hospital; simple test with an easy diagnosis and quick fix. Home again by the time Dad returned from work at a distance. This became less likely as the day wore on.

And Dad wasn't home yet.

I wished I was close enough to relieve oldest Brother at the hospital when he needed to go to work for a few hours. It's times like this that it is difficult to live further away.

Because common is only common until it's your Mom. Routine is only routine until it's your Mom. 

Then your Mom becomes someone other than the rock you've turned to. She becomes the most important person in the world for an entirely different reason. 

It's times like this that I think maybe I should move closer.

It's times like this that I think what if I lived further away?

What if I had moved to England?

What if I had taken that job in BC?

What if... I moved home again?

Later that night oldest Brother shared the news that it would be a longer stay and more invasive fix. I literally shrank into a crouch when he said the doctor suggested it would be a good idea for me and younger Brother to come home. That though unexpected, there are risks with any surgery.

Common and routine then takes a turn. And in that moment, it feels like the whole world is changing. Because it is. Because it's your Mom.

In these moments the true nature of friends and support shines:

Manger at work was great, saying not to worry; to do what I needed to do.

Friend was amazing, I can't even describe how much her words meant: “Please keep in touch this weekend; I want to be the person you call and I'll take time away to talk to you when you need.” 

Amazing, because she had family visiting from out of town.

Because who do you call when the people you'd normally call are going through it with you.

Sitting with friends that night, after plans were made to go to the hospital and my parents' place in the morning, Philip Philips song Home came on. And I smiled – it's become my Peterborough song! The song that helped me realize I felt like standing still for awhile. In a place where I don't feel so alone.

But it also reminded me that Home is never far away, because it can be in many places and in one place all at the same time. Home is where there are people who care about you and who you care about. 

And when it's your Mom, that becomes all that is important! 

A Patch of Blue

Driving home from work on Tues night in the first real snow-fall of the year, I couldn't help but notice how beautiful and simple it was.

This past weekend was a reminder of many things. Including: to enjoy the little things; to notice what matters most in life; to slow down and pay attention. And so I enjoyed the bright, white, innocent beauty of freshly fallen snow at midnight. And allowed myself to smile.

I'm still processing and will likely reflect more on the past weekend and the weeks to come, but wanted to share this brief bit at least today. A family member sent out a message of support about finding “a patch of blue” among the clouds that sometimes darken our lives. Tuesday's snow fall was one for me.

I hope you have found at least one this week too!

Solution-Focused Supposing

"Most people see what is, and never see what can be."

~ Albert Einstein

 

Suppose that change you wish to make has already been achieved.

How will you know? What would be different/better?

What will others notice?

Two weekends ago I attended a conference for the Solution-Focused Brief Therapy Association (SFBTA). During the final discussion panel, the moderator extended some of the questions to all participants and encouraged us to share our answers with someone sitting near-by. Which highlights one of the things I noticed and appreciate about this model and the people who practice it – there is a sense of community surrounding it. A sharing not only of knowledge and research; but perhaps more importantly, of encouragement and support among like-minded colleagues who all have something to gain no matter the number of hours or years of training and experience.

The first question asked of us was:

“How/where/when did you meet SFBT?”

I was surprised how many of those stories, my own included, began with a variation of “Actually, it was quite by accident...” Followed by a feeling of inspiration, and a noticed change in thinking and perspective not only in terms of the therapeutic process but of our own lives and attitudes as well.

I quite clearly remember the bubbling excitement in the core of my being as the potential of this perspective first became clear. The frustration in the challenge to disengage from “problem-focused talk” and move towards more positive, affirming, solution-focused talk*. And the light-bulb moment when I realized the switch had happened and I didn't have to work so hard to find the later. My new-found desire to bring a solution-focused perspective to all my conversations and interactions, not just the therapeutic ones.

A later question proposed the following to the larger group:

“Suppose today is the beginning of something meaningful and worthwhile and precious.

How will you start to notice that a little bit of this new thing is happening?”

This type of question is quite characteristic of the SF approach*. It assumes change and success are not only possible, but may be close at hand. The answer begs a description of what would be different and, in some cases, what would be better.

My answer to this question while sitting among SF practitioners from around the world, was noticing a lasting twinge of the inspiration and motivation I was currently feeling overflowing inside me from the weekend's workshops and conversations. I would notice myself in the days and weeks to come crossing more things off my To Do list (ahem creating a to do list) and working more efficiently towards my career and personal goals.

So almost two weeks later, where am I now?

Truth: It is so much easier to hold on to the motivation and inspiration when surrounded by like-minded people, sharing encouragement and support, in a space outside of your every day experience. Once back to the daily grind, routine threatens to drown out inspiration's voice.

I have noticed the occasional twinge of the inspiration and items crossed off my To Do list, though it weakens with each passing day. So I write this blog with the hope of adding fuel to that spark again. A reminder to continue asking myself a few more “Suppose...” questions. And maybe even starting to think and act in some ways as if that suppose has already happened!

* The comments above about SFBT are basic descriptions. If you are interested in learning/talking more about this perspective please feel free to ask in the comment section below, or contact me directly!

Remembering my way, every day

“...we must first THINK about these things; 

because inevitably, we become what we think and our world is a reflection of us.”

~ Tanisha Renee

About a week before Remembrance Day I became engaged in a conversation about the Mennonite Central Committee Peace Buttons with someone who finds them offensive and disrespectful to the premise of Remembrance Day. I don't fully understand why people find it to be so; except that I can appreciate arguments that the White Poppy claiming “Peace” at it's green centre may have been a campaign better timed earlier or later in the year.

Yet I feel that the Peace Button still calls us to Remember – much like the original poppy – while affording Mennonites and other conscientious objectors an opportunity to participate in Remembrance Day in a way that they feel more comfortable with; that aligns more closely with their beliefs, their values, their reasons for remembering the sacrifices of the fallen and affected veterans and their families.

Truth: I don't always know exactly what to say to explain my pacifist stance, to defend this Mennonite value and belief that I have held on to while loosening my grip on some others. Except that I don't believe war and violence are the only way; nor even the best way to settle disputes. And I don't believe that war, violence, nor even force will lead us toward peace. I also don't have the solution that will. But I believe that if we as humanity put as much time, money, energy, and faith into discovering peaceful strategies for solving our domestic, national, and international disputes, as we put into non-peaceful strategies, that we just might find it.

Plaque at Canada's Peace Park in Cold Lake, Alberta

 

Peace and positivity can be powerful forces if we allow them to be; if we feed them with peaceful and positive energy.

Plaque at Canada's Peace Park in Cold Lake, Alberta

However I digress, because I also do not believe that Remembrance Day – nor the days surrounding it – are a time to debate whether war or one of it's alternatives are more effective avenues towards peace. I do not believe that Remembrance day – nor the days surrounding it – are a time to debate whether a red poppy, a white poppy, or a button are more appropriate or offensive ways to show our support and remembrance.

Remembrance Day for me is one day that serves as a reminder of all the sacrifices, mistakes and successes that have occurred because of war; because of violence; in the pursuit of peace. A one-day reminder of something we should be remembering every single day in our pursuit of peace.

I for one am grateful that I have the freedom to choose when to remember, how to remember, and why to remember.

Lest we forget.

My Best Friend(s) – Part 2

I recently read that geese flying together in their characteristic V-formation can fly 70% farther than if they each flew on their own. 70% - that's hugely significant!

I know a lot of my writings over the past 8-months have been about loneliness, uncertainty, longing for love and confirmation. Perhaps it's because those are the spaces I've been honestly facing periodically throughout this year; and thus finding more inspiration there than in the fun and laughter. Perhaps it's in part because I feel like I've done a lot of work over the years in learning to know and love myself; in searching for and creating my own happiness and meaning; in enjoying time on my own – in learning to be my own best friend, like I wrote about last week – and now want to share that with others. Perhaps it's because there is still more work to be done; because there will always be more work to be done in those spaces and in learning to know and love myself.

But in last week's blog I left out two important lessons that I gained while on the journey to know and love myself. While learning to be my own best friend, I also learned to recognize the value of my relationships. And perhaps more importantly, I learned the need and benefit of allowing others to be my friend; to know and love me.

In that process I suppose it brought me to a place of recognizing that as much as I'm grateful to be my own best friend, I also want love and support in my life from other sources. 

Somewhere along the way I think I learned that it was wrong to go looking for something or someone else to contribute to the love and happiness in my life. So my friendships became short-lived or distant, my jobs and living spaces transient. And while I had a fun, met a lot of wonderful people, and had some pretty amazing experiences... I also continued to sometimes feel somewhat lost and like something was missing.

We are relational beings who typically thrive with close human connection. That will likely mean something different for different people. For me, I want other sources to contribute to the love, confirmation, happiness and sense of meaning in my life. Some I have had all along from my family; some I am building and creating through career aspirations and hobbies; some I am learning to accept through new and old friends; and yes, I even find myself desiring – hoping – for another experience of love in the romantic, intimate sense. I have begun to find and re-discover some of these things. And as a result, among the decreasing moments of loneliness, have had many more moments of laughter, fun, and love (it's finally about those moments)!

I still believe that learning to love yourself and creating your own happiness is important. But I also believe that connecting with others – finding multiple best friends – can be an important contributing factor to that. 
 
 
After all, love comes in all different shapes and sizes. And if together we can go 70% farther, well then I want that 70% more love!

My Best Friend – Part 1

In the last 12 months I think I have had more moments of heart-wrenching, depressed, tear-filled, mind-numbing, desperate loneliness than ever before. Moments of burrowing under the covers and distracting with Netflix. Moments of starvation for lack of motivation to shop, cook, or talk to roommates in the kitchen; and because at least hunger was a different feeling. Moments of gorging on a bag of potato chips or brownies and ice cream because eating something was better than eating nothing. Moments of not reaching out to anyone because there wasn't really anything more to say. Moments of calling a friend who sat at the other end of the phone while I cried too hard to say anything anyway. Moments of desiring warm arms to wrap around me, with soft reassuring whispers in my ear. Moments of craving isolation to console myself the best way anyone could.

Amongst these I have also had many moments of laughter, fun, and love. But this isn't about those moments... at least not yet.

This is about learning to be my own best friend when I needed one most:

When I realized that, as much as I am an advocate for reaching out to others for support and talking through your feelings, I myself have a hard time doing so. Partly because I got used to being the one everyone came to and I didn't want to burden them with my stuff on top of their own. But I also realized that, likely due to past experiences, I have a difficult time trusting that my friends will be there in my time of need. So I suppressed a lot of my own stuff for awhile. Until I learned to be my own best friend. Writing out my feelings, fears, anxieties, and dreams in a journal or a song.

When one of my friends told me years ago that she thought it was a mistake to move away from most of my family and friends after some of those anxieties were fed and dreams shattered by the end of a relationship. But I knew that they would get over it long before my life felt normal again. And I couldn't be there to watch that happen; to wait until they had time and energy to sit through my rehashing of the story; to slowly pull away from the girl who struggled to smile and dream again. So I moved away, embracing new scenery and experiences, meeting new people. And learned to be my own best friend. Writing out my feelings, fears, anxieties and dreams in a journal or a song.

When - as a woman who has actually been, and enjoyed being, single and on my own more often than not - I didn't know what to do with the quiet desperation to be in a relationship that crept into the core of my being. Watching most of my friends find, thrive, and even fight through romantic relationships. Serving couples at the restaurant celebrating anniversaries or just date night, holding hands across the table. Knowing it's not all wine and roses, but wanting my turn to be served none-the-less. Yet, not wanting to be that girl, stifling the desire by escaping into my singleness. Re-discovering my enjoyment in being single, even when it's a struggle. Facing the question of who I was and who I wanted to be. All while learning to be my own best friend. Writing out my feelings, fears, anxieties and dreams in a journal or a blog.

The thing is, “...at the end of the day I had to learn to be my own best friend...” can be a saddening thought. How lonely does it sound that “...there's going to be days where no-one is going to be there for me but myself”?

But it can also be an empowering message!

To be your own best friend means that you know yourself well – you know what you like and what you need. You know how to console and support yourself, and when to do so. You know what will make you cry and what will make you laugh, and when to indulge in either or both. To be your own best friend means that you are willing and able to sit with yourself through the hard times and to celebrate the good times.

To be your own best friend means that you love yourself.

Learning to be my own best friend has been - and continues to be - a difficult yet wonderful journey to know and love myself!

Sometimes almost falling hurts too

It's not up to you how you fall. It's up to you how far you let yourself fall,

and how long it takes you to get back up and stand on your own two feet.

- Sr. Tac Jeffrey Mitchell  

With umbrella in one hand and 2 grocery bags in the other, I slipped on a small hill during my walk home. Arms flailed, spine contorted and jarred, face suspended in fear of the possible bruise and wet pants, but never actually landed on my ass, kind of slip. Jolted out of the swirling anxious thoughts that had been filling my head, I straightened myself. Smiled and tossed a “slippery when wet” joke at the passer-by who slowed enough to ask if I was okay. Fixed my turned-up umbrella. And continued on my way.

Ok Universe, I thought, you pulled me out of my own head and got my attention. What is it you want me to notice from this?

I know that I am someone who often over-thinks and over-analyzes. The thing is it can be all too easy to get caught up in your own head – be it with anxious thoughts, or day dreams. We miss or ignore the warning signs of the rain, the wet pavement, the inclined road; the instinctual hesitancy of our feet, our gut, our heart: all saying “Be careful. Go slow... Go, but go slow.”

So sometimes we fall. And the bruised bones hurt, the bruised ego hurts, even when there is a lesson to be learned and appreciated in the aftermath.

Sometimes though, we only almost fall. But that can hurt too, jarring the body, jarring the ego.

As I was jolted awake to the slippery ground beneath me and scrambled to find solid footing, survival became the only important thought.

As I steadied my breathing and smiled at a concerned stranger, relief flooded my head.

As I shook off the hurt and collected myself, confidence in strength and stability returned to my thinking.

As I continued on my journey and asked the Universe for the lesson to be learned and appreciated in the aftermath, I looked around at my present surroundings and realized that actually, despite the rain and a bruised ego, I was exactly where I wanted to be and I was doing alright.

Boy/Girl Friends: How to be friends with the opposite-sex

“But I don't miss them as boyfriends. I miss them as friends. You can't be friends with guys at our age. 

Either they're married and their wives don't want you to hang out with them; or they're trying to sleep with you!”

~ Lily, Whitney (2013)

Growing up as the only girl with 3 brothers and having 2 male cousins close in age who lived near by, I was often surrounded by boys at home. I think I over-compensated by seeking only girl friends at school! As I got older I found that, perhaps not surprisingly, I tended to collect “older brother” type friends wherever I went. Yet it wasn't really until my later university days and beyond that I truly began to recognize the value of opposite-sex friendships.

Over the past 2 years I've re-explored this concept of male-female friendships through conversations with a few of the significant guys in my life. Whether it was an intimate relationship that was ending, a deeper interest that either wasn't shared or couldn't be explored for various reasons, a re-discovered or new acquaintance... when the topic of remaining friends, or being just friends came up I wondered aloud: 

“But what does that friendship look like? I mean, what do we do?”

 

I find myself, somewhat unfortunately, trying to keep most of my guy friends at a safe distance. This distance may vary depending on our history and/or how the friendship developed. Still I set boundaries for myself of when, where, what, and how often to hang out. 

Because I can be a little flirty... ok, I can be a lot flirty; and at times this has been mistaken for deeper interest than I intended. 

Because I'm protecting my own heart from developing ties that may leave me hurt. 

Because maybe we've been down that path before and it would be too easy to fall back into those familiar, comfortable habits of being together. 

Because I don't want anyone's partner – or prospective partner – to be uncomfortable. After all it's no secret that friendships between men and women can be wrought with sexual tension...

Sometimes I wonder if it's possible to de-sexualize these friendships between men and women, and what would those friendships be like if we could? Though someone pointed out when I wondered this aloud, that some of the flirty banter that happens in our friendships makes us feel good and is part of the fun. That girls do this with their girl friends as well as their guy friends; and I would argue that guys do so amongst each other, with some of their crude banter, too.

One thing I have learned over the years is that the key to my friendships with the opposite sex is honesty. Honesty about why I'm pursuing the friendship in the first place; what my feelings and expectations are; and how these may change over time. And asking the same from him. Because there is something valuable about opposite-sex friendships that just can't be gained from same-sex friendships. Something that has nothing to do with sex; and everything to do with the differences in perspective, types of support, interests, even hormones and intimacy. So I have challenged myself to be more upfront, open and honest in my friendships lately. 

Because frankly, I don't want to need a boyfriend in order to have a boy friend!

forgotten what it feels like...

 

It's no surprise at all that in English (and I am told in other languages as well) we speak of “falling” in love. I think it is the only way to get there. None would go freely, if we knew ahead of time what love is going to ask of us... Have no doubt, though: great love is always a discovery, a revelation, a wonderful surprise, a falling into “something” much bigger and deeper that is literally beyond us and larger than us.

~ Rohr, Richard (2011).

Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life.

Sometimes I think I've forgotten what it feels like... to be in love. To love someone, and allow yourself to be loved.

Maybe the later is actually the harder of the two.

I thought I knew – the smiles, the laughter, the butterflies, the comfort, the security and safety. Wanting to spend all your time together, and talk for hours. Cutting the conversation when you ran out of time, not because you ran out of things to say. Never running out of things to say. But savouring the silent moments together none-the-less. The first thought before light creeps through closed eyes. The last phone call of the day. Hurting, lifting, strengthening. Never feeling like you've had enough.

But all that seems to fade... eventually. And then what's left?

The quiet in the chaos, the constant hum in the calm.

Now, I think before I leap. I cry before I laugh. I block before I feel.

The space between me and someone else feels heavy, thick, solid.

I tell myself I won't settle for less; I'm waiting for that connection. I tell myself I'll know it when I see it, when feel it.

But when I think I feel it, it all falls apart. I push away the potential before it even shows itself. Or deny it even when it does. 

I don't know which is worse - wondering "what if I get hurt again", or wondering "what if I miss it next time, because I've forgotten what it feels like..."

 

Re-invent yourself... or just open your eyes.

I had a psychic give me a free reading the other week. I didn't go looking for this, in fact I would rather not know what a psychic has to say about my future. I prefer the element of surprise and wonder. Nonetheless, it found me.

Despite what you may believe about psychics and their premonition-abilities, let me preface the rest of my words here with this: I tend to take this kind of thing with a grain of salt; as one possibility of how things may turn out if certain decisions are made and paths followed; but not necessarily the exact direction my life will go. The truth is, I have seen pictures in my mind's eye of what my life could look like – with a certain person as a partner, in one career/job or another, planting roots in a specific place or maintaining a certain transient freedom. Maybe most people have that sometimes. And I do get the feeling when I see these pictures that this is what would be, if I choose that path. I can't necessarily say I have had these thoughts, feelings, or pictures about a complete stranger... but who am I to say that someone else doesn't have that ability.

So this psychic told me the flashes and images he was getting; the premonitions he was having about my life. Among other things, he essentially said that I would be making some changes in who I was, where I was, and what I was doing. That I need to, in some ways, re-invent myself...

...all I could think was, “Again?”

This man's words made me feel disappointed. Tired.

I am not usually one to shy away from an opportunity for personal awareness and growth. Though change is often unsettling at first, there have been times in my life when I have welcomed it. But that's my point – I've already made changes in who I am, where I am, and what I'm doing. I have, in some ways, re-invented myself. Numerous times over! I have no doubt that, as life unfolds, there will be more changes. But the thought – right now – of needing to re-invent myself again is just... plain... tiring... I like my long hair (he suggested I change my hair-style sometime soon); I like my apartment and living in Peterborough (he said I will make a big move next year, that my mind is not in Ontario); for the most part, I like who I am right now (he really did use the phrase “re-invent yourself”).

He did also say that my work will come easy to me, when I let myself do it, and that I will be good at it. And he said that someday I will live by the water. So I guess there were some positive, encouraging, uplifting things in what he said!

I don't know how much of this man's words – if any – will ring true in the future. But maybe, at least for my experience, that's not even important right now. Maybe what's more important is the reminder that not all things in life will be positive, encouraging, or uplifting. Sometimes, it will be tiring, disappointing. But none-the-less important. And nothing will happen if I don't make a choice, follow a path, and open my eyes to who I am the direction my life is taking right now!