Monthly Archives: February 2016

Heavy Anchors

It was a busy morning and an event of one I wish people never had to deal with. I composed myself, wiped my eyes and took a few moments to breathe and pray.

I cannot say I spend lots of time praying, but talking out loud is a regular thing for me. Some days I wish that I would receive a loud booming voice to say right track or not. Turn left or right! Stop!

I changed someone’s life today and I wished them well and someone changed mine. Someone needed to talk and as always my door is open. Their child is in a dark place, they are talking suicide and the mother is not sure what to do.

I listened, I provided resources, anything I could and then; I had to show my true heart. I try not to let people know anything about me (besides you & my anonymous writing). I took a breath.

She talked of how her child does not want to be around people, how she feels black, her mind doesn’t shut off and she feels unworthy. My heart broke, I know it well and I have been working on this part of my past recently.

One I do not want to relive the emotions and feelings but seem to be doing that. It is now more of a-ha moments as to what I was dealing with for so long. I hid behind laughter and jokes, but I was very depressed in my teen years, my twenties it came and went, my thirties, my forties (I am growing strong). I felt a pull and struggle over and over. Either life was awesome or I felt I was in the bottom of the ocean; yet I kept that mask on so others would not see; would not judge me.

I became rambunctious in my teens and made some bad choices, like many did. I drank, a lot and daily because it numbed so many emotions that I didn’t want to deal with, I spent most weekends inebriated and the catch was it wasn’t the typical teenage stuff, I felt different. I felt alone.

I didn’t know if I was normal, if others felt like this. Was it just me? I can relate to her. She feels alone. She doesn’t feel right.

I have spent my life feeling like this and Mr. Jones was a big part of what saved me in so many ways (& my little miss). He became my buoy, (her my best friend.) One that when I felt like I kept drifting too far out he pulled me back in, picked me up from the bathroom floor when I was gibbering, wiped my tears and would hold me. He is my rock.

Then I would get up, take a breath head to the closet and change to my facade. My easy going, sarcastic, pearl wearing, laughing self, no one realizing it is an act, today I didn’t act. I showed my emotion, I showed my self. I do not want the young girl to feel this way.

After our lengthy discussion, a few tears, I told her my door is always open for her daughter if she ever wants to ask me anything. I will answer it. Doesn’t matter the question. She is not alone, there are more like us.

I know we all feel like we are in the water with the anchor pulling, our life jackets on and some days wish the jacket was gone, that the pain was gone. It still makes me cry when I think back to those days, the feelings, the sunken and dark thoughts.  I drifted farther out a few times and then came back; I now manage to stay floating and I am still paddling trying to keep going.

My dog paddling sometimes struggles but now I realize I have a few more backs to hang onto there when the seas get tough. I hope she is able to come through to the other side and find her buoy.

Please keep those in your prayers tonight and each day that they find the strength to keep going. Show them love, show them the real you; let them know they are not alone.

“I am grounded. My Spirit is grounded deep in the earth. I am calm, strong, centered and peaceful. I am able to let go of fear and trust that I am eternally safe. I am worthy of all things beautiful.” Carly Marie

Love and hugs from the Woman in Process

 

 

 

Balderson Cheese & Guinness

Another beauty day of warm weather, a wonderful walk listening to the families cruising down the toboggan hills at full speed; laughing, screaming and having a great time. What an amazing event to witness.

I remember the many times we spent with the children sliding down the hill and me screaming like a little girl at how fast I was going (I was scared, sometimes more of the walk back up).

It was always just the experience that was the thrill. One that brought a smile to your face, a warmth to your heart, it sometimes seems so long ago, but now we are enjoying a different stage and age with the girls and some fine items in life.

I would love to have more time to take advantage of visits, laughter and wine but right now, I am also getting to know Mr. Jones again. We have spent years driving to schools, events and keeping our palette at what others may enjoy more. We are in the next phase of our lives and as Mr. Jones said the other day; “I will give you all my years I have left.” (Still brings a tear to my eye. He doesn’t think he is romantic but he always has the right words.)

Tonight is a fine example, I have adapted a very awesome recipe I found online and tonight was Guinness and Redbreast Scotch burgers, topped with double smoked Balderson cheese. Served with a Glenmorangie Scotch, a regular Guinness, a Guinness Blonde and a chocolate cigar for dessert. Yup that is living. (I know you are drooling).

So I have to ask, why do we save all the best things for other days? Should we not enjoy it as it could be our last day or wait until company comes; when you have cleaned like a mad person or your once a year for the family Christmas visits and are exhausted?

Sometimes life forces things onto you and I remember the day well. My doctor’s appointment was scheduled for results and I recall that day being cool as a cucumber (this is not me).

I spoke well in the appointment asking questions as my husband and daughter sat there, in a bit of what’s next face (little miss, was pretty young and just knew mum was not all that well). Mr. Jones says to me after the appointment you were so calm. I said I knew the answer three days ago. It was given to me.

I had a conversation that put my fears out there to my beliefs to take the burden. My answers came and I knew what would be next. My goal was to ensure that there was not too much worry and that I would continue on.  I did. I struggled many days, but the days I could I always had a plan; we did crafts with children, baked cookies or one of my favourite moments, I took my girl snowshoeing and had a winter picnic (I may not have gotten far, but I still went.)

I asked her if she knew why we were doing this? Her response was; “because you want me to remember the moments.”(Such a smart young girl.)

Yes, I sure do. I want you to remember our football games, High Tea dates, sliding down the hill, playing on the piano in New York, cruising to Alaska and seeing whales and dolphins.

I want you to have so many memories and the laughter we always shared, and the day that my memory fails again or if it does, you have the scrap books and photos to remind me of all the amazing events we did as family. (Along with all the descriptions we wrote the last time it failed.)

“Sometimes memories sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks.”

Today, I encourage you to let the dishes sit, cook the gourmet meal, enjoy the wine, slide down the hill and eat the Balderson cheese.

“We take photos as a return ticket to a moment otherwise gone.” Unknown

Love always the double smoked cheese eating, burger master, memory making Woman in Process

 

 

 

Chapter One

It was an early morning wakeup as I trudged away on some courses for work I am trying to complete. They are very good, I just seem to have too many in my brain, and my head is trying to grow larger (hopefully not too large or my new hats won’t fit) and it is not succeeding; it feels as though it may explode.

I aim for a break and heat my tub up, and of course the smarty pants in me decides one more course, (I have set the computer on a stand outside my tub, so much for relaxing) I instantly freeze every time it says now time for a quiz. I know the answers and show people when asked but as soon as it is called a quiz or test, my knees get weak and I feel the need to pass out. Wonder how many other people are like this?

I finish the test, after I have gotten click happy with the computer and it goes to the next page; the comments come from my mouth, “crap I knew that”, and finally I passed. Now I take a breath and determine how many more I have to complete and how I need them done asap for my own sanity. It is stressful, maybe I should have a glass of wine.

I am my own enemy when it comes to this at times; deer in the deadlights look, fear and then the instant feeling I want to run away. You would think by now I could run a 5km in 20 minutes at the rate I could go, but let us be realistic (Spook is saying I stopped at a bakery along the way, I am a fine bread connoisseur, wine cheese, ok just about anything!)

Ok finish my writing then another course or two.

I had commented to Mr. Jones the other day, that I never got to the store to get him a card and I had full plans to buy a new scotch for him, but my timing this week, went whoosh. The week was gone, I am exhausted and I am thinking did I get everything completed? It is not like I am curing any disease so I think it is good enough and I need to remind myself to not step back into old habits, as it creates more anxiety within me.

He responds with how some made up holiday does not make it that I need to go get him anything for one day a year, when he spends every day loving me. Yup, he is pretty good, so instead we opted for breakfast at home (even better, he cooked) a stroll through the park and a heart shaped pizza, this afternoon. Sounds great to me. Wonder if there is a petite fancy coffee in that plan as well?

Then my plans are to head to my new little space, the studio (also referred to as the spare room) to continue working on my painting. Yesterday, we started on the acrylic painting class and I am so in love. I came home, started another one to work on building colours and see if my thoughts can go onto the canvas, realizing the endless possibilities.

The world and everything in it, is the original great arts, it is the start of chapter one. I think I will plan my trip to the mountains and see how this changes my perception.

I then began to think of all the people in our family on both sides who painted and loved it. We have artwork around the house, at the homestead and I remember them working away getting into the zone; I understand this zone so much now.

It doesn’t take long before I am yawning, breathing is relaxed and I feel released. Released from any pressures, just the ones in my mind that hold me hostage at times and they will be what I aim to work on putting on the canvas to send away.

As it is Valentines day, I am sending you a wonderful painting from my thoughts; on a black canvas, of floating red and pink hearts to share my love with you. I wish you a day of contentment, no personal pressures (no tests), no society pressures, just love from one human being to another, followed with a hug.

My Rag-doll kitty beside me is sending nose rubs. He is all over me, saying pet me, love me, hug me; one maul to him and he settles down for his nap. Spook shares her love and mentions if you would like Cupid taken care of, drop her a line, she is willing to change him into anything else.

“Now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great story no one on earth has ever read, which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.” C.S. Lewis

Love always from the test challenged, heart hugging, kitty lover, Woman in Process

 

 

 

Paint By Numbers

Last night we ventured out of the usual comfort zone and into something new. Art expression!

With a glass of red wine in hand (and white), we drew and listened to a great session on shapes, design, and watercolours.

Each person thinking, they have no talent and each of us scared that our design will look nothing like the picture. I commented that it was better than the stick person I had envisioned in my head.

How freeing, to calm the mind, breathe deeply and enjoy the mesmerizing display or mixing colours and the blending and bleeding of the colours as they cross the lines we originally drew determined we would paint between them.

Instead we painted, experimented and blotted our artwork till we finally determined they were ok, or good enough; not perfected by some fictitious impression or preconceived notion of our mind.

I wonder how many times a day people aim and strive for this imaginary achievement where someone is constantly placing a gold star on our accomplishment. Who determines that the gold star is or should be awarded; a critique, a peer or yourself?

Have we been putting to much pressure on ourselves for something that is all in our creative mind?

Tomorrow we are doing the same, more self expression of acrylic painting and am looking forward to learning the techniques and seeing how my mind interprets the painting and design.

One of the true gifts was to see so much of everyone’s deep and dark crevices of their minds, expressed. Most were unsure of what would transpire and some displays were the exact opposite of their original thoughts. Each one was beautiful, creative, and filled with love; the love of creativity.

Tell me how do you find a way to express what you have inside? Also do you feel that it would be expressed the same way on paper as the feeling you carry?

I encourage you to grab a sheet of heavy paper or sign up for a class and watch the artist inside you come out. I am currently finding this very therapeutic and believe it is helping the strong overwhelming emotions inside. It is like a soft lullaby to them, trancing them into a manageable globe to carry.

I think tomorrow I need to get my sis and I matching berets to wear while painting. Who am I kidding I would probably end up more with a mad-hatter style hats for us and would either start the crazy mad-hatter chatter or the moon walk. So many opportunities and both so fitting.

“Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.” Scott Adams

Love always the moon walking, beret wearing, smoking while painting Woman in Process.

P.S To begin I bought myself a paint kit that would give me the colours to use, now I am colouring outside the lines.

 

Frozen, Not the Musical

This afternoon was a trip to the dentist. My dentist is so awesome! All of them in the office are very caring and make sure I am extremely comfortable. There are a few challenges when I go in they have to deal with, especially the vertigo.

Today I was asked to update my medical history, so of course I need to tell him I am working through PTSD along with the rest of the items he knows. I saw a flash, of concern, (I teared) then he re-composed and he asks me a few questions in regards to it. How did it come to be?  I responded, telling him the very short 20 second version or less.

“You taking any medication for it.”

“Nope, I didn’t want to.”

“You getting help?”

“Yes, I am, I have an amazing therapist.”

“Ok, good, we will get you done in no time.”

He has known me for quite a long time and I saw the care in his face and in the other people in the office, while I have had to move these appointments constantly till I was up for it. Today I still didn’t feel up for it but went anyway so that I can smile my pearly whites again.

It is a very slow ride back to be in the correct chair position while I adjust. They get me snuggled into my blanket, rolled towels behind my back and neck, safety glasses on and a dam in my mouth. I listen to my classical music and can feel both of them right by my side. I tear a few times but managed to keep deep breathing through it. I kept thinking it’s ok; you are just about done. Focus on the music. Listen to the melody.

They work quite quickly and had me completed in forty minutes. I am very froze; drooling and ready for a nap. After they complete all the necessary items, he asks me how my teeth feel? I laugh, (more of a snort, part of my nose is frozen) but say I only feel my Mick Jagger lips. They are quite large. I normally would have taken a picture but with a frozen eye its a bit much.

I am now home relaxing my frozen nose, eye and mouth. Mr. Jones has made me soup and I bib myself up for the musical slurping talents I have. I burn myself a few times, I laugh, slurp some more and burn myself again. Due to my nerves it takes a while for the freezing to come out, so I think I will crawl in for an early bedtime and recover. This way tomorrow I can remind myself it truly is Thursday and plan my weekend or plan to do nothing, whatever I need.

Due to the emotionality an appointment creates for me, I will keep this short, as I am off now. I found this quote and thought how smart it was for everyday life. Today I am most grateful for the caring individuals who look after my health.

“My dentist once told me that letting go is like pulling a tooth. When it was pulled out, you’re relieved, but how many times does your tongue run itself over the spot where the tooth once was? Probably a hundred times a day. Just because it wasn’t hurting you doesn’t mean you didn’t notice it. It leaves a gap and sometimes you see yourself missing it terribly. It’s going to take a while, but it takes time. Should you have kept the tooth? No, because it was causing you so much pain. therefore, move on and let go.” Unknown

Love always the frozen one eyed, snorting, Mick Jagger lipped Woman in Process

P.S That penguin’s eyes look just like mine!

 

 

 

Keeping the Faith

Shortness of breath, pain in my chest and all I want to do is sigh. It must be Tuesday. Be optimistic it, you may have forgotten and it might be Thursday!

After a very productive day filled with manuals, paperwork and more manuals, I am grateful to head home; put up my feet and relax with an old fashioned murder mystery. (I love them, anything from Murder She Wrote to The Clue Movie)

As I am watching Mr. Jones asked what I am watching.

“Miss Fisher of course.” “Haven’t you watched them all already.”

“Yes but.”

He answers it for me, “You don’t remember.”

Nope. I have holes in the left side of my brain. Small ones but they still let some items squeak out. Most days I remember items like an elephant and others it takes a bit more processing. I am the list queen!

As I mentioned in my previous writing, I have some other issues I deal with. I hate using the word chronic illness as it sounds so definite, even if it is, I do not like that term. It makes me feel like I am so sick, waiting on my death bed. Yes, some days I am sick and others I run like Speedy Gonzales just like everyone else, oh who am I kidding, I pass them smiling and thinking you can’t keep up.

When I was younger much younger I was enjoying the time with my guests and chatting with them in the restaurant. (I was 27). I began to shake so much holding a coffee pot and I figured something was off but thought maybe I was diabetic. It continued.

I had some juice, a rest and felt a bit better. After an many more symptoms and doctors appointments over a bit of time, I went blind in my right eye, I figured yup there is a problem.

It didn’t take long for my mobility to go, my right side of my body especially was affected. Walking was challenging, spasms in the abs happened all day long and never gave me a six pack. I mean that was a ton of work to hold this body up!

The weight came on due to less movements and I spent my time on a cane. You are wondering was there other things? (Lots and this is completely short listed in what I mention) Numbness, headaches, pain, loss of balance (I took quite a few falls, I always told people I shouldn’t drink so early in the morning) loss of speech, loss of bladder (the list seems endless) I felt like a new puppy, but everyday I got up and went to work and pushed and pulled myself to keep going. I cried, I screamed, I forgot.

Milk ended up in the cupboards socks in the fridge. Did I still drive? Yes when I was well, but the car got dented. I honestly did not see that tree backing up.   Drugs were prescribed and I felt worse. I could not live like this.

Brave face, a smile and I kept going. Was I depressed? Absolutely, on some days and others I was so grateful because I had my family and they tried so hard to help me and make me feel better. I learned how to adapt. How to be able to cook when I was off. (This is the term I use when things go upside down with me, I am off, like a colour.)

I remember the month well when things began to change. It was December about 8 years ago and I thought about what I wanted. I wanted to be like everyone else, but me. If I wanted to do something I thought, I should have that opportunity. I did not want to limit myself, I didn’t want others to limit me. I didn’t want people to feel sorry for me. I was ready to pick out my chair as I could not walk well then things changed.

Ever see the look on someone’s face, when you tell them what is wrong with you and why you are on a cane. They are mortified, of what they are to say. Should they say they are sorry, glad you are persistent, keep cruising. No. I seem to get the awkward expressions of my friend’s sister died of that or complications. My mum spent her part of her life in a wheelchair and couldn’t do anything. Inside I am screaming thank you for the optimism! But really, people just do not know what to say because it is so unpredictable, but so am I.

They want to know will you be in a wheelchair one day? Maybe. Will you die from it or old age? Flip a coin your guess is as good as mine. Do you actually work? Hell yeah! I’m independent. Most days my mind is amazing, and functions like a new model Apple computer and then on occasion it gets a virus. Run the scan, give it the time and it is purring along again. Just like me. (Normally I would not have used Apple but have heard they now get viruses, what is up with that?)

Ok back to my story.

We bought an elliptical and Mr. Jones would put me on it and give it a twist to get me going. I worked hard or as hard as I could. I was determined. Let’s face it I am one stubborn woman!

Things got better, things got worse, I was just getting more talented at hiding it. I journaled all the issues for years as instructed by my numerous doctor’s, scans and appointments. I tried to be positive and then there were days I couldn’t, and felt sorry for myself as I laid in bed and couldn’t walk. Then felt bad, for feeling sorry for myself. I would lay there and remind myself your body is just trying to tell you something because for heavens sake you just don’t listen! Once up and feeling better, I would go like a bat out of hell.

I have one life to live and I choose to not miss out!

Do I still have symptoms? Yes all the time. Do I still hide them? Totally, but those that know me see it more, as they see my tricks. Mr. Jones he totally sees everything, I cannot hide from him.

Now as time has passed from one particular event, I have to laugh. I was so sick in the early years, he had to take me to the hospital three times one day. He was so upset he couldn’t fix me and punched a hole in our bedroom wall because he was scared. We repaired that hole and I hung a wedding picture on the spot. Why? Because he cared so much and it was part of our vows; in sickness and in health till death do us part. I think he is showing it well. Every now and then I move the picture and point to it and say you really love me. He responds with a yeah, I really do.

Someone asked me once am I mad at God? My answer was simple. No. He gave this to me to burden instead of someone else for a reason. He obviously thought I could handle it. I seem to be proving that logic.

If the time comes that I have to go into a chair, then this is what you will see. Not just a chair, one with an awesome paint job of flames, (oh pink flames), bike tassels on it and the clown horn so I can honk at everyone to get out of my way as I cruise by saying eat my dust wearing red leather gloves. I know you had visual.

If you ask me today how I am, the answer is not bad, a little tired will be what I say, even if that is not quite accurate. Some great sleep will help with it all. Mr. Jones ensured I had a delectable meal, (cuts my steak for me when I can’t, you know that is true love), gave me a nightcap, a Glenmorangie dram, and chocolate to bring out the scotch. Now I will turn in with the amazing adventures of Paddington and see what trouble he can get himself into. Hmm, we seem to have something in common.

“You don’t look sick.  I know. I am just that awesome that I can look this way and be chronically ill.” Unknown (but it is something I would so say.)

Love always the stick leg but still walking, slurry talking, numb, leather wearing Woman in Process

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hungry Like the…?

After a trying day and me shaking my head a lot. (Expect to see that in most posts.) I jump on the treadmill for a run; ok run/walk whatever I could handle. I began to think of all the stuff I put in my mouth while travelling: barbecue poutine, I meant to share it, but I was like a wild Hildabeast; gnawing on a bone. Ok next time, share Mrs. Jones and remember to breath. That poor waitress, I hope she recovers. Should I send flowers?

Then there were the items I tucked into my bag: nuts, bubble gum, granola bars and the items I purchased for the long flight, some healthy, some not so much. I did purchase a Twix bar to share. It was a long flight. Some long nights. I ate them. Who’s lying it was the share package of four, but they are smaller, right? Does it count that I text my friend to share and she didn’t answer so I ate that for her? I did her a favour; I think she said she was working hard on lunges. I was too and to think about it, I may have been lunging while eating to counteract it. Ok note to self again, maybe share and add more lunges.

Now I am home and started my nights of healthy cooking, (sometimes), when work hasn’t kept me too late. Mr. Jones and I alternate who cooks at times when life gets too busy for us. It works out great and I appreciate it immensely. Plus, he has no problem, to clean up the kitchen, score! My music is blasting in my ears, as I am shaking it while slicing and dicing. (Always ensure you wear gloves as slicing, dicing and shaking can be hazardous to your fingers, toes, all extremities really.)

I absolutely love to cook, learning gourmet meals and seeing what I can create from nothing. It takes me to another world, one that I wish I entertained earlier as a career. (I already have the temper.)

In the early B3 days, (before 30) we spent many days in the restaurant learning to cook with the Chef; learning the techniques of knife handling, cutting meat, how long to cook items and when the smoke alarm goes off, it’s too long. (Only a few times this took place but we had a suppression system, and the occasional fireman). Life was good. Simple.

Tonight I have to give him kudos; he probably had no idea that he had instilled a passion for me one that would grow and develop over time. It makes me content. As Mr. Jones is trying to use the Darth Vader force to move the dish to him, I confirm he enjoyed the something new dish; plus, we have quite the entertaining conversation together at the table. There is always lots of laughing.

So for tonight I want you to think about your passions. What do you love to do? What inspires you? Do more of it. Every time life is rough, build a cake, build a meal, paint, create and get lost in the feeling of a small accomplishment. You do have a bit of control, even when life feels out of control. I have a huge thank you to a friend who helped me work on remembering all my passions. (50 Shades excluded.)

Tonight’s writing inspiration came from my napkin. We purchased ones with all different questions to spark a conversation. Thinking it was a good thing.

“A recipe has no soul, you as the cook must bring soul to the recipe.” Thomas Keller

Love always the Twix eating, slicing, dicing, soul smoking Woman in Process.

P.S Thought I would share my driver’s license photo.

Life in Pictures

Our short adventure was coming to an end and I asked Mr. Jones if we could make a stop. He wasn’t in for all the suggestions I had till I mentioned the book store. He always loves the opportunity for a new hard cover book; for him it’s better than a new car smell.

I was one of those people, Starbucks in hand in my reusable matching cup; I located a pull cart (ok I prefer to put my purse in it, so my hands are free and my purse is large) plus I did have books I was going to purchase to lug around.

As always I was listening to those around me and enjoyed in-unison excited cries of two young girls thrilled as their dad agreed to an adventure of purchasing some new fish. Something so small but made such an impact on them, a smile on the fathers face, and a giggle and smile from me. It made me warm, like a hug.

As I walked and touched all the books in awe of their covers, and the imagination of others, I knew I would end up in the health and well being section. It is as if some magnetic force pulls me to that section each time I enter a store or the spirits are directing me with their lighted traffic wands. This way madam, self help books to the left.

In my hand I have picked up another Robin Sharma book, opened it read one quote and off my mind went. “There are four dimensions of your authentic self to awaken so you can become whole once again: your mind, your body, your heart and your spirit. When you awaken these four dimensions, you will remember who you truly are.” Robin Sharma Daily Inspiration

Hmm, yes who am I? I put it in my cart and continue thinking of how wonderful the trip was, how I have been appreciating life more and enjoying family together and taking photos.

I have just recently started taking or allowing pictures to be taken of me. It has been months and I wasn’t ready to see the sadness in my face as I saw her in the mirror daily and then tried to make that as quick as I could and not look at her if at all, if it was possible. “Eyes like a shutter, mind like a lens.”

The look was one of haunting, one I have seen a few times and am hoping I can keep it away: dark eyes, no spunk in the skin, eyes, with no sparkle. I had seen this look years ago on another and commented that this person lives their life being haunted by the way his sister passed. I do not want to live like that and I feel sad for him. (His job makes him repeat the situation over and over, he is stuck in time, and until he doesn’t do the school presentations any more, that is where he will stay).

Moving forward in the words of Edna Mode, “I never look back darling, it distracts from the now.” Recently, I have bought some beautiful bright lipsticks. I have gone back to wearing make-up and catch myself looking in the mirror more just to smile, and check my Johnny Bravo hair. I am trying and if someone pays a compliment on my lipstick, then I know they do not see the other look I have at times and that is re-assuring. It is still there, but I work really hard each day to look at the positive and keep that locked up in Pandora’s box.

It might seem to others I am being vain but I think it is part of the journey; part of the journey to reunite to myself. Self discovery in all four areas, now to reflect how I am doing.

When I finally meet my authentic self again, I feel I need to ensure a very amazing Bravo style introduction to each other. May I introduce, old, stressed and chaotic Mrs. Jones (showing a picture) and here to my right is the new Mrs. Jones; yet I do not know what she looks like, but am assuming she is wearing bright lipstick and a smile.

“If you’re sad, add more lipstick and attack.” Coco Chanel

Love always from the bright lipstick wearing, is it on my teeth, picture taking, Johnny Bravo haired, Woman in Process.

 

Road Trip

The wind was bustling last night, I felt like my Hundred Acre Wood may blow away. I am up, excited, groggy and getting myself beautified for a road trip with Mr. Jones. He has been packed all week so I guess he is excited for the adventure.

My swelling is down, thank goodness as I had a new tall Italian pair of boots waiting for me to wiggle my toes in the end and match up a sleek outfit with it. Ok a curvy outfit.

Mr. Jones is reminding me it is one night, one night. That translates into how many suitcases are you bringing? One pair of shoes right? I have learned to speak Mr. Jones well over the years. If he only knew I was blogging while standing in my bathrobe thinking on what I am going to pack. Come on, we all know this could start a War of the Roses.

Spook has claimed the backseat for herself, she is stretched out on the luggage, eating her snacks already; listening to her eight track of 21 greatest hits featuring the Happy Organ. We must find her some new music choices.

As the wind continues to blow it feels as if the sun is dancing above and the wind is entertaining a tango with the snow in the fields. It’s beautiful, we are very blessed to be on our way.

Once we land at our destination, the view we have is incredible and we are entertaining ourselves absorbing all the history of this building. Learning all it has to offer; drinking our glass of wine and Guinness.

I continue to watch people and have to think of all those that had graced the halls of this building so long ago. It brings shivers to my body. So far I don’t believe there are any ghosts here but will ask the desk and see what their response was.

As always the reuniting on the adventure with our gal is at the top of my list. She is so grown up, so lovely, and such a caring human being. Now to stop my waterworks. I always get teared up. I commented how much I wanted to just hold her and squeeze her tight.

Today I am most grateful for them. My firm foundation who are by my side with every disaster, sad moment and give me so much strength to keep me getting up each morning. Without them my world would be even harder, blacker in my mind than it is and more emotionally challenged. I say thank you for being the most awesome caring daughter and husband; I was blessed with the two of you.

Family is what you make of it. It does not need to be blood related, it can be your friend, confident or anyone else helping you get up each day, checking on you and saying I care. Who has been your rock?

” Home should be an anchor, a port in a storm, a refuge, a happy place in which to dwell, a place where we are loved and where we can love.” Marvin J. Ashton

Love from the squeezing, adventure loving, ghost hunting, Woman in Process

P.S the photo above, represents how much crazy fun we have together.

 

Clowns, Planes and Conversations

It feels like a week since I wrote anything and my mind is so full and bursting with what I need to share. I completed my few days of work travelling and am home; home to Mr. Jones and his comfort, home to my two meows and their constant need for affection and attention, home to my comforting bed who wraps his arms around me so I can sleep in my own cloud. I am truly grateful.

The past few days have been tiring, exhilarating, emotional and satisfying. Now where to start? (As I stood in my shower with my new amazing chocolate soap this blog wrote itself, now to remember my thoughts. I should have dictated to Spook, but her computer typing ability is challenged.)

My body is bruised, physically challenged and I have these cankles and legs that do not look like mine. I swear someone on the plane changed theirs out with me while I was sleeping. They are tender, full of fluid and my mobility is a bit downhill. Oh well, this trip was worth it and in a week I will be running like the crazy mad woman I am!

Janine and the Mixtape, Dark Mind is playing in my ears (always fitting while I think); after the arrival for the first day and getting comfortable around everyone (in my mind: this is me standing in my prison cell rapping on the bars, shaking them), I spent the time really looking at each of them and their strengths and idiosyncrasies of what made them who they truly are.  This, warmed my heart. I probably looked like I was staring a lot and yes (to those that looked at me funny, I apologize).

I did stare, but it was because I was admiring all their qualities for the first time (yet some, I have known for quite a while); their style, their expressive ways, their way of chatter, the way they would carry themselves. It was awesome and I wish I had the chance to write about each of them in their own blog as I was writing it in my head while watching them. (I may still do this one day.)

I also wish I could have gone to each of them and told them exactly what I was thinking and feeling, but this may have made them think I had too much to drink in the hospitality room. (I didn’t) I will remember for next time. I valued that evening, as tired as I was, I wanted to just be with them, get to know them more, knowing I would pay for a late night physically, I just didn’t want to miss out and have it on my regrets list.

The ones who’s eyes shared a full story of expression when they told you their story, or laughed. You could see it all. The ones who were nervous and felt shy, but soon began to bloom as they made friends, you could see their excitement. The ones who shared part of themselves with me; I am very blessed that you let me into your world (I love you), the ones who are so authentic to who they are and the ones who had such strength radiating from them. I adore you all!

To my fellow soul, who deals with so many work issues as I do, I saw the pain in your face when I was talking to you and I felt it in my chest. I knew that look so well, the one of trying to be strong yet inside its ripping you apart. I will ensure I make more effort to you, my friend; maybe it is time I let her into my funny farm, she may find solace there. (I had to hide in the bathroom for a few tears after this, ok I had to hide in the bathroom numerous times to get myself together this trip.)

I was truly blessed this trip with an honour that takes my breath away. The emotion I felt from it still makes me cry, as did the person who presented it and his kind and caring words. Your words gave me back another piece of my puzzle and I am very thankful for that, I wish I could tell you what it truly meant to me; one day I will. I realized even more that this is the direction and part of my legacy that I will work to achieve more of to leave behind a small element for a better world.

Each of these co-workers I will take something away from them. Whether it be how I approach an obstacle, how to speak on a subject or just what I learned from them, from their caring personalities. I bow down to each of you and as I sit here bawling like normal, I feel a new strength to keep me going and now I am out of Kleenex and will find a pair of socks I do not care for.

I was able to share a bit of me to a couple people and others I will slowly do that in my own way, as I value them so much and the only way I seem to let people in, is into my writing. So to the ones I finally have opened up to, welcome to my head 🙂 I always ask, please not to share my name, but should you think this may help someone then please share the site.

To those that hugged me and had kind words, thank you, you have no idea how it has helped.  To those that helped me get across the country and had texts or emails from me while I travelled thanks for listening. To those that looked at me as if I still had things to say, I did, I just didn’t know how to say them without crying and to those that had the time for a little shoe shopping, Spook and I are jealous! “Because of you, I laugh a little harder, cry a little less , and smile a lot more”

“Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.” Winnie the Pooh

As always, recognize your blessings around you, love from the cankled, compression  wearing, exhausted, warm hearted, indebted Woman in Process.

P.S. I know you are wondering where the Clown came from in my title, from a co-worker’s awesome t-shirt!