Category Archives: Personal

Where Did I Go?

acl, Chronic Illness, Cruciate ligament tear, Depression, Dog mama, MS, Personal, PTSD

Hi! It has been forever hasn’t it? It’s like in some ways I fell off the planet. I did in one aspect, life got away from me and as I was completing checks and balances I realized how much I missed this outlet.  I missed just being able to be me, able to open up in ways I can’t in the outside world. Be able to share some of my inner most depths and feel safe from judgement.

If you get to know me, you will find I share what I know people can handle, not the reality. I share from an optimistic side and keep the black to myself, but like everything it does ooze out at times and it seems to be oozing for a while. I just had my visual on this look and I can’t help but laugh and wish I could describe to you.

My stress has increased, trying to please everyone has been more challenging and the feeling again in some ways part of me is lonely and in other ways I have these great cheer leaders on the end of the football field and I just have to reach them before I am splattered as I run. I am Miss PAC-Man  at this time, dodging, turning and trying to not get caught, trying to get to the end zone.

Too late, it caught me, over and over again.  As the rain is coming down in heavy determined drops, I am using it as my cleansing; wash it away, spray the oozing gunk off and keep going.

Not even a month ago my fur baby savior had to go in for surgery. She had a cruciate ligament tear, in our language she blew her acl, just like a football player, she must have been dodging the stress and gunk with me on the field. I was devastated, in denial, into panic mode, and just felt overly helpless as she was hurt and I couldn’t fix her. My fears inside were blowing up and around me and I was dealing with the gunk of people not understanding why it bothered me so.

I researched, I cringed looking at the pictures of how the surgery looked, I read every aspect of healing and then I felt somewhat okay and it was time for our pre-op appointment. As we were sitting there, her and I, she kept looking up and putting her paw on me. She kept trying to reassure me of my fear and me to her as I pet her, loved her and listened. The Doctor was talking and watching and then he asks. I can see you two have a very different bond, and it is very special, why is it?

My emotions try to flood me like this down pour and I calmly tell him she helps me with the PTSD. He says he knew it must have been something big as he could see the relationship we had. He says I cannot promise people anything, but to do my best, but for you he says I am going to promise you I will fix her, I will keep her safe and I will have her back to you and she will be running beside you in no time. I loved that he did that.   He spent an hour and a half with me answering questions, going through the whole process and then we were booked.

I cried walking out of the office, because now it truly was out of my control. My nerves were heightened, people were saying she is young she will be fine, I just kept praying. We took her in for her surgery and I cried on the way out, after so she wouldn’t see me. I cried at work, I lost myself in tasks and watched the clock. Mr Jones turned into the expectant mother and was waiting for the call that everything went well. It came and I cried in relief!

The first hurdle was done and now we were onto healing. I set up camp on the floor by her kennel, as she needs 16 weeks of healing time and the procedure cuts their bone so in reality she has a broken leg. I read and talk to her, we watch Friends and my world changed completely. I began to appreciate again small details that seemed to have gotten lost on the shuffle. Sitting there and not having a plan, seemed pretty great and I felt more free.

Every moment was in a slower mode, there isn’t any rush. I am enjoying this part. We had some bumps and bruises, the antibiotics made her sick, she decided she wasn’t  taking them. They monitored her and she was good, she wouldn’t take the pain meds after the first couple days, she didn’t need them. She had  some fluid on her leg which is normal , but it seems to be going down now that the staples are out and she is up to ten minute walks. The laser twice a week seems to really help the healing process.

I cannot believe how amazing she is doing, but boredom is kicking in at times. The house is covered in carpets so she doesn’t slip, she cannot go to the bedroom or living room without assistance as there is stairs, welive on the floor looking out to the garden. My back aches, I have slept one full night in two weeks and I really am needing more physical activity, I would do this all again for her.

We are coming up on three weeks this Thursday and we need to get to her eight week X-rays to make sure the bone has healed. The bunnies on the lawn taunt her but, overall she is staying pretty calm and enjoying our togetherness. She has now commandeered my floor mattress and sleeps there with me on three quarters of the bed. We listen to the owl in the distance asking us endlessly who and enjoying the sounds of the birds when we wake up.

The days are starting to get shorter and the feel of fall on the wind is there.  I have a new job that no one knows about yet as I can’t tell anyone for a bit longer and we just received an awesome tandem bike in to help those with mobility issues. So even though days are gucky, I think my overall world is way brighter than before. I have more tools in my basket to use to get me through and I feel like those that are beside me hold my hand and help me be braver than I am.

The dog is snoring up a storm on the mattress and my tummy is a grumbling, but thinking it’s a nice time for another nap.

Love always from the oozing, gucky, sleep deprived loving dog mama, Woman in Process

 

 

Dear Santa

Chronic Illness, Depression, MS, Personal, PTSD

Dear Santa,

I like to think that I was good this year, so may have to ask my Mum and Dad what they think as well. I spent many days at day care playing with my friends wrestling, running and having fun. I was able to get to the dog park and meet new friends and enjoy their company. Mama shared her Starbucks cookie with me many times, I also got my own some days with my puppachino. I did get sick a few times this year and Mama was so worried. She would rub my head and ears and stay up in the wee hours to make sure I was ok. She may have even cried into my fur more than once as she says I rescued her. Not sure what she means but I like the snuggles. I adventured in my new home on wheels sniffing out how big the world is and seeing so many new things, some things scared me because I didn’t know what they were but Mama and Dad would help me and I found out they were nothing to worry about. I saw birds and waterfalls, slept under the stars in my new home, played in my pool outside, ran like a crazy dog, received many new toys for playing this year, and lots of treats.
I’m thinking this is the life so I think I would just like to ask for more of the same, and that my furry friends receive their treats and toys. That those without a home find one, and find a loving family like mine. Santa, I may have accidentally ate the cookies left out for you.

Love Miss Sasha Rose

I Am Free

Chronic Illness, Depression, MS, Personal, PTSD, ,

Three weeks ago….

I sat at the computer tweaking and cleaning up the desktop and there in all the icons was my speech from last year. I sent it to myself and thought I should look at it again. What did I write? Was it any good? Did it make any sense or just jibberish?4

I still read the things I write at times and think, who wrote this? Was this really from inside my mind, my soul’s creations?I am in awe. I am in awe of seeing such expression, raw truth and am searching again for something, I just am unsure of what.

Like everyone, one day you think wow, where did the time go, how did we get to fall? I have been so occupied, with work, life in general and then I ask how helpful has this has been to my mental and physical state?  It did preoccupy me at times when I thought I would melt into a puddle of goo.

I decided to be brave tonight and read some of the older posts, the beginning, the changes and see where I thought I was at and check in on where I want to be.

It didn’t take long for the tears to roll down my face, but also a smile at the same time, the smile a feeling of triumph and victory.

Recently I had a few items that triggered the PTSD at full force. I started to panic and then was able to work on changing the mindset, what I was doing at the time, where I stood, sat, anything that could be changed from previous, I kept myself aware, that it was not the same situation. It did cause my brain to panic to create the fog and feel like I was lost again, but it was only temporarily. I continued the tasks the therapist gave me,  spoke out loud, acknowledged the feelings and gave myself some time and space. The next day I was still a tad off, but could continue moving forward. This was a huge accomplishment for me!

As I haven’t been to therapy for quite some time, you become fearful that everything you worked on could be lost, lost in one moment, the fear of losing yourself again, the fear of not coming back from the depths of the ocean.

This summer we spent time focused on us, Mr. & Mrs. Jones; our alone time together, reading, camping, enjoying the small things in life. The scenery and numerous walks with the pup sitting in front of the water to just breath. The paralysis I felt would disappear and I kept coming back, like clockwork . In my head I was thinking I wasn’t doing anything but living, yet the downtime of solitude gave me more than I could imagine. It gave me even more life and laughter.

People laughing around the campsites, the smell of fires in the pit, children running and playing, it was as if all things were in the distance, not reachable, everything out of touch, just as some movie far away.  I had my own seclusion away from physical daily life and into my own head, it was the right medicine and I think was the saviour for me this year.

In a year, where the focus on me changed and amped up into a much more busy and stressful year, I looked forward to that aloneness, but with my better half. He was truly able to become more in touch with me, the original version, the version he always knew.

12 days later…:

This morning, many many morning from my original writing, as I sit with my caramel coffee, listening to the sounds of the Christmas Choir, I pull out a cherished gift, a coloring book with sharpened pencils in an array of colors, to keep my mind calm to a new day, a new beginning, to new growth.

My body is unfortunately very tired and I am focusing on healing it with more self care aka (wine in tubs) and the warmth of home life that feels as if it hugs my heart; my sanctuary, the tree lights twinkling and the tears roll down my cheeks as I embrace this picture, another sign from those that walk with me, a reminder how far you can walk, run or fly. Anything is possible!

So today dear friends, I leave it there, I leave it as I want to focus on my creation of color, embrace the sounds of a quiet morning, the tones of the choir and the heat running in the background while the storm is a brewing outside.

Love always the storm watching, marveling in life, Woman in Process.

 

 

 

Bliss

Chronic Illness, Depression, MS, Personal, PTSD

I wonder at times where I should begin? At this moment in time with my cup of tea, steeping with fresh Earl Grey in the kitchen, or the past month of trials and tribulations and how I finally came to the word “Bliss”.

This month has been far from that word and I feel as if I have been climbing a large mountain to get to the top, but I know, I am so close to getting there, so close to flashing my light for others, for me, to feel a success.

Success being defined by becoming emotionally and physically in tune within my own mind, body and soul. It feels as though anger has clasped around my wrists holding me back with its vines from breaking free, from moving forward from finding peace.

Exhaustion has crept into my body, pushing the anxieties to an all time high and the mental state bringing such bad thoughts and nightmares into my world that I though I had a leash on. Yet again, they protrude out of the closet and walk into the darkness of my mind and pick; pick on each aspect, each ability, and begin to define me back into something I was so determined I would not be again.

I like to think that all the hard work was not wasted, though this month made me feel as though I flushed it all out.  I chalk this up to not reaching inside, not spending the time I needed on those areas, but being pushed and prodded by obligations of life. So right now inside my mind I am screaming “STOP!” “ENOUGH!”

I am taking back my health, and will begin to focus once again on what is best for me. What limitations I have, what obstacles I see, and how to learn how to hurdle jump them all, to continue the destination I see for my future, my future of hope.

Yesterday as my body phyiscally came to his maximum of what it could endure. It chopped me down to my knees as I fell. It made me look at life from a different height, from a different perspective and to see what trauma I have been putting it through.

Normally I would have wanted to do this in the comfort of my own home, but obligations forced me to deal and learn to accept this challenge in public. As I had to return to work, and the body could not stabilize and hold me upright without falling, I had no choice but to sit down in a bright red wheelchair. Left to myself with sunglasses on, I had about five minutes to accommodate, adjust before the first guest came up with their needs.

Eyes red, soul feeling deflated like a balloon who had sat in the sun too long and shrivelled, I had to meet the obligations face to face. Maneuvering this unit which I had no practice in, running into walls, scraping my hands down the textured wallpaper to try and help me move myself, hitting boxes and my knees, I began to get a small grip on this new avenue of road.

I realized how unfriendly the world felt at this level. I could not reach for things, I could not just walk over to the desk to pick up the paperwork I needed and I could not get around to the side of my desk in my office. I also needed to give myself more time to get there.

It was challenging, but then it began, a feeling like freedom that I had not experienced. Normally on my cane, I struggle with the spasms the pain, and it seems so hard to get up, out of the chair and the movements forward cause my learned pregnancy breathing to come in as my abs work hard to keep me moving, holding the body so carefully; one wrong move can make me come crashing down to all fours.

As one person requests a need for an item and insists it’s too far to walk, they back peddle as they realize the comment they just made. Inside I was not angry, I had some peace. I could continue living, do what I need to do or like to, but not use all my energy up just to get upright. It gave my body a healing break. By day two I was becoming an expert with my four wheeled unit, and I felt more hope and enlightenment take hold. The catch was the sorrow I also still felt was because I did not let myself take the time to grief and accept an area that I have spent seventeen years avoiding. Fear!

Scared that again this will define me, this will make me feel as though I am weak, yet it did the opposite and gave me power.  It gave me optimism of a future that won’t be so bleak. I have been blessed over the years and when things were so bad, something would take over and up I would come again. I feel as though I am a continuous tidal wave dependent on the pull of the moon, the stars and the amazing cosmic that I love to spend so much time staring at.

I keep stumbling on the aspect of my knees. The thoughts of why this is taking place, why now, what has changed and then I remember a line. I didn’t study much religion, I did attend a bible camp once, but I loved scriptures, hymns and catch myself singing a few songs when I feel I needed a hand.

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I felt the empowerment of that small line make sense, make me realize, just maybe each of these times I am knocked down is just another lesson or empowerment to get me back up, to make me succeed in life, to continue to hope, but also it actually gives me more power each time it does knock me to my knees. I just didn’t realize how much.

With that in mind, a new perspective, and my fresh Earl Grey tea chilling beside me, I feel as though my body has cleansed itself of some of it’s restrictions. Maybe tomorrow my day will begin again with a smile and end with the bliss I feel now today.

As always, love the kneeling, Woman in Process

 

Happy Canada Day

MS, Personal

Just wishing you a Happy Canada Day! If you are celebrating anything else this weekend, Happy Birthday, Happy Fourth of July, Happy Saturday, Happy Long Weekend, Happy Sunday, Happy Bbq Day, Happy Everything!!! May the weekend bring you inner peace and love.

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Love always, the Flag Waving Northern Woman in Process

P.S after she waved her flag and carried it, a treat was in order, a new stuffie and the best toy ever, Nerf Dog!!!!

Realism- Things We Learn

Chronic Illness, Depression, MS, Personal, PTSD

Realism sometimes is such a downer! You know what I am saying, when you look in the mirror and see that you are older, when you begin to walk sideways down the stairs in the morning, and you forget what you were doing when you leave a room.  You just stand there looking around.

Realism knocked me in the ass this weekend. I tried to keep it at arms length but no such go, stupid thing! As I sit here on my deck, with my third leg beside me and a realization that this is how it is at times. I have finally come to grips that I will finally pick out my wheelchair for bad days. Those are the days I cannot really walk but want to do things. Instead of putting all my energy into walking, I can then just enjoy. I can still go for walks with Mr. Jones, though both of us had a visual of the pup running down the hill crazily and me yelling, rolling down with her, but the humour lightened the mood.

This is what real life is, no glitz, no glamour just raw moments, built up into great ones that do make us smile and laugh.

So instead of me diving into all this junk, that’s it today. I have decided I am going to live life though my pups interpretations.

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They missed a very important one, if I don’t like it, pee on it. Not sure what my neighbors would think but oh well.

The dream job, yes please! I am thinking we could go into a puppery baconery.

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The queen and I were discussing some homemade treats, not sure yet if she is contributing to the baking or just the eating. I believe she is contemplating that question.

Happy Sunday, and if realism is kicking you down today, just pee on it and keep moving forward.

As always, love from the third peg legged Woman in Process

P.S when I do hit the store for my wheels, I’m thinking the first question is, how to do wheelies?

Hormonal Shovel

Chronic Illness, Depression, Hormones, MS, Personal, PTSD

You can picture the scene, one from a dozen horror films playing the creepy music as the killer walks down the street sliding a shovel. The music intensifies as they finally come to a moment where the shovel knocks something out of their path. Welcome to my world for the past two weeks.

It is not by choice that I have become this person, but find the hormonal roller coaster is intensifying as I am aging and walking with a shovel seems to be the normal thing now.

Some of you are thinking, I so get this and others are thinking, you crazy girl. The catch it’s not just me, even Mr. Jones is seeing a difference in himself as he ages. We laugh how we are shrivelling up and we say is this normal?

It is a normal occurrence for each person, we just wish there was a guide manual on expectations, much like the preganancy manual. Instead we are inundated with flyers on planning your own funeral, life insurance and do you have enough money to retire? I miss the days of just a great catalogue showing up, but I am interested in the two for ones at the restaurant or the early bird specials of course.

All you hear from others is its been good, I found myself, (some days I am still hunting for her) I became more confident with myself and insert the sounds of Charlie Browns teacher here on the optimism. I am optimistic, on a different level.

Someone forgot to mention that the changes can last for ever!!!! You can be on the hot flash roller coaster for years. Blankets on, blankets off, blankets on, blankets off, growl! Fans are going all the time even in winter, a warm spring day and you are telling people to turn up the air conditioner, its so hot. One moment you are kind and gentle like Snow White singing and the next you are Godzilla trying to crush everything in your path.

Do you ever feel like you are getting one part of your life under control and then it feels like the marching band is dragging in the next adventure at the end of the parade?  Here comes the great theme music and then ta da, hormones!!! Reminds me of being a teenager. Friends are dealing with acne, some have commented no one tells you hair starts growing crazy here, here and here.  Your epilady has become your best friend or you wax on and off, to ensure you keep your confidence level up, and are not being recruited for the circus.

The commercials come on and a sad mushy one gets you (me they always did) or you get caught off guard and the tears start to come rolling out of your eyes. Your like what is this?  You continue to work towards better health and before you leave the mirror you always lift your chin and double check there is no hair on your chinny chin chin.

Yup, aging is great, the songs I sing to match the feelings I have, let’s start with do your —— hang low, do the wobble to and fro. Insert whatever you like. It seems to be all parts of he body, no part of the body is safe.

So even though I am struggling with the hormones I do appreciate being able to say things very outspoken and not have as much of the second guessing myself, I mentioned before I am somewhat socially awkward when I talk to people, but this me.

Now as I prep myself for today, I have left the shovel in the garage and am hoping for not another re-enactment on a movie, if I do have one, I could become the next horror writer. I am so cracking up at that and the movie titles are just flooding my head. I was going to write to you about forgetfulness, but I forgot what I was going to write.

When I found these pics, I was thinking they get me!!!

Love always the hot flashing Godzilla, the Woman in Process

 

Dear Grace,

Chronic Illness, Depression, MS, Personal, PTSD

 

Dear Grace,

I had no idea our paths would cross in such a different way today. It is my usual Friday of another week completed and I look back thinking do I remember any of it? It was in a blink of an eye. As I flip my light on, there in my office sits a chest in my one lonely black chair, one that must be lost or misplaced I thought.  On the top of the chest was a pink note with not much information for me to start trying to locate whom this may belong to.

I feel the need to apologize to you first Grace, as I needed to try and find a hint of where this chest belonged. I had no idea of the impact you would have on me today, the emotion you brought forth, the pain in my heart after.

As I begin to search for a name, a clue to search our database I knew all to well why this box was here, you must have recently decided to leave this world and head on to a new one to be with your loved one. I pulled pieces out and found your name, some photos, a letter to a member in your family from 1972 telling him he passed his exam and could be a Forester Fireman. The box itself smelled of fire, and inside were prized possessions of fire badges, and other mementos that must have meaned so much to you or you wouldn’t have saved them.

You had the most valuable prize possession in there Grace; a letter to your husband about how much you loved him, cared for him, how grateful you were for him in your life. I only wished I knew who the two of you were in the photos, or if they were of you. You could feel the love you shared, you could see you had built a lifetime together.

I did find who left the chest behind Grace, and I am so sorry they instructed me to throw these possessions out, they were not needed for them. My heart broke at that moment, as I felt like I was throwing away someone’s past, someone’s meaning. To others it might of been paper, to me this was history and for some reason I was given the honour of getting to meet you in a very different manner.

I can only assume what you may have looked like, what your life was about; your delicate handwriting of loops and form, each designing the cursive on perfect rows of unlined paper; not an error, just the feeling that you took your time to write this letter to your husband with care and compassion in the wee hours.

I would loved to have seen more Grace, but your letter was all it took for me to see  the most important part of your life. I did learn after some research tonight that your husband is laid to rest not too far from here, I hope you will be at peace now that you are together.

I shared the story and letter with Mr. Jones and he understood as well, why I could not throw it out. So dear Grace, we will bring that letter to you on a day trip out and lay it back to where it belongs with the two of you.

Thank you for sharing a great love story with us in a couple of pages, you really reminded us how special our love is and how frail life can be, so we need to ensure we do not miss out on an opportunity to tell each other.  Grace your name will be part of my memories.

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Love from the honoured Woman in Process

R.I.P Grace 1931-2017

 

 

New Word of the Day

Chronic Illness, Depression, MS, Personal, PTSD

It is incredibly early as I enjoy my caramel Starbucks coffee sitting under my electric blanket with the fireplace on.  I spend my mornings checking out news, jokes and entertaining myself before the day really begins into the world of duty, but right now it is my time to be one within myself.

Miss Sasha Rose joins me on my side of the couch, once she realizes I’m peeking through the curtains waving to her. Apparently my side was way better, as she jumps up to the couch and is entertaining both of us with a new outlook to the outside world, her tail just a wagging and her excitement, as she explores searching out to the right side of the window as if she has never seen it before. Just for reference this is a series of twelve foot windows, I’m sure she has seen it.

With the weather melting and a new outdoor pool in the backyard, she is making sure she takes in all the new experiences of the season change. Wadding in the puddles, skating on the ice in the morning and our favourite Tom Cruising across the deck; this is quite the sight to see, she definitely reminds me of Scooby Doo here. Each moment brings such laughter to us and I had to put it into a word.

Snortule- defined as the big suck of inhaling air, as you begin to laugh and snort at the same time. This is normally numerous snortules and you cannot stop. I recommend at least five good snortules before returning to adulthood and looking like life sucked the energy out of you. Also recommend breaking down for daily snortule moments to increase your life expectancy.

I realized the other day that this was happening quite often, (that’s the snortules, not the life sucking) and it always makes me laugh harder. How can you not snortule?

I begin to laugh harder and crack myself up, a comic relief on stage. The Doo, has been entertaining me endlessly, with our trip to Starbucks for her puppichino and whipped cream flying everywhere as she inhales it. I had to check my purse, hair and glasses for residue, an armoral wipe was in need for the car. She is the comic relief to each of my days, she is the fun, the life, the energy.

(I feel like Wilson in these photos, “Hey Neighbour”, but look you can see a bit of me).

She is learning an all new perception on photobombing, and I’m sure in no time she will be taking her own selfies with our cats. Insert a snortule here.

The perception of a dog, their attention to detail, their commitment to just being them all all times, brings a person back to that perspective. Some days you have to remind yourself it’s okay to just lay around, watch the traffic, bark out the window, eat and then lay back down. Reality is to take those moments of zen, and harness them with your breath and actually listen to the body.

It took me this long to one day finally grasp the theory of my breath to body, I started yoga over twenty years ago, apparently life just adjusted my glasses with time. I learned then to breath into movements without thinking, naturally and recently reminded myself how far you can go in a movement, how much you can change perspective and how you can fill your life with more snortule moments.

My crazy brain has been salsa dancing on some of these times of practice and after a bit I have managed to wade through the pool to the real items, get into the part of my mind and then calm down the nervous centre. My healing time on my last relapse was incredible, shortest one to date and missing a couple classes in a row, my body is not happy with me, but he was happy to return, my muscles screamed another story.

The physical shape is changing but it’s more of the psychological nature that I am intrigued by. Add in my new regime of how I can eat, (remember Hannibal piece in my mouth trying to put the jaw in) it’s lots of juicing, smoothies, rice, steamed vegetables, soft foods, as my mouth does not open too far, my body seems to be happy with me again. I truly believe this was the next step in my path of recovery. I use the breath for the fears, the anxiety, and I allow myself to tear when I am in practice of yoga if that’s what it needs to release. I even brought one of my dreams and hopes back to the table to work on getting my certification, for pilates. I just re-added it back to the dream board of my goals, so will see where this takes me.

On that, I just realized it’s Friday, can I get a hell ya! And I need to find my Doo who is wadding through the mud in the yard so she can attend day care and play. This way she can have her own snortule moments. Wishing you a weekend of these, please see above should you require assistance on your snortule.

Love always the snortule loving, maybe tooting Woman in Process

 

Wannabe Nancy Drew

Chronic Illness, Depression, MS, Personal, PTSD

It’s 3:30 in the morning, I get up for usual acquaintance in the middle of the night, my toilet and a brief conversation with my cat who hangs out on the heat register. He meows constantly as though he is telling me his most important thoughts and dreams. He finishes his conversation and I head back to my room to try and get the last few hours of sleep.

It is the middle of the night, that can be so challenging, my thoughts wandering to what ifs, the things I must do, the duty, and the unknown of life in general. It normally takes quite some time to finally get it to shut off in my little igloo; I keep my window open or a fan on for the whole year, so it’s a tad chilly.

Today was my usual day of self discovery in my session. At times it feels as though I’m not changing, yet after a few thoughts pop out I receive a new gift of self discovery, where the curve on the road is continuously changing, weaving, even though I may feel it is not.

My little miss is on another grand Paddington Bear adventure into Iceland and the fear overcomes me each time she travels and because she travels alone, more often than not. My anxiety is shooting through the roof with issues and putting fires out at work, yet all I wanted to do was spend a few quiet moments sitting and talking to her. Thank goodness we did talk the night before otherwise my heart would have been broken.

I am living some of my grand adventures with her, at times when we go together on a trip, at times as a family but also through her photography, her journalism writing and the happiness you see in her face when she is somewhere new. I may not be able to fly a long way, due to my issues, but I’m thinking she may have to take me here, as it looks amazing, and breath taking.

I do have to say both Mr. Jones and I both provide her with the usual safety speech as she is meeting new friends, but I always add, make sure you have pictures of your new friends and names. What I really wanted to say is; a copy of their passport and a swab but that’s going over the edge in my mind, right? Or could I just label it as being the protective mother bear.

When I was sixteen, I had to meet with a specialist and was told you would not have children, very unlikely. So the surprise of my little miracle girl was pretty amazing, but also at this point being told that, I had to change. My mind had refocused on other areas that I let become priority and that had went to the bottom of my list, as it was not meant to be and then here it was happening. Even though her biological father was not there for her, Mr. Jones was and still is, he says he forgets she is biologically not his, as to him she is. That is a true father, someone to love you, teach you and keep you safe, that’s a family.

While sitting in my session, I start to describe an area I’m exploring. I had to recently return to an area that causes me great pain, fear and trauma. In a split second it shoots me back to that day and I collapse briefly, gagging, the smell overtakes me. As I come to, I swear, get up and head away from there as quick as I can, tears on my cheeks. Life is messy, sticky, and memories at times are icky. That is what life is, a bundle of all the ick and all the goodness to give us some balance, the Yin and Yang, I think I may have found some recently. I am working on the ickiness of life by becoming my own Nancy Drew, magnifying glass included.

I loved playing the Clue game as a child and I still do. I read mystery books, love watching shows of mystery and can bury myself into a set of clues and not come up for air for a while. I do the same at work when that icky feeling takes over and I know something is off. I work through all the angles, listen to my gut instinct, and read the signs around me, I dissect and solve, even when I know the answer isn’t always great.

Mr. Jones shares a new mystery with me, that we can obtain monthly, delivered to us at home, but they said you have to have the stomach for it. I kind of thought to myself, you deal with some of that in real life, do you think it could help you realize some of the icky parts and the pain it causes you, could you work into the mind of what is actually the reasoning to help you heal? I know it might sound odd, but I’m willing to keep trying to, if it keeps me exploring and diving into areas that can help me continue me be and not be overtaken by the ptsd, not by those sights and smells.

It has its own mind I feel, as if it can pull on one thread on my sweater and unravel weeks or months of work. You then have to work through it and then continue the process. I can see it more when it happens. Just like the clues of a mystery I can see when it is beginning at times in my head or with the anxiety, but I do get caught off guard at times like a swift punch to the face. Those ones I’m trying to figure out, what happened, what was the root, was it brewing for a bit?

So, a few weeks ago I rolled out my yoga mat at class and I have been attending faithfully. It’s not an obsession, but such a learning environment as I channel my breath into each movement, building my strength to fight my own demons and learning how to use the breath to help me; when I have that next episode and scurry away like a mouse instead of the lion that I am.

I am finding a new balance between the ick and the beauty. I know it will take many sessions, but I am ready to harness my energy and continue this healing process. I may also work on some of the anger issues that still overtake me at times, but I know the breath of my body will assist here as well, and maybe a good few kicks at a bag.

I think back to the lady who introduced me to yoga so long ago and how I felt then, and wish I kept it as my daily practice, yet I cannot turn back the time, but change my own perception that maybe it wasn’t the path at that time.

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Well on that note, my sleeping Doo is exhausted today, from shopping at the pet store, picking out toys and treats, playing in the dog park, and walking in the sunshine. I wish you the ability to be still, calm the breath and listen to the body. Namaste

Love always, the mat toting, ocean breathing, spandex wearing Woman in Process