Things I Don't Understand But Want To

I don't understand how someone could post this picture on their blog and not include the recipe!!! I mean, come on! I'm drooling all over my keyboard and itching to lick my screen. If you're going to post pictures like this on your blog, at least have the decency to include a recipe, or a link to a recipe, or better yet, free samples. Geeeshhh!

The four tones of Mandarin Chinese, without which you apparently can't learn how to speak the language properly. I have spent many hours listening to a Mandarin language CD and still have only learned how to say hello and thank you, and even those I'm not sure of because there are many different ways to say each, depending on which of the four tones you use. Sigh.

Ambiguity...I try never to use the word "hate", but ambiguity is one thing that I would have to admit to hating, if I used the word "hate".

I don't understand why I can't get enough of this little guy?! He always makes me laugh and whenever I see his picture, he brightens up my day.

I love it when I find an excuse to post his picture.

How can a man spend HOURS flipping through channels with the remote, landing on programs here and there on his way through to nowhere in particular, and then become so absorbed within a nanosecond that he gets visibly annoyed when I talk, behaving as if he's actually trying to watch this show and I'm making him miss the best part. What??

With all the different kinds of coffee available out there, why can't I find one that I like? Would I even know how to ask for it if I did like it?

After all the games have been played, posts have been liked, comments have been made, messages responded to and my Facebook page has had nothing new added for hours, why do I sit here, staring at my screen, until I can barely keep my eyes open - or have to pee so badly I can hardly walk to the bathroom - before I finally reluctantly log off. I just can't stand the thought of missing anything. I'm afraid of not being able to log back on again - maybe my laptop won't work tomorrow, maybe we'll have a power outage, or the Internet will be down. 

            The possibilities are endless.

Can you tell that I love my window to the world? Thank you all for making my world so much brighter and worth logging into - and for helping to make it impossible to log out!

A Spiritual Aside

I've really enjoyed blogging over these past few months. Blogging has been a fun, sometimes therapeutic outlet for my love of writing. I've really enjoyed meandering through some rather random pathways, not always knowing where one thought was going to lead, but always enjoying the journey through.

After all of these months, though, I'm feeling a bit baffled by something. When I first began this blog, I expected these meanderings to take me/us through some of my spirituality...my deepest hope had been that God's light would find a home here, that His Love and Light would meander with me and through me and ripple into the words that poured out through my keyboard.

It hasn't happened, at least on a regular basis, even though my spirituality is profound and central to my entire existence. Any gratitude that I express for anything or anyone is grounded in a profound gratitude for how richly God has loved and nourished me along each and every path I find myself following. So it's baffling that I mention gratitude without mentioning Him by Name.

I love God. Yes, I've wrestled with Him, I've raged at Him, I've walked away from Him out of inexpressible hurt and sense of betrayal. But from within those wrestlings and those ragings, His Light, and especially His Mercy, have shone into my lostness and anger, bringing me to my knees in awe of the tender - and very intimate - expressions of His compassion and patient understanding of all that I crawl through to stay alive and connected to life and Him.

We've been through a lifetime of muck and mire, He and I...we've shared the entire gambit of human life - fun and failures, joys and sorrow, laughter and crippling agony, dancing and debilitation at death's doorstep...He has been my most constant companion-along-the-way, and I could write a book - a big book - of all that He has done, been, said and shown me every inch and step of my entire life.

So why do I barely mention Him in my bloggings? I wonder. I know that I pray before starting to write, asking for guidance and inspiration. And when the words begin to flow, I just flow with them, following them where they seem to want to go. If at the end of that flow, there is no mention of God, well, I don't force it, I can only leave it as is and pray that it's enough just the way it is.

But I've been pondering this lately. I admit that I'm very weary of religious controversy, very heartsick at the proliferation of violence and hatred that rages in the world in the name of "god" (I refuse to capitalize "god" in this context because I don't believe that anyone could possibly be killing and hating in the name of the God I've come to know and love...whatever god they're using to justify their actions isn't one that deserves that capital "g", IMO). Anyway, I'm tired of religiosity, of people using scripture and dogma to repress, judge, hate, exclude, punish and kill any other human being. Even within Christian denominations I see Christians fighting against other Christians, actually professing to hate "this sector" or "those people" within their own Church. I've had to walk away from the institutional church for awhile while I figure out how to find the least toxic and most inclusive community possible. Any place that excludes others for any reason just isn't the place for me anymore.

For now, I'm content to just live and let live.

But even that has been a challenge...just in the past few months, I've been drawn into some fairly heated - and uncomfortable - religious discussions...I didn't want to be there in those situations, and found myself begging God for a way out, a distraction or change of subject. I felt trapped in a toxicity I wanted no part of partaking in. I'm tired of this. I just love God. And I love, treasure, adamantly uphold and pray for every human being on the face of the earth to enjoy the same freedom that I have, to simply love God, using whatever name He allows them to call Him, and wearing whatever face He chooses to use to reveal Himself to them.

I don't want my faith, my profoundly beautiful nourishing relationship with my God, to ever offend, upset, challenge, annoy or in any way toxify anyone else...I admit that perhaps that above all else is why my spirituality doesn't leak too much into my writings...I could not and will not ever ask or even imply that anyone else "should" believe what I believe - I firmly believe that each person's journey to and/or with God is uniquely theirs and that we're not all meant to follow the exact same spiritual path. Perhaps my sensitivity is flawed and could be misinterpreted as cowardice, but I just don't feel like deliberately flaunting my spirituality every time I speak or blog. I don't want to forcibly inject it into subjects and meanderings where it doesn't really fit.

My spirituality is the essence of me...it doesn't need special words or scriptural references to make it so, it just is. I live in God, He lives in me, we are bound together by 57 years of intimate relationship, 57 years of crawling together through muddy trenches, sitting together in deep dark holes that I didn't know how to escape...57 years of constant struggling just to survive long enough to reach this wonderful plateau of peace that is my here-and-now.

There is no "me" without Him. All that I am is fueled and nurtured by His love and constant Presence in my life and heart and soul. And there, nestled deep in His arms, is where I establish the base assumptions, my starting point for all of my writing, here and elsewhere.

There is a big part of me that admittedly would love to write more about my relationship with God. But I'm wary of doing so, because I'm not interested, at this point, in making that the sole purpose of this blog, or in getting into any kind of awkward and uncomfortable discussions about doctrine and dogma...I would just want to write about Love and Grace and how they have saved my life and brought me to the understandings and perhaps even wisdoms that have helped me find peace and stability. Not to proselytize, but perhaps to help others who also struggle to find their way through to more stable ground.

Sometimes my spirituality does weave itself naturally into the subject of the day; sometimes my meanderings brush past His love and compassion and ripple into the message...I love it when that happens. But at the root of my passion for writing is an adamant premise that I must leave myself free to just follow the flow, to let the words create the message that wants to speak.

That's why I blog. Simply to meander through words...to meander the journey wherever it takes me and follow through whatever doors open along the way, trusting with profound faith that all pathways and all open doors and all plateaus and horizons are at His bidding anyway.

Peace to all who enter here....I believe that wherever we find ourselves standing, at any and every given moment, is sacred ground.

Cluttered Connections to "Home"

We just returned home after spending the weekend in the area where I graduated from high school in 1974, and where my parents lived from 1972 until my Dad died in 1999. While I've never really felt enough of a heart-attachment to the city itself to call it a "home-town" (I only lived there for two years), the house where my parents lived was still "home" for me, because for almost 30 years it was the place where we fought off stubborn bosses and bumper-to-bumper traffic to get to for Christmas, Thanksgiving and various other family gatherings.

While this wasn't our first trek back there since Dad died (and we moved Mom to Ottawa shortly afterward), I was, for some strange reason, more conscious this time of the residual pain that I still feel echoing through me every time we come back to this area. But this weekend, instead of blocking it out and trying to tiptoe around it without collapsing into woeful sobs, I decided to confront that pain and, well, meander with it for awhile.

Just going by movies, books and comments from other friends, it seems to be a fairly common phenomena, that a place - especially a "hometown" - becomes forever connected to us by (and sometimes even solely synonymous with) the myriad of emotions that we ourselves have attached to the people and events that we personally experienced in that place. It's as if we can't ever see this home-place as anything but "the place where all of this happened".

I noticed - felt - all of these emotions swirling around in me the closer we got to this area. I wanted to cry, because over the years this place has become synonymous with all that I have lost - an agonizing reminder and encapsulation of all of my deepest sorrow and regrets. This is the place I had left, perhaps before I was really ready to leave, because I simply didn't know how to stay. And I regret that now, because I would give anything to still have my parents here to come home to, because now I understand so much more than I did back then just how very very precious "home" and "family" truly are.

I've had to travel many dusty roads and mucky detours to reach that realization. While I guess I wouldn't trade any of it because it brought me to a here-and-now that I like, I can't help but wish that the road - that my choices - had kept me closer to home and family throughout all those lost and lonely years. But that's not how it happened, and I've had to learn to focus on the good and positive, and to not wallow in all of that regret...to instead see each regret as a lesson learned which in turn evolved into a valuable tool that I was able to use to make better choices in subsequent situations and encounters.

Still, it all came flooding back this weekend. All of it. Good and bad, joyful and sad, but mostly the bad and sad. Constant connections, constant conversations with the past, constant desperate wishing that I could go back and rewrite parts of my story, that I could magically pop back and redo so many moments and situations over again with the wisdom and understanding that I have now.

Not possible. No delete or backspace buttons in this story. There simply is no going back.

So I pondered this. Will I forever be confronted with all of this mind-clutter, over and over and over again, each time we drive through this area, each time we visit dear friends here? I don't want to continue to saddle "this place" (the city itself is an innocent bystander in all of the drama and trauma) with such sad baggage that gets left behind when we drive away and then picked up again each time we visit. Enough already. Enough. I decided that it's time for a little mental exercise in letting go...I decided that I needed to let my mind conjure up a box, or a pretty urn, or even a silk-lined coffin, and then place all of these painful memories, regrets and unfulfillable yearnings inside - and then bury them. Imagine a peaceful, pretty resting place somewhere in the surrounding countryside, and put all of this useless clutter to rest there once and for all.

I have to figure out how to do this so that I'm not tempted to dig it all up again each time we come back to this place. Perhaps it's okay to grant myself just a slight nod to that history, then focus on remembering that there is so much more to this place and my life than just that collection of regrets. I need to clear out all of that old clutter to make room for new - better - kinder - memories....to remember the home and the family that gifted me with the roots and wings that I needed to safely travel those roads that I had to travel, and remember the love that gave me the foundation on which I now stand, strong and capable.

And perhaps best of all, I will then be free to create new connections to this place that will make it an enjoyable experience to come back to in the future.

I can do this. I will do this. I want to do this. Is it possible to ever go back "home" without that flood of memories and emotions? I don't know...but I can at least adopt a kinder perspective - a better balance between accepting that it was what it was and recognizing the precious gift that it all truly was.

We'll see...next time I go back, we'll see how far I've progressed. For now, I'm really glad to be home.

Happiness...Connecting the Dots

After many (many) years of searching, reading, asking, listening, praying and pondering, I've come to a decision...it was one of those things that slowly (painfully slowly at times) evolved itself into what turned out to be a rather quiet, uneventful decision. Perhaps it's not monumental to anyone else, because maybe everyone who happens upon this blog will already have learned it themselves and will wonder why it took me so long. Perhaps it will turn out to be life-changing, I don't know. All I know is that I finally decided that this was my answer.

My happiness is completely up to me.

It took a long time to evolve from the firmly-entrenched belief that my happiness hinged on other people - which would explain the constant roller-coaster of emotions and crippling insecurities for my entire life. I based my measurement of how happy I was by how others interacted (or didn't) with me, how their love for me was (or was not) manifested on a day-to-day basis, what impact (if any) events around me had on my life and by how I perceived others felt (or didn't feel) while in my presence. If someone looked at me the wrong way, well, that was it, the day was a total failure.

It's no wonder that "happiness" was so elusive and fleeting and random and inconsistent...and so impossible to sustain!

But this morning, it finally dawned on me. I mean, I actually felt the light bulb switch on in my head. It really is up to ME to make my happiness happen. And I realized that for me, happiness happens best through many moments containing many simple pleasures. For me, where happiness is concerned, quantity trumps quality...by that I mean that I find it easier to accumulate many small-but-delightful moments throughout the day, then string them together like beads on a thread, and hold them up at the end of the day and say, "wow, that really WAS a beautiful day, wasn't it?!"

Big happy moments are grand, but they don't happen a lot in my life. And I'm forgetful. So if I try to use those to define my happiness, I don't do well because that definition is unsustainable in my somewhat ho-hum day-to-day life. But give me simple delights, and well, I can do those and I can relish them, savor them, remember them at the end of the day - and not worry about having to remember them tomorrow, because tomorrow I get to start all over again with a new thread and new moments to enjoy and savour.

It's a seemingly simple switch of perspective, but it might prove to be powerful. Because now it's totally up to me to define how I'm feeling right now, then decide how I want to feel in five minutes, and then choose how I'm going to connect the dots between this moment and that moment five minutes away - by adding to my life whatever it is that will get me there. And then I just continue that momentum by deciding (at any point in the day) how I want to feel by the end of that day, and then continuing to nudge moments of simple pleasure into being, all the while connecting the dots from one moment to the next and to the next, until I reach the end of the day with an entire day's worth of shiny moments.

So now I just need to recognize what it takes to nudge those moments out of hiding, what constitutes "simple pleasure" for me, ie, what brings that thrill of delight, that sigh of sheer pleasure or that whoosh of well-being...and then add more of those to my daily life.

They really can be very simple pleasures...like a bowl of fresh strawberries with a wee dollop of whipped cream on top; a walk along the river; spending time with a good friend; doing random acts of kindness in my community; writing a newsy hand-written letter to a lonely elderly relative; puttering in a garden of colourful flowers (or yummy edibles too); laughing at silly stuff with online friends; listening to an uplifting piece of music; allowing a piece of really good chocolate to melt slowly in my mouth; sipping a cup of freshly steeped Earl Grey tea; opening the window to listen to the birds splashing around in the bird bath. The possibilities are endless. All I need to do is open my eyes to see and ears to hear and heart to appreciate the simple pleasure pulsing within each moment.

It helps to keep a gratitude journal. I've been hearing about the value of a gratitude journal for over 30 years, ever since a month-long retreat at a monastery in Pecos, New Mexico in the early 80's. That's where I first heard (over and over again) how vital it was for good mental health to maintain a daily gratitude journal. I tried many times, but depression, grief and illness kept interrupting my ability to feel anything but dark, miserable and futile...in those years, I barely even wanted to be alive, much less give thanks for being alive. Thankfully that has changed, and I'm indeed very glad to be alive, and profoundly committed to continuing to evolve and learn as much as possible to live a joyful, happy life.

So I do keep a gratitude journal now, and it does help to focus on the positive; it's a valuable tool for remembering to keep my eyes open to see the blessings and richness of life no matter what else is going on in the larger world. Keeping a gratitude journal has helped to internalize a constant openness to receiving and acknowledging the blessings and gifts of each moment, so that the entire day becomes an ever-stretching string of gifted moments of simple pleasures...my day now becomes a never-ending accumulation of "happy".

Yes, there are lows and dips in the day as well; those are unavoidable. And for some, they will seem insurmountable. I know because I was stuck there for most of my life. But thankfully they're no longer the total definition of the day for me. The quantity of simple pleasures (which I now decide to make happen) usually either balances or outweighs the quantity of low moments, so for me, the choice is to define my day by the accumulation of happy moments.

Really, what it all comes down to is choosing to fill my life with more of what I want, more of what brings me as many of those moments of simple pleasure as possible...figuring out what it is that I like and then doing whatever it takes to fill my life with more of those kinds of moments...and then connecting the dots, moment-by-moment, blessing-by-blessing, all throughout the day.

It makes the day worth waking up to, don't you think?!!

Rhetorical Why's of a Noisy Day

Today included a myriad of noisy activities and encounters...some of which left me with some burning questions that need to be asked (albeit rhetorically) before I can lay me down to sleep:

1.  Why does a man, who has hundreds (probably thousands) of various tools and bits and pieces lying around the house (and shed and trunk of the car), search through every drawer and cupboard in the KITCHEN to find a KITCHEN utensil to fix something that could (and should) easily be fixed by one of his hundreds/thousands of tools (one of which was probably made specifically for that purpose)???

2.  Why does the toilet paper always run out when I'm in the bathroom...I'm a little suspicious...I mean, I don't think it's coincidence that there is almost always just one thin flimsy little sheet left. And does my husband actually believe that it's useable?

3.  Why do people walk in the middle of the road when there are perfectly good sidewalks on either side? I can understand the reasoning when it's winter and the sidewalks haven't been cleared yet, but on a perfectly fine summer day, why? This morning it was like driving through a labyrinth, trying to drive around the people walking in the street. Most of them had earphones in their ears and heads down, fingers texting, so honking was useless. If you're going to walk and text, at least do it on the sidewalk. And please don't give us the finger when we honk to let you know that we're there and don't want to hit you while you're meandering into our path.

4.  Why do telemarketers only call at supper time? I know, it's probably known to be the best time to find somebody at home, and I understand they have to make their living. But we've recently moved our supper back 15 minutes for various good reasons...one of the benefits of doing so was to be finished eating by the time the telephone rings. But now they're calling us 15 minutes earlier!! Do they have hidden cameras in our house? How do they know that precise moment when we sit down to eat?!

5.  Speaking of telephones, I don't like telephones. Our telephone sits on hubby's side of the couch, so he normally answers. Our phone doesn't ring all that often these days, but if it only rings once during the entire day, it will usually ring the moment my husband steps out the door. Do they have hidden cameras in our house too?!

6.  Why does my husband only fall asleep (and snore) during the shows that I pick? It's not even as if I choose boring programs, I always try to choose shows that he enjoys too. If HE picks that show one night, he stays awake, if I choose the same program the next night, he falls asleep. And snores. So loudly I can barely hear the TV. Hmmmm.

7. And finally, why does my husband prefer my side of the bed? It doesn't matter how big the bed is (eg, we love getting king-size beds when we sleep in hotels), he always manages to keep drifting further and further over to my side, until I'm practically sleeping on the very edge. Then when I nudge him back over to his own side, he takes all the blankets with him, usually leaving a few of his infamous farts behind.

Sigh. Clanging of kitchen utensils; squeaking of the empty toilet paper holder; cars honking; telephones ringing; prime time snoring; sneaky farts...a day full of noisy living, a day of living fully alive.

And I'm glad I'm alive to hear every moment of it.

It Was a Wonderful Weekend

It was a wonderful weekend. Although we both approached it with some trepidation, we also ventured into this reunion with joyful anticipation and excited curiosity to see who we both are now. I believe that I turned out to be the lucky one, as moment by moment and discussion by discussion, I discovered the beautiful, generous-hearted, loving-spirit woman my niece has become.

I was continuously awed by the depth of perception, wisdom and generosity of spirit that kept shining through in my niece's animated descriptions of her university course (journalism), of the various charitable agencies that she is able to help through the skills she has been learning in her course (eg, writing up funding grant applications), and her hopes and dreams for her future (all of which involve non-profit and charitable works). Her joy was infectious, her faith profound and her vision of life hope-inspiring. There were many times through the weekend when I felt like I was in the presence of another Mother Theresa, and I'm excited to watch how this beautiful woman continues to unfold and blossom.

In the midst of all of this profound enjoyment of spending time with her (and feeling so enriched and blessed by her presence and grace), I also, unexpectedly, caught glimpses and flashbacks of a me I've long forgotten existed. Because so much of my own life has been steeped in loneliness, depression and lostness (seemingly endless and aimless drifting with no sense whatsoever of who I was or what I wanted to - or could - do), I've been rather harsh in my backward glances, and tend more to keep the doors closed so as to focus on my much more positive here-and-now.

So it was an odd experience finding myself in places and conversations that evoked memories and flashbacks into old familiar places...her hopes, dreams and visions were echoes of my own ancient-and-long-abandoned hopes, dreams and visions from my own hippie/bohemian days. Browsing through market kiosks overflowing with colourful sarongs and funky jewellery transported me back to the days when I couldn't get enough of that sort of environment - incense and all...and also transported me back to my own student days when I was too impoverished to do more than look and browse. (It was impossible to resist spoiling her a bit, the way any impoverished student would love to be spoiled. And out of all the kiosks and flowing skirts that we browsed through, I think it's safe to say that for her, the most exciting buy of the day was the 14-year-old cheddar cheese! That may well go down as a highlight of the entire summer!)

The weekend was hectic, jam-packed with colours and sights and soul-deep conversations during our endless walks through exciting bustling city streets - and for me, it ended up including pleasant browsing and interesting excursions through long-forgotten memories and ancient dreams. I fell madly in love with my niece; I also discovered a grudging affection for the young woman I had been when I was her age.

Rediscovering my old bohemian flare and, well, liking what I saw back there, was unexpected and perhaps even healing to some extent. It might be the first time I've ever looked back with a positive perspective instead of my normal critical analysis of all the failure and lostness of life in-between then and now. This weekend, I remembered that young girl, I remembered her passion for helping the needy and poor, I remembered her yearning hopes of someday changing the world, and I remembered her dreams of shining God's love everywhere she went. And I realize now that those were not flippant whims to be so quickly abandoned with such harsh dismissal on my current self's part...I have to hope and pray that those are all still a part of who I am, because they WERE beautiful and generous of spirit...the same qualities I now admire in my niece who awes and inspires me. Two bright shining pockets of light...separated by a few years apart - and by my many miles spent mired in the muck of a dark and difficult road. But after a weekend spent showering beneath the cleansing waters of her young grace and God's ageless love, I can see now that the bright shining pocket of light I thought had long been extinguished has in fact endured and begun to flicker again.

I'm so grateful for the chance to rediscover the profound beauty of my niece this weekend...I'm also grateful that in discovering her, my eyes have been opened to acknowledge the beauty of my own younger self, who was once as deeply rooted in love and light and hopes and dreams and passion...and I'm grateful to realize that those are all not only still a part of me, they might well be the best parts of me, not to be abandoned or dismissed because of the muck they've had to journey through, but to be re-nurtured and re-shaped to bring wiser love & light, refreshed hopes & dreams and rekindled passion to the front burners of my life here and now.

Yes, it was a wonder-full weekend.

Big Day Tomorrow

I started out with the intention of just adding this to my gratitude blog...but then it seemed too big to encapsulate it into just a sentence or two. Although it might seem simple to many, it's monumental to me. And so I thought I'd start writing it out here and see where it meanders to.

I'm taking the train tomorrow to go to Toronto to visit with my niece for a few days.

Simple sentence, right? Yes, for many. But oh so much more for me. You see, for years (and years) I've been suffering from a baffling case of panic attacks. No rhyme or reason. I just couldn't go out anywhere on my own. It was so bad at one point that I couldn't even step outside my front door to get the mail!!! I mean, come on! But I'm serious. I went from being a very active, social, working woman to being completely debilitated by fatigue, depression, grief and fear - overnight. One day I was working in my job as a network administrator fixing computers and running cables through my 6-story workplace, troubleshooting server problems and training users how to use new software (the list goes on ad nauseum)...the next day I simply couldn't get out of bed. Nothing moved. My body and my brain simply stopped moving and stopped caring.

When I did finally manage to pull myself out of bed, and down the stairs, I was so exhausted I had to lay down on the couch for another hour or so. From that moment, I deteriorated rapidly, spiraling into a deep depression, almost totally incapacitated by severe fatigue and anxiety, and before long, so terrified of everything and everyone that I couldn't go anywhere unless my husband was with me. And if he left me alone, say, in the lineup at a cashier, I'd start sobbing, uncontrollably, right there in the middle of the store in front of everyone. It would be years before I was able to answer the phone, and even now I still have an anxiety attack, albeit much milder, when I have to make a phone call myself.

It was baffling, humiliating, devastating on many levels and crippling in every possible way.

And tomorrow, I'm taking the train - by myself - to Toronto (one of the biggest cities in the world) - to visit my niece - whom I haven't seen in almost five years.

A miracle. It's a miracle. I almost can't believe that it's me whose bag is packed and sitting ready by the door with train ticket tucked inside.

Am I frightened? A little bit. It's a huge step. Each thing in that sentence, including the word "tomorrow", was once a huge source of anxiety and panic by itself, now I'm tackling all of it at once. "Tomorrow", "train", "myself", "Toronto", "visit (ie, social event)", "niece" (some background anxiety there). Not one of those things could have been possible a few short years ago.

Am I ready? Yes. I hope so. Though I know already that no matter how enjoyable the visit will be, I'll still be counting the hours until I can get back home. I'll try to stifle that and just enjoy each moment as it comes. I want to focus on the fun and laughter and presence, not on the reality and discomfort of being so far away from the comfort (safety?) of my own home and husband.

I've come a long way, baby. Am I proud? YES! Am I grateful? Inexpressibly so.

The last time I tried this, taking the train (to visit my brother, the father of this niece), I cried all the way (all 6 hours) and ended up having to come home a day earlier than planned because I couldn't handle being away any longer than that...that was just prior to that devastating breakdown (should have been a warning sign I guess). But that won't happen this time. I've grown, and healed, and learned a lot about how much stronger I am than I ever knew before. I want to do this.

And I've already planned ahead, loading a Mandarin language course on my teeny tiny notebook computer, so I can keep my mind busy learning Chinese on the 4 hour train trip. If that doesn't work, I can always connect to the Internet (you can on the trains now, amazing!) and seek solace in my online friends and distraction in my silly games.

But I'm going. On the train. By myself. To Toronto. Tomorrow.

Oh Sharon, you've come such a long, long way...way to go, girl, way to go!!

Learning to Live With Diabetes

I'm hungry. There, I said it. I shouldn't be. My lunch was fairly substantial and very healthy. I shouldn't be this hungry again so soon. A few weeks ago I would have just grabbed something yummy and eaten it and felt full and satisfied until supper.

But everything changed when my doctor reluctantly told me she had to officially diagnose me with diabetes. She said it was BORDERLINE, but the only thing that seems to have affected is whether or not she prescribed medications, which she didn't. She gave me 3-6 months to get it under control myself, through diet and exercise.

It was difficult at first. I immediately started cutting out everything that had sugar in it. And with my trusty little glucose meter, I started testing myself as instructed...before each meal, then again 2 hours after each meal, then again at bedtime...it didn't take long before my fingertips were numb and blue from all the needles!

Road trips were the hardest. Especially in Sept-Iles where it's customary for the hostess to make up the plates, meaning I had no control over portions. Thankfully, everyone quickly adapted to my needs and let me dictate my portions...and they also even changed their menus for me - how kind is that!!!! (thank you, if any of you ever read this!)

But over the weeks, I've been able to notice trends and triggers and have begun to relax into a healthier balance. My brother sent me some useful tips that have helped me both manage my sugar and lose weight. Those tips have been working better than I could have hoped for! So much so that I've been allowing myself to add a few new treats now and then, like a small ice cream cone (only about 2 Tbsp of ice cream in a mini cone actually goes a long way with very little impact on my sugar!).

For the most part, I'm very happy sticking to my healthy regime...especially when I'm also watching the pounds slip off at the same time. I've got it down to a science now...protein and veggies for all three meals, fruit for morning snack, something like plain yogurt with blueberries for afternoon snack, and then at bedtime, I've been eating about 1/3 cup of a cereal mix I made up myself: I combined in a zip-lock bag several cups each of Fiber One (original) cereal with Smart Bran with Psyllium and then added about a cup of a new cereal  I found in Costco which does have some maple syrup added, but includes a yummy diversity of grains and still falls within the recommended Glycemic level. This combo gives me a great serving of lots of different grains and fiber, and helps me to sleep through the night without waking up hungry at 3am (which used to be a big problem before the diagnosis).

I'm grateful that we caught this diabetes so early. To be honest, I think my pancreas was fatigued from all the junk I'd been feeding it - poutine, chocolate Easter bunnies and all that Cuban bread pudding in March!! Poor thing needed a break. It seems to be much happier now, although it still doesn't cope well with pasta and bread (but it does seem to like pumpernickel in small doses). According to my latest glucose testings - and scales - we're doing something right. And for that, I'm happy and grateful.

But I'm still hungry. Time for yogurt. Hubby ate all the blueberries...I might have to use a wee touch of authentic Quebec maple syrup to help get that plain yogurt down. Thank goodness there are rumours "out there" that maple syrup might actually be good for me. Yippeee!!

Onward and upward (well, we don't want my sugar or weight to go upward...but you know what I mean)...I'm no expert on this stuff, never will be, but if I could make some cautionary comments, I would strongly advise to get rid of the white stuff...switch to whole grain breads and foods with a lower glycemic value, eat lots of veggies and fruit, and take that long walk every chance you get...it really does make a difference.

You Make All The Difference

Okay, I've said this so many times in so many different ways that anyone who has known me for any length of time will probably be able to predict how this blog is going to go. But I have to write what's in my heart...that's what meanderings are all about...following the mind and heart to wherever they want to take me and my keyboard.

And today, my mind and heart lead me once again to a fierce and passionate gratitude for the people who fill and bless and grace and enrich my life through various social networking sites. Day after day after day, I open my laptop (my window on the world), and find a whole world of wonder and wondrous people and things waiting for me.

Pictures from remote corners of the universe; quotes that touch my heart and sometimes even give me direction that I've been searching for; photographs of the people and places that are dear to the people who are so dear to me; comments and insights from beloved women who have become like sisters to me after years of sharing life, laughter, tears, fears and everything in between.

Do they/you have any idea - any idea! what my life was like before finding these awesome amazing people??? LONELY!!! Very, very lonely. SAD. Very, very sad. I could list a lot more melancholy adjectives here...but I don't want to. Because that's not who I am anymore and I want to focus on and celebrate the immense joy that has been gifted to me through each and every one of these people - the laughter we've shared, the hearts that have spoken love & care, and the wondrous wisdoms that have become interwoven into the very fabric of my being now.

You have made all the difference in the world to me!

I am not the same lost, lonely person who first logged on seven years ago. And I'm so happy, delighted, so full of thankfulness for how richly my life has changed over all these years. I can't wait to wake up in the mornings now to see what's waiting to be discovered, what's new in the lives of these people I love so dearly, and whatever else you all want to show and share. And thanks to all the ways you have opened my eyes to beauty and wonder, I actually have things that I too can share with people who care enough to celebrate achievements, beauty and moments with me too!

Thank you, all of you, every one of you, for the unique gift of presence and friendship you bring into my heart and life. For the years of love, for walking beside me along so many rough roads, for sharing your thoughts, wisdoms, gifts, pictures and self with me. You have made an enormous beautiful difference in my life...I will never ever be the same, and for that, I'm eternally grateful, because I never want to be the same person I was before meeting you all. And I never will be, because you have taught me so much about love, laughter, joy, gratitude and life that I've grown and continue to evolve far beyond even my own vision of what's possible.

I just want to throw my arms up in the air and stretch them far and wide enough to thank, hug and bless each one of you wherever you are. While my physical arms can't do that, my spiritual arms can and do through prayer and care...I thank God every single day for each of you, and for the day our paths crossed. Wherever our futures take us, know that each one of your lives has made an awesome difference and that you are always in my heart!

Home is Best

You would think that a computer is a computer...that one is the same as the other...that you could just sit down and skip around the Internet as easily on one as any other. Not so, say I after 2 weeks without my beloved laptop.

When we left home 2 weeks ago, I decided to leave my laptop home. We knew we would be able to use computers everywhere we went, and we were supposed to be bringing two people back in the car with us for the 12-hour drive from Sept-Iles to Montreal, so space would be scarce. (They ended up flying instead, but we didn't know that at the time that we packed the car before leaving home.)

And it's true, I did have Internet access all along the way, on various computers here and there. Some needed tweaking and repairs before I could use them, and some of those tweaks took HOURS, but it all worked out and those computer owners were very happy with the repairs and tweaks.

But as soon as I opened my own laptop this morning and began surfing through all my favourite places, I realized how much I had missed my little "window on the world". I have all of my pages bookmarked, my anti-virus programs are dependable, my fingers know this keyboard intimately and fly freely at will, I can flit from one place to another with grace and speed that I didn't seem to be able to find on other people's computers and keyboards. I'm not sure why, but I always felt like I had to clip my wings somewhat while skipping around other people's preferences and computer idiosyncrasies...and schedules (once I had fixed some of those computers, the owners never seemed to want to leave them!)

Anyway, I'm glad to be home. Glad to be waking up in my own bed. Glad to be cooking my own meals again (the food was wonderful and plentiful everywhere we went, but not so good for my sugar levels). Glad to be surrounded by my own preferences and "feng shui"'ed stuff.

And very glad to be home on my own computer.

I haven't been able to play any of my games for two weeks...guess where I'm going to be spending this "too-hot-to-go-outside" day today!

Hey, it's good to be back home again!!!