BYOB

Thanks, me. You're the best!

How do you love to be loved? 

I think that we each have a unique answer to this question, and likely a long one.  There are a lot of different ways we love and show our love for one another.  We tell someone the lovely things we think about them.  We surprise our loved one with a special treat.  We give our partner a back rub at the end of a long day.  We listen - to stories, to rants, to the unsaid words in the silence.  

But, what if you don't have someone in your life to love you in those unique ways that you love to be loved?  

Well, I propose that you Be Your Own Boyfriend.  Or Girlfriend.  Or Best Friend.  The title is not important.  Be the person you need.  This is about self-care.   This is about loving yourself in the ways you love to be loved.  There's no need to go without or to wait until someone comes along who can love you in those ways.  Love can be a DIY project.  

What follows are some of the ways that I have learned to be my own boyfriend, my own loved one.  These are, then, the unique ways that I love to be loved and they may not be yours, but perhaps these ideas will spark you to consider that question - How do I love to be loved? - and then put into action some simple ways to show yourself some of that love.  (Oh hey, future boyfriend!  I sent you the link to this post and strongly implied that it would be in your best interest to read it, didn't I?  Yeah, sounds like something I'd do.  Listen up.)

• Buy yourself flowers. Once a month-ish, I buy myself a bouquet of flowers from the farmers market, or scavenge for them in the countryside. For me, flowers are one of the cheapest sources of joy.
  

• Set your phone to send you sweet-nothings throughout the day. I'm not ashamed to tell you that I wake up every morning to a message on my phone that reads, "Good morning, beautiful." It's surprisingly heartwarming. As soon as there's an app that will make me breakfast, I think my iPhone and I will make it official. (Side note: I've also set my phone to buzz and pop up the message "Take your meds, lady!" at 8 am everyday. Whenever my kids hear that alarm go off, they shout at me "Take your meds, lady!" as a sort of conditioned response. It's one of my favourite things.)
  

• Run yourself a bath. Get out the fancy bubbles and bath oils. Pour yourself a glass of wine. Put on your favourite tunes or set up your iPad in some sort of waterproof cocoon so you can watch Friday Night Lights (guys, I know I'm late to this party, but OMG so good). Or screw all that and just splash around to your heart's content. I mean, it's you that's going to have to clean it up, remember, but what better way to clean the bathroom floor?
  

• Sit with yourself - not simply by yourself but with yourself - and listen for the words unsaid, as you would with a dear friend. Greet those words with kindness and an open heart.
  

• Celebrate your birthday. Don't wait on someone to plan a party or sing the song. Sing it yourself. Buy yourself cake. You'll be guaranteed to get the kind you want. If you can, spend the day doing something you really love.
  

• Cook your favourite meal, just for you. Take the time to pick out the right ingredients and to prepare the meal slowly and with love. If you are so inclined, light a candle and use fancy plates and sit at an actual table that is not a coffee table or a couch cushion. Or take yourself out for dinner. Trust me, you can do that. It may feel uncomfortable sitting at a table for one but in all honesty, nobody cares and listen to this: you don't have to share your dessert with anyone.
  

• Netflix and chill. By yourself. You heard me. Either literally or metaphorically. (Oh jeepers, now I'm going to have to explain this to my mother. Sex, ma, it means sex.)
  

• Rant out loud to yourself (perhaps in the privacy of your own home?) or get it out on paper. Is it as satisfying as ranting to someone else who will nod and mm-hmm and give you all the visual cues that they believe you are totally justified in your ranting? No, frankly it's not. But it still feels good.
  

• Get a massage. For my part, I recently bought a gym membership and the level of membership I purchased includes the use of hydromassage beds. When signing up for the membership, I thought I'd just give the massage thing a whirl but I didn't expect much. I assumed I'd decide I could do without. But then I tried one and HERE HAVE ALL MY MONEY. My kingdom for a hydromassage. Seven minutes of heaven that I really don't think a boyfriend could replicate. If you're keeping track, the robots are winning.
  

• Check in with yourself about how you're feeling. Loved ones, boyfriends, girlfriends...they check in to see if you're comfortable, if you're happy, if you're feeling safe. Are you warm enough? Are you having a good time? Do you want something to eat? Do you like where you are - this restaurant, this neighbourhood, this career, this life? Make a point of checking in with yourself and asking those questions.

These are just a few ideas and, as I said, they are my own and they may not float your particular boat.  The point is to consider how you can meet your needs instead of waiting for others to meet them for you.  This is about empowering yourself to create the love you want and the life you want instead of relying on destiny or luck to bring you what your heart desires.

But you know what?  I believe if you do this, if you learn how to show yourself the love you need, if/when someone does come around who wants to show you some love too, you'll know what you want, you'll know what your favourite kind of love feels like, and they'll have a shining example of how to love you in just the right way.  I believe this Dr. Phil-ism to be true: You teach people how to treat you. 

Show 'em how it's done. 

Jump for Joy: Write a "Ta Da!" List

You're not the boss of me.

You might think that, as a writer, I'd be naturally inclined toward participating in a daily journalling practice and that, without effort, I'd be able to stick to a regular routine, greeting any opportunity to write with abundant enthusiasm!  The truth is that I'm a haphazard, inconsistent journaller, at best.  I'll get in a good groove of writing every night for weeks on end and then suddenly I'll fall off the cliff of responsibilities, descending into the abyss of tasks, emerging many, many weeks later with only a foggy memory of this little book here.  So although I've kept diaries and journals for most of my life, it is not uncommon for me to start entries with "The last three months of my life have been busy.  To recap..."

I've been trying, TRYING, to get back into the habit because I have found that when I stick to it, the practice of taking a few minutes every evening to write about what's going on (AND ALL THE FEELINGS) has an immensely positive impact on my life.  My journal becomes a place to let things out - the good, the bad and the ugly - that I otherwise tend to keep in, and the practice of writing about how I feel about things, and the choices I'm considering making in my life along with their pros and cons, helps me to process what's going on inside my often far-too-busy brain.  When I write in my journal before bed, I sleep better, and wake up with a healthier, more positive outlook on my life and any challenges I'm facing.

When I manage to write in my journal, I make it a point to end my entries with a list of three things I'm grateful for that day.  This is not a revolutionary idea, by any means, and it is backed by scientific research that strongly supports "an association between gratitude and an individual’s well-being."  In my experience, I've found that this exercise alone allows me to gain some perspective and set aside my troubles, at least for the moment.

Recently, though, I've added another exercise to my journalling routine, an exercise that I've come to think of as writing my "Ta Da!" List.  Following my list of the three things I'm grateful for, I write a list of three things I did well that day (Get it?  "I did this!  Ta Da!"  Corny? Yes.  Clever?  If you say so).  My far-too-busy brain is exceptional at drafting long To Do lists but not so great at celebrating the things I actually do and this exercise helps me to do just that.  These accomplishments don't have to be of the climbed-Kilimanjaro variety.  They can be simple, simple things and in fact, I have found that acknowledging the seemingly simplest of my day's accomplishments is the fastest route to a sense of satisfaction and success.

Some examples from my journal of the things I did well: 

• "I washed my face"

• "Laughed and had fun with the girls"

• "Ate healthy things"

• "Stayed calm with my daughter when she was trying my patience"

• "Didn't beat myself up"

• "Went to the park even though I was tired"

• "(Mostly) had a positive attitude!" TA DA! You're welcome, family!

Several years ago, I came across what I consider to be one of my favourite things on the Internet.  In a forum about "things you like to tell or remind yourself about when you have 'woe is me' moments to steer yourself out of self-pity/moments of weakness and back into awesomeness", contributor Zozo offers this gem:

"I start going down a list of my accomplishments. If my mood is particularly crappy, I'll do a lot of "oh, well, that doesn't really count," but I can eventually wear myself down by sheer volume, even if it means counting "remembered to buy cat food" and "emptied the dishwasher" as accomplishments. 'Cause you know what? I emptied the fuck out of that dishwasher."

I heart this 4eva.

This is what the "Ta Da!" List is all about.  It's about emphatically celebrating your successes, no matter how insignificant they may seem, because the thing is they are NOT insignificant.  These successes are important because, on the whole, our days are not made up of Kilimanjaro moments.  They are made up of washing our face, and staying calm with trying toddlers, and emptying the dishwasher moments.

So go ahead and give yourself the credit you're due, and consider making it a daily practice to do so, whether in writing or not.  

What have you accomplished today? 

You gave the dog his medication.  TA DA!

You didn't eat the entire bag of chips.  TA DA!

You emptied the fuck out of the dishwasher. 

TA fucking DA! 

Jump for Joy is a series on JTTG about small, simple ways to boost the joy in your life.  

Leap Year

I'm pretty straight-laced.  A rule follower.  A good girl.  If you were to ask around about me, I imagine that you would hear that I'm pretty quiet and by the book and I tend to stay in line.  

I generally do what is expected of me.  Except for when I don't.   

I'm pretty content being the good girl most of the time, but I have a strong-willed, rebellious side that likes to shake things up.  I've always, even at my most straight-laced, had the capacity to say Yes to things that scare me, to listen to my gut and go against the grain, if need be, to take leaps of faith.  It's one of the things I like best about myself. 

This is the side of me that ran for student council in grade 9, which required that I stand up in front of the entire grade 9 class and risk social suicide, in the armour of my Northern Reflections t-shirt, promises of commitment and change on my Bonne Bell-glossed lips.  I lost.  I was mildly annoyed to have received fewer votes than the girl whose speech amounted to "Hey, what's up, guys?" but psssshh.  Whatever.  I had stood up there.  Don't you know you're supposed to keep your head down?

This is the side of me that takes chances on connections and relationships that, from the outside looking in, seem absolutely crazy-town.  It's the side of me that got married when I was 20.  Don't you know that you're supposed to finish school and build your career and date for years before you get married? Don't you know you're supposed to follow the script?

This is the side of me that doesn't know how to make it to point B but gets in the car and drives anyway and assumes I'll be able to figure it out along the way.   This is the side of me that trusts I am capable and that, if nothing else, I'll at least learn something in the process.  

Don't you know you might get lost?  Don't you know you might end up right back where you started?  

This is the side of me that, a year ago, chose to leave a job, with a pension and benefits and at least a semblance of security, to be an unemployed single mother.  At least, that's one way of looking at it.  Another version of that story is that a year ago, I chose to leave a job that took away more than it gave to focus on what matters most to me.   

It was one of the best decisions of my life. 

I left my job to focus on three things: my daughters, my writing and my health.   

I was home with my kids last summer.  Some of the time anyway.  The rest of the time, we were off having adventures.  Exploring museums, building sandcastles, wandering the farmers market, and testing out the city's playgrounds, before returning back home to living room sleepovers and library book readathons and quiet cuddles in the big bed.  I have, for this past year, met my kids off the school bus every day at 4:00, greeted most often by "I'm hungry" rather than "Hi Mama", mind you, but they're there and I'm there with them.  This year of focused family time has immeasurably strengthened the bond that I share with my girls and I wouldn't take back a second of it.

I'm a writer.  I can say that now with confidence.  A year ago, I would have said that I wanted to be a writer, and I'd downplay my efforts.  Over the course of this past year, I completed my first picture book manuscript and sent it off to publishers, and as soon as it was in the mail, I got started on the next.  I'm currently working on two manuscripts and I have generated dozens of other ideas that are waiting in the wings.  Since leaving my job, I've written over 20 essays for this website, writing that I'm very proud of.  And my writing has become better, my instincts more sharply refined.  I used to be afraid to write, hesitant to use up an idea in case another one wasn't forthcoming, and unwilling to cut or change anything too much lest I lose my way.  Now, I slash and banish my precious words like a heartless dictator, and I use the good china - pulling every idea out of the cupboard - knowing, trusting, that the cupboard will never be bare.  

I wrote last year about my rheumatoid arthritis, about wanting to use my able body while I have it, in case the day when I no longer can comes sooner than expected.  In this past year, I've only had one major flare-up (and that was because I had foolishly taken my medication two days late).  This is a vast improvement from the previous year.  Turns out, unemployment has some benefits of its own.  And I have put my healthy body to use playing with the kids and hiking and traveling to amazing places.  I'm not, as yet, as strong and toned and healthy as I would like to be but I am getting there. 

The truth though is that when I was talking about wanting to take time off to care for my health, I wasn't really referring to a desire to do more aerobics classes and squats.  The truth is that a year ago, I knew that if I didn't take some time off and get some help, I would likely kill myself in the next month or two.

That's a hard thing to read and, believe me, a hard thing to write.  But that's the truth.  When I wrote about "a feeling that whispered quietly at first but recently it has been singing in every cell in my body", I was writing about the growing feeling that I was edging closer to the brink, and that my decision was really one between life and death.  (The inevitable question comes: "Why didn't you take a medical leave?"  Let's just say that as open as I am about my depression, the stigma against mental illness is powerful and that time, it won.)

Since leaving my job, I've been asked many times if I have any regrets.  Not a single one.  Not for a moment.  Because I'm here where I maybe wouldn't have been.  And, while I still have a long way to go and my depression still dogs me - as I'm sure it will the rest of my life - I'm a stronger, happier person than I have ever been.

Despite the many uncertainties I still face, I've never regretted my decision to leave my job.  I've never regretted any of my leaps of faith.  Because with each leap, I was following my intuition and my heart, and each leap brought me closer to my true self and the life I want. Going with your gut and taking a leap:  it's setting out without a map but with the world before you, trusting that your inner compass will guide you in the right direction.   

Don't you know you might get lost?  Don't you know you might end up right back where you started? 

Yes, I know that.  So what?

Searching for Spring

In my part of the world, winter can be a beast.  It tends to arrive fierce and furious some time around November (sometimes earlier) and doesn't let up until...well, it's anyone's guess, really.  There's a saying that March is "in like a lion, out like a lamb" but these past few years it has been more like "in like a lion, ooh yay it's a lamb, nope sorry, out like an even angrier lion, suckers!"  Case in point: last week, the kids were outside in shorts and t-shirts.  Yesterday, it snowed.  Our front porch is home to both the snow shovel and the scooters, at the moment, prepared as we are for all possibilities.

Many people find winter a challenge.  The shovelling, the scraping, the icy roads, the snowpants-and-mitts-and-scarves-and-hats-and-coats-and-losing-of-one's-mind, the freezing off of faces and exposed limbs - it's a little much.  And for those who have depression or are otherwise facing a trying time in their lives, the darkness and the somewhat forced isolation, as we settle in for our yearly hibernation, can be particularly difficult.  We pray for warm weather.  We beg for it.  We count down the days and search for signs of spring.  Anything.  Any sign at all to keep us going.

A funny thing happens in this part of the world as March comes along and we near the date of the "official start of spring" (a laughable concept, of course - as if Mother Nature checks the calendar! - but sometimes it's the only bit of hope we can cling to).  We search for signs of spring, and divide into camps.  

I've heard tell of those who mourn the loss of the bitter winds and the short days, real "winter lovers" which seems to me to be an oxymoron.  I try not to associate with such people myself because WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT but apparently they exist.  And they're not all skiers and snowboarders and other winter sport nut bars. It seems some people just like winter (I blame the parents).  And I guess as the days grow longer and the beautiful warm sunshine reappears they shriek and shield their eyes and melt with the frost.  I don't really know.  

And then there are those who will take any little bit of hope they can get their hands on.  "It's a balmy -15C, guys!  My skin didn't immediately go numb with frostbite!  Let's head to the beach!"  These are the people dodging sleet in their sneakers and Bermuda shorts.  You've seen them.  They are another brand of nut bar but you've got to hand it to them: they are working with what they've got and making the best of it.  

A slightly more reasonable version of these optimistic freaks are those who quite simply REACH THEIR LIMIT.  At a certain point, despite the forecast, they decide that enough is enough and they banish their winter gear to the darkest recesses of their closets where they will remain untouched, dammit, for at least seven months no matter what happens because YOU WILL NOT CONTROL ME, WEATHER!  They know the risk they're taking because as soon as they have taken their bold stand and traded their down coats for jean jackets OF COURSE Jack Frost will return.  And be a total dick.  But they just can't take one more minute.  

In the final camp are those who remain cocooned in their crocheted infinity scarves long after winter's last dying breath.  It's full-on flip-flop season and they're layered up and have brought along a fleece pullover "just in case".  Because you never know.  That's how winter gets you.  You think it's all done and then BOOM.  July.  Snowstorm.  You'll be wishing you packed your parka, then!  

It seems to me that these attitudes reflect how we feel about hope.

For some, there's either no need for hope - they revel in the darkness - or hope is simply absent.  There's no point in wishing for spring, because it feels as though spring will never come.  There's no such thing as better days ahead.

For others, hope is abundant and reasons to keep going are easily found.  The buds on the trees.  The smile of a passing stranger.  They're the tulip fighting its way through the soil on the promise of that one speck of light above.

Others take matters into their own hands.  They don't wait for signs of spring.  They decide that they will live as if it is spring, creating hope as they go, despite the flurries in the forecast.  

And then there are those who let the fear and darkness block out the blinding light.  Sunshine and opportunity can abound and they worry that at any moment it will all be lost.  They remain frozen in their vigilance.

There are some who live their lives forever camped in one of these places but I think for most of us, we move between them.  This is certainly the case for me, and I think that all of these perspectives can be right, at least for a time.  It is natural to feel hopeless sometimes.  It is okay to be in that darkness.  And it makes sense to be scared.  Do freak July snowstorms happen?  They sure do.  But I'd like to suggest that the supplies you need are close at hand and you've been through this before.  You can trust that you will dig your way out with the shovels of tenacity and loving support and your own strength.  You can let your guard down because this arsenal remains at the ready whenever you need it.

I've been searching for spring these past few months and for my part, today I'm going to put the snow shovel away.  Enough is enough.  I know that means I'm courting disaster.  But I have faith that I'll make it through if it comes.   

Today, I will put away the fears that have held me frozen.

Today, I will banish the doubts that hold me back.  

Today, I will shed the layers that no longer keep me safe but, rather, block me from feeling the sun. 

I will be the tulip.  

I see the light. 

My Closed Door Policy

Hello from the outside

I've been thinking a lot lately about closed doors.   

We have all encountered closed doors in our lives:  those times when the chain is on, the bridge is drawn, and that thing that we really want is on the other side, out of reach.  Relationships we hoped to have.  Promotions we worked hard for.  Groups we longed to be a part of.  Jobs we thought would be perfect.  For my part, I've tried to pick the locks on a seemingly endless supply of closed doors these past few years, as I've pursued new career paths and relationships, with increasing frustration.  Time and time again, it seems, I get excited about a new opportunity, take a step forward, even get my foot in the door, only to have it slammed shut.

Recently, I had the experience of encountering yet another closed door.  I had been excitedly researching options for going back to school in a particular area of study that I have long thought would be a great fit for me.  I had decided that it was so obviously my path.  And yet, as I tried to find a way to make my dream a reality, I discovered that everywhere I turned I was met with closed doors.  This program is at a school that is too far away.  The one in town won't accept me because I already have a university degree.  This one looks amazing and I can complete it online and...oh, it would cost me my first-born (I'm partial to her).  As I flailed and cursed about yet another door closed in my face, I suddenly had the thought: "Maybe this door is closed for a reason."  

Huh.  I sat still for a few minutes, letting that sink in.  And then, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

I still really wanted that thing.  I was still frustrated.  I was no closer to figuring out what I was going to do next to move my career forward.  But I realized that although I may be powerless to open the closed doors, I have the power to change how I think about them and I can change my strategy for dealing with them.  

So I have devised a new approach: My Closed Door Policy.   These are the steps I plan to take the next time I'm left out in the cold.

1)  Feel the Feelings

Allow yourself to get sad, or frustrated, or angry, or all of those emotions at once.  Give yourself some time to feel whatever you feel.  It's tough when there's something you really want and you can't have it, especially when you've worked really hard to batter that door down.  Go ahead and cry and flail and curse.  Throw eggs at the closed door.  Figuratively, not literally, unless it was a relationship you wanted and he or she left you for someone younger, then by all means (although there are plenty of better doors).  It's natural to be upset.  Let it out.

2)  Stomp the Sour Grapes

Go one step further than just being upset.  Think about all the reasons why you didn't really want that thing in the first place.  It could be said that this "sour grapes" approach is not the most emotionally mature and is perhaps moderately delusional, but I think there's something to be said for thinking through all the not-so-great things that would have come along with the prize on the other side of the door, that now you don't have to deal with.  He was really funny and sweet, but now you don't have to spend every Friday night listening to him play in his terrible band.  That job paid well and might have been a good step in your career, but the hour-long commute would have been awful.  You really really liked her, but not so much spending time in her disgusting apartment.  Also, remember that you can't predict the future.  Those grapes looked delicious but I bet they were sour!  They very well could have been.  The fact is that you just don't know that what was on the other side of the door was as great as it seemed.  So this is the only time you'll hear me give this advice: assume the worst.  It would probably have been terrible.  Phew, guys.  Dodged a bullet there.

3) Conduct a Post-Mortem

Hold on a second: DID you really want that thing anyway?  Take some time to consider whether what was on the other side of the door was really the best option for you.  Sometimes it happens that we're so caught up in the pursuit, so busy knocking on a particular door, that we lose sight of the fact that there are all sorts of other doors we could be knocking on.  Think about why you wanted what you wanted, and then consider if what was behind Door #1 was really going to give you that.  The answer may very well be an emphatic YES.  "YES, I really wanted that thing and I still really want it!"  That's completely fair.  So now what?  Now, conduct a post-mortem.  What did you do to try to get it?  Why did it maybe not work? What could you do differently next time?  What other steps could you take to try to get it?  Maybe there's another way in.  But if the answer is "NO, you know what, I don't know what I was thinking, I don't really want that thing"...well advance to go and collect $200.

4) Search for the Silver Linings

Assuming you're not quite ready to advance to go, this step is when we quit our stomping about and focus on the positive.  The fact is that every missed opportunity leaves room for a better one.  So you can't have the thing you wanted?  What might you get instead?  This doesn't even have to be about creating a whole new big dream.  Keep it small: What are some of the positive things about the closed door?  I'll give you some personal examples.  I didn't get the job = I have extra time with my kids.  I didn't win the writing competition = I can work on making that piece even better before it is eventually published, which it obviously will be.  That relationship ended = I have more time to write on my website!  Even if the positive stuff doesn't make you feel all that positive at first, take some time to think about the good little things that might now come, and start to dream up the new big dreams too.  If you like the thought of destiny, maybe consider (as I did) that perhaps those doors are closed because that's not the path you're meant to be on.  Think about whether there may be another, better path for you.

A word of caution, however:  Sometimes a closed door is so difficult to cope with because we made the door THE ANSWER.  We constructed a storyline such as "Once I have this, this will happen" or "I'm supposed to have this thing to make up for the other thing I didn't get" and we overloaded the attainment of that thing on the other side with a whole lot of expectations.  Be cautious, in dreaming up the new big dreams, that you don't carry this process forward.  This step is about being optimistic, but it's important that you don't simply shift all your expectations on to the attainment of the next thing.  For example: This relationship probably didn't work out because he's not the man of my dreams and the next man totally will be and then my life will be perfect!  There are lots of ways in to the perfect life.  One door (one person, one job, one opportunity) is still just one door.  No matter how good that door looks in a three-piece suit.

5) Examine the Evidence

I'm straight up stealing this from my years of cognitive behavioural therapy (the fact that I've had years of therapy despite using this technique should not reflect poorly on the effectiveness of this technique).  SURELY this isn't the first closed door you've encountered.  What happened in the past?  Did you find another way in?  Did you find another door?  Did you cope?  If you're still standing then I'm going to assume a Yes, at least to that last one.  If you take the time to look back on the times when your way down a particular path was blocked, you may find that much of the time, in hindsight, it was really for the best.  Yes, that relationship ended.  But then you met someone new who was better for you.  No, you didn't make the team.  But then you joined that other club and made some of the best friends of your life.  Yes, a couple/dozen/hundred times the doors slammed in your face, but you pulled yourself up by your bootstraps and soldiered on.  Just like then, you can get through this now.  And there's a good chance that some day you'll look back on this closed door and thank your lucky stars you never crossed that threshold.

6) Have Faith

This could be faith in God or the Universe or some other form of spiritual power, if that brings you some comfort and helps you get through the tough times when life just isn't going your way.  I'm personally more interested, though, in the faith we place in ourselves and our ability to move forward and to enact change in our own lives.  It can be difficult to have faith.  It's one thing when we have the benefit of hindsight, when a new door is open and we can see why it was a good thing that the other was closed.  It's a lot more challenging when we are still knocking on doors and figuring out a new path.  It's hard to stay patient and optimistic.  But try to have some faith in yourself.  You've handled closed doors before and forged new ways forward. You will get through this and you will create an amazing life.  You can find the keys.  Better yet: you can create your own doorways.

As for me and my most recent closed door?  Having reached the dead-end of that career path, having had that thought that those doors may have been closed for a reason, I stepped back to reflect on what I want in my life.  I thought about other ways I could get there.  And I came across a new path with several optional doors that all seem to be open, at least a crack, a path that I feel even more excited about than the first.  There's still a long way to go and there are still plenty of other doorbells to ring that may go unanswered.  But I'm going to keep the faith, keep my new policy at hand, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, into the open door cracks.  Perhaps, this time, in steel-toed boots.

Look at the View

On Monday morning, I decided to resist the day for a few extra minutes, linger over my tea and crack open a library book.  I had just picked up A Short Guide to a Happy Life by Anna Quindlen - because, yes please, any help I can get - and I thought I'd just read a few pages before getting on with my day.  Well, I read the whole thing.  In about 15 minutes.  It really is a short guide.  Much of it espouses the message you might expect: "Life is short.  Enjoy it, and be grateful."   Fairly cliché, I suppose, although it's a cliché because it's true, and it's a reminder that I imagine most of us could use on a regular basis.  I was finding it to be a nice, little read - a little obvious, but nice - and then I reached the final anecdote, and something in me shifted.

Over the last two short pages (spoiler alert), Quindlen shares a story about meeting a homeless man on the boardwalk at Coney Island.  As they sit by the sea, legs dangling over the side of the boardwalk, he tells her about his life: panhandling on the boulevard, hiding from the police amid the carnival rides, sleeping in a church on cold nights.  But most of the time, he explains, he spends his days sitting on the boardwalk, even in the cold.  "Why?" Quindlen asks.  Staring out at the ocean, he replies: "Look at the view, young lady.  Look at the view."

I sat on my couch in silence, legs dangling over the side, and looked at the view.  A view I've seen a thousand times but on that morning, it looked different.  

The laundry that needs to be folded.  Light bulbs that need changed.  My silly-eyed banister.  How lucky I am to have laundry to fold and light bulbs to change.  How lucky I am to have little people to make giggle with silly eyes.

The beautiful little table that was in our dining room growing up.  The ballot box my eldest daughter set up so we can nominate others for their good deeds and kindnesses.  Photos of my girls when they were babies.  Beauty and love to greet all who arrive.

The green couch and chair my ex-husband and I bought 15 years ago, our first real adult purchase.  I was 23 and he was 24 and we were over the moon to have just bought a house, and that couch and chair were the only real grown-up furniture in it.  I've been longing to get rid of that old couch but that morning, I thought about that exciting time in our lives, and the hours I later spent sitting on that couch nursing my babies.  I thought of the moments when they learned how to climb up on to that couch.  I'm not so eager to get rid of it anymore.  

And the blanket over top of it, crocheted by my mom.  Hours of love knotted together. 

The paintings my daughters made the other week and more photos of their beautiful smiles. The antique wooden box with the hearts, the only thing I've ever purchased at an auction.  I outbid a fancy old lady and it was empowering.  The lantern from my grandparents' farmhouse, and the weird metal object with the balancing acrobats that was the only thing of my grandmother's that I wanted when she passed.  We used to play with it every time we went to her house as kids.  I think of her every time I see it.  Or do I?  I fear that on too many days I don't see the view and this love and beauty and these stories are just another part of the landscape, a backdrop to preoccupations. 

Over the last few days, this new mantra has stayed with me: "Look at the view."   

Navigating snowy streets:  Look at the view.  Look at the road, but also the view.  I have a reliable vehicle to take me home.  I can afford gas.  I move through this city alone and feel safe.  And to top it all off, I have a button in my car that operates technology the sole purpose of which is to keep my bum warm.

Waiting for a medical appointment:  Look at the view.  I'm fortunate to have medical care.  I'm fortunate that I'm not so sick that I need to be rushed in.  How grateful I should be for the good fortune to wait.

My snot-nosed daughter climbs into my bed at 3 a.m.:  Look at the view.  It's not pretty but it's beautiful.  My child reaching for me, wanting my comfort. That's better than any dream.  That is the dream.

It's sometimes hard to see the forest for the trees.  Life gets busy and a home is a place to be cleaned, the drive and the waiting room just irritating interludes between point A and point B.  And the snot-nosed kid is wiping her face on your pillow and disrupting a glorious night's sleep.  But take a moment today to look at the view.  Because my god, the forest is beautiful. 

From my spot on the saggy green couch, I see the coffee table that my sister and I would hide under and dance on top of as kids, a stage that now belongs to two other wee sisters.  The TV table that my father-in-law made, which has scratches on top, fossils from a plastic dinosaur party.  The cushions my girls leaned against the other week, reading stories to each other.  The stained carpet that ordinarily makes me cringe...but I have a home to live in, and money for food, and tiny grubby feet to trample it.  

And I see the sunshine.  I woke up to another day.  Another beautiful day.