Battle Damage

My son was painting his Lego mini figs today and came to me to proudly show me his work. He explained why some of the paint looked scratched and wore off...this particular soldier had battle damage beginning to wear on his armour. I can relate. These past couple of weeks have proven to be some of the most difficult of my life. I fear I am also showing some wear and battle damage. I am tired...completely spent even. Body, mind and soul are drained. I am physically, mentally and emotionally raw. I feel completely turned inside out. My whole being is so drained I can't even fake it. My battle damage is exposed for all to see. This is me. For now. I will wear my scars for some time, for all to see. But if you can look past my wounds, and look deep inside, my eyes will explain what words never could. I am still here. Remember me? I have felt lost. I have been lost. But I am walking my path (I happen to be crawling through some rough terrain at the moment).  My eyes will show you that my heart aches, but she still searches for sun. They will remind you that for every ending an opportunity for a new beginning exists.  When you look at my eyes you will see what tired hope looks like. Look closer please. See me. Battle scarred and scared. Staring right back at you. I am not always strong. There is no need to be. Sometimes I am tired and weak. That is why I have asked so many of you for your love and prayers. I have needed an army of love. It works you know. When you feel you are drowning, arm yourself with love. Wear your battle damage for the world to see. Let them see you. For it is in your rising where you will inspire. Your freedom lives within you. It is yours for the taking. Dig deep until you get to the other side. Reach for hands if you must, but don't you quit. Dust yourself off. Find the light that illuminates your path. You are meant to shine. My son set his battle worn soldier up on his special shelf. He is aware that although this soldier appears to be  worn and broken, this was an experienced fighter. A soldier that has been to war and back. Someone who had a rough patch...a soldier that would continue his journey. Someone special.

Some'wear in Canada

I'm a relatively low maintenance individual. And yes, I have already been told that the self proclaimed 'low maintenance' women are actually ALWAYS the highest maintenance. I shake that s*%t off. It wouldn't be the first time I've broken the mold. Wanna know what is high maintenance? Winter!
  As a Canadian, I know I am supposed to be in love with the cold. I am supposed to appreciate the seasons. And I do, I really appreciate spring, summer and fall. I have always thought that I needed to participate in a winter sport (ski, snowboard) for me to appreciate it. I ice skate...does that count?
  Winter demands a lot of attention. The house needs to be winterized. The car needs to be winterized. We need to be winterized. My winter wear bin explodes when I unlatch it like the dough from a crescent roll casing. Coats and hats and mitts oh my!
  As far as I'm concerned it's all about the layering...and layering. Tights under pants, thermals under long sleeve shirts under sweaters under coats...wool socks under boot liners under boots...hats and scarves and gloves. Why am I STILL cold???
  If I could just 'tap out' for the winter I would. Blow that whistle already! I would spend these long dreary winter months fireside with blueberry tea, a stack of books and music. Now that could help make winter a favorite season.
  Someone once told me 'you gotta fake it till you make it'. So, I gear up and I grin and I bear it. Let's be honest, I'm actually not baring anything at all as I transform into a massive sumo wrestler sporting my tightly woven together masterpiece of winter wear...all of winters layers and me...I am Canadian.

L ONE ly

Have you ever found yourself in a room, surrounded by friendly people and you still felt alone? Loneliness can be a cunning sneak. It will creep up on and invade you when you least expect. There have been times when I have been so overcome by loneliness I have felt paralyzed. Surrounded and wallowing in loneliness, I have found myself wadding in it, staring it dead in the eye, daring it to drown me. I have been overcome waiting with bated breath while loneliness poured itself into the depths of my soul waiting for someone, anyone to come and rescue me. I eventually get tired of waiting and come up for air.

  What causes loneliness? Sometimes you are lonely simply because you feel alone. You are feeling a lack of connection. You are longing for someone to connect with. You yearn for another who understands you. You want someone to SEE you. Sometimes, if you are lucky you meet that person. And then sometimes they leave and you find yourself left standing in that dark pit of lonesome again. Only this time, the once unfriendly waters morph into a non-forgiving sadistic quicksand that consumes every inch of us before we can even think about holding our breath. Yes, I have felt that lonely. Our loneliness for this person can send us on a wild goose chase as we desperately grasp at anything in an attempt to fill that void. We drown in the struggle, knowing deep down that they can never be replaced. This is why it is so important to appreciate the moments we share with the people that we connect with and cherish. We know this already. But life has a way of keeping us busy and ego has a way of tricking us into believing we have time.
Often, our loneliness is nothing but a self inflicted result from isolating ourselves as a defense mechanism. When we are hurt, heartbroken or disappointed we become self preservation architects. We attempt to protect ourselves from cruelties and hardships by separating ourselves from others, from the world. We build walls. We camouflage our hearts into the darkness of stone. We sign a declaration in blood stating that we will cease in making any connections. We want to believe love is for the weak. Constructing walls keeps people out, yes. But these barriers also trap us deep inside and will eventually lead to suffocation.

  The worst type of loneliness, the type that drowns, is the loneliness we suffer when we are missing ourselves. While we are kept distracted, busy with our lives we often wake to find that we haven't a clue who we are or how we got to this state. We wake to the realization that we are living life as imposters. This is the most deadly form of loneliness because it is the most difficult to recognize. We are more likely just to bow down and deal with the hand we were dealt. We feel it is our burden to bear and accept the consequences. If you can relate, it is time to wake yourself from this zombonic state of being. It is time to reconnect. It is time to shake it off. It is time for an adventure!
Waking up, especially to an earth shattering alarm is hard to do. It becomes even harder when you don't know what you are waking to. It is time to stop worrying so much about where we are going and appreciate where we are. Be here now. It is time to rediscover who you are. Look into eyes. Look directly into as many eyes as you can, including your own. Stop being a stranger trapped in a body. Look inside. You are not a stranger. What if you started looking at you and I, you and her, you and that guy over there...together...ONE. I am not alone, and neither are you. There is always going to be you and I if you open your eyes and see...we.

Inside Out

How often do you find yourself thinking about things you wished you would have said. Moments, long gone of  words left unsaid. Missed opportunities of times when your opinion, spoken from personal experience, spoken from your heart could have helped someone. Words are a powerful force. They can be used as weapons, for certain. They can also be healers and saviours and protectors. We live in a world of big voices. We live in a world that likes to silence quiet ones. We live among people who will only appreciate your opinion if it matches theirs. Speak your truth anyway. If you have been knocked down, shut up, ignored, quieted, shushed, misunderstood, judged or abandoned, you still have a voice. If you are afraid, shy, trapped behind walls, stuck, pretending or oppressed, you still exist. Your voice belongs to you. Find your voice. The world needs and deserves to hear you. You deserve to be heard. You have a voice, even if you believe no one is listening. Sometimes our voice is all we have left.  Your voice is your gift. Use it. Then keep speaking...I love the sound of your voice.

Into the Stereo Shell

When I was a child I had a space I called my very own in our basement. It was an old door mounted on top of four red milk crates. It had this itchy red curtain that hung from the ceiling and drooped across it so no one could see in and I couldn't see out. I had some chairs up there in my basement fort. Mine was a green vinyl mini lazyboy like recliner. There was also a wooden black rocking chair that sat behind that curtain. It had gold flowers delicately painted on it. When you rocked, it was supposed to play music. The music box had long since broke off of its back leg. I remember running my finger across the metal tube and watching the metal teeth fumble over the bumps that were supposed to create the song. I never did quite figure out what that rocker was trying to say. No one was allowed to sit in that chair. I'm not sure why. I always found it tragic that I hadn't taken the time to listen to it's music before it was too late. I could spend hours behind that curtain. It was a place where I could let my imagination run away with me. I could become anyone or anything.    Right across from my red fort was one of those old record players. You know the ones that look like long console tables? It had huge buttons that challenged my tiny fingers. One year, we got a new stereo and someone took all of the stereo's insides...outside.  One day, I trot downstairs and all of my toys are missing. I turn to this stereo shell and slowly lift the top and peer down to see all of my toys inside this dead music box. I couldn't reach some of them because they were so far down.  Creative idea that, a stereo reborn into a childs toy box. My mom had a pair of blue suede platform heels that I would try on from time to time. I decided to put those friggin things on and clogged my way over to that dead music box and reeeeaaached down in a failed attempt to touch the bottom. Eventually I gave up trying to reach and hiked that disco shoe over the edge and dove myself into that case. I'd swim down to the bottom and shut the lid. It felt good to be around old friends again and I would sing at the top of my lungs. Breathing the air that record player did. I swore I sounded just as good-if not better. My stuffed friends and I  would sail through the ocean or fly through the clouds in my stereo shell.  When our adventure was over, I'd come up for air and run to my phone, you know the ones with the big googly eyes on the front, big red wheels, it made squeaky noises when you pulled it, anyway I would dial up an imaginary friend and we'd chit chat about our day.
  As adults, we often don't have a space to call our own. We forget how to spend time alone, with ourselves. We forget how to use our imaginations. My son reminds me everyday that I can still get lost in my imagination. We are meant to use our imaginations, to play, to dream. We become adults and we think using our imaginations is silly and a waste of time. I don't have a space anymore that is just mine. My son has claimed pretty much every space in our house. But give me a pad of paper and some pencils or a canvas and some paints and I am lost for hours. My livingroom often transforms into a dance floor or a stage.  Sometimes we need to allow our imaginations to carry us away from the reality of our busy lives. Sometimes we need to get lost in ourselves. To be honest, I think it is healthy to play a little everyday. It is important to stay in touch with the child inside. To play, to imagine, to believe, to honour ourselves by keeping in touch with our dreams. Now, I am not suggesting you start walking around talking to imaginary friends. Become a rock star, colour something, don't step on sidewalk cracks, build a fort and then get lost in it, climb a tree.  Stop 'acting' like an adult for a moment. Become carefree and childish.  Use your imagination, set yourself free...allow yourself to just BE.

The Curtain Comes Down

I have been 'burning the candle at both ends' for some time now. I was sure that I was juggling it all with vigour and grace until...I got sick. It is a challenge to keep burning anything when your body is not well. I feel like I was forced to drop the balls and just stare helplessly at the rubble left underfoot.  I feel like my body is holding me prisoner.  Looking around our house I grimace as I calculate all of the work that needs to get done if we are to be in the new house by Christmas. My mind attempts to mastermind a list of things to do. My ego tells me that I can do all of these things as long as I just push through. I feel landlocked and suffocate as the walls of uncertainty start to close in on me. Then I can't help but wonder, do we keep ourselves so busy, so preoccupied with 'to-do's' because we don't want to have to deal with 'what is'  happening in our lives? I know that I am often guilty of living in denial. If I keep myself busy enough I can live within the charade for quite some time. But I know, deep in the depths of my heart that I am denying my soul of living my truth. When I am forced to slow down, even for a moment, there is a constant burning, a longing telling me that I need to wake up.
I have always been a strong advocate for trusting ones intuition. Our intuition is our truth speaking to us. I also know that once we stop listening to that voice of truth, the whisper will eventually fade away until we no longer can hear or recognize it. If we are lucky we get a gentle nudge reminding us that we are still in there. I am making changes everyday to get back to me. To uncover my truths. To live the life I am meant to live. It is hard. I have moments where I just want to put the mask back on and hide. I tell myself 'the show must go on'! But for whom am I performing?  When the curtain comes down, I am left standing alone, game faced and tired. We rob ourselves, and others of so much when we are not living our truth. It takes so much energy to live a lie. And that's what we are doing when we deny our truth. We deny our potential, we hide our gifts, we bury our soul beneath the rubble of our busy lives. How do we find our truth again? I wish I had the answer. I am starting by lifting and throwing away the lies, piece by piece.
Living my truth is going to be difficult. I am a chronic people pleaser. I have always searched desperately for the approval of others. This life change will surely get boo's and hisses from others, and may not be received with a standing ovation. But I do know that this show has long since run its course. I know the charade is over. Every single moment I spend distracting myself now feels like an eternity. I know that when I can no longer stand to look myself in the mirror that there is an urgency to make some changes, to wake up. So, I suppose that in many ways I am indeed burning out. But I also know that if I put my ear to the ground,and listen carefully, I can hear the fire still smoldering deep within the smoke and ashes. I will tend to, and stoke my own rubble until it ignites. Forget the spotlight.  Truth is, I am not a burn out.  A fire lives within me that cannot be smothered. My truth is my light, and I vow that my flames will rise and my fire will shine again as bright as the sun. When you are living your truth, no one can put out your fire, not even you.

Hearts Beat the Dealer

Have you ever had your heart broken? I have, plenty. My heart has felt so broken I've questioned whether or not it could be fixed.  I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. Maybe too much thought processing. In fact, I've felt pretty darn close to smashing the mirror of self reflection. I found myself wondering why I have felt broken hearted so often. Does that make me a chump? Do I set myself up for disappointment? Am I too open? Am I naive?  When I love, I love hard. When I love, I am in it for the long haul. If my heart loves you, you will stay there forever.  And then my mind stopped me dead in my tracks today.  Is it time to stop loving? Is that the only way to mend a broken heart? Do you have to close and lock your heart in order to protect it?  My observation, my heart beats so I can love. Conclusion, as long as my heart beats I will choose love.
When I had my son, I thought my heart may explode. But it didn't. I am amazed at the amount of love my heart is capable of handling.  Love is lifes fertilizer. Love grows. I realized today that my heart just keeps growing...and growing. It has never diminished in size...even when I have felt heartbroken. I am proud of my heart...for refusing to shrink. My heart has decided to love anyway...even when it is broken. You see, the only way to heal our hearts is with love. Did you get that?  The only way to heal our broken hearts is to LOVE. And I know from experience, the more you love, the faster the heart mends.  Sometimes it is very difficult to love someone who has broken your heart. It takes time. But our hearts can function while they are healing, just as we can.
I have decided that I am going to keep loving anyway. I know the stakes are high. I am very aware of the risks, the odds. I've never been much of a gambler but I decided today, I'm all in.